They headed out of the house, and Susanna remarked at how much cooler it had been inside.
“The adobe keeps the house so nice and cool. Won’t that be a blessing, Mother?”
“Electricity would be a blessing. I honestly don’t know why things are so primitive. The railroad has electricity, and you would think the town could afford it.”
“Uncle Harrison said it’s coming. That’s why he had the hotel wired for it. It was no doubt a great expense, but he plans for there to be fans in every room.”
“He can afford it,” Mother countered. “Which is why it’s a grief that he won’t help us for a short time while your father finds something new in which to invest. It’s hardly his fault that the other venture came to an end.”
Susanna could not understand what thoughts must be inside her mother’s head. Did she not comprehend that the choices Father made had robbed them of their financial security? Did she not understand that her husband’s pride had put them inthis position? Her mother wasn’t generally naïve about money, but when it came to her husband, it seemed he could do no wrong and any complication was someone else’s fault.
A group of brown-skinned children ran past them. They were laughing and bantering back and forth in Spanish. Susanna smiled. How wonderful to be so carefree.
“Savages,” her father murmured.
“Savages, father?” Susanna stared at him, shocked. “They’re children. And from the look of it, they’re headed to church.”
“I suppose they could have been brought to the Lord,” he murmured. “I’m still not convinced that such wild people can understand what it is to be tamed and settled.”
“Well, perhaps it would be wise to keep such thoughts to yourself, Father. After all, it’s nearly 1900. I would say your thoughts are a bit archaic and out of place.”
“You know what your brother said, Herbert. Some of the Indians are even working for the railroad,” Mother announced. “Not to mention”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“the Mexicans.”
Susanna rolled her gaze toward heaven. How in the world were her parents ever to live and succeed in San Marcial, where the better part of the people around them were either Indians or Mexicans? They held such prejudices and didn’t see anything wrong in openly admitting their thoughts. She could only imagine the fights Gary would get into. He’d never lived around people of color. Topeka had small groups of such folks, but they stayed to certain parts of town, as was expected of them. Susanna seriously doubted Gary had ever spoken to someone with skin of a different color than his own. This would bring new experiences for them all.
They arrived at the Methodist church, and to Susanna’s delight, Carson Medford was there, welcoming folks into the building.
“Ah, Mrs. Jenkins,” he said, beaming a smile. “I’m so gladyou could make it. Are these your folks?” he asked, nodding toward her parents.
“They are. Mr. Medford, this is my father, Herbert Ragsdale, my mother, Gladys, and brother, Gary. Family, this is Mr. Medford. He’s the one who ... who ... had the house for us.”
“It’s a solid house, to be sure,” Susanna’s father declared. “I’m grateful that it was available so quickly.”
“The Lord always has these things worked out. Welcome to the Methodist church. I think you’ll enjoy worshipping with us,” Mr. Medford declared. “We can raise the roof with our singing.”
“How interesting,” Mother said, forcing a smile.
“Let me guide you to a seat.” Mr. Medford led the way, taking them to an empty row second from the front.
Mother nodded with a look of smug satisfaction as she gazed around at the other congregants. At their church in Topeka, the more important the family, the closer they sat to the front. This spot would very much meet with her mother’s approval.
The organist began to play, and the entire room filled with music as the congregation rose. Susanna got to her feet and accepted a hymnal from Mr. Medford before he headed back to his duty at the door.
“Page thirteen. ‘Blessed Be Thy Name,’” he whispered.
Owen Turner slipped into the back pew just as the singing concluded. He hadn’t meant to oversleep, but lately he’d been so tired from putting in extra hours. As a supervising boilermaker and repairman for the Santa Fe shops, Owen was always needed for one job or another, and nothing took its toll on him like the hot summer months of San Marcial.
The offering plate was passed, and he contributed as he did every week. His friends LeRoy and Lia sat on the opposite sideof the church with their two boys. Seven-year-old Emilio gave him a wave, causing nine-year-old John to do the same. The boys giggled, which drew their parents’ attention. LeRoy looked across to where Owen sat and gave a nod before thumping both of his boys on the back of the head. LeRoy’s pretty wife, Rosalia—Lia to her friends—gave him a smile and continued to sing.
Owen tried to focus on the music, but the fact was, it had been hard to drag himself out of bed that morning. He’d gone to bed plenty early, but his neighbors hadn’t, and all their thumping and hollering left him unable to sleep. Now they were soundly snoring, and he was trying to stay awake in church services.
Prayers were offered, and then Pastor Lewis took the pulpit. A huge smile split his face. “What a wonderful day to be in the house of the Lord!”
“Amen,” many of the people responded.
“I was just telling Agnes this morning what a blessing it was to know you’d all be here and that together we would share the Word of God. Doesn’t that just light your candles?”
Owen had to chuckle along with the others. The old Texan always had a way with words. Except when reading Scripture. For that, he was quite formal.
