The waiting room was empty. It had obviously been intended as a parlor; it had the obligatory fireplace and the large front window. Adam and Hoss sat in wooden chairs lining the wall. The room was austere except for a picture of Jesus hanging on one wall and there was a desk and empty chair as if a receptionist or nurse should be sitting there. The doctor and his father were relegated to live in the back areas of the house.
After about fifteen minutes, Adam sitting silently while Hoss paced about the room, the door to the back office opened and a woman who was obviously with child walked out with a young boy whose arm was set in splints and wrapped with bandages, all supported by a sling.
"Thank you, Dr. Branson. I just…I swear this boy's gonna be the death of me!"
"Now, now," Dr. Branson said convivially, "boys will be boys and what boy can resist a tree just made for climbing."
The woman shook her head and looked at her son who was about 7 years. Then she smiled with gratitude at the doctor. "Well, I promised you that peach pie and a loaf of currant bread in payment and I will deliver them."
"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Mitchell. You make sure your family eats well before you make anything for me. You're going to have another mouth to feed soon."
The woman blushed and then as she passed Hoss and Adam, pushing her son ahead, they both tipped their hats and then faced the doctor who stood looking at them.
"Have you come to assault me, Mr. Cartwright? Last night I had the distinct impression that you wanted to strike me."
"No, I haven't come for a reason like that although last night I did want to lay you out on the sidewalk. We're here to ask you some questions about the night you intercepted my brother bringing Melora Rigby back to town—actually, he was bringing her to you." Adam stood with his feet braced and his arms crossed.
"I don't believe I can discuss it. I'm going to be a witness for the prosecution."
"Well, let me ask you this—did my brother seem distraught? Sad? Overwhelmed with grief? He said he begged you for help."
"Yes, it was obvious that he was upset; he had just assaulted and strangled a girl who loved him—a lovely girl who never harmed anyone, never had a lustful thought until he came into her life—and I found him with her body. It would be unnatural for him not to be upset—even the sinful know when they've committed trespass. And your brother did beg me to take her body into Mules' Pass. He practically dumped her in the back of my buggy and then he left, took off like a thief in the night. After all, he did steal Melora's life."
"Now you look here, Mister," Hoss said moving toward the doctor. Adam cleared his throat and put out a hand to stay his brother.
"Hoss, maybe you should wait outside." Adam didn't like the way the conversation was going; Branson would be a damning witness but he couldn't have Hoss rough up this man who was so obviously beloved and needed by the citizens.
"Yeah, maybe I should afore I do somethin' he'll regret," Hoss said, frowning, and turned on his heel, leaving to pace outside.
"You should make an appointment, Mr. Cartwright, since you have no emergency."
Adam looked at the desk. "With whom? You have no receptionist, no nurse."
"Once Evangeline and I marry, she will assist me and act as my nurse. So if you have no illness or malaise, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave now. Or do I need to send my father for the sheriff?"
"I'm just trying to find out what happened. My brother gives me one set of events and you give me another. I think the truth lies somewhere in between."
"The truth lies with me."
Adam cleared his throat. "I'm sure you've dealt with nervous conditions before, doctor, all doctors do as sometimes the maladies of the mind affect the body and one has to treat the mind in order to heal the body."
Adam watched Dr. Branson stand straighter as if suddenly on alert. "That is true. A doctor has to consider everything in his diagnosis. Those illnesses—the manifestation of those issues of an ill nervous condition, one affected by urges—undeniable urges…"
It seemed to Adam that the doctor was unable to stop himself from talking. He was sweating and appeared nervous. But then it was a hot day and he had just been threatened by a 300 pound man who waited just outside the door. But still…
"Well…with those conditions," the doctor continued, "often there's no cure—especially when it becomes obsessive. Take Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth and her compulsive hand-washing, fortunate woman to only sleepwalk and reenact washing her hands. A dramatic display for the audience, but as her doctor said, she needed a priest more than his ministrations. And so often I find myself acting as both. God guides my hand, and if I cannot help a person with such power behind me, well, then the devil has a grip on them—a mighty grip and is acting as his minion."
Adam felt an icy chill. Branson had an odd look in his eyes, a fanatical look, the same one he had seen years ago when he and his father were on their trip west. They had stopped at a general store for supplies and Adam was told to wait in the wagon. He looked out the back of the covered wagon and noticed people crowding around a man who stood above the others and was thumping on a Bible he held up in one hand and then gesticulating, pointing to the people about him. His voice was loud, strong, and Adam caught the words "fornicators: and "damnation" and "hell-fire."
Adam had small knowledge of the Bible. At night his father read him passages from the Bible as bedtime stories and as they rode along during the day, Adam took his schooling from the Bible, the pages obviously turned before by many fingers, some of those his own mother's. His father chose only the sections that taught morality or stories of faith and goodness although Adam had his doubts about Job and why God saw fit to allow Satan to torment him. Nevertheless, Adam flipped through the pages when alone and found that not all the stories in the Bible were so pure—there were certain stories he read again and again as they excited feelings in him he couldn't understand. And although he didn't know all the words, he was learning them. And this wandering preacher was obviously preaching about the sections of the Bible that interested him the most.
He jumped down from the wagon and went to the crowd but being so small, Adam couldn't see so he worked his way among the men and women in the crowd. Now he could see why the man rose above all the others; he was standing on an upside-down crate that had the words, " Murfee's. The Sweetest Peaches in Georgia," and an image of a ripe peach painted on it. It had been a long time since Adam had tasted a piece of fruit and his mouth watered.
"YOU! BOY!" the man roared and pointed at Adam. The people around him looked down at him. "Come here, boy."
Adam had been taught to respect his elders and he didn't know what to do. The man looked wild, his long, dirty locks hanging about his shoulders. His eyes were like shiny obsidian with an odd expression as if he saw things beyond the world. The man summoned him again and Adam felt hands push him forward.
The man stepped down and grabbed Adam's jacket. "See this boy here—young and pure you might think but even he has sinned." Adam looked at the man's hand; the nails were ragged and filthy and the cuffs of his shirt were frayed and begrimed. "A child fresh from the womb is already cast into sin as we are all, born damned by the sins of the parents of all, Adam and Eve. He too shall become a liar and a fornicator and there are only two ways to escape this fate—death or finding salvation in the word of God and the ways of His Son!"
The man shook Adam for emphasis. He wished he had stayed in the wagon but suddenly Adam realized that he had been disobedient and was a sinner just as this street preacher had stated. He probably would be a liar and a fornicator although he didn't know what a fornicator was. But he did know what a liar was and yes, he had to admit to himself, he had lied a few times.
"What is it you want, boy? What fate do you choose? Eternal damnation" The man said, looking at him, his eyes glittering feverishly.
"Let go of my boy!" Ben Cartwright had pushed his way through the people and reached for Adam, pulling him away from the man.
"I offer your son salvation," the man said. "Don't you want your boy saved from sin, from depravity, from the hellfires of damnation?"
Ben didn't respond, just hustled Adam through the crowd and to their wagon.
"I told you to stay here in the wagon."
"I know, Pa. I just wanted to see what was going on."
"I have a good mind to tan you right here in the middle of the street, but…"
Adam could see his father's shoulders drop.
"Get in the wagon, Adam, and the next time I tell you to stay in the wagon, do as you're told. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." Adam crawled up into the back of the wagon and as they drove out of town, Adam saw that the street preacher had retaken his peach-crate pulpit. Later Adam considered that he would ask his father what a fornicator was. Later when his father had calmed down.
And right now, Dr. Frank Branson had that same look in his eyes as that street preacher had and Adam considered that the man may be unhinged.
~ 0 ~
"Besides," as he explained to Hoss, "we don't want anyone to think that all three of us take out our frustration and anger on others physically."
"Well, I didn't like what he was saying."
"Well, you really won't like this then; Dr, Branson wouldn't reveal the name of his patient, the woman who delivered that night. He said that he wouldn't have us bothering the woman. Also, the good doctor has come up with a theory that he's shared with the prosecutor. The doctor—claiming his superior knowledge of the human mind-says that Melora probably changed her mind about eloping, told Joe she wouldn't leave with him and he became angry. So, after forcefully taking her virtue which he thought was his right, strangled her. I don't want them to use any crude behavior of ours as examples of how the Carwtright family acts—it'll just give their theory more credence. They'll bring up our money and how we think we're above the law and since we've always had what we want, think it's our divine right to take whatever tempts us—or destroy whatever thwarts us."
"What makes you so sure they'd go that way?"
"Because it's what I'd do if I were prosecuting Joe." And leaving a stunned Hoss on the sidewalk, Adam strode to the nearest restaurant. He wanted to pick up a treat for Joe, something to entice him to eat and he was hungry himself. Adam pulled out his watch. It was 11:45—lunch. "Well, aren't you coming?" he said, turning. "Let's try that little restaurant—Mary's Kitchen."
Hoss grinned and joined his brother, throwing an arm across Adam's shoulders, wondering what the family would ever do without the man beside him