Part 8 (1/2)
That night there was general restlessness in the house. I awoke at midnight to footsteps in the hall. Whoever was out there also took a couple of excursions up and down the stairs, oblivious to the noisy seventh step that always gave one away. None of the children would have made the mistake of touching that step when prowling about, so it had to be Mother pacing up and down. Unusual behavior for her, but I suppose she was keyed up about the return of her men.
On Thursday morning, I spotted a long-tailed b.u.t.terfly, the skipper Eudamus proteus, drinking nectar from the black-eyed Susans. I got within a couple of feet before it fluttered away. With its s.h.i.+mmering blue body and twin tails, I would have liked it for my collection, but they were hard to catch and tended to collapse on mounting. Still, it was a special day and nothing was going to dampen my spirits.
Sam Houston chopped wood, and Lamar, who normally avoided hard work like the plague, actually stoked the boiler all day. We took turns in the bath. Mother changed into her sapphire gown, Father's favorite, the one that brought out the color of her eyes. She looked ten years younger. Granddaddy broke out a bottle of store-bought bourbon for the occasion. None of the children could keep still on a bet; we kept das.h.i.+ng to the windows and peering out, until finally Lamar cried, ”They're coming! They're here!”
We poured from the house to greet them. Harry was on horseback; Father drove the wagon. A strange man sat beside him with his arm in a sling. In the back of the wagon, now empty of supplies, sat Alberto and a young woman of seventeen or thereabouts. She looked a bit like, well, me. Of course she did-she had to be my cousin Agatha Finch, with the map of our common ancestors written on her face. I wondered if I was destined to look just like her in a few years. Something to ponder.
Her print dress was faded, out-of-date, and laughably small, what with her k.n.o.bbly wrists protruding and her pale s.h.i.+ns on immodest display. Why was she wearing a pauper's dress? Then it came to me: She had lost everything in the storm. Mother had told me this but it hadn't sunk in until that moment, seeing the charity clothes. Calpurnia Virginia Tate, I chastised myself, you are a simpleton. And quite unkind to boot.
And what of the strange man, who was he? And why did they all look so dispirited and exhausted and downcast? This was supposed to be a joyful homecoming, a merry celebration. Our family was intact. The gaps at the table would be filled again.
Father climbed down from the wagon. The lines in his face and the stiffness of his gait shocked me. He embraced Mother, cupping her cheek lovingly in his palm as they whispered a few words to each other.
Harry dismounted King Arthur. He looked so dirty and ragged and thin that I ran to him and hugged him.
”Oh, Harry.”
”Pet,” he said quietly, ”I'm glad to see you. Careful, now, you'll get all muddy.”
”Doesn't matter,” I said, squeezing him as hard as I could. ”I missed you so much. What's it like? Was it awful? Is it true what they say, that so many people died? Is that Aggie? It's Aggie, isn't it? What's she like? Who's that man with you?”
Our conversation was interrupted by the others swarming around with shouts of welcome. The dogs, especially Ajax, went berserk and jumped on everyone, making a terrible nuisance of themselves. Father hugged and kissed us all. I felt oddly shy when he hugged me tight but was terribly relieved to find that although he looked different, he smelled just the same. The same old Father smell.
The stranger climbed down with difficulty. He was a big man, not young, with the thick chest and broad shoulders of a blacksmith. He was scruffy and badly needed a haircut. His right arm hung immobile in a grubby sling, the fingers strangely clawed. Despite his obvious fatigue, he smiled and bowed low over Mother's hand.
Agatha was helped down from the wagon, along with her luggage, consisting of one gunnysack and one tin case about the size of a hatbox but of a shape I'd never seen before. Was it a musical instrument? Maybe it was a concertina or bagpipes. Maybe we could play duets. But before I could ask her, she was delivered into the hands of SanJuanna, who whisked her off with strict instructions from Mother to feed her, bathe her, and put her to bed.
In my bed. But never mind.
After the men washed up, we all sat down to dinner. Father said an extra-long blessing, and it was both strange and comforting to hear his voice reciting the familiar words. Then he asked G.o.d's mercy on the people of Galveston and gave thanks for returning safely to the bosom of his family. A shadow pa.s.sed over his face. ”Truly,” he said, ”I am the most fortunate of men, to have my wife and children safe and well when so many others have suffered such grievous losses.” He cleared his throat, forced a wan smile, and said, ”Amen.”
After our echoing chorus of Amens, we started asking about Galveston, haltingly at first, then peppering them with questions until Father held up his hand, saying, ”That's enough. Galveston as we know it has gone.”
Mother said, ”Leave your father in peace. We will not speak further of it tonight. Lamar, pa.s.s him the potatoes.”
You would naturally have thought the meal would be a festive occasion, but not so. Father and Harry were subdued. The stranger, who had been introduced as Dr. Pritzker, appeared to be in pain but gamely complimented my mother on her home, her lovely children (naturally), and her bill of fare. For some reason, he was wedged at the table next to me, taking up more than his fair share of s.p.a.ce. Even though he was built like a blacksmith, there was an air of education and culture about him; he knew which fork to use and did not gawp at our chandelier like some country hick. But with his maimed hand, he fumbled awkwardly with his knife and fork, stabbing ineffectually at his beef. I nudged him. He looked at me quizzically, and I whispered, ”I'll cut your meat for you if you like.”
He whispered back, ”I'd like that very much, young lady.”
I was making a nice, precise job of it when Mother suddenly noticed and exclaimed, ”Oh, Dr. Pritzker! I am so sorry. Let me get Viola to fix that for you.”
”It's no problem at all, ma'am. I have a most capable helper here.” He examined me. ”Thank you, Miss...?”
”Calpurnia Virginia Tate.”
”Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Calpurnia Virginia Tate. I am Jacob Pritzker, late of Galveston. We shall shake hands properly once I am fully recovered.”
Curiosity was eating me alive. I knew that Mother would consider it the height of bad manners to ask about his hand, so I waited until her attention was safely focused elsewhere. I leaned in close and said quietly, ”Dr. Pritzker, what happened to your hand?”
He murmured, ”I had to climb a tree to escape the rising waters. It was swarming with dozens of rattlesnakes.”
”No!” I yelled.
The table fell silent. All eyes were on me. They were mostly curious, except for one pair, which were-predictably-furious.
”Uck.” I coughed. ”Uh, bone caught in my throat. Yes. But I'm fine now. Thank you for your concern, everyone.” I cleared my throat ostentatiously.
J.B. piped up. ”Can I see it? The bone?”
Mother glared at me and said, ”No, darling,” with ice in her voice.
I kept my head down and waited for conversation to resume. For the moment, camouflage and mimicry of the well-behaved daughter were called for. I contemplated the differences between my own lucky encounter with a snake versus Dr. Pritzker's unlucky one.
Mother said, ”Callie, kindly do not monopolize our guest. Where are you from, Dr. Pritzker? Where are your people?”
”In Ohio, ma'am. Ohio born and bred.”
”Ah.”
Mother was too polite to say it but Lamar was not, and he burst out with, ”A Yankee!”
There was a sharp intake of breath around the table-over Dr. Pritzker's origins or Lamar's bad manners, it was hard to say. Mother grimaced at Lamar while Father made his apologies.
”That's quite all right, Mr. and Mrs. Tate. Yes, I did serve in the War, as a hostler in the Ninth Ohio Cavalry. But that was thirty-five years ago, and I hope you will not hold such ancient action against me. In my defense, I have lived the last ten years of my life in Galveston, and I hope to spend the rest of my days in the great State of Texas.”
Father announced to the table at large, ”Dr. Pritzker is a graduate of the Chicago Veterinary College. I have persuaded him to set up his new practice here. I figure we have more than enough livestock in Caldwell County to keep him busy.”
Various eyes lit up for different reasons.
”Ah,” said Granddaddy with satisfaction, ”a man who stands at the intersection of Science and Commerce.”
”Indeed, sir. Your son has told me about your pursuits, and I look forward to many mutually beneficial discussions.”
Travis and I grinned at each other. An animal doctor!
After cigars and brandy for the men, Alberto drove Dr. Pritzker and his few belongings in the wagon to Elsie Bell's boardinghouse, where he'd procured a room.
Travis and I walked alongside, burning with curiosity about his practice.
Travis said, ”What kind of animals do you look after?”
”Most kinds, although my practice is predominantly made up of the more useful farm animals. Mainly cattle and horses and pigs.”
”Do you ever look after wild animals?”
”Well, young man, occasionally people will bring me an injured squirrel or racc.o.o.n or suchlike, but I generally prefer not to treat such animals. They're frightened and in pain, and they don't understand that you're trying to help. It's usually best to put them out of their misery.”