The doctors house which Adam had noted earlier was on his way out of the town. A town that he was more than pleased to be leaving.

Dr Simms was delighted to welcome Adam into his house and surgery. He immediately apologised for the absence of his wife Harriet who was attending the birth of an impatient baby who had no respect for dates and punctuality. Harriet Simms being a trained nurse as well as a doctors wife was more than well used to this haphazard way of life, as too was her husband. One advantage to this was that over the years Tom Simms had nurtured and honed his culinary skills. Cooking for the doctor was not a chore. To Tom Simms it was an art and an art that he thoroughly enjoyed. Of course the main disadvantage was that often he or his good wife would have to enjoy the results of the doctors kitchen adeptness on their own.

Handing Adam a glass of wine he bade him make himself comfortable. The table was set for three as the doctor hoped that the awaited newborn would be obliging, but deep down and from experience he knew that that this would not be the case.

Adam found the fruity red wine to his taste. Its warming texture on his tongue rid from his mouth the taste of Turner’s Cross townsfolk. On the mention of the mornings experiences the doctor didn’t appear to be too surprised. Shaking his head in dismay, he remarked that some people never change and never learn.

Tom went on to give an explanation. The Indian attacks that had beset the town were in the past and well before the arrival of the Tone’s, who had settled around five years ago. Tom Simms much appreciated a captured audience and Adam was just as appreciative to be that audience, for of Etta Tone he wanted to hear everything.

Matthew ‘Matty’ Tone, as Adam already knew was known to Tom. When he turned up out of the blue with Etta, Tom was delighted. Most everyone else was not. Nearly every family was still grieving. The memories of Apache raids and killings were still too raw in peoples minds to accept Etta Tone and her half breed child. The fact that Etta and little Matty J were neither Apache’s or had any Indian blood in their veins was not a consideration. But Matthew Tone’s ill health was. Both Etta and Matthew knew that to travel further was no longer an option. Tom knew of a small ranch that had been occupied by a friend of his. The man a fine carpenter had left with his family for San Francisco to set up his own business. He had left the property in the doctors care. Asking him to find a buyer or to rent which ever the doctor saw fit.

The house Tom had kept in good repair. Which wasn’t difficult as Caleb Larson, the previous owner and Toms friend had built the house to a very high standard. It could be moved into at a moments notice. Adam nodded his agreement. He too had noticed the quality of the building’s, exterior and interior.

As he spoke Tom dished up the meal. An aromatic venison dish covered with slices of potatoes and fluffy, light dumplings. Adam genuinely wished that Hoss were with him as he knew his big brother would be more than happy. The doctors words pulled him from his thoughts.

It seemed the best for all concerned that Matthew, Etta and little Matty J take the Larson house and that is what happened. The attitude of the good townsfolk of Turner’s Cross was that the family was tolerated, if the woman and child stayed out of town. Dr Tone was ‘welcomed’ but not the ‘breed bitch and her bastard son.’. This was the term that was used to describe Etta and Matty J.

Soon after the Tone’s arrived an outbreak of dysentery swept the town. This fever according to the good Christian people of the town was brought to their doors by the ‘breed bitch and her bastard son.’ Even in his ill health, Matthew, as soon as he was aware of the situation, he offered to help. Arriving in town to do his usual shop for supplies. The man returned to his ranch and left a note pinned to the door. Not wanting to disturb his young son who was having an afternoon nap or his wife who was setting out her vegetable garden. Matthew Tome immediately returned to the town and gave of his time, energy and eventually health to the people of Turners Town. Working alongside Harriet and Tom. Once the epidemic was brought under control Matthew went home. Exhausted, but in his heart a fulfilled and satisfied man. The hours and amount of time he had spent on his feet giving aid and comfort and burying the victims of the fever had taken its toll.

Within days he had taken to his bed. Etta realising his medication was running low, took her small son with her and rode into town. Seeing only an Indian and her bastard ‘the breed bitch and her son’ the instigators of the towns misery blatantly riding into town. The good townsfolk conveniently forgot about Matthew Tone and the lives he had saved, treated and buried. All they saw was a target for their hatred.

The mob set about the woman with sticks and stones. Her horse in its panic reared, plunged and swerved. The frightened child was thrown from the saddle. Etta after a brief struggle brought the horse back under her control. She leaped from the animal. It was too late. Little Matty J died on his fourth birthday. His small neck snapped like a twig. Knowing there was nothing she could do for her child. Etta gathered the broken body of her small son in her arms. All other thoughts driven from her mind. Etta remounted and rode out of the town as like a woman possessed.

Tom had arrived back into town after the awful incident. Harriet was still in her sick bed. Surmising that Etta had come into town to collect Matthews heart medication, Tom went after the woman. When he arrived at the homestead it was in darkness barring one lamp. Tom found Etta sitting at her own bedside. She had placed the body of her baby into the arms of his dead father. Matthew had passed away before Etta’s return. Father and son looked to be sleeping peacefully. Etta sat straight backed, her eyes staring, a tear stained, blood stained statue.

It was the next morning after Etta and Tom buried Matthew and little Matty J. In the same grave the father holding his son in an everlasting loving embrace. It was then that Tom learned all there was to know about Etta Tone.

Adam had eaten as he listened. He now sat staring at Tom in disbelief. His hunger a thing of the past. What was left of his food, cold and congealed on the plate. Left him now only with a feeling of nausea.

“l’m sorry son, not an over or after dinner story,”

“I agree,” grim faced, Adam’s anger burned and bubbled wanting a release. Adam wanted more than ever to keep the woman enclosed in his powerful arms. Safe and protected out of harms way. “She stayed…why?”

“I too wondered, l thought she would sell up and move away as soon as she could. But no she was stalwart. It was her home. The only real home she had ever had and nobody ever again was going to move her on. She had moved to many times.”

“I can understand that.” Adam sympathised.

The men had removed to the comfortable drawing room where they had finished the second bottle of wine and were now sipping strong black coffee.

“I will never forget her words. The next day I was having to leave to go back to town. We were standing again at the graveside. She vowed that it would take one thing and one thing only to move her on. I asked her what that would be. She said love, not hate. Only a greater love could take her and her heart from this place.”

On the journey back to Etta’s Adam’s thoughts turned to the doctors words. The man had told him all he knew about Etta Tone. All that she had told him about her life. About her father whom she knew loved her very much. But whom she now barely remembered anything of…though his death was imprinted on her mind forever.

Joshua, he had no other name was a freed Negro slave. Who had been treated well by his owner. He had even been educated. The man gave Etta’s father his freedom after Joshua had saved the plantation owners children from drowning. Joshua had stayed on for a while with his ex-owner and then set off on his travels. It being his endeavour to journey North and better himself.

Before he left the South Joshua wanted to see New Orleans and it was there he met a pretty Cajun, Creole girl. The youngsters became besotted with each other. Filling the young girl with his own dreams of a small homestead where he could work the land and raise his children in freedom and to be good Christians. The two took off together and made it across to Texas. By that time Marietta was with child. Deciding to stay put for a while they settled on and in a small town where Josh took work in a livery stable. He had worked for years with the horses on the plantation so this was not anything new to him. The owner of the stables rented the family a small but habitable shack near to the yard. It was here that Marietta gave birth to a daughter. A fine healthy little girl that was named in honour of her mother but always called Etta. Although it wasn’t what Josh’s dreams were made off the young couple were happy enough. They had a home, food on the table and their beloved baby girl. Everything was fine, Etta was growing strong and beautiful. She even attended the local school which fascinated her. She not realising that if she had favoured more her father’s colour she would never have been accepted. Etta took after her mother. Her skin was not white. She carried a year long tan, as if she had been blessed by the sun. There was for her nothing Etta liked more than to learn her ABC’s and 123’s.

The week before her sixth birthday her life took on a dramatic and tragic turn. The night the men came. The men with covered faces and no words. The men that took away her daddy and hung him for no other reason than that the colour of his skin was black. It was on that day for the first time that the significance of a persons skin colour impacted on her.

The man who owned the livery. Who had given her daddy work and a home was called Mr Black. Etta tried to equate the two ‘Blacks’ the man’s name and the colour of her daddy’s skin. At that young age she couldn’t. Mr Black again came to Marietta and little Etta’s aid. Giving them a team and wagon onto which they piled their few belongings and set off. For about a year they travelled from one place to the next. Town to town, never being welcomed or allowed to settle anywhere. Marietta became a ghost of herself. Her spirit and energy drained. She never recovered from the murder of her man, little Etta’s father.

Cold, hungry and tired they came upon the camp of a straggling group of Indians. Who because of the prized wagon and team made them welcome. Of course this small band of nomads could have killed the mother and child and then taken their prize. But for one reason or another they chose not to. They were just a raggedy bunch of old folk, woman and children. The remains of a tribe that had been attacked by the ‘blue soldiers’ .

Marietta and Etta learned the ways of the Indians. Marietta’s spirits were renewed by her new found friends. They were kind to Etta and her mama. Marietta and Etta became part of the sorry tribe. But again tragedy strikes. The ‘blue soldiers’ return. Once more the Indians were under attack. The few that weren’t killed were herded to the nearest reservation. Although Etta’s mother was one of the survivors she never made it to the confines of the reservation. Her already fragile state of health gave out. The kind soldier that helped Etta dig a shallow grave. The kind soldier that helped Etta collect stones to place on the shallow grave. The kind soldier who made a cross from two sticks and tied them together so that Etta could place them on the stones over the shallow grave. The kind soldier who stood beside Etta while she said a prayer on her lips and a chant in her head. The kind soldier then took her hand in his. Walked no more than a yard. Laid her down on the dirt and raped her at the side of her mother’s grave.

Etta in her tenth year was now an orphan. It was at her new destination that her education began again and in earnest. Within the boundaries of the reservation there was a Mission school and hospital. Etta along with other children from various tribes, many of whom were orphans were sent daily to the Mission School. The school was run by a Baptist Pastor Reverend Spinks and his wife, both devout Christians and dedicated teachers. It very soon became obvious to this caring couple that the child answering only to the name of Etta, was not of any of the tribes and had had some book learning. Etta was an eager and willing pupil. Taking Etta under their wing they instructed her in the three ‘R’s. They also allowed Etta to have access to their small library. Mainly books on religion but to Etta they were pure gold. .

Pastor and Mrs Spinks couldn’t do enough for their star pupil. It wasn’t long before Etta was helping to teach in the classroom and also lending a hand at the hospital. It was there that Etta became more than interested in everything medical. She not only enjoyed caring for the various patients in the hospital but also had a desire to learn more and more of the ways and means of healing. It was there that Etta now in her fifteenth year became a full time helper at the Mission Hospital.