The Rough Rider Read online

  Lawson moved back to his chair and sat down in front of his coffee, jingling the coins in his hand for a moment, then shoving them into his pocket.

  “Going out to have a bit of a drink, are ya, Pa?” Bart grinned from across the table.

  “Never you mind,” Lawson scowled. “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll give ya the back of my hand.”

  Bart flinched, for he knew well the weight of that large hand. Realizing it was best to turn the attention from himself, he said, “I know where Jeb’s been going and what’s making him late every day!”

  Lawson glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  Bart pointed at Jeb, who had fixed a cold stare on him. “He’s been going down to that mission place, playing that piano.”

  “How do ya know that?” grumbled Lawson.

  “Cause I heard him telling Gail, that’s why,” Bart said, sneering at Jeb.

  “Is that right, boy?” demanded Lawson.

  Jeb, plainly caught in the lie, suddenly turned pale. He had felt the weight of the thick belt around Harry Lawson’s middle too often, but now there was no way out from another savage beating. “I . . . I just stopped for a minute,” he stammered, his whole body shaking in fear.

  As he drank his coffee, a somber silence settled on the small room. Everyone there knew that Lawson himself was one of the vilest liars in New York City. They also knew that he needed little provocation to mete out punishment with his belt. And now, with the hard look on his face, they all knew what was coming.

  Jeb sat there trembling as his stepfather got up and slowly removed his thick belt from his bulging middle. He doubled it, making a swishing movement, and said, “Now yer goin’ to git it! Bend over that chair.”

  “Please, Harry, don’t be hard on the boy. He’s doing no harm,” pleaded Martha.

  “Doin’ no harm! He could be out working instead of wasting his time at that mission place! And for that piano playing, I’ll have none of it! No son of mine’s going to be playing no pianer. Now bend over that chair, boy!”

  Jeb’s mouth was twitching, but he obeyed. He bent over the chair, gritted his teeth, and shut his eyes. When the first blow struck him, he could not help but cry out.

  “Shut yer mouth,” Harry said. “Learn to take yer medicine without squalling like a baby.” He raised the belt, then brought it down sharply again and again.

  Just then Gail suddenly appeared at the door and raised her hand to her mouth in horror at the beating her brother was enduring. She saw his white face and the tears making tracks down his cheeks. His whole body was shaking from the blows. She had witnessed this before, but this time an anger rose within her heart. Without thinking, she ran forward and stepped between her brother and the raised belt, grabbing Harry Lawson’s arms. “That’s enough, Pa! You’ll kill him!”

  If the moon had fallen from the sky, Harry Lawson could not have been more shocked. He lowered his arm and stared blankly at the girl, who looked up at him in defiance, holding on with her hands to his thick wrists. “Wot’s this?” he gasped. “You dare tell me what to do? I’ll give you more of the same!”

  He raised the belt, and Gail only had time to raise her arm before it struck her. A searing pain like fire ran through her arm, leaving a large red welt. Without hesitating he unleashed his anger on her. She raised her hands over her head and crouched down against the wall. Harry stood there shouting curses, then raised the thick belt, and like angry rain, let blow after blow fall down on her trembling body.

  By now Martha was beside herself, crying and screaming, but he shoved her away, while the other three simply watched. They all disliked their stepbrother and stepsister, but they knew that in a feral mood like this, their father could turn his vicious anger on them just as quickly.

  Finally, it was over. His face a gray restraint, but with a macabre pleasure in his eyes, Harry put on his belt. Then he reached down and grabbed the girl, saying, “You’ll learn what a father’s authority is!” He half dragged her across the room and growled, “Git yer coat!”

  Gail, her body crying out with pain, moved toward the bedroom, picked up her coat and put it on.

  “What . . . are you going . . . to do, Harry?” Martha pleaded, her sobs choking her words.

  “I’m going to teach this little daughter of mine what it’s like to pay a little respect to her father,” Lawson growled. Grasping Gail by the arm, he shoved her toward the door and said, “Come on, say goodbye. You won’t be coming around here for a spell.”

  “What do you mean, Harry?” said Martha. “You can’t throw her out—she’s too young and she doesn’t have anywhere to go!”

  “She can come back when she’s ready to act like a decent girl.”

  “She can’t be decent on the streets, you know that,” Martha whispered. “You know what’ll become of her.”

  “That’s her lookout. She should’ve thought of that before she went and challenged me. Come on, girl!”

  Gail was numb as the massive hand tightened on her arm. She said not a word, but cast a look back and saw her mother’s stricken face and Jeb staring at her with fearful eyes. Then the door slammed. She had to run to keep up with Harry Lawson as he dragged her down the flight of steps. When they reached the street, he shoved her so that she staggered away.

  “You don’t like the way I do things—let’s see the way you take care of yerself. You stay gone until ya can come back and act like a dutiful daughter. Now—get out of my sight!”

  Gail watched Harry Lawson turn and walk down the street. She knew he was headed for a saloon, where he would drink up all she had earned. A darkness seemed to close in on her, and she looked up and tried to pray. She’d never felt so alone and abandoned. A terrifying fear that she had never experienced gripped her, making her shiver all the more at what had just happened. Slowly, she turned and moved down Water Street, the shadows closing in about her.

  ****

  “I tell you, Doctor, it’s a hard thing—a hard thing, indeed!”

  David Burns had dropped by the mission, as had become his custom over the past year from time to time, and had found Awful Gardner in a low state. Normally, Gardner moved through every day spreading his cheer and faith to those less fortunate. Today, however, he seemed strangely depressed. The tall man had been sitting in one of the rough pews staring at the whitewashed wall behind the simple pulpit. When the doctor entered, Awful rose to meet him, then slumped back down, making his doleful statement.

  “What’s the trouble, Awful? Are you having financial problems?”

  “Oh, dear boy, we always have those.” Gardner waved the suggestion away. “But the good Lord will supply all of our needs as the good Book says. No, we can handle that with the good Lord’s help. The problem is with people, as always.” He suddenly turned and cocked his head to one side. “This will be a disappointment to you, too—it’s young Gail Summers.”

  “Gail?” At once, Dr. Burns grew alert. “Why, she was doing well the last time I talked to her.” Burns had taken a personal interest in the girl’s situation and made it a point to keep informed, more or less, about the Lawson family. He had contributed a little money to buy clothing for Gail and her brother, Jeb. Nothing new, knowing their stepfather would have resented that, but at least something warm to get them through the hard winter. “What’s wrong with Gail? Is she sick?”

  “No, it’s worse than that!” said Awful, rubbing his chin in thought.

  “Worse than being sick?”

  “Yes . . . you get over being sick, don’t you, Doctor? You know,” he said, “sometimes I think your profession is the most hopeless. The death rate’s still one hundred percent, ain’t it now, Doctor?”

  But Burns was not about to get sidetracked by Gardner right now, and he pressed him further. “What’s wrong with Gail?” He’d become interested in the young girl from the first day she appeared at the hospital. He knew that she had it within her to make something of her life, and he hated to hear of her difficulty. A thought clou
ded his thoughts, and he said, “Trouble at home?”

  “Too right!” Gardner said. “It’s that stepfather of hers.”

  “What’s he done now? Drunk again?”

  “Oh, he’s more or less drunk all the time, but he thrashed Gail and threw her out of the house.”

  “What!” said Burns, clenching his fists at his sides.

  “That’s right. She tried to stop him from whipping her brother, and he turned on her, then threw her out on the street. He’s a brute—that’s what he is!” said Gardner, shaking his head.

  “Tell me about it.” Burns listened as Gardner gave him the details. The more he heard, a burning anger began to rise within him. “I’d like to take a cricket bat and teach that Harry Lawson a few manners!”

  “Ah, well now—that wouldn’t do no good, would it, Dr. Burns? It’s only the Gospel that changes a man from an animal. I know that well myself. I was no better than Harry Lawson most of my life.”

  “I can’t believe that!” said the doctor, amazed at Awful’s words.

  “It’s true enough,” Gardner said, shrugging his shoulders. “I was no more than a brute myself—a thief, a liar, a reprobate—anything you can mention. But when the Lord Jesus came into my life, all that was changed. That’s what the Gospel is all about—change, isn’t it, Doctor?”

  Burns stood to his feet and took two or three paces. He clasped his hands behind him, holding them tightly as was his habit when he was deep in thought. As usual, he was physically exhausted. He was a dedicated professional and gave his very best to his patients. Long after the other staff doctors at the hospital would finish their rounds and head home, Burns would remain in the wards, checking in one more time on patients and giving another encouraging word.

  As he stood there, he thought about Awful and the work at the mission. He was convinced that such dedication and selfless giving was what the city of New York needed to help heal the lives of those beset with such dismal poverty and hopelessness. The derelicts who roamed the streets of the Lower East Side could be saved no other way. But Gail—what was to be done about her? He turned and clapped his hands together in an impulsive gesture. “Something’s got to be done!” he said, shaking his head. “She can’t roam the streets. You know what could happen to her.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, Doctor, we’ll keep her here. We have a young woman who lives here full time and helps with the cooking. Gail can stay here for a time, anyway.”

  Burns felt relieved at Gardner’s offer and said, “Well, that’s good. I hate to think of her being out on the streets all alone.”

  “Yes, but I’m worried about the boy, too—and so is Gail. She doesn’t sleep well for worrying about what’s to become of the lad. Nothing we can do about that, though. We can’t take in everybody that’s having problems, although I wish we could.”

  The two men talked for a time, wrestling with the problem, and finally, a glimmer of an idea came to Burns. He stroked his trim mustache, letting the idea filter through his mind. He was a man who could move quickly, but there was a thoroughness in him, too, that made him analyze every side of a proposition before taking any action. Finally, he lifted his head and said slowly, “You know, Awful, I think there might be one way out of this, but it might be a bit difficult.”

  Awful glanced at his friend quickly. “What is it, Doctor?”

  “I’ve been watching Gail at her job now for quite some time. At first I wasn’t sure that it would work out since she was only seventeen. But she’s done amazingly well. Why, even Nurse Smith—who doesn’t toss around compliments, I can tell you—says Gail’s the best worker in the whole hospital.” He stroked his jaw slowly and thoughtfully and said, “I’ve been thinking lately what a marvelous nurse or assistant she might make.”

  “But don’t that take a lot of education?”

  “Well, yes—it does take some special training. Especially to become a regular nurse. But the hospital’s started a new program where we take in young women and train them for nine months. It’s not the full training of a nurse, but they can do most of the things that a regular nurse can.”

  “And you’re thinking,” Awful said, “that this might work out for Gail? You think she could do it?”

  “Oh, she could do it all right, but it’s a little expensive, I’m afraid!”

  Awful made a face and said, “This is one of those times that I wish I had money. How much would it cost?”

  Burns explained the program, mentioning the cost, and said ruefully, “I don’t have it myself, or I would be glad to pay for it. It was expensive paying for medical school and leaving Scotland. And I’m just getting established here.”

  “Well, dear boy,” Awful said quickly, “we’ll just pray and see if something can’t be done! The good Lord is just as concerned for Gail as we are.”

  “Perhaps it’s better not to say anything to Gail. If it doesn’t work out, then she won’t be disappointed.”

  “Right you are, dear boy.” Awful rose and bid the doctor goodbye.

  For the rest of the morning, Awful walked around visiting the widows in the neighborhood and doing what he could for them, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Gail Summers’ plight.

  Finally, he returned and helped one of the workers prepare the lunch for the men who had come to stay at the mission. The young lady he worked with had become a favorite of his.

  “Well, this is a good lunch you fixed, Deborah. I don’t see how you can do it on the scant funds we allow.”

  Deborah Laurent had never mentioned her age, but Awful thought she must not be more than eighteen or nineteen. She had appeared out of nowhere one evening and sat through a service. Afterward, she had come and offered to work as an unpaid volunteer. Awful, always in need of such help, gladly accepted, and in a few weeks had found her to be the best help that had come forth. She had finally moved into the mission, occupying a very small room, and worked long and grueling hours doing whatever needed to be done. She was of average height and had an oval face, which was pretty, although not overly beautiful. Her crowning glory was her rich brown hair, which shone with auburn tints when the morning sun touched it. She had steady brown eyes and full lips that seemed to hint at something that Awful couldn’t seem to figure out. Though he wondered about her past, everything about Deborah was committed to unselfish devotion to those in need.

  “I think we’ll have a few more today, Reverend.” She always referred to Awful as Reverend, even though he insisted that she shouldn’t. It seemed to give her pleasure to honor the man. There was a quietness about this girl. She was lively enough when speaking to the men and women whom they took in off the streets, and was always cheerful with them and full of encouragement. Yet, for some reason, there was a mysterious wall around her. She never spoke about her past, and Awful was careful not to ask her about it. As they began to pull the meal together, Awful mentioned to her about Gail and what Dr. Burns had said.

  Deborah listened carefully, asked a few questions, then nodded. She agreed that it would be a wonderful opportunity for Gail. Deborah had been sharing a room with Gail for a time and had gotten to know the young woman quite well. Deborah knew that Gail really didn’t have anything to go back to at home. From their little talks, and the bits of information Gail confided in her from Jeb, the situation at home had only worsened. Gail had at least brought in some extra money, but now with her gone, Harry Lawson’s anger seemed to fall on everyone of late, including his own children. He no longer had Gail’s money to spend on drink and, therefore, came down hard on the others to find work.

  “The doctor said there would be a room provided for her at the hospital, if she wanted it, so she could be close to her work. Sort of a dormitory for the young women in the program, I take it.” He shook his head and said, “I don’t see how it’ll happen, though, unless the good Lord sends the cash!”

  “It’s only a matter of money, then?” asked Deborah as she sliced a loaf of bread.

  “Only that, but you know how m
oney is—the world runs on it.”

  Deborah Laurent moved to the blackened stove and began to spoon the greens out of the huge pot into a bowl. She was as careful and methodical at this as she was at all things, and nothing showed on her face. Finally, when the chore was finished, she turned to Awful and said, with a slight smile, “I think something might be done.”

  ****

  Dr. Burns had just finished his examination of one of his patients and was about to go to another ward when Agnes Smith interrupted his rounds. “There’s a young woman who wants to see you, Doctor. I don’t know what she’s after. She won’t say.”

  “Well, what’s her name?”

  “Deborah Laurent,” she said, “or some funny name like that. She’s waiting in your office. Be careful of her—these young women—they’re all out after a husband.”

  Burns laughed. He could not resist reaching over and giving the large woman a hug. He knew it confused her and yet delighted her all the same, though she never stopped fussing about it. “You think every woman in New York is out to marry me. I wish I were half the man you think I am, Agnes.”

  “That’s all very well, but you mind what I say. Now, stop mauling me,” she said, but did not pull away. When the young doctor left and walked down the corridor toward his office, her eyes followed him fondly.

  When Burns opened the door to his office, he found the young woman standing there. She was wearing an inexpensive dress, and yet he sensed an inner strength about the girl, a serenity that impressed him. Her dress had been out of fashion for several years, but it was clean and neat. “I’m Dr. Burns,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Deborah Laurent, Dr. Burns.”

  “Ah, yes, Mr. Gardner’s told me about you. You’re doing a fine job at the mission,” he said.

  “Reverend Gardner’s very kind.”

  “Won’t you sit down?” said Burns, motioning her toward one of the chairs.

  “Thank you.” Deborah took a seat, then in a very straightforward manner said, “I’ve come to talk to you about Gail Summers and about—other things.”