The Women of Artesia Springs

It was oppressively hot! So hot, even breathing was an effort! A sweltering oven making the room seem as if the walls would ignite at any second. The heat was compounded by the fact that she was in labor. It was her first, and at this point she vowed, it would be her last! What had she done to deserve this agony? It was her punishment, she decided. Punishment for a few brief seconds of raging hormones, and clandestine coupling that should have never happened. At sixteen, she was unmarried and about to be a mother. Her mother would never let her forget the shame that she had brought to the family! She had been confined to the house for months now, so as not to be a further embarrassment. The fewer people who saw her, the fewer who would know that she was with child. At least this was their way of thinking. Delivery would be at home, as was the general practice of the day, and would be assisted by the women of the family.

*

The women. They were a strong lot, this group. They had to be. Mortality rates were high for males in their lineage. Whether it was genetic, or something else was not known. The patriarch of the family had died some years past from typhoid. As he lay sick for many weeks, all of his eight children fought the same battle. Molly, his adoring wife, neared exhaustion as she washed all of their clothing, bed linens, and the necessities of treating illness. It was said that she had kept a fire burning in the fireplace continuously for two months to heat the wash water and the cook pots. Doc Sauls made rounds throughout the community during the month, and stopped by when he was in the area to bring more laudanum to help soothe the pain.

The disease was contagious, and only by the grace of God, was she able to care for her family without succumbing to the ailment. She armed herself with a myriad of remedies passed down for generations—mint, ginger and onion were chopped, mixed, infused, and dosed in separate potions; fresh buttermilk had to be given at least three times daily. Blackberry wine from last summer's making, was on hand to treat the diarrhea, as well. And, of course, there was the laudanum. But, it was used sparingly. It was much too costly, and far too dangerous to be used to excess!

While she could see improvement in her younger patients, her husband was losing his fight. His pallid coloring was heart-wrenching. Shad was usually so robust. He was such a handsome man, strong and lean from years spent tilling the land he loved. Land, that had been farmed for generations, even before the arrival of the Europeans here in this remote corner of the deep South. He had been a good husband and father, and she could not bear to think of life without him. But, life must go on.

She had a house full of children to care for, and what would become of them. The older girls had not yet left home. At 19 and 18 they had been so much help with the chores. They would leave soon. She had seen the signs. The quarantine imposed by the illness was felt most by them, especially when they fell victims to the typhoid. She longed for their help, now, but knew that they were too weak to do much. Their fevers had broken, and they were up to comforting the smaller children, rocking the baby, and churning the fresh milk until the tiny, golden flecks of butter began to rise. This did give some small respite from her labors.

December. The Christmas season would soon be upon them. But, there would be no Christmas this year. The only presents that she
longed for were her family's restored health and to rest. She was terminally tired...tired of fighting this disease; tired of tending the sick; tired of not feeling well herself; and most of all tired of being tired! In the early morning of December 18th, 1898, Shad lost his battle with the typhoid fever that had wracked his body since just after Thanksgiving. He passed into eternity an emaciated shell of the man he once had been. Molly mourned him as she continued to nurse the children, and prayed to God that none of the others would follow him to an early grave. His burial was swift and performed by only a few family members who dared to enter the house of sickness long enough to gather up his corpse and return it to the ground.

Molly was the strength and backbone of the women. She had to be. Losing Shad at such an early age, she had to be both mother and father for the children. Five daughters and three sons had blessed their union. Her daughters had now blossomed into maturity. Etta and Amy had married in the spring following their father's death. Gloria and Isabelle had husbands, too. The boys were courting, and it looked like all of them would soon take wives of their own. Maddie was a precocious 16 year old and Essie, who was barely two years old when Shad died was now 12. Amy had a beautiful daughter of her own. Molly vowed she would be a great grandmother! How she loved Lizzie. She had eyes like a gray dawn and silken olive skin. Of course, her mother was a beauty as well. And, her father, Isaac, was a true ladies' man, much to the dismay of both Molly and Amy.

He and his brother, Evan had courted Amy and her sister, Gloria. Amy had married first, and Gloria had married only last year. The brothers continued their "visits" into town, and were acclaimed to be very handsome and friendly to all who met them. In fact, they were often mentioned in the gossip columns of the newspaper. Funny, though, no one ever mentioned their wives. It was almost as if they were still eligible bachelors! This was a constant source of worry to Molly. But, what could she do!

*
Amy looked at Isaac. He was so handsome. Thick black curly hair framed his face. His skin was dark--olive. He looked to her like what she supposed a Greek god would look. He was also charming. A smooth talker, some would say; and mostly when he was talking to other women. As of late, when he talked to her, he had become petulant. It seemed that he was always peevish with either her or Lizzie. She wasn't sure of the cause. He was especially so when he returned from town on Thursdays. Thursday was supply day. He always left early and returned late with the commodities needed for the week. He also took care of any family business that needed attention. Often, Amy and Lizzie accompanied him, but not for the last month or two. He seemed to have a mountain of reasons why they shouldn't go with him these days!

Farming was tough this year. Maybe that had something to do with it. At least she reasoned it so. The lack of rain was wreaking havoc on the crops. The corn was already tassling and the ears were far from being filled out. Though it was late July, the peanut rows still did not meet; a sure sign that the crop yield wouldn't be a good one. The payment on their farm was due at the end of the year, and they had hoped to make some improvements to the old farmhouse.

Lizzie would begin school in the fall; Lizzie, so much like her father. She was their only child, thus far. The pregnancy had not been an easy one. She had been sick almost since conception, and it lasted until Lizzie's first cry had broken the November morning's stillness almost six years ago. The doctor had told her each time he saw her that the sickness would pass, but it hadn't. It came in waves and lasted for entire days. No matter what teas and concoctions her mother had insisted that she try, nothing relieved the nausea. She had even chewed raw ginger root to no avail. Now that was truly nasty tasting! It had only resulted in her learning to hate ginger! The only foods that she could manage to keep down were apples and buttermilk. What a strange combination!

What would Isaac say when she gave him the news she had been hiding for several weeks? Perhaps this was the excitement he had been waiting for-- another blessing for their family! She was thrilled about the new baby, but not so much the pregnancy itself. She had heard that each one was different, and she prayed for this to be. Six years had passed, but the memory of the sickness was still vivid. She was almost three months gone, now, and other than being exhausted, the mornings had brought none of the nausea and retching like before.

It had worked, and although she finally had managed to gain some weight with the pregnancy, the baby had been tiny; tiny and perfect! With gray eyes that reflected the December morning sky, she had her father's skin tones. Ten tiny toes and ten perfect little fingers were all accounted for. She grew so fast! Her mother, Molly, was thrilled at having a grandchild! And, Isaac, well, Isaac thought she was a princess, in those early days. Although he did not take up much time with her, he thought her the most beautiful child ever. He often bragged to his family about his little Princess.

Lizzie was smart for her age. Amy had already taught her the basics of reading from the pages of her Blue Back Speller left from her school days. She caught on so quickly! Her ciphering skills were amazing, much quicker than her own. Lizzie accompanied her with her daily chores, and they would recite the alphabet and do sums while picking the vegetables, and milking, Maudie, their Jersey. Gathering the eggs always resulted in counting games. Lizzie loved to hold the egg basket as Amy reached deep into the straw nests to extract the morning's offerings.

Church meeting was coming up soon. The tiny congregational church was formed forty odd years ago by her grandparents and met only one weekend out of the month. They had services on both Saturday and Sunday and usually spent most of the day at the church. Isaac would have to hitch up the wagon and take some time off from working the fields in order to get them to the services. Amy loved to attend. It was like a family reunion. All of her brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and her mother would be there. And, the best part—dinner at home! Not hers and Isaac's home, but her mother's home. She was hungry just thinking about the food! No one could cook like her mother. Molly prepared all week for the occasion! Her fried chicken was the best in three counties, if not in the entire State. And biscuits! Biscuits so light, they rivaled the puffiest white cloud in the sky! Mama always had cane syrup and may haw jelly, too! Isaac loved her mother's cooking. She was sure he would want to take her to church just to go to her mother's home for dinner. "I'll remind him this evening," she planned, "just after I give him the news that he is going to be a father again!"

*

Isaac came in from the fields hot, tired, and grumpy. He wanted only to have something to drink and maybe some cornbread. The last thing he wanted was to listen to what he deemed were Amy's complaints. She had become a nag, nothing like the town women. Amy was downright plain in comparison! When he came in from a day's work, he wanted to see a woman who was dressed up and powdered up and smelled of cologne. One who was ready and willing to give him her undivided attention. He deserved it! He was the breadwinner, and he worked hard for these privileges. The women in town always seemed to be willing to give him their wholehearted interest. He could hardly wait until his next visit into McPhaul. He and Evan had such fun! It was like courting all over again. The women smelled nice. They were always willing, too! No guff about canning and cooking! Amy was always telling him how busy she had been. And, Lizzie, was continually underfoot. Amy had no time to tend to his baser male needs on a whim. She wanted him to wait until bedtime, and even then, she found excuses not to give him the satisfaction he craved.

Some of the stores had taken to closing early on Thursdays, and there were card parties and backroom get-togethers among a lot of the merchants that had become his friends. There were also upstairs rooms where a man could have his fantasies relieved. Those were his kind of women! Several came to mind immediately. Women who shared his sexual abandon whenever he felt the desire. Yes, it came at a price, but, the price was small in comparison to the way he felt. The money was not much. He won many times over the price of his trysts in card games weekly. He and Evan were popular among this set and much in demand!

He had considered moving into town and leaving Amy and Lizzie on the farm. He knew that this would not fly with his family. They were God-fearing, staunch Christians who believed in a man's responsibilities to his family. He had a wife and child to support , a land-debt to pay, and a farm to run. He could hear his father, James, now. There would be no running away from his duties. But, he had changed. He no longer wanted to be the dependable breadwinner. There was a bigger world waiting! He continually thought about leaving Georgia for more exciting destinations. Places he had only read about in the newspapers. Places where the apron strings of responsibility didn't wrap around your neck like a noose. But he knew this freedom would come at a great price. The twentieth century had just recently been born. It was only twelve years old. And, he was missing it!

He would tell Amy that he was leaving. He just could not continue pretending. So what if his family disowned him. He could make it on his own with only himself to look after. Amy and Lizzie could move back home with Mother Molly. There was plenty of room there. Evan might even want to accompany him in searching fortune in fairer climes. Evan's wife, Gloria, had just given birth to a girl, and Evan felt much the same way that he did. Gloria had become an albatross. Evan was his brother not only by blood, but by spirit as well. They felt they deserved better, and by damn they were going to get it!

*
"Amy!" he yelled as he came up the back steps. "Amy, are you here?"

Arms filled with the days laundry, Amy answered. "Right behind you, Isaac. I was just coming in with the wash."

"I need to talk to you, now!" he demanded.

"All right. Is there something wrong? You look upset." she said.

"Yes, damn it all. There is something wrong. I am tired of farming, and grubbing for money. I am tired of hoping and waiting on crops that may or may not produce. I am tired of putting my life on the line to see if the rain comes and storms stay away. But, most of all, I am tired of you and this marriage that weighs me down and keeps me from pursuing the things that I need. You don't give me anything but grief. Our marriage bed no longer brings me any satisfaction. And I have a strong appetite in that area. You whine and moan about being tired all of the time. Lizzie is always underfoot, and is no help at all. Maybe if she had been a boy, she at least could be useful in helping me with the chores. But, no! You couldn't even get that right, could you?" he continued to yell.

"Isaac?" Amy managed. "What on earth has gotten into you? I have never seen you like this." She tried to get closer to him, and when she did, she smelled the strong smell of liquor. Isaac was extremely agitated, and was working himself up into a frenzy.

"Woman, I have made up my mind that I am leaving you and this God forsaken hell hole! I do not intend to hitch up another harness nor plow another strip."

"Isaac, please calm down! What are you saying? You can't mean this! What on earth is to become of us--Lizzie and I? I know things have been hard lately, but not so bad as this. Can't we talk? This isn't like you."

"Like me? Like me? What would you know what I'm like? I get up before day, leave to try to scratch a living from this patch of hard dirt so that there will be money for bills. There is never enough for the things that I want...the things that I deserve to have for all of the sweat and labor that I put in. The money has to go for this homestead and for seed and fertilizer and for clothing for you and that child. Money that I could spend elsewhere."

Amy was shocked by his tirade. He was livid. The words were spewing from his mouth. He was becoming angrier by the second. She could tell that he had been drinking. He was reeling now. Unsteady on his feet.

"You can go back and live with your mother. Or, you can find you some other poor man and ruin his life for all I care. Maybe some other man will put up with your withholding the pleasures of the marriage bed. Or, damn it all to Hell, I don't give a fair-the-well what becomes of you and that brat as long as you are out of my sight. It will be the greatest day's work that I have ever done to be rid of you!" he slurred.

Now, in tears, Amy was confused. She really didn't understand why Isaac was acting this way. He had never spoken to her this harshly. He rarely drank, or at least not like this. He never said such things about Lizzie, either.

The fire inside Isaac was consuming his judgment. Each word he spat, stoked the burning rage inside him. Feelings that he had kept buried for many months surfaced, and spilled over like boiling water from an overfilled pot.

The laundry hamper was still in her hands. He swung his arms knocking it from her. For a moment, she was stunned. Then the blows from his fists found their first marks on her soft, unsuspecting flesh.

Amy awoke. It was hard to move. Her eyes were swollen, but she managed to see that she was in the kitchen. Scattered around her was the remains of the laundry she had been carrying when Isaac came home. There was blood staining some of the pieces. Bruises and scratches marred her arms. She ached in places she hadn't known were there. There was a fire burning in her mid-section. It seemed that his boots had found their target. Ribs felt like straps binding her chest. She had the sensation of bleeding "down there". Her blouse was torn in several places. Disoriented, at first, she picked herself up from the wooden floor. Her first lucid thoughts were for her child. She listened for Lizzie, but didn't hear her. She remembered Isaac and the beating he had given her, and looked to see if he was still there. No, she was alone in the kitchen.

"Lizzie? Lizzie, where are you?" she called.

After what seemed like an eternity, she found the child whimpering. She had hidden herself inside the larder.

"Mama, I was so scared!" the child cried.

"Hush, baby! Everything is going to be alright." Amy struggled to stand. She knew that she was in serious trouble, and needed help. " We are going to Nanny's house for a while. Let me hitch up the mule."

Amy and Lizzie packed their meager belongings into the buckboard, and drove the five miles to her mother's home.

*

Molly was furious when Lizzie and Amy arrived that late night. She had tended her as best she could, but eventually had to call Doc Sumner. He confirmed Molly's suspicions that some of Amy's ribs were broken. The tenderness in her abdomen would have to be watched. The vaginal bleeding had slowed, and the doctor would continue to monitor that problem. Her daughter would be on bed rest for a few weeks. Dr. Sumner said that she had lost the baby. Molly hadn't even known that her daughter was carrying another child. Perhaps, it had been too early for even Amy to know it for sure, she thought. He also said that it might not be a good idea for Amy to think about having another one. Her bruises were deep and he was uncertain of internal damage. Only time would tell.

Though the outward bruises and marks healed, Amy was still confused. Isaac had never raised a hand in anger to her before that night. He rarely had even raised his voice. Although he did partake of spirits on occasion, she had never seen him reeking of corn whiskey and acting like he had that night. She thought it odd that he had not been to check on their welfare. Perhaps he had, and had been turned away. Mother was certainly livid with him!

Amy realized what he had done, and knew that he was responsible for her physical state, but she couldn't help but think that somehow she had provoked him. If only she had not been occupied with the laundry that day, then maybe, he would have had nothing to set him off. She knew he felt that she wasn't paying enough attention to him, but such was their life. No, blame could not be placed entirely on Isaac! Surely he hadn't meant the horrible things he had said to her. It was the whiskey--it had to be. Although things hadn't been ideal for the past few months, she felt that it was just the stress of the harvest. Nothing more. And, she was partially at fault for not living up to all of her wifely duties, but, she was so just so very tired.

In order to take care of the house and their child, there were many chores that had to be done before she could lay her head down at night. There was no running water, nor indoor toilets on the farm. Electricity was a luxury for people who lived in towns, and even then, left to the more affluent families. Food didn't just prepare itself, either. If the meat wasn't in the smokehouse, then it had to be caught, killed and processed. The fried chicken that Isaac loved and insisted upon at least once a week, certainly didn't walk into the pan and say "Cook me, I'm here!" And the housework—Isaac insisted that their home be spotless. He was constantly berating her if a piece of trash escaped the whisk-broom. No dust was allowed to settle on their meager furniture. This sometimes became a monumental feat to accomplish as the yards surrounding their home were dirt! Amy liked to have a clean home, but it was not an obsession like it was with her husband.

His behavior had worsened of late. He was more demanding of her physically. He constantly wanted satisfaction sexually. When he was finished, he grunted, rolled over and fell asleep. Oftentimes, on Thursdays when he returned from the supplies, he smelled of liquor. Now, it appeared that he was doing this more often than on supply day. He had been getting shorter with Lizzie, too. Once, he had doted on her, but now he seemed to resent her presence. The time he spent with her was getting less and less. Amy tried to rationalize this, making a myriad of excuses for her husband. The weather was hot and dry and putting a strain on him. Crops wouldn't be producing the needed income to pay the bank note on the farm. Without money coming in, they wouldn't be able to purchase the supplies they needed for the present, nor to plant for the next year. There had been some money once, but Isaac had told her that he had to spend it on the things required for running a farm. He had admonished her for prying into what he said was HIS business, and not hers. After all, the man was the head of the household, and was supposed to handle those kinds of affairs.

She had heard inklings of rumors, too. Hints of cards and women, that she had dismissed to the waggling of tongues of women who had too little to do and no man of their own. Isaac was a good looking man, and had turned many a woman's head, but they had always been taught when you got married, it was for life. She loved him, and couldn't fathom that he would forsake their vows to lie with another woman.

She had been at her mother's for three weeks. She missed her home and her husband. She missed her life as a wife and her routine. She had not been able to do anything but lie in bed since she had made the trip here, and she needed to do something. Idleness was driving her mad! She knew now that there would be no new baby. She also knew that the doctor thought she shouldn't carry another one. Doctors did not know everything! There would be others, she vowed. She was still grieving for herself and for the lost child. Lizzie sat by the bed for hours. She was worried that her mother was so sick. Her grandmother, Molly continued to fuss over her as if she, Amy, had all of a sudden reverted back to being Lizzie's age.

It was time to leave. Time to go home and mend fences between herself and Isaac. She knew that she would have to be more loving than before....not give Isaac anything to worry over; nothing that would make him irritable. She would have to be the absolute perfect wife. Lizzie would be in school soon, and she could devote more time to him and the things that he wanted from their marriage, and their marriage bed. Yes, things would be different!

*********

Two months had passed. Amy was up and about. She had not heard from Isaac. There must be someting that her mother was keeping from her. Surely, he had tried. She had made up her mind. Today was the day that she was returning home. Lizzie had begun school in the old community schoolhouse three weeks ago. It had been a special day when Lizzie started school! She came home each day thrilled with what she had learned that day. She would spend hours writing and re-writing her assignments on her slate. Isaac had missed it. She knew he would want to share this excitement with Lizzie. Molly must be to blame, though she denied it vehemently. She had said each time she was asked that Isaac had not come by at all. Nor, had he sent word by any of his family members.

"Mother is still angry with Isaac," she reasoned to herself. "If I have forgiven him, she must also. After all, it is no more his fault than mine."

Although Molly had tried hard to dissuade Amy from leaving, Amy had been determined. That afternoon when Lizzie came in from shool, the horse was harnessed to the wagon, and their clothes were packed into their bags awaiting their departure. They drove off with Lizzie waving good-bye from the seat alongside her mother.

^^^^^^^^^


It appeared that the house was desserted. There were no lamps burning, although it was almost dark. There was no smoke from the chimney. On closer look, there were no chickens