"Oh, yes, please. Anything to cut these shivers."
Abigail handed her a cup. The warmth against Vivid's hands made her smile and purr, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, and once you finish I'll show you where you can wash up and change. Then you can tell me about the fit Nate threw when he found out you weren't a man."
Shocked, Vivid turned to Nate, who said, "Told you I knew nothing about that contract. But later my beloved aunt is going to tell me how she accomplished that not-so-small feat."
"Nathaniel, if I tell you, it won't work the next time."
His eyes narrowed.
Abigail said, "Oh, all right, maybe there won't be a next time."
Vivid smiled. Yes, she liked the Grayson women.
Nate looked from aunt to doctor, shook his head, and said, "I'm going to wash up and change."
Dinner that night was glorious. Vivid sat at the table in a fresh clean skirt and blouse and knew that her mother would have been appalled at the amount of food she had just consumed. Her mother believed that a lady never ate more than a nibble of this and a dabble of that, but Vivid had always had a healthy appetite, and as long as one didn't display the table manners of a cretin, she didn't feel it necessary to apologize for enjoying well-prepared food. Besides, she'd been eating train and coach meals for what seemed like months. She was close to starving.
"There's more turkey, Dr. Lancaster."
"I can't eat another bite, Abigail. Thank you."
Vivid could feel Nate Grayson watching her so she turned to him. "Yes?"
"Just wondering where you put all that food, Lancaster."
Vivid felt embarrassment stroke her cheeks.
Abigail smiled over her teacup and said, “Behave," to her nephew.
Vivid made it a point to ignore Grayson for the remainder of dinner. He seemed content to let her be, though on more than one occasion Vivid looked up to find herself under his speculative scrutiny.
When the conversation dwindled to a close, Vivid could not hide the large yawn that escaped her. She was tired, but the excitement of this new adventure made her want the day to continue. Abigail had other ideas. "Nate, take her over to the doc's place and make sure she gets settled in. Magic, you go on, too, and help the doctor unpack what she needs for the night."
"That really isn't necessary," Vivid offered. "If you point me in the right direction, I can find it."
"Nope. Nate, go with her. Take Magic. I'll be over after I clean up here."
Abigail steadfastly refused Vivid's offer to help with the dishes. "Young woman, you can barely stand. Get on over to the house before you fall asleep on your feet and Nate has to carry you."
That got Vivid moving.
The little house she would be occupying was set in back of the main house. The land surrounding it had been cleared for acres around. She could only imagine how long it must have taken the Grayson ancestors to carve out this small paradise.
"How long has your family been here, Mr. Grayson?"
"Since '37," Magic answered for him. "Pa Grayson got freed and came here all the way from Carolina."
"Did he come alone?" Vivid asked her.
"No, there were thirty-four people. They came here and founded Grayson Grove. Do you have a family, Dr. Lancaster?"
“Yes, I have parents and two older sisters. Jessica and Alicea."
They stepped onto the wooden porch and Grayson opened the door and held it aside for the ladies to enter. The front room was small, consisting of a blanket-covered cot against one wall and a small desk and chair against another.
"This is where Doc saw his patients till he got drunk and fell off the roof of the Emporium and died," Magic volunteered.
Vivid stared. Grayson offered nothing but a stern look in his daughter's direction.
In the back there were three more rooms: a bedroom, a kitchen, and a room equipped for surgery.
"How many people are in your community?"
"Almost three hundred if you also count the Black folks in Casapolis and Calvin Center."
"Spread out over how many miles?"
"Most are within a few, some as far away as ten, twenty. Why?"
"Because I need to meet everyone, get their names, ages, medical histories."
She saw the odd look on Grayson's face and asked, "Is something wrong, Mr. Grayson?"
"Doc never did that."
"I'm not Doc," she said with a smile. She then turned to his daughter. "Magic, why don't you help me unpack?”
Since the bulk of Vivid's belongings were still at the station, it only took Vivid and Magic a few moments to transfer the clothing and toiletries into a big Saratoga trunk sent over by Abigail. When the job was done, Magic headed back to the house, leaving Vivid alone with Nate Grayson.
"I still believe you'll leave before the worst of the winter," he said, his powerful-looking arms folded across his chest.
"I do enjoy a challenge, so I'm determined to prove you wrong."
"What else do you enjoy?"
The tone of his voice made Vivid hesitate. He seemed to want to know something more than just her leisure activities. "I enjoy poker, playing billiards—"
"Billiards," he echoed skeptically. He looked over at the case that held her stick.
"Yes. You're familiar with the game? You lean over a big table that has holes in the corners—"
"I know how to play, Lancaster," he said in exasperated amusement. "But what's a woman like you doing playing billiards? What did your parents think about this pastime of yours?"
“My father taught it to me when I was seven or eight. He says I have a gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes, Mr. Grayson. Women can be gifted in other things besides hat choosing."
"Wait," he said, holding up his hands. "Let me get a seat. I want to hear all of this." He pulled out the chair, turned it around, and settled his big body in it. "Now, you say you have a gift for billiards, according to your father. What about your mother? Does she think you're gifted, too?"
He was laughing at her, and Vivid narrowed her eyes at his tone. Would this man ever take her seriously? "No, my mother thought my gifts were limited to getting into trouble. She nicknamed me Trabrasera."
"Which means?"
"Trouble."
"So that's what's wrong with my Magic. She's gifted."
"She does remind me a lot of myself at her age."
"Lord help us," he whispered. "Go on. Where did you play billiards? Because no self-respecting woman I know would even walk past an establishment of that type, let alone go inside one."
Vivid ignored his intimation that she was not respectable. "I played wherever there was a table. My father is one of the best chefs and caterers in San Francisco, but when he was younger he cooked in all types of places—brothels, men's clubs, mansions. Sometimes my sisters and I had to go along when Mama had to help him in the kitchen. Most of those places had billiard tables. While my parents and the rest of the staff people were in the kitchen setting up before the evening's activities, my sisters and I were encouraged to play, mostly so we'd stay out of the workers' hair. At night we weren't allowed near the places, but by the time I reached adolescence, a lot of the gamblers and club owners knew of my penchant for playing, and I became like a favorite pet. A woman playing billiards was and is quite an oddity."
"Your sisters play billiards, too?"
"Not as well as I, but yes, they play."
"And your father encouraged this?"
"He never believed in keeping us from anything we enjoyed, and he saw no harm in it." She paused for a moment and then said, "You know, men can be such fools sometimes. They see a woman with a cue in her hand and for some reason believe she must be using it to take pots off a stove. Men would bet me outrageous amounts of money and stand agape when they realized I could play. My mother threatened to send me to a Mexican convent when she found out how much money I had accumulated."
Dumfounded, Nate could only stare.
"You l
ook so stunned, Mr. Grayson."
"And that is also how you learned to play poker, too, I take it."
"Yes. I'm not as good at cards as I am with a cue, but I play a decent hand."
"What other vices do you practice?"
"Well, let's see. I've thrown dice and darts. I play faro and keno. I was a pickpocket for about an hour when I was ten."
"A pickpocket!"
"Yes. When I was young I would go to go to wharf every day during the summers with my father to buy fresh vegetables. There were some street children who frequented the wharf. They had no families and they would steal watches and coin purses, and the vegetables and fish from the vendors' stalls. One day the constables were chasing the band through the market and I remember thinking how exciting it must be to live that way."
"Go on," Nate said.
"Well, a few days after the constable incident I slipped away from my father at the wharf and went off in search of the children. I found them living in an old shack not far from the market and I asked if I could join. They were suspicious of course, but I gave the leader the gold crucifix I had around my neck and I was allowed in. Of course, I was caught the first time I tried to cut a purse, and what made matters even worse, the pocket I'd tried to pick belonged to the sexton at my church. He marched me right over to my father, who had been frantically searching the wharf for me."
"What did your father do?"
"After he kissed me for being alive, he listened to the sexton's story and took me home."
"And?"
"And gave me over to my mother. He told me later he was too angry to punish me the way he thought I deserved, and he didn't want to injure me."
"In other words he wanted to whip the tar out of you?"
"Exactly. So my mother did it instead. I'd done some dangerous and stupid things in my short life until then, but that was the topper. My mother lectured me for weeks afterward on responsibility and perceptions and being an example for the race. But it was my father's disappointment that hurt me more than anything else, and I never did anything even remotely similar again."
“Do your people call you Viveca?''
"No, they call me Vivid."
"Why?"
"Viveca was hard for my sisters to pronounce when we were all small. Closest my sister Jess could come was Vivid. My father says Vivid also defines my personality. My mother prefers Viveca, however." Vivid looked over at Nate Grayson and wondered if maybe she'd said too much. He could certainly use the information she'd just volunteered against her even though he had promised her the job on a trial basis. Her mother often faulted her for being so open about personal matters. As she'd gotten older Vivid had curbed the practice to some extent, but it was a habit she still found hard to break completely.
"Anything else I should know?"
"Whether you believe it or not, I'm accustomed to hard work.
He appeared skeptical. "And what do you consider hard work?"
"I've put up fences, cleared brush."
"Cleared brush?"
Vivid nodded. "Yes, my abuela—"
"Abuela?"
"My grandmother has a large ranch down by the Mexican border. My sisters and I would visit her in the summers sometimes. We'd help her and her vaqueros clear brush, repair fences. We even helped at round up one year, and each of us took a turn at branding cattle."
"You've branded cattle?"
"Only once. The vaqueros swore to me the cattle didn't feel the brand, but after I smelled the burned hide and saw the terror in the poor animal's eyes, I didn't believe them and I never did it again."
Nate found her tales so amazing he didn't know whether to believe them or not. Women branding cattle, and what in the hell was a vaquero? If all she said was true, he realized he was only beginning to understand just how vivid this woman truly was. However, he was still convinced she would not stay.
"Mr. Grayson, I admit I am not conventional by anyone's definition, but if you judge me on the kind of medicine I practice, the rest shouldn't matter. And who knows, we may even become friends."
"Anything is possible."
"Yes, it is."
He stood then and pushed the chair under the desk. "I should be getting back."
"I thank you for affording me the opportunity to stay, especially when you don't believe in my ability."
Nate looked into her eyes. There was no guile in this female. She laid her cards right on the table. "You always this straightforward?"
"A good physician goes to the heart of the matter," she replied. "And I've learned men respect frankness, even when they don't respect me as a physician or a woman."
"Touché," he said.
"You misunderstood me. I wasn't being catty, Mr. Grayson, simply truthful."
Nate had to admit there was more to the doctor than he first imagined. He walked to the screened door.
Her voice stopped him just as he pushed it open. "Mr. Grayson?''
Nate turned back.
Their eyes met and held.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He surveyed her a moment, then nodded. "You're welcome.''
And he was gone.
That night, Nate lay in bed in the big attic bedroom. He'd been thinking about the doctor most of the evening. How would folks react? He assumed she'd receive staunch support from the women, especially from his aunt and Miss Edna over at the store; although the Quilt Ladies could be a problem if they decided the doctor didn't match their old-fashioned image of womanhood. But it was the men of the Grove who would be hardest to bring around. Hell, if Nate himself had such little faith in her, he could imagine the grief she'd receive from some of his male neighbors. In fact, the debates had probably already begun with the news of her arrival. He would have to remain neutral in order to be fair to both sides. Even though he had his opinion, it would not be right for him to influence the others.
Nate still held fast to his belief that she would be gone before the first winter snow. She was from San Francisco, for heaven's sake. However, if her success here depended on sheer will and determination, she'd win hands down. He truly believed most females would not have had the gumption to confront him as she'd done in town today, and none would have gone so far as to shoot a hole in his hat. He dearly hoped Magic would not become too attached to the good doctor, because the two of them together would only bring trouble. More importantly, he didn't want Magic to be heartbroken when the doctor pulled up stakes and high-tailed it back to San Francisco.
Chapter 5
Very early the next morning, a pounding on the door awakened Vivid from a sound sleep. Stumbling from the cot, she stuck her arms into her robe and crossed the plank floor to the door. She expected to find someone in need of medical assistance or maybe Nate Grayson; what she found was a brawl in full-swing in the yard. Men were everywhere; punching one another, violently wrestling in the grass, standing nose to nose and arguing at the tops of their lungs.
There were other men in the yard, too, all dressed in their Sunday best and lined up as if waiting to purchase theater tickets. In their hands were bunches of wild flowers, squawking chickens, hams, and even animal pelts. Others were accompanied by goats or sad-faced children, and one man held the lead to a spotted milk cow. Vivid could only stare, amazed.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?"
The question came from a man standing on the porch. He smiled kindly at her with a sparkle of mischief in his smoke-black eyes. His handsomeness rivaled Nate Grayson's—in fact, the two men looked enough alike to be brothers. "I'm Eli Grayson," he said. "Abigail's son and Nate's cousin. You must be the new doc."
"Yes, I am. Dr. Viveca Lancaster."
He shook her outstretched hand. "I heard Nate threw a fit when you arrived. I also heard you shot his hat off his head."
"Yes, he did. And yes, I did. But tell me, what is all this?" she asked, indicating the chaos in her yard.
"They're deciding who gets to see you first."
"What?"
“Wh
ere are you from, Dr. Lancaster?''
"California."
"Ah. Well, I don't know what this is called in California, but here it's called courting."
Vivid stared. "Courting?"
"You're unmarried, or at least that's the story going around. They think you'd make a good wife.''
Vivid looked over the men, some standing triumphantly over opponents knocked out cold and prone. She couldn't decide whether to be flattered or appalled. "Mr. Grayson—"
"Call me Eli."
"Eli, I didn't come here for a husband," she explained with a hint of exasperation. "I'm here to be a physician."
To her surprise, he pulled out a small sheaf of papers and a pencil. "Can I quote you on that? I run the newspaper."
Before she could answer, the drama in the yard took on new proportions as a rifle went off. In the resulting silence, not even the birds dared sing.
Rifle in hand, Nate Grayson, dressed in his trousers and without a shirt, turned a malevolent look on the crowd and shouted, "What the hell's going on here?"
Eli stepped down from the porch and said, "They're all here to see Dr. Lancaster, Nate. Can't say as I blame them. Look at her. I'm thinking about stepping in a bear trap myself."
The gaze Nate turned on Vivid would have sent any other woman running back into the cabin. She knew he would consider this display a prime example of why she was unsuitable, but Vivid was not responsible in any way and refused to allow him to blame her. Vivid stepped into the yard. Ignoring Nate Grayson, she said in a loud voice, "Gentlemen, I am only going to say this once. I am here to be your doctor. I am not seeking a husband. Do not court me. Now, anyone needing medical assistance may stay. The rest of you, go back to your homes."
There was a bit of grumbling and a few disgruntled faces, but they complied. After she took care of the few men with cuts and bruises, she was ready to contend with the Grayson cousins.
Vivid turned to Eli and said, "I would appreciate it if you would not write about this in your paper."
"You're news, Dr. Lancaster. The size of the crowd alone attests to that."
"I didn't come here for a husband, Mr. Grayson, just to practice medicine."