Her Healing Ways (18 page)

Mercy followed the exchanges between the two lawyers and the judge. Dr. Drinkwater sat on the opposite side of the room, glaring at her. She smiled at him and refused to show how upset and anxious she was.

For one brief, traitorous moment, Mercy let herself think of leaving Idaho Bend with Indigo and meeting Lon in Boise.
But that isn't what I want. This town is home. That's why I couldn't just leave here. This is where I am meant to be. I feel that, know that now.
This gave her a measure of confidence, but fear lurked, ready to take her captive.

The selection of the jury began. Men were lined up and questioned by the two lawyers and the judge. When she spotted a few of the locals who had openly disapproved of her profession, Mercy's spirits weren't improved. She folded her hands in her lap and continued to pray that God's will would be done here.

 

In the quiet Boise café, Lon was eating a leisurely late breakfast. He'd slept better than he had in months and had awakened with the appetite of a lumberjack. Now he chewed, savoring the golden toast soaked with melted butter and coated thickly with red huckleberry jam. Delicious.

He breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of bacon, fresh coffee, melted butter and cinnamon. This blessed morning every sight, sound and taste around him was fresh, brilliant, vital—as if he'd spent the past few years looking at life through smudged spectacles. Today he saw clearly that this was a great morning to be alive.

A man with wild white hair sticking out from under his hat came in and stood glancing around.
Then he made a beeline toward Lon. “Hey! You that gambler that caught the man who stabbed him?”

Lon paused, his forkful of egg and sausage halfway to his mouth. He went ahead and took the bite but he nodded in answer to the man's question.

“I'm Jeffries. Own the newspaper here in Boise. Tell me what happened.” As the man spoke like he was sending a telegram, he sat down. He drew out a pad of paper and a roughly sharpened pencil and licked the lead.

Lon chewed and swallowed, still comfortably at his ease. “The man stabbed me in Idaho Bend. I saw him here and caught him last night.”

“What's his name?”

“Don't know.”
Don't care.
“Ask the sheriff.”

“Why'd he stab you? Were you cheating?”

“A skilled gambler doesn't have to cheat to win.” Lon considered whether he should reveal the man's reason for stabbing him and then decided not to. The Reb had been unbalanced by the war and Lon had suffered something similar until last night.

And did this newspaper man expect Lon to confess to cheating? Though Lon had read this man's paper in the past, in light of this he might have to reconsider what he thought of it. Something niggled at the back of Lon's mind, something he'd read in this man's paper. Or was it in some other newspaper?

Jeffries stared at him, pencil hovering. “I hear you're sweet on the woman posing as a doctor over there.”

The intrusion and the word
posing
shattered Lon's peace. “Are you a gossipmonger? And let me tell you, Dr. Mercy Gabriel saved my life and has saved many others this year.” Lon glared. “She nursed with Clara Barton during the war and no doubt saved hundreds of lives there also. I've seen her certificate and I've seen her operate. And my only comment is that anyone who would prefer Dr. Drinkwater over Dr. Gabriel is an idiot.” Lon felt like punching the man in the nose, just to make sure he'd gotten Lon's point.

Jeffries made a humming sound. “You don't say?”

“I do say.” Lon took a long, reviving swallow of the good coffee.

“Drinkwater's been bad-mouthing her all over town.” The man's gaze darted from his notes to Lon's face and back again.

“That means he's not only a bad doctor, but also no gentleman.”

Jeffries nodded, tapping the pencil on the pad. “I think you're probably right. Now, what about this trial that's going on against the black girl—what's her name?”

Lon froze. He'd awakened this morning feeling so good after last night's capture that worry even about Indigo had drifted from his thoughts. He'd been a fool. “Has the trial started? I thought the judge wasn't expected in Idaho Bend till next week.”

“No, he left here yesterday—”

Lon downed the rest of his coffee and handed
the waitress what he owed with a generous tip and a smile. Then he headed straight for the door.

“Hey!” the newspaperman called, following him. “Hey, I'm not done interviewing you!”

Lon ignored the man and hurried down the street toward the livery. He'd have to hire a horse.
I must have been out of my mind to leave Mercy to face that trial alone.

M
ercy was so proud of Indigo. Throughout the hours spent choosing the jury, her daughter had sat beside the lawyer, straight and composed. And then as the case began, she had faced those who testified about the exclusionary law that said she couldn't live here.

“Your honor,” Mercy's tall, reedy lawyer said, “the intent of the exclusionary law is attached historically to the slave state versus free state conflict, which is no longer a reality. The Civil War settled that controversy once and for all. Our Negroes are no longer slaves but free citizens. And as such, free citizens cannot be stopped from entering any U.S. territory.”

“Counsel,” said the judge, who looked as if his face had been carved from rock, “I understand your case, but this is a circuit court, not the Supreme Court. It is not in my jurisdiction to declare a law unconstitutional.”

“A little over a year ago, on January 10, 1867,” the defense lawyer continued, “the U.S. Congress passed the Territorial Suffrage Act, which allowed African-Americans in the Western territories to vote. The act immediately enfranchised black male voters in those territories. Doesn't it follow that the U.S. Congress wouldn't have passed this if territories could indeed exclude black citizens?”

“That still doesn't address the coming of new immigrants to Idaho,” the judge countered.

The prosecuting attorney—young and very well dressed—gloated with a smile. “Your honor, since the defense counsel has no way to discount the law, I ask that the jury bring in the only logical verdict. Indigo Gabriel is guilty of entering the Idaho Territory unlawfully.”

The judge looked to the defense attorney. “Defense counsel, do you have any other witnesses or arguments you wish to present at this time?”

“No, your honor. The defense rests.”

Mercy felt each of these solemn, hopeless words like a knife thrust.

The judge turned to the twelve men sitting together along one side of the saloon. “You men have heard the evidence. Now go into the back room, elect a foreman and then talk this all over. When you have your decision, come back out and have your foreman announce it.”

The judge banged his gavel and adjourned court. The jury filed out, and the onlookers who were
standing against the walls or sitting on chairs began talking in low tones to each other.

Indigo turned around to Mercy. As she looked over Mercy's shoulder, her brave smile transformed to an expression of shock.

Mercy whirled around and saw Lon Mackey walking into the saloon.

She rose. “Lon Mackey.”

“Mercy Gabriel.” Then she was within the circle of his arms and he was kissing her. She heard the gasps of surprise around them, but she found she didn't care.

“I'm sorry I left. Is this Indigo's lawyer? Is there anything I can do?”

In reply, Mercy remained pressed against him and rested her cheek against his coat. The lawyer turned and shook the hand Lon offered him. “You're a bit late. The jury just went out to deliberate.”

Lon's face fell.

Mercy looked up at Lon. “I'm so glad thee came.” She couldn't say more, turning her face into Lon's shoulder, hiding her distress.

“I'm sorry I'm late. But—”

Then Mercy looked back up at him, really seeing his condition. “Lon, why does thee have a split lip and a black eye?” The shock of his unexpected arrival had, for a few moments, evidently overwhelmed her normal perception. “Is thee hurt?”

“It's a long story.” Lon kept Mercy close.

“We have time,” Mercy said and drew him down to sit beside her.

Lon squeezed her hand and whispered, “I'll tell you later.”

Mercy accepted Lon's words, overwhelmed again by his sudden return. She reveled in Lon's presence and his firm but gentle grip on her hand.

“This is really a matter that the Supreme Court should take up,” the lawyer said to Mercy. “There are black settlers in Oregon State and the Washington and Idaho Territories, in spite of the exclusionary laws. The black pioneers just keep to themselves and are for the most part left alone.”

“Well, we explained to you why this has all come about,” Indigo said, sounding angry. “I certainly have not done anything to call attention to myself. It's all about hateful prejudice, not the law.” She rose. “I'm going to walk outside a bit. I can't sit here.” Indigo hurried toward the door and the lawyer put on his hat and left for the café.

Mercy suddenly realized that she had kissed Lon in front of the whole town and was actually holding hands with him. Suddenly embarrassed, she tried to withdraw her hand from his.

He wouldn't let go. “Please, Mercy, forgive me for leaving. I don't know what I was thinking…” He halted. “Yes, I do. I was thinking that—”

He was interrupted by the jury filing back into the courtroom. Their quick return appeared to surprise everyone. There was some commotion as the
temporary bailiff, Tom the bartender, went out and summoned Indigo and her lawyer back into the saloon.

Once everyone was in place, the judge returned. Everyone rose; he gaveled court back into session. He then looked to the jury. “Have you come to a verdict?”

Foreman Slattery, with his distinctive gray shock of hair, rose. “Yes, your honor. We find the defendant not guilty.”

For a few moments, Mercy distrusted her ears. Did he say “not guilty,” or was it just that she wanted him to say those words?

“Would you repeat that?” the judge requested, looking and sounding incredulous.

“Your honor, we find the defendant not guilty,” Slattery repeated, looking straight at Dr. Drinkwater. “And we also think that doctors from Boise ought to mind their own business and not mess in ours.” The jury murmured their agreement.

Dr. Drinkwater leapt to his feet. “This can't be legal!” The doctor's words shattered the polite reserve of the bystanders. They all began talking, arguing. Their outburst swallowed up the rest of Dr. Drinkwater's rant. Both the doctor and the general public were silenced when the judge began pounding his gavel. “Order in the court! Order, or I'll empty the room!”

An agitated silence settled over the barroom court.
The judge looked to Slattery. “How did you come to this…unexpected verdict?”

“Well, your honor,” Slattery said, looking toward Indigo and Mercy, “we decided that you out-of-town people made a mistake. Indigo isn't black. Anyone can see that.”

Another jury member popped up. “She's just been out in the sun a lot.” He looked at Mercy. “Dr. Gabriel, you need to make sure your girl wears a bonnet and gloves outside from now on. We don't want anyone else getting the wrong idea.” He sat down, looking puckishly satisfied.

The rest of the jury nodded their agreement. A few men behind Mercy actually chuckled and a man called out, “That'll teach Boise people to stick their noses into our business!”

The judge pounded his gavel, glaring at the loud-mouth who called out those words. He turned his gaze to Indigo. “Will the defendant please rise?”

Indigo did, facing him, her head high.

Mercy was so proud of the way her beautiful daughter stood, tall and unflinching.

“Miss Indigo Gabriel, you have been found to be not guilty of this charge by a jury of your peers.” The judge looked resigned but disgruntled. “Jury, you're dismissed with the thanks of the Idaho Territory.” He hit the tabletop with his gavel once more, rose and withdrew into the back room.

The outcome had come so swiftly and with such an unexpected twist that an intense, watchful mood
quieted the room. Slattery made his way through the crowd to Mercy. “I want to apologize, ma'am, for the ugly words I wrote on Tarver's store window. When I seen how you took care of the miners, I changed my mind.”

Mercy rose and offered the man her hand. “What is thy full name?”

“Irwin Slattery, ma'am.”

“Irwin Slattery, thank thee for thy honesty. But I still don't understand how the jury came to this conclusion. Thee all know that my daughter is—”

Slattery cut her off with a conspiratorial grin. “Your girl showed her stuff, taking care of people, too. And besides, we're not letting that quack doctor from Boise push us around. We'll decide who gets to live in Idaho Bend
and
who practices medicine here.”

Instantly, a hubbub of voices filled the room as everyone started discussing what Slattery had just revealed.

Slattery turned to leave and then turned back. “I didn't set off the firecrackers and write that word. I think that was kids. Firecrackers is usually boys. Trust me.”

Mercy smiled. Her mind whirled with all that had just happened. She turned and saw Lon's incredulous expression, which she guessed must mirror her own. Before she could say another word, he pulled her into his arms again.

 

Dr. Drinkwater pushed through the crowd of well-wishers who surrounded Mercy and Indigo. Lon wanted to punch the man and send him sprawling. People let the doctor through, but the looks they were sending his way weren't welcoming. “I am going to take this to the territorial governor—”

“I think it's time you went back to Boise—for your own health. Leave right away so you can get back there before dark. The woods around here are dangerous at night,” Lon said.

Silence descended. Prickly. And foreboding.

The Boise doctor stopped speaking and looked around. He found himself surrounded by Digger Hobson and the largest men from Digger's mine. Each one was staring at him intently, unkindly. For once, the man was speechless.

Indigo's defense attorney slid through the men and took the doctor by the elbow. “Why don't you head to Boise with me now? The prosecutor and judge have to stay and finish a few more land cases, but we can leave.”

Dr. Drinkwater nodded, his jaw still working as though chewing words he feared to voice. People parted, letting the two men leave the saloon.

The minute they went through the doors, Tom called out, “Well, I'd buy everybody a drink, but court's still in session for the rest of the day!”

Many men laughed and started a jovial argument about Tom's spurious offer. Under cover of this, Lon
led Mercy and Indigo from the saloon. Outside, the air was downright cold.

Mercy clung to his arm. “Lon, why did thee come back?”

Lon gazed into her honest, blue eyes and wondered how he could tell her all he wanted her to hear.

“Aunt Mercy, I think you should take Mr. Mackey to our cabin for a cup of tea. I'm invited to my friend's house to celebrate.”

Lon grinned with gratitude.
Sharp girl.
“Thanks, Miss Indigo. A cup of tea would be most welcome.”

Lon offered Mercy his arm and proudly led her down Main Street. They stopped often to accept congratulations from friends and others whom they knew only on sight. Lon felt as if he had passed from night to day. The fight last night had torn down the high walls he'd built around himself. He could even breathe more easily. And the woman beside him drew him more than ever.

Finally, they arrived at her cabin. He opened the door for her and she led him inside. As if it were his usual chore, he went to the hearth and busied himself stoking the low fire. Mercy filled an iron kettle and hung it over the fire on the hook. Being in her home and doing these mundane tasks beside her touched Lon. It was like coming home at last.

“Come and sit down, Lon, and tell me why thee has a black eye, a split lip and probably other hurts.”

Doing as she suggested, he grinned at her in the
low light from the two small windows. “Mercy, I found the man who stabbed me in a saloon in Boise. I chased him down and…” He shook his head, still unable to believe how much had changed within him over the intervening hours.

She put a hand over his on the table. The simple act rocked him to his core.
Mercy, sweet Mercy mine.

He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I think I've been changing all along—ever since you arrived in town. But last night I discovered that the man stabbed me not over the card game but because he recognized me as the commander of the Union regiment that decimated his Confederate unit.”

He kissed her hand again and was pleased that she didn't try to draw it from his grasp. “He's still fighting the war. And in doing so he's losing his present life. That's what you've been telling me all along. Telling me to let go of the war. To be free of it. Free of the deaths I was powerless to prevent.” The final phrase cost him. He had to stop and let the pain flow through him once more and then let it drain away. “I still feel the pain, but I'm no longer angry at God, or myself.”

Mercy then did something he would never have expected her to do. She leaned forward and kissed him as if it were the most natural thing for her to do.

“Mercy,” he murmured, “I love you.” Though he knew he was speaking the truth, his own words spoken aloud surprised him. To make sure she knew he meant it, he repeated, “I love you.”

“And I love thee, Lon Mackey. When shall we marry?”

Her frank words shocked a bark of laughter from him.

She turned bright pink. “I shouldn't have said that.
Thee
is supposed to propose to me.” She turned even pinker.

He rose and drew her up with him. “Mercy Gabriel, if you recall, I did propose to you, just not for the right reason. I'll marry you as soon as you wish. Today, if you want.” He tugged her hand and reveled in folding her into his embrace.

“Not quite today, Lon,” she whispered. “But soon. Yes, soon.”

For several wonderful moments he held her to him. He loved this woman and she loved him. And he had a future—they had a future together. He kissed her and let the feel of her against him ease the old pain, the old resistance. “Mercy,” he murmured.

Someone pounded on the door. “My girl's in labor!” Ma Bailey said from outside the cabin. “You got to come.”