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T h e D r e a m

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Other Books by Gilbert Morris

Charade

Jacob’s Way

Edge of Honor

Jordan’s Star

God’s Handmaiden

The Spider Catcher

The Singing River Series

The Homeplace

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G i l b e r t

M o r r i s

T h e D r e a m

THE SINGING RIVER SERIES

BOOK II

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The Dream

Copyright © 2006 by Gilbert Morris

All rights reserved under International and Pan -American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non -exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

AER Edition January 2009 ISBN : 978-0-310-31755-5

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Morris, Gilbert.

The dream / Gilbert Morris.

p. cm. — (The singing river series ; bk. 2)

ISBN-13:

978-0-310-25233-7

ISBN-10:

0-310-25233-4

1. Domestic fiction. I. Title.

PS3563.O8742D67 2006

813'.54 — dc22 2006005247

Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680

Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the King James

Version.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photo-copy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

06 07 08 09 10 11 12 • 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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To Dan and Jan Meeks

Thanks for the memories — and the fine years of fellowship

and love you’ve brought into our lives.

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CONTENS

Part One:The Worries

7

Chapter 1

9

Chapter 2

18

Chapter 3

28

Chapter 4

37

Chapter 5

45

Part Two:The Pastor

61

Chapter 6

63

Chapter 7

75

Chapter 8

89

Chapter 9

101

Chapter 10

113

Chapter 11

126

Part Three:The Romances

137

Chapter 12

139

Chapter 13

152

Chapter 14

164

Chapter 15

174

Chapter 16

184

Chapter 17

192

Part Four:The Transformation

203

Chapter 18

205

Chapter 19

216

Chapter 20

222

Chapter 21

226

Chapter 22

234

Chapter 23

247

Part Five:The Thanksgiving

257

Chapter 24

259

Chapter 25

270

Chapter 26

280

Chapter 27

285

Chapter 28

291

About The Publisher

317

Share Your Thoughts

318

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Part One

The Worries

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Chapter 1

The dream came to Lanie Belle Freeman softly, so gently that

the scene enveloped her like a warm, soft blanket. She lay still,

caught in that zone somewhere between deep sleep and awareness. As

always when the dream came, Lanie was vaguely aware that she was

in a world that did not exist, yet at the same time the dream was so

wonderfully real that she always resisted the pull of the world. The

world was filled with cold practicality and hard decisions and heart-

aches. But the dream — ah, the dream! It was warm and lovely and

filled with a joy that the real world could never give!

The dream always began the same, never even the slightest varia-

tion. Lanie had endured so many painful changes in the past few

years that the most comforting thing about the recurring dream was

its reliable sameness.

It began with the sound of Lanie’s mother singing “The Old Rug-

ged Cross.” Elizabeth’s voice was clear as a bell, sweet and pure and

true. The words seemed to Lanie to flow like the clear waters of Sing-

ing River:

On a hill far away, stood an old rugg ed cross,

The emblem of suff ering and shame

And I love that old cross wh

ere the deares t and bes t

For a world of lost sinners was slain . . .

And then in the dream Lanie felt herself held securely by strong

arms, and when she looked up the face of her mother would appear.

The firm but gentle mouth, the clear gray-green eyes filled with love!

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THE DREAM

Then the scene would change, and Lanie would be clinging to her

father’s hand, and Forrest Freeman would scoop her up, smiling and

saying, “Well, now, Muff, how about a song, eh? Just you and me?”

Then Lanie would join her father singing the old hymn “Life Is

Like a Mountain Railroad.” The voices of the two would blend, then

Elizabeth would join in, and finally Lanie’s brothers and sisters would

add their voices to the song.

The dream went on, sometimes for what seemed like hours, some-

times only briefly, but always the joyous sound of the Freeman family

would fill Lanie’s world.

When the dream lasted a long time, Lanie would run with her

father through the woods while the trees blazed with fall colors, and

then she would be digging in the loamy garden soil with her mother,

putting seed in the warm earth of spring. At times the dream would

take Lanie and her family to the Singing River, where Cody and Davis

shouted as they pulled thumping sunfish out of the sparkling waters,

and Lanie and Maeva splashed in the shallows while their mother

smiled on.

But then dark shadows would begin to gather, clouding the dream

with somber darkness. Lanie always tried to fight the shadows, but

they covered her with relentless power, pulling her out of the wonders

of the dream into the world of pain and disappointment . . .

“No!” Lanie cried aloud, as the dream ended abruptly and she

found herself sitting upright in her feather bed. For one moment she

tried desperately to ignore the world of reality, to return to the warmth

and color and joy of her dream — but she knew it was useless. Once

the dream was over, there was no going back.

With a quick, angry gesture, Lanie rolled out of the bed and stood

on the cool pine floor, disoriented. She blinked a couple times and

finally got her bearings. “I can’t believe I fell asleep!” she muttered. “I

still have more pies to make!” Then she shrugged and turned to face

the world of Lanie Belle Freeman of Fairhope, Arkansas, July 1931.

Moving to a small mirror, she paused, thinking with anguish of

her life as it had once been. The dream was a longing for her mother,

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GILBERT MORRIS

now in her grave, and for her father, who was serving a term at Cum-

mings Prison Farm for manslaughter. The loss of her parents was a

grief so poignant that whenever Lanie Belle thought of them, a lump

formed in her throat and tears burned her eyes.

Lanie forced the dream from her mind, yawned, and raised her

arms over her head in a broad stretch. As she threw her head back, she

heard a loud ripping sound, felt the seams give way, and immediately

knew what had happened.

“Oh, fuzz!” she uttered with disgust. Reaching to her side, she felt

the open seam and shook her head. “I’m going to have to make another

dress. I’m getting fat as Jezebel.” The comparison was not exactly accu-

rate since Jezebel was the Freemans’ four-hundred-pound sow. Lanie,

at the age of seventeen, had emerged from adolescence into blossoming

young womanhood. Her figure had swelled, and as she looked down at

herself, she calculated what she could do to make a new dress.

Turning quickly, she walked across the room, opened a red cedar

chest, and rummaged through it until she came up with a group of

flour sacks carefully washed and folded. They were white with a deli-

cate green flower that perfectly complemented the shade of Lanie’s

eyes. Quickly she counted the sacks and then nodded with satisfac-

tion. “I’ve got enough here to make me a dress. I’ll start on it after the

celebration tomorrow.”

For a moment Lanie Freeman held the material against her cheek

and imagined how it would be to go into a store and buy material off

a roll. She’d had this experience on a few occasions before her mother

died. Since then times had been hard, especially with the Depression

that had come two years earlier. But she never liked to spend a great

deal of time in regret, so she began to think of the McCall’s pattern

that she had bought at the general store. She had the kind of imagina-

tion that could take the picture of a pattern, along with the color and

shape and feel of the material, and envision the finished product.

Suddenly the giggle of a girl’s voice came floating in from the

outside window. At once Lanie straightened up and glanced over at

the clock. “Eleven o’clock!” she exclaimed. “Everyone’s supposed to

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THE DREAM

be in bed.” She knew the giggle belonged to her sixteen-year-old sis-

ter, Maeva. Putting the flour sacks back in the chest, she went out

the back door. The silvery moonlight illuminated the yard, and as

she walked alongside the house, the voices became louder. Rounding

the corner she saw Maeva being kissed by a tall young man. Darrell

Watkins had a bad reputation with young girls, and the anger that

swelled in Lanie suddenly reached the boiling point. “Maeva, what in

the world are you doing out here?”

Maeva Freeman reacted exactly as Lanie expected. As she turned,

the moonlight reflected on her red hair and her blue eyes were snap-

ping. “What does it look like I’m doing, Lanie? I’m kissing Darrell

Watkins.”

If Maeva Freeman was ever afraid of anything — or ashamed of

anything — no one ever found out about it. She had the same curves

of young womanhood as her older sister and stood there with an

impudent grin on her face. “You’ll have to wait if you want to get

your turn with Darrell, Lanie.”

“How did you get out of the house?”

Maeva laughed and pointed upward. “I climbed out that window.

Climbed down the walnut tree. If you want to keep me in, you’re

gonna have to chop down that tree.”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Well, I ain’t,” Maeva said defiantly. “Are you ashamed, Darrell?”

Lanie stood there oppressed by a sense of helplessness. Her father

would have been able to handle this, but he was in prison, and at the

age of seventeen she was now, for all practical purposes, the head of the

Freeman family. She had no trouble with her brothers Davis and Cody,

and, of course, Corliss Jeanne, at the age of three, was a treasure.

But Maeva Elizabeth Freeman was a rebel to the bone. She had

often heard her father say, “I think Maeva gets her contrariness from

her mama’s side. Couldn’t have got it from the Freemans.”

Unable to think up a reply that would bring any sort of remorse

to Maeva, Lanie turned and snapped, “Darrell Watkins, you get out

of here!”

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GILBERT MORRIS

“You don’t have to go,” Maeva said. She reached out and held the

young man by the arm.

Darrell was amused. “Maybe I’d better. Since you got no ma or

pa, I guess Lanie there has to be both.”

“You ain’t afraid of Lanie, are you, a big fellow like you?”

“Well, I always try to be nice to the mamas and papas of my lady

friends.”

“She’s not my mama. I don’t have to mind her and you don’t have

to go.”

Darrell was laughing and Maeva was grinning saucily when sud-

denly a voice came from heaven — or seemed to.

“You big ox, get on your way or I’ll shoot your stupid ears off!”

Darrell Watkins whirled and looked up, startled by the voice. He

saw an old woman with silver hair framed in one of the upper win-

dows. He was acquainted with Aunt Kezia, but he had never seen her

holding a .38, much less one that was trained right on him!

“Hey, now, Miss Aunt Kezia, be keerful! That thing might go

off.”

“It shore will go off if you don’t light a shuck. Now git!”

Darrell was a flamboyant young man and hated to give in to

anyone. “Now shucks, Miss Aunt Kezia, you wouldn’t shoot me. We

go to the same church.”

The words were no sooner out of Darrell’s mouth when the .38

exploded, sounding like a cannon in the silence of the night. Dirt

flew up about two inches from Darrell’s right foot, and he jumped up

in the air. “Hey!” he yelled. “Be careful with that thing!”

“I’d jist as soon shoot your ears off as spit! Now you git or I’ll

fumigate you!” She lifted the pistol and Darrell whirled and ran.

Maeva hollered after him, “Don’t bother to come back here, you

big dummy! Anybody that’s afraid of an old woman ain’t man enough

for me!” She turned around and grinned up at her Aunt Kezia. “Well,

are you gonna shoot me?” she demanded.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea, but I ain’t decided yet. Now you git back

in the house.”

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THE DREAM

“I don’t have to,” Maeva snorted with disgust.

“That’s the way, Aunt Kezia,” another voice suddenly broke out.

“Show her how the cow ate the cabbage.”

Maeva whirled to see her fourteen-year-old brother Cody framed

in the doorway, laughing. She flew at him at once, hitting him straight

on and almost flooring him. Cody was laughing and at the same time

trying to defend himself from Maeva’s blows. “Watch out or Aunt

Kezia will shoot you,” he yelled.

“I’ll kill you, Cody Freeman!” Maeva shrieked. She was get-

ting the best of Cody when suddenly Davis, who was eleven months

younger than Maeva, appeared. At the age of fifteen he was already

six feet tall, lean and strong. He reached out, separated the two, and

held Maeva so that she was helpless. “You settle down, Maeva. You’ve

made enough of a fool out of yourself for one night, I guess. Now, you

git in the house and go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll nail that window down

where you won’t be pullin’ any more stunts like this.”

Lanie watched as Maeva went into the house, loudly threatening

to run away and join a circus.

Lanie waited until all three were inside, then discovered that she

was trembling. These encounters with Maeva always drained her, and

she felt like she had failed her parents by not being able to handle

Maeva. Davis had once told her, “Shoot, Lanie, Pa couldn’t handle her

his own self. You know that. She’s gonna do what she wants to do.”

When she went into the house, she went at once to Corliss’s

room. The toddler was standing in the bed looking at her with enor-

mous blue eyes. Her blond hair caught the silver moonbeams and she

appeared unperturbed. “What was Maeva doing?”

Lanie was always mildly shocked when the child spoke in full

sentences. Corliss had not spoken until she was two and a half years

old. Then, almost overnight, she suddenly started making sentences.

“Oh, she was just getting into trouble. Now you lie down and go

to sleep.”

“Did you whip her?”

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GILBERT MORRIS

“No, I didn’t whip her. It’s late, honey, and tomorrow’s your birth-

day. You’ll be three years old.”

“Will I feel any different?”

“Oh, you might. Three is a mighty nice age.” Lanie laid the child

down, kissed her, and said, “Close your eyes now. Think up a story

and go to sleep.”

“All right, Lanie.” Corliss was agreeable, although she was wide

awake.

The contrast between Corliss’s sweetness and Maeva’s meanness

was never clearer to her than at that moment. She could still hear

Maeva yelling upstairs while Corliss smiled at her with an angelic

look. Her heart warmed, and she soothed the child’s hair. “Come

on, sweetheart, I’ll let you have a fresh fried pie because you’re such

a good girl. Maybe it’ll help you get back to sleep.” Carrying Corliss,

she went back into the kitchen, sat her down on the table, and cut

a pie in half. “Half for me and half for you.” She handed the pie to

Corliss, who took a bite of it eagerly. “Good!” she said.

“It’s apple. Got cinnamon in it.”

Corliss laughed and then looked serious. “Do I need a fork?”

“No.”

“We usually eat pie with a fork,” Corliss said seriously.

“Not fried pies. They’re supposed to be eaten with the fingers.”

Corliss nibbled neatly at her pie and glanced up toward where

Maeva’s voice could be heard. “Why is Maeva mad?”

“Oh, you know Maeva, Corliss. She didn’t get her own way. Hey,

in just one hour you’ll be three years old. Won’t that be nice?”

“Yes.” Corliss finished her pie and submitted to the process of

Lanie cleaning her face. “When’s Daddy coming home, Lanie?”

Lanie never knew how to answer this question. Her father had been

arrested and sent to prison for killing a man. It was an accidental shoot-

ing, but the judge was strict. Now a big part of Lanie’s life was spent

going to Cummings Prison Farm as often as she could to visit their

father. She was constantly weary from trying to be father and mother to

her two sisters and two brothers, but she could not give in to it.

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THE DREAM

She did not have to answer Corliss’s question, for suddenly Aunt

Kezia appeared. She was wearing a thin cotton nightgown and sniffed

the air as she came in. “I’d shore like to have one of them pies.” Aunt

Kezia was a small lean woman with silver hair and snapping black

eyes. She was in her nineties, but her mind was as sharp as ever.

“I made some of your favorite, Aunt Kezia. Take one of those

apricot.”

Aunt Kezia picked up an apricot pie and bit into it. “That’s plum

good. I couldn’t have did no better myself.”

“Did you ever make fried pies?”

“Sure did. Made ’em for my second husband, Mr. Butterworth.

He loved fried pies. When he was a town lawman down in Texas, I

made them for him three times a week.” Aunt Kezia looked Lanie

over and said, “You’re wore to a frazzle, child. Go to bed.”

“I can’t. I need to make some more pies.”

“I think it’s foolishness.”

“Why, Aunt Kezia, we’re making pies to raise money for the Lot-

tie Moon Missionary Offering. All the women at church are baking

something.”

“You can’t save the world with pies, Lanie.”

Their massive cinnamon-colored dog, Beau, came over and lay his

big head on Aunt Kezia’s lap. She grinned, reached out, and grabbed

him by the ears. “You handsome devil! Get away from me. You just

want some more pie dough.”

“Woof!”

Aunt Kezia laughed and grabbed some of the spare dough. She

fed it to him a little bit at a time, and finally she said, “That’s all.” He

glared at her reproachfully, then walked over toward the wall. When

he got there, he suddenly collapsed as if he’d been shot.

“I never seen a dog lay down like that. Why can’t he lay down like

a normal dog?”

Lanie laughed. “I don’t think we have anybody normal in this

house.”

“Well, I am. I’m the most normal person I ever seen.”

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GILBERT MORRIS

“Reckon I’ll clean up. Maybe we do have enough pies.”

“I’ll help you.” Aunt Kezia glanced at Lanie, noticing the fatigue

etched on her smooth face. The girl had struggled heroically after her

mother died giving birth to Corliss. It was a tragedy for Lanie to quit

school to take care of the house and the other children, and Aunt

Kezia admired her tremendously.

Suddenly Lanie turned and said, “I didn’t handle Maeva right.”

“Yes, you did. That girl can’t be handled!” Aunt Kezia sniffed.

“I know because I was just like her. She’s gonna have to get a few

bumps — but she’ll be fine.”

Lanie came over and stood before the small elderly woman. “Aunt

Kezia, sometimes I get to thinkin’ about how Daddy’s in prison, and

Davis can’t learn to read, and Maeva’s always in trouble — ”

“Honey, the good Lord knows about every problem you got. Now,

you’re a Chris tian girl, and you know God’s able to do anything. You

just go on to bed. I’ll finish cleanin’ up and get the pies ready to go to

the celebration. You go on now.”

Lanie hugged her aunt, kissed her on the cheek, and then left the

room, Corliss tagging along behind. Aunt Kezia watched them go,

then began to pray. She always prayed with her eyes wide open, which

shocked Cody, who admonished her, “You’re supposed to close your

eyes.”

“Who told you that?” Aunt Kezia always said.

Now the old woman stood there for a moment collecting her

thoughts and composing the prayer, and when it was firmly in her

mind, she said loudly, “Lord, things around here are right messy, so

I’m askin’ you to rare back and work a bodacious, humongous miracle

that covers everything this family needs. See to it now!”

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Chapter 2

The Dream came but quickly faded as a light pressure on Lanie’s

right eye brought her out of a fitful sleep. Lanie tried to ignore

it, but the slight tapping of something soft against her eyelid was per-

sistent. Finally she opened her left eye and saw Cap’n Brown, her

rangy Manx tomcat, sitting beside her touching her right eye gently

with his paw. It had been his way of waking her up ever since he had

come out of the woods to become a part of the Freeman family.

Sitting up, Lanie picked Cap’n Brown up and perched him on her

lap. “Why do you always have to interrupt my dreams, Cap’n Brown?”

she scolded. She stroked his thick fur and was amused as always at the

fact that he had no tail, just a stub. He did have enormously long hind

legs in the manner of a true Manx, and she reached out and gave him

a hug, which he received with a loud meow.

It was still dark outside, but she could see the beginnings of gray

light forming in the east. She sat there holding the cat and looking

around the room. As she did, it seemed slightly unfamiliar to her

despite the fact that she had slept in it almost every night of her seven-

teen years. What was missing was the furniture. She had grown up

surrounded by massive antiques, but they were all gone now, replaced

by inexpensive new pieces. She felt a sudden desire to see her old fur-

niture again, but shook her head and scolded herself softly. Don’t be

foolish, girl. If we hadn’t sold all that furniture, we would have lost this

place.

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GILBERT MORRIS

It was indeed a miracle that the homeplace had been saved. The

bank was ready to foreclose, but Elspeth Patton, the owner and pub-

lisher of the Sentinel, had come to their rescue. She had brought an

antique dealer out who made them an offer on the antique furni-

ture that enabled them to pay off the note at the bank and have a

little left over. A warm feeling came as Lanie thought of how pleased

her father had been that they had not lost the homeplace. She had

hugged him when she had visited him at Cummings Farm and said

excitedly, “Daddy, now when you get out, you’ll have your own place

to come to.”

The rooster, Franklin, crowed, and Lanie shoved Cap’n Brown

aside and grinned. “Franklin thinks the sun comes up because he

crows. He’s a mighty foolish rooster. It’s a good thing he’s too skinny

for us to eat.”

Leaving the room, she walked down the hall to the bathroom.

She washed her face with a thin sliver of Lifebuoy soap. “I hate Life-

buoy soap,” she muttered. “It stinks. I’m going to get Ivory soap next

time. That smells almost as good as perfume.”

She began to brush her hair and studied her reflection. She had an

oval face with a wealth of auburn hair and gray-green eyes, which she

inherited from her mother. Her mouth was wide, too wide, she thought,

and she muttered, “I wish I were as pretty as Maeva.” No sooner were

the words out than she was disgusted with herself. “Nobody’s pretty as

Maeva, and besides, I ought to be happy I look as good as I do.”

Going back to her room, she removed her nightgown and quickly

dressed. She would be going to the Stone County Fourth of July

County Fair later in the day, but there was work to be done, so she

wore the dress with the split seam. It didn’t matter much if she was

pooching out of it. Nobody would see.

When she was dressed, she moved over to the rocker and turned

on the lamp. Sitting down, she opened the worn black Bible that lay

on the table. It had belonged to her mother, and she delighted in the

notes that her mother had made years ago. There were so many of

them, notes of promises that her mother had claimed and then later

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THE DREAM

put down a date when they were fulfilled. The Bible had a great deal

to do with Lanie’s faith, and as she turned to where the marker indi-

cated her reading, she thought of her mother, and a lump formed

in her throat. She still missed her desperately, and it was a constant

struggle to overcome her feelings.

She was reading the Bible through from Genesis to Revelation.

It was her second time, and she had reached the eleventh chapter of

Leviticus. She began reading and was puzzled. It consisted of a list of

animals that the children of Israel were permitted to eat along with a

list of those that were not permitted. She got down to verse nine and

read aloud, “These shall ye eat of all that are in the waters: whatsoever

hath fins and scales in the waters, in the seas, and in the rivers, them

shall ye eat. And all that have not fins and scales in the seas, and in

the rivers, of all that move in the waters, and of any living thing which

is in the waters, they shall be an abomination unto you.”

Lanie’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “I just plain don’t

understand that,” she muttered. “Nothin’s better than good fried cat-

fish — and yet the Bible says they are an abomination. I’m going to

ask the preacher how come it says we can’t eat catfish. I know he eats

it himself, so it must be all right.” She continued reading until finally

she got to verse twenty-two, which said, “Even these of them ye may

eat; the locust after his kind, and the bald locust after his kind, and

the beetle after his kind, and the grasshopper after his kind.”

“Who in the world,” Lanie exclaimed, “would want to eat a

grasshopper or a locust!” She shivered and continued reading down

through the chapters, and finally she said, “Well, Lord, I read it, and

I don’t have any idea what it’s all about. If you don’t want me to

eat catfish, you’re going to have to say it plain, because everybody I

know eats catfish. But I will promise never to eat any grasshoppers

or any locusts.” Closing the Bible, she prayed for her family and for

the members of her church who were ill and closed by saying, “Lord,

I can’t do a thing with Maeva. You’ll have to do something because

she’s beyond me.”

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GILBERT MORRIS

After closing the Bible, she rose and walked over to the chest of

drawers. It was new and not extravagant but well made, and opening

the bottom drawer she pulled out two notebooks and took them back

over to her chair. Sitting down, she held one with a green cover and

smiled. “My first diary,” she said. “I couldn’t have been more than six

when I started it.” She opened it and read the first entry. “Dady took

us all to see a pitcher show. It was good. I like Mickey Moose best.

After the show he bought us all a red soda pop and a moonpie. We hav

the best dady in the hole worrld and I will rite a pome about him.”

My Dady

My dady has big rough hands,

But wh

en I cry, he understands.

My dady has laffi ng eyes

And holds me wh

en I cry.

My dady does n’t have much monney,

But I like it wh

en he calls me Honny.

A smile turned the corners of Lanie’s lips upward, and she ran

the tips of her fingers over the writing. “I wonder where that little girl

is who wrote this.” It was something she often thought of. When we

grow up, we leave behind that which we are. Aunt Kezia once had been

a mere baby, and now she was old and wrinkled and fragile. Where was

the child she had been?

Lanie Freeman frequently had thoughts like this, and she always

loved to put her notions into poems and journals. She never showed

them to anyone, although she had filled many notebooks. As she sat

there musing over the poem about her dad, she thought of a poem she

might someday write about her mother. She made a few notes, then

for a time let memories of her mother flow over her. She had been

unable to do this for a long time following her mother’s death, for she

always ended up weeping. But time had healed her to some extent,

and though the ache would never evaporate, now she could occasion-

ally think of her mother with fond pleasure.

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Laying the green notebook down, Lanie picked up the blue one

and opened it to a poem that she was working on. For several months

Lanie had been working on a series of poems about Jesus of Naza-

reth. All of them were written from the point of view of someone in

Scripture. Her teacher had told her that these were called dramatic

monologues. She had written a poem about Mary, about the inn-

keeper who turned them away, about the shepherds who were told by

the angels that the Savior had been born. For some time she had been

trying to write a poem about the wedding feast where Jesus turned

the water into wine. She liked to make each poem different and was

tired of poems that always rhymed and had the same length of line.

She thumbed over several pages of failed attempts, and finally got to

the one she was happiest with. She wrote a verse of Scripture at the

top: “The governor of the feast called the bridegroom, and saith unto

him, Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when

men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the

good wine until now” (John 2:9 – 10).

She read the poem aloud softly:

First Miracle

O child

Of my virginity,

This water felt your touch

And blushed to wine!

See how red it is,

Like Sharon’s morning rose,

Yet clear as Hebron’s streams

It sparkles in my cup.

O son of strangeness

born,

Would that I could know your hidden heart

As clearly as I see this clear wine!

I think your days will be

A bitt er draught of pain

(wh

ich I too must taste)

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A bitt er drink and not sweet wine

For Mary’s son.

Alone that man must walk

Who touches water into wine — but then

You always were alone,

Not least in humming crowd, and yet

Your silence was companioned by

Unspoken truths.

Thes e have drunk your red, red wine;

But men were never satisfi ed

By timely tastes .

O son of sorrow,

When thes e vess

els emptied are,

What wine must you pour

From deep within

To quench our thirst?

O son of man, wh

at wine

At last will you pour out

For us?

A good feeling came to Lanie as she read the poem over. She

bowed her head and said, “Thank you, Lord Jesus, for helping me

write this poem, and may my poems always honor you.” She always

wrote her poems to please Jesus and felt this was part of her worship of

the Savior. For a time she sat there thinking about the next poem she

would write. Then, hearing voices from the first floor, she got up with

a start. She quickly put the notebooks back under the clothing in the

bottom drawer and hurried out of the room to begin her day.

Getting Cody and Maeva out of bed was always a chore that

Lanie was glad to leave to Davis. They had learned that if they didn’t

get up when he first called them, he would dump them out on the

floor or pour cold water over them. They were all up now, and Lanie

got the breakfast going as they milked the cows, gathered the eggs,

fed the chickens, and fed Jezebel the sow along with the goats.

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THE DREAM

They all came rushing in at about the same time demanding to be

fed, and after Maeva set the table they sat down. Lanie stood behind

her chair, and they all bowed their heads. Maeva gave a malevolent

glance that Lanie ignored.

“Lord, we thank you that we are all alive and healthy. We thank

you for this food. We pray that you will be with Daddy and give him

a good day. Be with us at the fair, and may we raise a lot of money for

the Lottie Moon Missionary Offering. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Davis picked up the big pan of scrambled eggs and went around

dumping a portion onto each plate.

“Not much for me,” Aunt Kezia said. “You know I eat like a bird.”

Aunt Kezia talked constantly about what a finicky eater she was when

actually she ate like a field hand. She also complained about sleeping

poorly when actually she slept as if she were dead.

“You gave Maeva more than you gave me, Davis,” Cody protested.

“I’m older than you are and bigger,” Maeva said. “You’re always

complaining.”

“I don’t never complain!” Cody said indignantly. He did, of

course, but always immediately forgot.

The breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, fried ham, grits, and

red-eye gravy along with freshly baked biscuits and jars of blackberry

jam, red plum jam, and honey.

As they ate, they talked about what they were going to do at the

county fair. Maeva was not happy. “What’s the use of going to a fair

when we ain’t got any money?”

Davis bit off half of a biscuit and chewed it with his mouth full.

His voice was muffled as he said, “There’s lots to see. It doesn’t take

any money to look.”

Cody reached over and punched Davis in the arm. “You better

win that ball game today, Davis. I bet Max Jinks my best slingshot

against three of his best marbles including his best shooter.”

“It’s wrong to bet, Cody,” Lanie said. “Isn’t it, Aunt Kezia?”

“Not always.”

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Maeva was interested. “You think it is all right to bet, Aunt

Kezia?”

“If conditions are right. I made a bet once. I won it too.”

“What’d you bet on, Aunt Kezia?” Davis said, his eyes sparkling.

He was a fine-looking boy, tall and lean and rangy like his father with

the same auburn hair and light blue eyes. He was the best athlete in

Fairhope High School even though he was only fifteen. His dad had

taught him to pitch, and he was good at almost any sport.

“Well, I made a bet once when we lived in Kansas. Mr. Butter-

worth was the marshal there. It was a rough place. I never knowed

when Mr. Butterworth would come in all shot up.”

“Why’d you call him mister?” Maeva demanded.

“Because in those days women knew how to respect their

husbands.”

Maeva laughed aloud. She licked away a smear of blackberry jelly

on her upper lip. “You didn’t respect your last husband.”

“I shore didn’t,” Aunt Kezia snapped. “He was a boring man. You

can’t respect a boring man.”

“I guess then I’d better marry a man who ain’t boring.” Maeva

winked roguishly.

“You’d better! Anyway, I was on the main street going to the gen-

eral store when this feller named Buck Slade stopped me. I knowed

him, for he fancied himself a bad man. He’d had trouble with my

husband, Mr. Butterworth, and wanted to aggravate me just to get at

him. He said some rude things to me.”

“What rude things did he say?” Cody demanded, leaning

forward.

“Never you mind that. They was rude. All that worthless trash

that hung out with him laughed at him.”

“What’d you do?” Maeva asked.

“I took the .38 my husband give me out of my reticule and told

him to git. He just laughed and told me I couldn’t hit nothin’.” Aunt

Kezia’s eyes sparkled. She nodded with satisfaction at the memory. “I

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THE DREAM

asked him if he was a bettin’ man, and he said he was. I said, ‘I bet I

could outshoot you.’ ”

“What’d he say?” Lanie asked, fascinated as she always was at her

aunt’s stories.

“He took a dollar out of his pocket, held it up, and said, ‘I bet

you can’t hit this dollar while I hold it.’ I told him, ‘I bet you a dol-

lar I can.’ He backed off about ten feet. All them fools that followed

around with him was laughin’, and I shot at it.”

“Did you hit it?” Maeva demanded.

“Well, I come pretty close. I shot him in the hand right through

the palm.”

Everyone began laughing, and Davis said, “What did he do?”

“Oh, he started cussin’ and a comin’ to get me, but about that

time Mr. Butterworth, he came along. He arrested them all for dis-

turbin’ the peace.”

Maeva was staring at her aunt with admiration. “Did you mean

to shoot him, Aunt Kezia?”

“Ain’t sayin’, but Buck Slade never bothered me no more.”

“What happened to him?” Cody asked.

“Well, he didn’t live long after that. The fool tried to hold up

a bank in broad open daylight, and Mr. Butterworth and his dep-

uty, who had the foolish name of Hippy, shot him so full of lead he

wouldn’t even float in the creek.”

All the youngsters were leaning forward, and Corliss, who had

been silent through all this, said, “Tell another story, Aunt Kezia.”

“No,” Lanie interjected. “That’s enough stories for now. I got a

surprise for you, Corliss.” She got up, went to the stove, and pulled a

small cake out of the warming compartment at the top. It had three

candles on it, and she lit them with a kitchen match. Bringing it in,

she put it down in front of Corliss. “Blow them out, honey.”

Corliss took a deep breath and blew, and as the candles went out,

they sang “Happy Birthday” to her.

“Now we’ve got some presents for you,” Lanie said.

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Everyone, indeed, had gotten a present for the child. They were all

simple things, small toys or candy, and Corliss crowed over each one.

“Well, I’ve got a surprise for the rest of you,” Aunt Kezia said.

She got up and left the room, and Cody said, “What do you

reckon it is?”

“I have no idea.” Lanie smiled. “You never know what Aunt Kezia’s

going to do.”

Aunt Kezia came back in with a purse, and she reached into it and

said, “Looky here. Got one of these for each of you.” She gave each

one of them a silver dollar, including Corliss.

“Hot ziggity!” Cody said. “I’m gonna ride that Ferris wheel with

part of this.”

“You’ll probably fall off of it,” Davis said. “I’m gonna get some of

that cotton candy and one of them candy apples they had last year.”

The youngsters all talked excitedly about what they were going

to do with the money, and Aunt Kezia looked on them with a fond

regard. “You’re all pretty worthless young ’uns,” she said finally, “but

I’ll reckon you’ll do in a pinch.”

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Chapter 3

Lanie pulled the ancient Ford pickup into the line of cars, but even

before she stopped she saw in the rearview mirror the occupants

of the bed were piling out. Turning to Aunt Kezia, she laughed, “It’s

a wonder they didn’t jump out on the way here.”

“I reckon it is, but every time we leave in this contraption I never

expect to get to where we’re goin’ in one piece.”

Lanie reached over and hugged Corliss. “Come on. We’re going to

take our pies over to the sales tables, then we’re going to the carnival.”

After they delivered the pies, they went at once to the carnival

grounds. She could hear the sound of calliope music filling the air,

and the crowd that had gathered for the fair added their voices. It was

a time of laughter and release, and Lanie noted the expressions on the

faces of her brothers and sisters. They’re worn out with working hard

and having no money, she thought. This will be good for them.

The fairground was roughly divided into two segments — one

contained the buildings where the exhibits were shown, and the other

was the carnival. As they joined the crowd that was milling around,

Lanie spoke to many of her friends. She felt the excitement in her own

breast, and she thought what a contrast all this light and happiness

was to the daily struggle for existence. Here people were eating exotic

foods like cotton candy and taffy apples. They were riding death-

defying rides such as the octopus and the Ferris wheel. The barkers

outside of the shows, the freaks, and the menagerie were all so differ-

ent from the monotony of their regular lives.

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“Come on, I’m wanting to go ride the octopus!” Cody yelped

shrilly.

“Me too. I want to ride the neck snapper,” Aunt Kezia said, nod-

ding toward a ride that slung the occupants around in small cars while

spinning them in a huge circle.

Maeva and Cody darted off, and Davis grinned. “You’re mighty

brave letting those two loose on the fairgrounds.”

“I know it, but I can’t keep them tied up all the time.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll keep up with ’em,” Aunt Kezia snapped. She

headed off in their direction, her small frame upright. She was wear-

ing the same dress she wore to church every Sunday, which amused

Davis. “Don’t you think it’s kind of odd Aunt Kezia wearing her Sun-

day clothes to a carnival? That Aunt Kezia, she’s a caution now.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without her. Come on, let’s take this

girl for a ride on the merry-go-round.” The three advanced, and Cor-

liss squealed with pleasure as she rode the horses up and down, Davis

holding her onto the seat. She insisted on riding twice, and finally

they persuaded her that there were other things to do.

“Why don’t you go find the kids, and I’ll take Corliss over and

we’ll see if the pies are selling,” Lanie said.

“All right.” Davis grinned. “I may fall in love with one of those

dancers at the side show.”

“You stay away from them, Davis Freeman!”

“Okay, Sis.” Davis winked and made his way through the crowd.

Holding tightly to Corliss’s hand, Lanie wove her way over to the

section where several tables were filled with food that was to be sold.

As she approached the Baptist table, she suddenly heard a loud voice

booming out, “Well, praise the Lord! Glory to God and the Lamb

forever!”

Sister Myrtle Poindexter had a voice that, according to many,

could make the hair fall out if you stood too close to her. She and her

husband, Charlie, operated the Dew Drop Inn, but her main calling

in life was as female pastor of the Fire Baptized Pentecostal Church.

She was standing in front of the table but turned and smiled broadly

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as Lanie and Corliss approached. “Give an old woman a hug, Corl-

iss,” she shouted as she leaned over, picked up Corliss, and spun her

around. Putting her on the ground, she said, “It’s good to see you,

Sister Lanie.”

“I thought you would be opposed to carnivals.” Lanie smiled,

winking at Charlie Poindexter. “It’s pretty worldly stuff.”

“I’m not going into the devil’s playground,” Sister Myrtle said,

firmly nodding toward the Ferris wheel and the carnival rides. “But

there ain’t no sin in goin’ in and lookin’ at good beef and fine veg-

etables.” She turned and said to William Prince, the pastor of the

First Baptist Church, “Reverend, just give me another one of them

fried pies.”

William Prince was a tall, lanky man of thirty-six. He resembled

the pictures of Abraham Lincoln, being rather homely and craggy.

He grinned and handed Sister Myrtle one of the pies Lanie had made.

“Here you are, Sister Myrtle. That’ll be ten cents, please. You know,

it’s a pleasure to take money for food from you, since usually you take

it from me.”

Ellen Prince, the pastor’s wife, was a small blonde with sky-blue

eyes and a winning smile. “You leave her alone now, William. Don’t

pay any attention to him, Sister Myrtle.”

Charlie Poindexter was a lean man without an ounce of fat on

him. He had a trace of mischief in him, and as Sister Myrtle bit into

her pie, he said, “Why, Wife, I thought you were fasting this week.”

Sister Myrtle was well padded, a big woman who wore no jewelry

and kept her hair in a bun so tight it seemed to pull her eyes back in

a slant. “You tend to your own taters, Charlie Poindexter. I’m takin’

this day off from my fast, and I’ll start in again tomorrow.” She took

an enormous bite of the pie and then nodded. “Ooh, Sister Lanie, you

are the world’s best fried pie cooker!”

“Why, thank you, Sister Myrtle. Anybody can make fried pies.”

“Not as good as these.” Sister Myrtle finished off the pie, licked

her fingers, and turned to William Prince. “Pastor,” she said, “we’re

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beginning our annual revival next week. I’m expectin’ you to be there

and bring all the sinners you can rope in with you.”

William Prince grinned. “I’ll surely be there, my sister.”

“I’m hopin’ that things get plum out of control. Out of man’s

control, that is,” Sister Myrtle amended. “I’d like to see the Spirit of

God take this town, turn it upside down, and shake it — get sinners

under the blood.”

Lanie listened and smiled at the pastor’s wife. Both of them knew

that Sister Myrtle could launch into a sermon just as easily at the fair-

grounds as she could in her own pulpit.

Finally Sister Myrtle ceased and said, “What about that brother

of yours? Is he playin’ in the ball game?”

“Yes, he is.” Lanie nodded. The Fairhope Mountaineers were pit-

ted in their annual battle against the Fort Smith Lions. Both of them

were semipro teams, and each team sent several players to the big

league every year. Although Davis was only fifteen, he was such a tal-

ented player that the Mountaineers used him often, usually as a pinch

hitter or a pinch runner. He was also a good pitcher, and he regularly

played that position as well.

“Well, I don’t think God gives a hoot who wins the ball games,”

Sister Myrtle said loudly. “But I’m gonna pray for your brother any-

how.” She raised her voice, lifted both hands, and her volume simply

drowned out all sound in a fifty-foot radius. “Lord, give them Lions

blind eyes to Davis’s fastball. Tangle their feet up so they trip, and

give them butterfingers so they drop every fly that comes their way.

Strike their hearts with fear when Davis steps on the mound, and let

that coach’s wife who runs around in public wearing forked pants get

a dose of religion that puts her back in her house cookin’ and washin’

and havin’ babies like she ourt to be doin’ . . .”

The prayer went on for some time, and finally Charlie lifted his

head and cleared his throat. “While my beloved wife is finishing up

her prayer,” he said, “I’ll reckon I’ll have another pie. Sister Lanie, I’d

like to have apricot if you’ve got it.”

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Reverend Prince laughed. “I admire your enthusiasm in prayer,

sister.”

“Well, you can’t make a prayer too hot or too long. I like to make

’em sizzle!”

Ellen Prince stood quietly listening as her husband and Sister

Myrtle began a long involved discussion on the nature of the second

coming. They had carried on a minor debate over this subject ever

since the Princes had come to pastor the First Baptist Church. She

leaned close and said, “Lanie, why don’t you go along and enjoy the

fair. I’ll look after Corliss for you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind staying and helping.”

“No, I’ll be here to take care of all that. We do appreciate the

pies.” She reached over and gave the girl a hug, for she was genuinely

fond of her. “Why don’t you go ride the Ferris wheel.”

Lanie shivered. “I’m not sure I can, Sister Prince.”

“Whyever not?” Ellen lifted Corliss to her hip.

“It’s just that, well — last time I rode the Ferris wheel was the day

I found out Mama died.”

Ellen Prince gazed at Lanie compassionately, sharing the young

woman’s sorrow. She had always been impressed by Lanie Freeman’s

courage in raising her family after the loss of both parents. “Well, I

don’t think your mama would want to feel like she spoiled one of the

joys in life.”

Lanie was embarrassed. “I guess you’re right, Mrs. Prince. Maybe

I’ll try it again. I always used to love it.”

Ellen Prince smiled. “That’s the spirit. Now I’ll take care of Corl-

iss, and you go along and ride your Ferris wheel. It won’t be so bad. I

know you can do it.”

“All right, Sister Prince. Thank you.”

Lanie made sure Corliss was happy in Ellen’s care, then left the

table, and she could hear the voice of Sister Myrtle until she was within

range of the sounds of the crowd and the music. Slowly she came to

the Ferris wheel and finally stood under it, watching as it spun around

and around. Four times it stopped, and each time she wanted to move

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GILBERT MORRIS

forward and buy a ticket, but somehow she just couldn’t make herself

do it.

“You going to ride this thing or not, Lanie?”

Lanie whirled quickly and saw Doctor Owen Merritt watching

her with a smile. Owen was six feet tall and weighed a lean one hun-

dred and eighty pounds. His crisp brown hair was moving slightly

with the breeze, and she noticed again his widow’s peak, the little

triangle of hair that grew right down on his forehead. He had warm

brown eyes, a wide mouth, a short English nose, and a very deter-

mined jaw. As always, Lanie was a little intimidated by him. When

he had first come to town, he had taken the Freeman children under

his wing. Over the last three years Lanie had grown into young wom-

anhood and become very much aware that he was the most attractive

man she had ever seen. She confided this attraction to her diary and

spoke of it to no one, but Maeva had been sharp enough to figure it

out. She often said, “You can catch that doctor, Lanie. All you have to

do is smile at him and lean against him a little bit and get you some

good perfume.”

Catching the doctor was not possible, Lanie knew, for he was

engaged to Louise Langley, the daughter of the richest man in

Fairhope. This shut the door as far as Lanie was concerned, but she

could not forget the one time, in a moment of weakness, when Doc-

tor Owen Merritt had kissed her. It started out to be a friendly peck

on the cheek but instead his lips fell on hers, and both of them were

somewhat shaken by the encounter. Since that time Doctor Merritt

was as careful as ever to see to the medical needs of the Freemans, but

he walked warily around Lanie.

“Come on. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“I don’t think so.” Lanie immediately covered up her feelings.

“Where’s Louise?” she said to change the subject.

“Well, she doesn’t like carnivals,” Owen said. He shook his head

ruefully. “We were supposed to meet here, but she didn’t show up.”

He looked at the Ferris wheel going around at full speed and then

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THE DREAM

turned his eyes back on Lanie. “You know, some people are afraid of

things like this.”

“I can see why,” Lanie said. “I’m a little scared myself.”

Owen shook his head at once and said firmly, “You are the most

courageous young woman I know. Come on now. We’re gonna ride

this thing. If it falls down” — he winked at her and grinned — “we’ll

fall down together.”

Lanie tried to protest, but he took her arm and led her over to the

small booth, where he obtained two tickets. “Come along. Here we

go,” he said, and the two got into the seat. As Lanie felt the oak bar

fasten in front of them, she reached out and grabbed it.

“Look, your knuckles are white. Don’t do that.” Owen smiled.

“It’s just a carnival ride. Let’s ride it with no hands.” He tried to pull

her hands away from the bar, but she shook her head.

“No. I want to hold on.”

Suddenly the wheel started with a jerk. Lanie moaned slightly

and shut her eyes as the seat rocked to and fro. She held on as if

she were holding the whole Ferris wheel together. Finally she felt the

movement as they went up, and Owen chided her, “Come on. Open

your eyes. Part of the fun is looking out.”

Lanie opened her eyes as the car crested the top. All thoughts

of her mother disappeared. “Look! You can see our truck over in the

parking lot. And there’s the railroad crossing over there.”

Owen leaned back and listened as the young woman breathlessly

described the sights. He was glad to see the enthusiasm on her face,

for he knew she got little excitement in her life. As Lanie held tightly

to the bar and the Ferris wheel stopped to let someone on, Owen said,

“How’s your dad?”

“I’m going to the prison to visit him next week. I’m really looking

forward to it.”

Owen listened as she described what all she was going to take to

her father, and the love for him was plain in her face. Owen had been

present when Forrest Freeman had been sentenced to prison for man-

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GILBERT MORRIS

slaughter, and now he said quietly, “You miss your dad a great deal,

don’t you, Lanie?”

“I think about him constantly.”

“We’ll just have to pray that Orrin Pierce will work a miracle. We

need to get him out of that place.” Pierce was the lawyer who repre-

sented Forrest Freeman, and was now trying to locate a mystery wit-

ness who had been present during the shooting and whose testimony

could vindicate Mr. Freeman. The witness, however, had disappeared

and was apparently in California. Pierce was working with Owen’s

brother to locate her and felt sure he would soon have enough evi-

dence to ask for a retrial.

Suddenly the Ferris wheel jerked again and started spinning

around. It made three circles, and as the ride came closer to the end,

thoughts of Lanie’s mother returned. When the wheel jolted to a stop

with their seat at the very top, Lanie felt herself breathing very rapidly

as she remembered that awful day three years ago.

“Here. You’re hyperventilating,” Owen said quickly. He moved

closer to her, put his arm around her, and said, “Now, just take some

deep breaths. It’s all right. We’ll get off this thing, but you need to

breathe slowly.”

Lanie was so overwhelmed with emotion she did not know what

she was doing. His arm around her was comforting, and suddenly she

closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest. She held on to

him as if she were a child, and finally the wheel began to move. Owen

shouted at the man who was operating it, “Stop this thing!” Then he

said, “Here. We can get off now, Lanie.”

Lanie opened her eyes and then pulled away from Owen with

some embarrassment. She hated to show weakness and could not

meet his eyes. “I’m such a baby.” She immediately saw Louise Langley

standing with her father, Otis Langley, and her face turned red. Her

relationship with the Langleys was not good, and now she saw disap-

proval on their faces. Owen stepped out of the car and gave her his

hand, and then when she stepped out, he turned to Louise, cleared his

throat, and said, “Hello, Louise. I gave up on you.”

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“So I see,” Louise said sharply. She was an attractive young woman

with fair hair and blue eyes and wore far more expensive clothes than

any other young woman in Fairhope. Her eyes were cold now, and

she listened as Owen explained, “Lanie is a little bit nervous around a

Ferris wheel, so I thought I’d give her a little encouragement.”

“I think we can go now,” Louise said tersely.

Otis Langley, Louise’s father, was a big man of fifty, fine looking

with brown hair and brown eyes. He was powerful in the politics of

Fairhope and in Stone County, and had exerted considerable effort

to get his hands on the Freeman homeplace, which he knew one day

would be very valuable. He had been thwarted in this, and now his

lips were turned down as he said, “I suppose we’re ready to go if you

are, Owen.”

“All ready,” Owen said. He turned and grinned crookedly at

Lanie. “Next time we’ll get on the merry-go-round.”

“Thank you, Doctor Merritt.”

Lanie stood there and watched as the three left, then she sud-

denly felt weak. What a fool I was! Louise is so jealous anyway. I know she’ ll give Owen a hard time. As she made her way back toward the

food table, she felt depressed, and the joy of the carnival was erased.

When she reached the table, she picked up Corliss and gave her a big

hug, somehow comforted by her little sister. Ellen Prince took one

look at her face and said, “What’s the matter? Did you ride that Ferris

wheel?”

“Yes, I did.”

Ellen was a sensitive woman and could sense Lanie’s distress. “It

wasn’t much fun, I take it.”

“No,” Lanie said, and sadness touched her voice. “It wasn’t any

fun at all.”

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Chapter 4

About two o’clock in the afternoon the carnival was almost

deserted. The music still blared on, but only a few isolated spec-

tators moved amongst the rides. The exhibit halls were nearly vacant,

with only a few farmers waiting expectantly for their entries to be

judged in the three o’clock cattle show.

The crowd had moved over to the field where the annual baseball

game between the Fairhope Mountaineers and the Fort Smith Lions

was to be held. The stands, such as they were, were filled, but Lanie

and the rest of the Freemans had come early so that they had seats

right behind home plate. They were all crowded together, and Cody

elbowed Maeva, saying, “Don’t crowd me, Maeva. You’re just about

sittin’ on my lap.”

“Who wants to sit on your old lap!” Maeva snapped. She started

to rebuke him, but at that moment Roger Langley, Louise Langley’s

brother, came toward them. He was the catcher for the Mountaineers.

“Come to see us clean up on the Lions?” He winked at Lanie.

Roger Langley was the object of many a young woman’s eye in

Fairhope and, indeed, in Stone County. His father had money, and

Roger himself was a fine-looking young man. He was over six feet

with fair hair and blue eyes, but he seemed unconscious of his good

looks. He had known Lanie all of her life, but only in the last year had

he become interested in her. When his father had tried to foreclose on

the Freeman place, Roger had stood up for the Freemans. The quarrel

between him and his father had led to Roger’s determination not to

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THE DREAM

depend on the Langley money to make a living. He had taken a job

working for a surveyor and was now saving money to go to college.

“You got the day off from work.” Lanie smiled up at him. She

liked Roger very much indeed, and they had gone out on several

dates. He had kissed her once, and she had been excited by his touch,

although she tried not to show it. “How do you like surveying?”

Roger tossed the ball up in the air, caught it, and grinned. “Just

like a paid vacation,” he said. “Lots of fresh air and sunshine and

good exercise, and I get to stay here in Fairhope and be close to my

best girl.”

Maeva, who was taking all this in, grinned and said, “Your old

man won’t like it. He doesn’t care for us Freemans.”

“I’m not asking his permission!” Roger shrugged, then added,

“Louise told me about you and the doctor smooching on the Ferris

wheel.”

“We were doing no such thing!” Lanie exclaimed. Several of the

spectators were listening and loud laughter went up.

“Well, that’s a good thing. He’s too old for you anyhow. Now

me, I’m just right. How about we go to a movie tomorrow night? The

Marx Brothers have got a new one. It’s called Monkey Business.”

Although Lanie was embarrassed by his referring to the escapade

with Owen on the Ferris wheel, she enjoyed being with Roger, and it

was always refreshing to get out for an evening with him. “All right,

Roger.” She glanced at the players on the field and warned, “You be

careful. Don’t get hurt.”

“Hurt from those Lions? Not a chance!”

The Lions were warming up on the field and shouting to each

other loudly, and Lanie saw they were all much older than Davis.

“They look pretty tough, Roger. I’m worried about Davis. He’s too

young to play against that bunch.”

“Well, he’s not going to pitch today. He’ll be all right.” He heard

the coach shout and turned to say, “Well, time to go beat the Lions.

I’ll come by about six tomorrow. We’ll get one of the exquisite meals

down at the Dew Drop Inn before the movie.”

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“I’d just as soon not come to this old ball game,” Louise Lang-

ley complained. She had reluctantly agreed to come with Owen and

frowned as she added, “Who cares who wins between these two hick

town teams?”

“Everybody in the county cares,” Owen said. He had bought

some peanuts and was cracking them and tossing them back into his

mouth. “Baseball means a great deal to these people, Louise.”

“It’s just a game.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Why would you say that?” Louise Langley turned to study

Owen. She knew the two of them were different in many ways, but

she was also aware that he was an up-and-coming physician. Doctor

Oscar Givens was in his middle sixties and still would practice for

a few more years, but he was obviously grooming Owen to take his

place. Owen would have a large practice, and anybody who wanted

medical care would come to him. Louise saw herself as the wife of a

prominent doctor, and she also knew that doctors were at the top of

the social scale in Arkansas small towns. “What do you mean,” she

said, “that baseball’s more than just a game?”

“Well, since the Depression hit, everything in the South has pretty

well shut down — in the North too, of course. The men and boys in

our area get so frustrated. They can’t find work. They stand around

the pool halls. They chop cotton for fifty cents a day, a twelve-hour

day at that. It’s not much of a life. But they can play ball, and they

become important.” He waved his hand and said, “You know who the

heroes of every one of those boys are out there on that field?”

“I have no idea.”

“Lefty Grove and the Philadelphia Athletics. They know the

Athletics are the heroes and the New York Yankees are the villains.”

Owen popped another peanut into his mouth and shook his head.

“Those young fellows don’t have much hope of seeing the Athletics.

However, they’ve all got radios, and when a game is broadcast every-

thing stops.”

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THE DREAM

“I know that. I just don’t see why men are so interested.”

“Well, these fellows are mostly raw-boned young farmers, most of

them uneducated. Their brand of baseball is raw and rowdy. Several

of the Mountaineers and the Lions too have gone to the majors. You

know, I have hopes that Davis will make a professional ballplayer.”

“Isn’t he only fifteen?”

“Yes, but he’s got all the gifts. His dad was a great ballplayer.”

“It didn’t help him much. He wound up in the penitentiary.”

“Louise, let’s not talk about that.” The plight of Forrest Freeman

was a bone of contention between Owen and Louise. She, as a matter

of fact, was jealous of all the Freeman family — especially of Lanie.

“You spend too much time worrying about them,” she often said, but

her words had no effect on Owen Merritt.

Owen had given up trying to talk to Louise about some things,

and the Freemans were one of those subjects. “Well, the game’s ready

to start.” He looked down and grinned. “Look. There’s Aunt Kezia.”

Louise looked down and saw Kezia Pearl Freeman waving her

hands in the air and shouting as the Fairhope Mountaineers took the

field. “That old woman shouldn’t be out here.”

“Why, she’ll have more fun than anyone. See that purse? She’s

probably got her .38 in it. She carries it everywhere she goes.”

Louise had no love for Aunt Kezia. It was the old woman’s arrival

that had saved the Freeman children from losing the homeplace.

Lanie had been sixteen, and Louise’s father had pulled strings to get

the State to declare that the children would have to be put into foster

homes since there was no adult supervision. But Lanie had discovered

her father’s second aunt lived just over the border in Oklahoma. She

and Doctor Merritt had made a trip and persuaded the old woman to

come and take up residence in their home. That had given them lever-

age enough so that they had been able to stay, claiming Aunt Kezia

as their guardian.

Louise moved restlessly as the Mountaineers began to throw the

ball around, and finally she said, “I don’t want to be critical, Owen,

but it didn’t look good your being on that Ferris wheel with Lanie.”

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“Well, I waited for you, but you never showed up.”

Louise turned to him, her lips in a pout. “It just doesn’t look

good,” she repeated. “There you were hugging her.”

“She was hyperventilating and scared to death. Poor kid.”

“She is not a kid!” Louise said, her eyes flashing. “She’s a grown

woman. Seventeen years old is no kid.”

Owen shrugged his shoulders. He was tired of arguing about

Lanie with Louise. “I admire her, Louise. I’ve tried to make that clear

to you. She’s got character, and not one young woman in a thousand

would have kept her family together the way Lanie did. Now, let’s

watch the ball game.”

Louise started to speak, but she saw the certain set of Owen Mer-

ritt’s jaw that always meant he was determined. She glanced down

at Lanie sitting with her family and made a resolution. I’m going to

have to keep those two apart. She’s pretty enough to attract a man, and

it would be just like Owen to get trapped. He doesn’t know women very

well. She then turned her attention to the ball game that was just

beginning, and wished heartily that it was over.

The game was like a minor war between the two sides. Both

teams were composed of strong raw-boned boys, most of them rather

rowdy and several who’d been in trouble with the law. They were not

at all like the church league teams, but more like the strong double-A

teams that many of the players would eventually enter.

The game was tight, and by the end of the fourth inning the

Lions’ pitcher, a big left-hander named Ben Crudden, was dominat-

ing. He was a hard-throwing pitcher and already had hit two players

and brushed back most of the others. His latest pitch hit Roger Lang-

ley, who picked himself up from the dirt and cried out, “You ugly ape!

You just wait. You’ll get yours.”

“What’s the matter, baby face?” Crudden laughed. “You didn’t

get your uniform dirty, did ya?”

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THE DREAM

The score continued zero-zero until the seventh inning. Thad

Little, the Mountaineer pitcher, was throwing a good game. He came

up to bat determined to get a hit and win his own ball game when

suddenly Crudden threw a hard ball inside. Little turned and twisted,

but the ball struck him on his pitching arm. He dropped his bat with

a cry, and Aunt Kezia’s voice rose up, “Why, you no good, two-bit,

sorry hoodlum! You done that on purpose!”

Indeed, the rooters for the Mountaineers were all shouting. Lanie

watched as the coach went out at once, and she saw him shake his

head.

“That’s all for him,” Maeva said. “Aunt Kezia, why don’t you just

shoot that Crudden.”

“I may do it before this game’s over!”

In the top of the ninth with the score tied, Davis came to the

plate with two outs. “All right, baby face,” Crudden yelled. “Let’s see

if you can take the heat.”

Davis approached the plate warily. He was a good batter, but the

Lions pitcher was the best he had seen all year. Beans had given him

instruction. “Don’t try to hit. Just take the strikes.”

That was fine with Davis. He felt relief, but when Crudden threw

the first ball, it headed right toward his head. Davis had exception-

ally fast reflexes, and he fell in the dirt at once. He got up, dusting

himself off and hearing the Fairhope crowd yelling and booing at the

pitcher.

“I missed you that time.”

The umpire warned Crudden, but it made no difference. His next

ball came in lower and faster and it caught Davis right on the thigh.

Roger yelled and dashed out straight toward Crudden. The rest

of the Mountaineers followed him, and the benches emptied in a wild

melee. “Would you look at that,” Aunt Kezia yelled. She saw the sher-

iff, Pardue Jessup, watching and said, “Sheriff, you’re a lawman, ain’t

you? Get out there and stop that!”

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Jessup grinned. “I’ll just do that. Come on, Ed.”

Ed Hathcock, the chief of police, joined Pardue, and they charged

out on the field. It took both of them to pull the players apart, and

there was more than one bloody nose and bruised face by the time

they got it stopped.

The umpire was red in the face. He felt embarrassed by losing con-

trol of the game, and he said to Davis, “Are you able to play, son?”

“Sure,” Davis said.

“Take your base.”

Davis trotted out to first base and stood there. He felt good, and

Crudden, being a left-hander, was facing him all the time. It was an

advantage left-handed pitchers had staring right at first base. They

were hard to steal against.

Another player came up to bat. Crudden watched him and went

into his windup. Davis somehow knew this was the time. As soon as

the windup started, he shot off the base and headed for second. He

knew the Lions catcher had a good arm, but with his head down he

ran as hard as he’d ever run in his life. In the distance, he heard the

ump yell, “Strike!” He threw himself forward, and he felt his fingers

touch the bag and instantly heard the thud of the ball into the second

baseman’s hand.

“Safe!” the umpire yelled, and a glad cry went up from the Fairhope

supporters along with yells of rage from the Fort Smith crowd.

Roger came up to bat then, and his eyes were squinted. He took

two called strikes then two balls, and then he pointed his bat over

straight at the pitcher. “Crudden, I’m going to knock this one in

your ear.”

Crudden merely laughed. He was pitching a great game and was

confident that his team would get him a score sooner or later. He

reared back and threw as hard a ball as he had ever thrown, but as

soon as he released it he knew that he had thrown it right over the

center of the plate. There was nothing a pitcher could do once the ball

was out of his hands, and when he heard the crack of Roger’s bat, he

began to curse. He did not even look to see the flight of the ball, for

he knew the meaning of that sound.

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THE DREAM

“A home run,” he said in disgust. “These hicks have beat us with

that good-for-nothing pitcher.”

Davis came in and was greeted by the entire team as soon as he

touched the plate. Roger came in right behind him, and the two were

the heroes of the hour.

Lanie ran out on the field. The game was over, but she had

trouble getting to Davis. Finally, when she pressed her way through,

she threw her arms around Davis and whispered, “Davis, Daddy will

be so proud!”

Davis’s eyes were misted over. “I hope he will be, Sis.”

Roger said, “What about me? I hit the home run. Don’t I get a

hug?” He picked Lanie up, swung her around, and then kissed her

right on the cheek. The crowd was wild, and pandemonium reigned.

The hated Lions had bit the dust!

Aunt Kezia waited and walked over to where the disgusted Lions

were beginning to pull their equipment together. She walked up to

Ben Crudden, the pitcher, and said, “I got half a mind to shoot you.”

Crudden was in a bad humor. “Get out of here, old lady.” He sud-

denly stopped and yelled, “Hey, put that thing away!” for Aunt Kezia

had pulled a pistol out of her purse.

“Wouldn’t do no good to shoot you in the head. You ain’t got

nothin’ there. Maybe I ought to just shoot you in the foot.”

“Somebody get her out of here!” Crudden yelled.

Pardue Jessup had witnessed this and came over smiling. “Are you

gonna shoot him, Aunt Kezia?”

“I reckon not. Why don’t you just arrest him.”

“On what charge?” Pardue laughed.

“Being stupid.”

“I don’t think that’s against the law. If it was,” Pardue said, “the

whole team would be in jail. Come on, Aunt Kezia, don’t shoot him.

He’s humiliated enough as it is.”

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Chapter 5

As Lanie poured the skillet full of popcorn into small bowls for

individual servings, she was thinking about the two weeks that

had passed since the county fair. It was now the end of July, and she

should have forgotten all about the Ferris wheel episode, as she had

come to think of it, but she had not. Louise Langley and her parents

had given her nothing but hard looks since then. Roger had laughed it

off saying that they would get over it, but Lanie was not at all sure.

She had always had a difficult time with the Langleys. Roger and

Louise’s younger sister, Helen, was Lanie’s age, so they had grown

up in the same circles. Helen always treated the Freemans like they

were from the wrong side of the tracks and never bothered to hide

her disdain. It didn’t help that Helen was a terrible student and Lanie

had constantly made A’s — it just gave Helen one more thing to dis-

like about the Freemans. Thank goodness Helen’s away at school for a

year, Lanie thought . She was glad she didn’t have to deal with Helen’s unpleasantness on top of everything else.

Putting the bowls of popcorn onto trays, she went into the living

room, where the entire family was sitting around listening to Amos

and Andy. The radio program was taking the country by storm, and

Davis suddenly laughed and shook his head. “That Kingfish is some

character. He’s always trying to do in Andy some way or another.”

“Hey, here’s the popcorn!” Cody yelped. He was lying flat on his

stomach reading the newspaper and listening to the radio at the same

time. Now he jumped up and grabbed one of the bowls and immedi-

ately began stuffing it into his mouth.

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THE DREAM

“Don’t eat so fast,” Lanie admonished him as she passed out the

rest of the bowls. She sat down and gave a sigh of relief. The fatigue

seemed to weigh her down into the rocking chair. “What are you read-

ing, Cody?” she asked during one of the commercials for Rinso soap.

“Reading about the tallest building in the world,” Cody said. “It

says here the Empire State Building is one thousand four hundred

and fifty-four feet high. Boy, how’d you like to fall off of that, Davis?

Look what it says here.” He shoved the paper over to Davis, who was

sitting cross-legged eating his popcorn. Davis glanced down, but as

Lanie expected, he only said, “Yeah, I see it.”

Davis’s reading problem was a very real crisis to Lanie. He was

behind in school and no one could figure out why he couldn’t read.

He made straight A’s in math where no reading was required and in

other subjects that required very little. She had had his eyes examined,

and Doctor Bell, the optometrist, had said, “He’s got twenty-twenty

vision, and there’s nothing wrong with his eyes at all.”

Corliss had climbed up into Lanie’s lap and was eating the pop-

corn delicately. She looked up and smiled sweetly. Lanie gave her a

squeeze and said, “You’re a sweet punkin’.”

“So are you, Lanie,” Corliss piped up. “Can I play the piano?”

Corliss loved the piano. It was a matter of wonder to everyone

that even at the age of three she was able, with her stubby fingers,

to pick out tunes. Cody had announced that she was going to be a

famous concert pianist one day.

Maeva, who was lying on the couch, was fishing in her bowl for

popcorn. “Look at this. There’s nothing in here but old maids.”

Everyone turned to stare at Maeva, and Davis demanded, “What

do you mean, old maids?”

“Why, that’s what you call popcorn that don’t pop,” Maeva said.

She was in her pajamas. Looking with disgust down at the bowl, she

then held it out. “Look at them. Half of ’em didn’t even pop.”

“I don’t know why you call them old maids,” Davis said.

“Why, because. Popcorn that won’t pop is like a woman that’s

never had a romance.”

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GILBERT MORRIS

Aunt Kezia was sitting in her chair dozing. She complained con-

stantly about her lack of sleep, but actually she slept all the time.

Now she woke up and cackled. “Old maids, eh? I never heard pop-

corn called that, but I’ve known plenty of women that didn’t have no

romance in their life.”

“You ought not to call people old maids, Maeva,” Lanie said. “It’s

not nice to call names.”

“I didn’t make it up. I read it in a story,” Maeva protested.

“When my husband was the peace officer in Abilene, a funny

thing happened.” Aunt Kezia reached down and picked up a hand-

ful of popcorn, stuffed it into her mouth, and then talked around it.

“There was this little, two-bit newspaper and what we called in those

days a maiden lady, one that never had no husband, died. Her name

was Nancy Jones. Well, the fellow that wrote the obituaries was in the

hospital. He was a part-time dentist and he got shot by a patient that

didn’t like the way he fixed his tooth. So the editor had to ask the fel-

low that wrote the sports news to write her obituary. ”

“What’d he write, Aunt Kezia?” Cody asked, a grin spreading

across his face.

“Well, he done the best he could. I remember every word of it. It

said:

“Here lie the bones of Nancy Jones ,

For her, death held no terrors.

She lived an old maid,

She died an old maid.

No hits — no runs — no errors!”

Davis whooped with laughter and cried out, “That’s the best obit-

uary I ever heard.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s funny. You shouldn’t make fun of people.

Not every woman is going around looking for romance,” Lanie said

stiffly. “You know Miss Effie Johnson runs that bank and she never

married. And if it hadn’t been for her, we would have been put out on

the street.”

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THE DREAM

Indeed, Effie Johnson had helped save their homeplace by refus-

ing to foreclose against the demands of Otis Langley, but Maeva

shook her head, saying, “She’d trade all that money in the bank for

a husband and kids, Lanie. Besides, she’s ruined her sister Cora’s life

trying to make her just like she is. She’s nothin’ but a frump.”

The argument went on loudly for some time, but soon their favor-

ite program, Fibber Magee and Molly, came on, and Lanie was glad to

sit back and relax. After it was over she shooed the kids all off to bed.

There were the usual protests, but she insisted, “Tomorrow is church

day, and we don’t want to be late like we were last week.”

Lanie washed Corliss, put her in bed, and told her a story. Corliss

went to sleep almost at once, so Lanie went back to the kitchen and

began, as usual, making preparations for the breakfast the next morn-

ing. She liked to have everything all ready, the eggs in one place, the

flour in another, all the dishes washed and ready for a meal.

Aunt Kezia wandered in and walked over to the cabinet. She took

a brown bottle out and poured an empty jelly glass half full then com-

plained, “I can’t sleep no more without my medicine.”

Lanie picked up the bottle and sniffed it. “Why, this is pure alco-

hol!” she exclaimed.

“It ain’t neither. It’s my sleepin’ medicine made right there in

Oklahoma by a purebred Cherokee Indian, a medicine man in his

tribe.”

Lanie watched with apprehension as the old woman swallowed

the mixture, smacked her lips, and put the cap back on the bottle.

“There,” she said. “That ought to put me to sleep.”

“You shouldn’t be taking all those patent medicines. You don’t

have any idea what’s in there.”

Aunt Kezia sat down and studied Lanie. “Don’t you worry about

my patent medicines. What I’m worried about is you. You look plum

peaked. Maybe you ought to have some of Doctor Alexander’s Liver

Potion.”

“I don’t want any of your old patent medicines. There’s nothing

wrong with me.”

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“Well, why do you look so worn out, then? I know you work hard,

but it’s more than that. Ever since the county fair you been mopin’

around like a sick coon.”

Lanie suddenly sat down on the chair and cupped her chin in one

hand. She really had no one to share her feelings with, and the urge

became overwhelming to tell someone what was going on in her life.

“I’ve been having sinful feelings.”

“What kind of sin? There’s sin and then there’s sin. They ain’t all

the same.”

“I know that, Aunt Kezia. It’s — well, I have impure thoughts

about a fellow who hugged me.”

“Who was it — that Langley boy?” Aunt Kezia demanded. She

leaned forward, her eyes bright, and added, “I expect it was. I’ve seen

him huggin’ on you.”

“I’m not telling who it was, but it bothers me. I don’t think a

woman’s supposed to have feelings like I’m having.”

“Well, stuff and nonsense!” Aunt Kezia exclaimed. “You just pas-

sin’ from one stage to another, Lanie girl. I’ve seen it happening ever

since I’ve been here. When a young girl becomes a woman, things

happen to her outwardly. You’ve seen that when you’re bustin’ out of

your clothes that you wore last year. Your figure’s developin’. Well,

things are happenin’ on the inside too.” She grinned suddenly and said,

“You’ll have to tell me all about it, but right now I’m gettin’ sleepy. I’ll

get up early in the morning and you can tell me everything.”

Lanie laughed suddenly, got up, and went over and hugged Aunt

Kezia. “I’m not telling you anything. You’re terrible.”

“I guess I’m a hellion just like I was when I was fourteen years old.

Good night, sweetie.”

Lanie waited until the old woman left the room, then she looked

over at Beau, who was asleep braced against the wall. A smile crossed

her lips, and she walked over, picked up his tail, and let it fall with

a thump. The big dog did not move. Lanie picked up his head, and

it was like picking up a dead weight. She dropped the head and it

thumped on the floor, but Beau did not even condescend to open his

eyes. “You sleep like a dead dog, Beau, I declare!” Lanie exclaimed.

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THE DREAM

She turned the light out and went upstairs. She washed her face

in the bathroom, brushed her teeth, then came back and put on her

nightgown. It was only ten o’clock and she felt wide awake. She sat

down in her chair, picked up her Bible, and began to read. She could

not concentrate her thoughts, and when Cap’n Brown came over and

pawed at her, she let him get on her lap. “Well, Cap’n Brown, you

can’t sleep either?” She stroked the silky hair of the big Manx cat and

leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’m going to tell you what I

wouldn’t tell anybody else. Those impure feelings I had were for Doc-

tor Owen Merritt. Don’t you think I’m awful, Cap’n Brown?”

But Cap’n Brown apparently did not think she was so awful. He

began to knead his claws into her thighs, something that seemed to

give him pleasure. He leaned forward and butted her with his head,

and Lanie put up with the discomfort for the sake of baring her soul.

Sometimes she shared these thoughts in the journals that she kept,

but there was always a chance that somebody would find them. Aunt

Kezia was nosy enough to ferret them out! Nevertheless she picked up

her journal and began to write, intent on getting her soul on to the

page:

I know Roger likes me, but he’s young and so am I. That’s wh

y I

think it’s wrong for me to have feelings for Owen. He’s almost

thirty years old and I’m only seventeen. Of course, some girls

marry older men, but he’s engaged to Louise. Her family has

money and she’s educated. I’ve just got to stop making a fool out

of myself.

She grabbed Cap’n Brown’s ears and looked into his face. She

pulled at them until his eyes were slitted, and he said, “Wow!”

“Wow to you. Now get off my lap.” She shoved the big cat off,

picked up the Bible, and began to read.

She read for some time, concentrating on Scripture. She was read-

ing the story of the temptation of Jesus, and a thought came to her

suddenly. Ideas for poems came like that to Lanie. She didn’t know

where they came from, but suddenly they just burst, like someone

striking a match in a dark room, throwing off light.

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“I wonder what the devil thought when Jesus came telling every-

one he was the Son of God?” she murmured. Even as she spoke, a

poem began arranging itself in her mind. She sat there moving words

around, exchanging lines. It was one of the pure pleasures of her life.

Her high school English teacher, Eden Marie Dunsmore, had taught

her how to write dramatic monologues. She had said, “You’ve got to

put yourself inside the body of the one you’re writing the poem about.

Have him or her speak out. Pretend you are that person.”

Lanie had written many dramatic monologues, but lately she was

concentrating on biblical figures. Now she was stumped. “How can I

try to put myself in the body of Lucifer? That wouldn’t be right.”

Still, the idea was fascinating, and finding her writing pad and

pencil, she began to write. She worked quickly, writing down what

formed in her mind, and as she wrote it changed. Finally, after much

scratching, she recopied the poem and looked down at it. “Got to have

a title,” she said. “I guess I could just call it ‘Lucifer.’ ” She read the

poem aloud softly.

Lucifer

“And he was there in the wilderness

forty days, tempted of Satan.”

(Mark 1:13)

They call him “Carpenter” — but O, ye spheres

I see in him mine ancient enemy

Made fl esh! Thus now I race in full career

Defeated by this one fr om Galilee.

How many dignitaries , prophet s, pries ts

I’ve lured up to temptation’s razor edge,

Then plucked them down to death without release.

Now hear, ye hellish powers, my deadly pledge:

I’ll empty hell! With demons fi ll the earth

Until it cracks! We’ll sweep on mighty pinions

Wreaking nature to untimely birth;

We’ll have this healer under hell’s dominion!

What though he spurned my bread — my power — my glory?

When he lies dead, earth will forget his story!

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For some time Lanie studied the poem, taking pleasure in how

the words and the rhymes had worked out. She had never understood

why writing poetry gave her such pleasure, but for a long time writing

had been therapy for her. When life pressed in, she could always go to

her poetry and find peace.

Finally she closed the tablet, concealed it under the clothing in

the bottom drawer of her chest, then turned the light out and jumped

into bed. Cap’n Brown joined her, shoving against her back and purr-

ing like a small engine.

“Good night, Cap’n Brown,” Lanie said. “You sleep well tonight.”

Cap’n Brown answered, “Wow!”

Getting off to church was always a hectic affair for Lanie. If she

let Cody alone, he would have gone dirty as a pig. Davis was a little

bit easier to get under way, but Maeva argued from the time she got

up to the time they left for church. She never liked church and usually

offered to stay home and keep Corliss, but Lanie always said, “No.

Corliss is going to church just like we all do. Now get yourself ready,

Maeva.”

The weather was beautiful, the sky was blue, and it looked hard

enough to scratch a match on as the ancient pickup rattled along.

White clouds drifted lazily across the sky, and Maeva said, “It’s going

to be hotter than a pistol in that church. I don’t see why we have to

come every Sunday.”

“Because it’s God’s house and it’s God’s day, Maeva. Now hush.”

Maeva continued to grumble and complain. Finally they arrived

at the white church with the steeple pointing up like a finger toward

the blue heaven. Lanie got the others established in the Sunday school

classes where they belonged, and she herself went to the nursery and

kept Corliss along with half a dozen other new babies.

After the Sunday school hour was over, she collected them all,

and it was like trying to drive bees across the desert, she thought

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as she collared Davis and Maeva and got them into their customary

seats, front and center, three rows back. They could look right up at

the preacher, and Maeva hated it. “I don’t see why we have to be a

spectacle and sit right down in the front. I think the Bible says you

ain’t supposed to be in the uppermost seat of the synagogue.”

“Where’s it say that?” Cody demanded.

“I don’t know, but if it don’t say it, it ought to. Look over there.

There’s Minnie Hopkins and that worthless husband of hers. Every-

body knows he’s runnin’ around with that Jezebel from over at

Seven Point, but there he sits all sanctified and slicked up. I hate a

hypocrite!”

“Be quiet, Maeva,” Lanie whispered fiercely, “somebody will

hear you.”

“I hope they do. They need to.”

Once the ser vice started and the younger Freemans were shut

down, Lanie turned Corliss over to Davis saying, “You watch out for

Corliss now, and don’t let Maeva leave.”

“Maybe I better tie her down.” Davis grinned. He pulled Corliss

close and hugged her. “Me and this old girl will be all right. You go

on up to that choir.”

As always, Lanie joined the choir. She had a pure soprano voice,

and she had urged Maeva to join her, for Maeva could sing much bet-

ter than she herself could. Maeva was adamant about this and solidly

refused.

The ser vice began, as usual, with a brief prayer, then three songs

out of the Baptist Hymnal: “The Old Rugged Cross,” “All Hail the

Power of Jesus’ Name,” and “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Then

the announcements were made, though they were printed in the bul-

letin, but Lyndal Mayfair loved to read the announcements and then

take the offering. He made a plea for cash, and Lanie saw Maeva’s face

cloud over, for she hated such things. She could only hope that Maeva

would keep her mouth shut!

Finally the choir sang their special, an arrangement by Dempsey

Wilson, who was the coach at the high school and also taught math

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and science. He had a beautiful tenor voice and led the choir with

great pleasure. The arrangement was a mixture of three songs all

woven together. “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” “Beneath the

Cross of Jesus,” and “At the Cross.” Despite herself Lanie felt pride in

the choir, for Dempsey had done a miraculous job of pulling together

rather mediocre talent to form a competent and at times inspiring

group.

Finally Brother Prince got up, and Lanie, who was seated at the

far right of the choir, saw that there was something different about

him. He seemed tense and uncomfortable. He stuttered slightly when

he announced his text, and as he made his way through the sermon,

Lanie could tell that he was disturbed. She glanced at Ellen Prince,

the pastor’s wife, who was seated next to her, and could tell that she

was also tense.

“What’s wrong with the pastor?” she whispered. But Ellen shook

her head and her lips tightened.

Mystified, Lanie sat there, and after the invitation “Just as I Am”

was begun, she was shocked to see the Langleys, who were Presbyte-

rian, coming down the aisle to join the church. Roger was grinning

broadly at her, and she wondered why the richest man in town and

his family were at the Baptist ser vice. There were rumors that they

had been unhappy at the Presbyterian church, that Otis Langley was

not able to manipulate the Presbyterian pastor, Alex Digby, and there

had been some stormy meetings. The rumors came fairly well docu-

mented since Henrietta Green, the telephone operator, made it her

business to listen in on conversations and pass the information along.

She was also a member of the Presbyterian church, so people tended

to trust her information.

Finally, after the pastor had spoken quietly to Otis Langley, he

turned to the congregation and said, “We are happy to have Mr. Otis

Langley, his wife, Martha, his son, Roger, his daughter Louise, and

his daughter Helen who is away at school, requesting membership in

our church.” Brother Prince hesitated and then said, “Most of you are

aware that they have been attending the Presbyterian church, but Mr.

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Langley informs me that previously his family were all members in

good standing of Calvary Baptist Church in Oklahoma City. They

now want to return to their roots and be a part of our fellowship. Do

I hear a motion that they be received?”

Deoin Jinks, the neighbor who lived across the street from the

Freemans, piped up at once. “I move we accept them into our church.”

A second came quickly, and Reverend Prince said, “Those in favor of

receiving the Langleys please be known by saying aye.”

The ayes were rather unenthusiastic, and Lanie wondered in a

flash, What would happen if I voted no? But when the pastor said,

“Those opposed vote by nay,” she kept her mouth shut, as did the rest

of the congregation.

“I’ll ask the Langleys to stand here. After the benediction you’ll

want to come by and welcome them into our fellowship. But first I

have a word to say.”

Lanie looked up at Brother Prince. She saw that he was rather

pale and knew he was about to say something difficult.

“This may come as a surprise to some of you but not to others.

My wife, Ellen, and I have felt for a long time that God was going to

call us to a foreign mission field. Well, the call has come, and we have

been accepted by the mission board of the Southern Baptist Conven-

tion as missionary volunteers to serve in Africa.”

A sudden chill went down Lanie’s back, and she heard a murmur

of dismay going across the congregation. She listened as the pastor

continued to speak. He spoke briefly of how he had learned to love

this church and how it was wrenching to leave it, but still God must

be obeyed.

“We will be leaving sooner than I would like, for we have to be

enrolled in the language school in two weeks. Ellen and I are filled

with joy over this calling, but we are saddened to leave you, our trea-

sured brothers and sisters in Christ. I ask you to pray for my family as

we go to serve God in Africa.”

He asked the congregation to rise and invited Ed Hathcock, the

chief of police, to pronounce the benediction, ending the ser vice.

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Afterward the crowd divided itself. Some of the congregation

headed for the door, and others went forward. Lanie came out of the

choir loft and hesitated. She knew that the Langleys did not care for

her. She had beaten out their son, Roger, for academic honors when

she was only a freshman, and Otis Langley had been furious, espe-

cially since his daughter Helen, the same age as Lanie, did so poorly in

school. He was also angry that he had been unable to manipulate his

way into buying their homeplace. But Lanie took a deep breath and

went at once to get in the line. Otis Langley was first. He stared at her

without speaking, and Lanie said, “Welcome to our church, Brother

Langley.” He nodded without saying a word. His wife did the same.

When Lanie smiled at Louise and said, “I’m glad to see you coming to

join us, Louise,” Louise nodded and said stiffly, “Thank you.”

Roger, however, was grinning from ear to ear. When Lanie put

her hand out, he grabbed it with both of his, pulled her forward,

and said, “Hey, isn’t there something in the Bible about greeting the

brother with a holy kiss?”

“Roger!” Lanie whispered in protest. She could not keep the smile

from coming to her lips. “I can see you’re going to be as bad a Baptist

as you were a Presbyterian.”

“You’ll have to take me under your wing. I feel I’ll need spiritual

counsel.”

“I know the kind of counseling you need. Now turn loose of my

hand.”

Lanie turned to Brother Prince and could barely speak, for she

loved the pastor and his family with all of her heart. She tried to say

how happy she was, but the tears came to her eyes. “I’m going to miss

you so much, Brother Prince. We all are.”

“And I’ll miss you too, Lanie. You’ll never know how proud I am

of you.”

It was a warm afternoon, and Aunt Kezia and Lanie were snap-

ping beans out on the back porch. Beau was at their side, and once in

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a while Lanie would give him a small portion. “The crazy dog likes

beans,” she said. “I never saw a dog that liked beans.” August had

come, and the First Baptist Church had activated the machinery for

finding a new pastor.

Aunt Kezia changed the subject. “I ain’t never liked the way Bap-

tists get their preachers,” she announced.

“What do you mean, Aunt Kezia? How else will we get a preacher?”

“All this nonsense about a pulpit committee and sendin’ people

out huntin’ for one like they was huntin’ for a possum or a coon or

somethin’.” She shook her head in disgust. “It ain’t fittin’ and it ain’t

pleasin’ to the Lord.”

“Well, how do you think we ought to find a pastor?”

“Let God send him. Elijah didn’t wait for no pulpit committee.

He just up and went.”

“I don’t think it would work that way.” Lanie thought for a

moment. “I’m going to miss them so much. I don’t see how the new

pastor could be any better than Brother Prince.”

“Well, he’s gone to Africa to preach to the heathen. Now God’s

got to send somebody to preach to the heathen here in Fairhope!”

The Dew Drop Inn was packed for the noon lunch. The ceil-

ing fans were moving the air around, but the heat was still oppres-

sive. Charlie Poindexter was the cook and a fine one too, although he

had little enough imagination. The special on Wednesday was always

meat loaf, fried potatoes, and greens. You could order anything you

wanted to, but that was what you were likely to get.

Sister Myrtle Poindexter served the meals, snatching them out of

the pass-through and slamming them down in front of the customers

at the counter and the individual tables. She took the orders almost

with irritation, and from time to time she would admonish a cus-

tomer, “You don’t need none of them pork chops, Ellie Rysner. They

just make you fat up even more.”

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Sweat was pouring off of Sister Myrtle. She mopped her brow

with a red bandanna she kept tucked inside of her apron pocket and

paused in front of Henrietta Green. “What’s that you say you heard

on the telephone about the preacher that’s comin’?”

Doctor Oscar Givens looked up from where he was seated across

from Orrin Pierce, a lawyer with dark hair and shocking blue eyes.

The two ate together frequently, and now Doctor Givens snapped,

“Myrtle, this town’s bad enough for gossip without you encouraging

Henrietta.”

Sister Myrtle turned to face Doctor Givens. “People ought to live

so they don’t have to be ashamed of what they say on the phone,

Oscar. Now, you hush. I want to hear what Henrietta says.”

Henrietta Green was a tall, thin woman with blond hair and faded

blue eyes. She was thirty-five, a widow, and a Presbyterian. Now she

looked around, and a look of pride came to her. Everyone in the res-

taurant was forced to listen when Myrtle spoke, for her voice rattled

the windows. “He’s comin’ Sunday. His name is Reverend Ellis Clif-

ford. He’s a good friend of Otis Langley. Mr. Langley talked to him

over the phone just yesterday. Told him he was going to do all he

could to get him called here as the new pastor.”

Phineas Delaughter, the mayor of the town, was a tall lanky man.

He had a mouth full of Charlie’s meat loaf, but now he swallowed

it and said with disgust, “Well, Langley didn’t wait long before he

started trying to take over the Baptist church. He couldn’t do it with

the Presbyterians, so now he’s trying it with us.”

“Hush up, Phineas,” Myrtle said. “I want to hear about this fel-

low. What’s he like?”

“Well,” Henrietta said, enjoying the attention, “he’s fifty-two

years old and he’s been teachin’ in a seminary. The way I understood

it, I don’t reckon he’s ever been a pastor.”

Sister Myrtle reached over and got a plate full of meat and veg-

etables. She slammed it down in front of Mamie Dorr so hard that the

blue-eyed blonde jumped and cried out, “Don’t be so rough!” Mamie

owned the Curl Up and Dye beauty parlor and was a real flapper

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GILBERT MORRIS

with short skirts and bobbed hair. She had been married, but word

in town was that her husband had committed suicide. The sheriff,

Pardue Jessup, had grinned. “She probably gave the pore fellow too

much lovin’.”

Sister Myrtle stared at Henrietta, then looked around and said

in a voice that filled the whole building, “We don’t need no school-

teacher in the pulpit. We need some hellfire and damnation preacher

who’s not afraid to preach against sin.”

Orrin Pierce grinned and said, “Which sin do you think needs

the most preachin’ against, Sister Myrtle?”

“Don’t you be makin’ fun of sin, Orrin Pierce. You need to get

right yourself. It’s time for the folks in this town to turn or burn!”

The matter of the Reverend Ellis Clifford became the center of

the town’s attention. Everyone took sides, even those who did not

belong to the Baptist church. On the day that Reverend Clifford came

to preach, the church was full, not only of Baptists but of Methodists,

Presbyterians, and even Pentecostals.

However, after the reverend finished his message, Gerald Pink,

who owned the pharmacy and was also chairman of the board of dea-

cons, asked everyone but members of the church to leave.

Sister Myrtle, who had managed to get a substitute to preach in

her own church, said, “What are you going to do? Jesus never done

nothin’ in secret.”

“I’m sorry, Sister Myrtle, but it’s a Baptist custom.”

Sister Myrtle got up and sniffed. “Well, I’ll give my vote right

now even though I ain’t got one. But if I had one, it’d be against the

feller. He’s got more degrees than he’s got temperature. That’s what

I say.”

A laugh went around, but after the room was cleared, a business

meeting was called, and it set a record for business meetings, at least

as far as time was concerned. Otis Langley had summoned everyone

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over whom he had any influence and encouraged them — which was

another way of saying demanded — that they call Reverend Clifford.

But there was strong opposition. Lanie was hoping desperately

that the church would not call Reverend Clifford, for he was not her

idea of a good preacher at all. He constantly referred to what the

Scripture said in the original language, and his greatest fear seemed to

be that someone would understand what he was saying.

Finally Effie Johnson, owner of the bank, stood up and said in

a clear voice, “We can’t vote until after the revival. We’re bringing in

an experienced evangelist to lead us, and I’m trusting that God will

speak to us and bring us all to our knees. Then we can make a wise

choice about the pastor.”

Langley’s face grew red. “What difference is it going to make, a

revival? Somebody will come in and stir up a bunch of excitement,

then two weeks later it’ll be all over.” His voice rose, and he cried,

“Who is this evangelist anyhow? I never heard of him.”

Effie Johnson was cool as she answered Langley. “He’s a close

friend of Brother Prince. He grew up in Africa, Brother Prince

informed me, the son of missionary parents. He came back to the

States, and he’s been preaching in the poor sections of Chicago doing

a great work there.”

Langley at once objected. “He’s a Yankee. We need a Southern

man here.”

There was considerable heated discussion, and Lanie was dis-

turbed to see that the church was already divided in such a short time

after Brother Prince’s departure. She knew in her heart that Langley

himself had created this division, and she was relieved when Brother

Pink announced firmly, “We won’t vote on calling a pastor until after

the fall revival. Business meeting adjourned.”

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Part Two

The Pastor

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Chapter 6

The sun was falling rapidly in the west as Lanie parked the pickup

in front of Planter’s Bank. Hopping out, she grabbed two large

grocery sacks and entered the bank. Cora Johnson looked up from

her desk and rose at once. “Hello, Lanie.” She smiled. “Did you bring

something good?” Cora was an attractive woman of thirty-eight with

light brown hair and warm brown eyes. She had the most beautiful

complexion that Lanie had ever seen and a fine figure, which was not

obvious because of the frumpy clothes she managed to wear.

“Yes, I did, Miss Cora.”

“Good. Take them in to Effie. I hope you brought some toma-

toes. You have the best in the whole world.”

“I have a whole sack full here. I know how much you and Miss

Effie like them.”

“Go right on in. There’s nobody with her.”

Lanie put one bag down, knocked on the door marked President,

and when she heard an invitation, she opened the door, picked up the

bag, and stepped inside. She closed the door with her heel and said, “I

brought your vegetables, Miss Effie.”

Effie Johnson got up at once. At the age of fifty-eight she had a

stern look. She was a tall woman with gray hair and sharp brown eyes.

It was rumored that she had once been in love with a wastrel who had

been after her money. He jilted her, and she swore off men, according

to the story.

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“Let me see what you have,” Effie said. She was a warmhearted

woman beneath the stern exterior, and now she began rummaging

through the sacks Lanie brought. “Look at this okra!” she exclaimed

with pleasure. “Young and tender. I can just taste them now. Nothing

like fried okra — and look at these tomatoes.” She held a beautiful red

tomato in her hand and shook her head. “I could just bite into it right

now, but that would be a little bit messy.” She continued examining

the squash and the mustard greens, and finally she said, “Well, you

got a fine garden this year. I don’t know what Cora and I would do

without your good vegetables. Here, let me pay you for them.”

“I wish you’d let me give them to you, Miss Effie. You’ve done so

much for us.”

“Nonsense. Business is business.” She went over to the desk,

picked up her purse, and extracted three bills. “Here. I put a little

extra in there because this is quality merchandise.”

Lanie took the money and said thank you. Then she said, “Has

there been any news about the evangelist?”

“I don’t know a thing about it except that Gerald Pink got a phone

call from him.”

“What did he say?”

“He had mechanical trouble of some kind and won’t make it in

today, but he’ll be here for sure for the ser vice in the morning.” She

frowned and shook her head. “That’s no way for a preacher to behave.

He ought to be punctual.”

“Well, if he had car trouble, he couldn’t help that.”

“I suppose not. You know, it’s been hard to get the word out. We

didn’t even have a picture of him to put in the paper. We had to run

the story, even though all we know about him is that he spent his

youth in Africa and has been doing mission work on the streets of

Chicago.”

“I’m sure he’ll be a good preacher. Brother Prince wouldn’t have

recommended him if he weren’t.”

“I suppose you’re right, but it makes me nervous. I like for things

to be done properly and on time.”

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“I’ll bet we have a full house every night.”

“I doubt that,” Effie said. “People have lost their hunger for God.

They’re staying home and listening to radio programs like Little

Orphan Annie and things like that.”

“Don’t you like Little Orphan Annie?”

“It’s for children.”

“What about Amos and Andy?”

“I can’t abide that foolishness.”

“Well, I have to admit I think it’s funny. Be good for you to laugh

a little bit, Miss Effie.”

“I’ve got a bank to run and a sister to take care of and a church to

look out for. I don’t have time to relax.”

“Well, you’ve had time for us. I can never thank you enough for

helping save our place. Daddy mentions it every time I go visit him.”

Effie Johnson’s face softened. “How is Forrest?”

“Well, he tries to hide it by laughing a lot, but he’s real sad. He’s

always been an outdoor person, and now he’s in prison.”

“But didn’t the warden put him in charge of his dogs and his

horse?”

“Oh yes, so it’s a lot better. I’ll be going to see him right after the

revival’s over.”

“Well, let me know. I’ll make up a little package to send him.

Razor blades and the things a man needs.”

“Thank you, Miss Effie. Don’t worry about the revival now. I’m

sure God’s going to do a great thing.”

Effie paused. “You know, Sister Myrtle said something once I’ve

never forgotten. She said she’d like to see things get out of control in

church ser vices. I thought that was the most foolish thing I’d ever

heard. Bankers, I guess, believe in control. But as I read the Bible, I

notice that things do get out of control sometimes, like on the day of

Pentecost. Everything was going fine until suddenly things started

happening.” She grinned unexpectedly and looked almost attractive.

“Maybe that’s what we need. The sound of a mighty, rushing wind.”

“And speaking another tongue?”

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“Well, that might be going a little far for Baptists. Be all right

for Sister Myrtle, of course. Now you run along, child. Let me know

if you need anything. I know you’re having a hard time keeping the

family together, but we’ll always find a way.”

Lanie suddenly went over and put her arms around Effie. She

had never done such a thing before, but she had learned to love this

stiff older woman who hid such a big heart. “We can never thank you

enough, Miss Effie,” she said. “I feel like, in a way, that God’s given

you to us to look out for us just like Mama would have done.”

Effie Johnson stood stiffly for a moment. She was not a woman

given to emotional gestures. But as the young woman held her, she

suddenly felt a warmth and a joy that she had been able to play a part

in saving this young woman and her family. “There, there,” she said,

patting her on the shoulder, “it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Lanie insisted. She stepped back, and her lips

were trembling. “It was something, and God is going to reward you

for it.”

Effie Johnson said, “I think he already has. Just being a part of

your family has meant a lot to me.”

“I’ll see you at church in the morning.”

“You sing real good. I understand you’re going to sing a special.”

“Yes. Brother Wilson asked me to.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As Lanie left the bank, she felt a glow of satisfaction. She would

never be able to repay Effie Johnson for her help and support during

the hard time after her father had left. She could have foreclosed on

the homeplace at any time but instead fought a fierce battle against

Otis Langley to keep the bank from foreclosing. Now the note was

paid off, and they had a place to live, and the stern woman that many

people feared had helped them to keep it.

Sunday school was over, and Gerald Pink was beside himself.

“What are we going to do?” he moaned to Phineas Delaughter. The

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two of them were pacing outside because there was no sign of the

evangelist.

“We’ll just have to do the best we can,” Delaughter said. He wore

an ill-fitting suit, and his lanky form expressed dissatisfaction. “I can’t

believe a preacher would miss an appointment.”

“But what will we do, Phineas?”

“You go inside and tell Brother Wilson that we’re going to have

to improvise. We’ll have the testimony ser vice. You can lead that,

and then we’ll have a music ser vice. Nothing but hymns and special

music.”

“The place is packed — what are people going to think?”

“Well, I know what I think,” Phineas said angrily. “I think that

whippersnapper needs a lesson in manners! Now go on in and get

started.”

Delaughter walked back and forth, looking up and down the

road. He heard the doxology break out inside, as it always did, and

knew the ser vice was started. “Disgraceful!” he exclaimed. Finally

he heard the voice of Gerald Pink and shook his head in despair. We

won’t have a soul here tomorrow night. All this preparation for a revival

meetin’ and now no preacher.

Even as the thought passed his mind, he heard a roar and looked

up hoping to see the evangelist, but it was only a man on a motor-

cycle. He watched as the cyclist came barreling in, apparently at full

speed, slammed on his brakes, and brought the machine to a screech-

ing stop. He slammed the kickstand down, stepped off, and lifted the

goggles from his eyes. He was wearing a soft cap, blue jeans, a colorful

blue and red shirt, and motorcycle boots. He was a tall young man

apparently in his midtwenties. “Hello there,” he said. “Is this the First

Baptist Church?”

“Yes, it is. You come for the meeting?”

“Sure did.” The man draped his cloth cap over the motorcycle

handlebars and did the same with his goggles. He was a well-built

fellow, Delaughter noticed, with a wealth of hair, black as a crow’s

wing. His electric blue eyes contrasted with his tan face, and when he

smiled, his teeth looked very white.

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“Come on. I’ll find you a seat. Sorry we don’t have a preacher this

morning. The evangelist couldn’t make it.”

“Yes, he could. That’s me. I’m Colin Ryan.”

Delaughter stared at the young man, who looked like he would

be much more at home in a pool hall than in a church. “You — you’re

our evangelist?”

Colin Ryan nodded cheerfully. “Sure am. Sorry to be late. I’ll

explain to the congregation how it happened. Sounds like they’ve

already started.”

“Yes — well, we planned just to have a testimony ser vice and

singing.”

“Not going to let you cheat me out of a sermon. What’s your

name, brother?”

“Phineas Delaughter.”

Ryan held out his hand, and when Delaughter took it, it was

like being gripped by a Stillson wrench. “Glad to meet you, Brother

Phineas. Let’s get inside there. But before we go, let’s you and me pray

that God will do a great, miraculous thing this morning.”

“Well — that would be good.” Phineas bowed his head. Colin

Ryan began to pray in a way that Delaughter was not familiar with.

It seemed like the young fellow was actually demanding that God do

something.

Finally the prayer was over, and the evangelist winked. “You bet-

ter stand back, Brother Phineas. God’s going to do something great

this morning!”

Lanie was in the choir, and she was one of the first to see the man

who came through the front door. She thought he was a visitor, but he

looked strange even for a visitor. She took in the faded jeans, the col-

orful shirt, and the boots and expected him to take a seat somewhere

near the back. The ushers had put out chairs since the pews were all

filled, but instead he strolled right down the aisle smiling, and as he

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came forward, Lanie realized with a shock he was coming to the ros-

trum. Instead of walking up the two steps that led to the platform, he

simply leaped up with a graceful motion, turned around, and joined

in the song. The hymn was “When We All Get to Heaven,” and when

the young man joined in, his tenor voice seemed to fill the room. It

was a powerful, clear, ringing voice, but even more striking was the

joy with which he sang. When they got to the chorus, he practically

drowned out the rest of the choir.

When we all get to heaven

What a day of rejoicing that will be,

When we all see Jes us,

We’ll sing and shout the vict ory.

Dempsey Wilson was waving his arms around, but as the song

ended he laughed and said, “Well, I don’t know if we got an evangelist

or not, but it looks like I’m about to lose my job as choir director.”

“Not a bit of it, brother. Not a bit. What’s your name?”

“Dempsey Wilson.”

“I’m Colin Ryan.” He shook Dempsey’s hand, then waved at the

choir. “Good to hear all that fine singing.” He turned to the congre-

gation and said easily, “I’m sorry to be late, but I know you’ll under-

stand. Last night I was on my way in and came across a wreck down

in Springdale. Three people were badly hurt, and I was the first one

there. One of them was dying, and I stayed with him. Went with him

to the hospital. He didn’t make it in this life, but he gave his heart to

Jesus. Amen! Glory to God and the Lamb forever! He’s singing with

Jesus right now. Isn’t that glorious?”

Lanie felt a sudden excitement as she saw that the congregation

was stunned. The sheer dramatic intensity of the young evangelist

was something new and unexpected. She listened as he introduced

himself, briefly touching on his early life in Africa among the Masai

and then his work in Chicago among the homeless and the alcoholics

who roamed the streets of that great city.

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“But God has sent me here, and we’re going to see a great harvest.

I don’t hold much for bulletins, but I do hold with the Holy Spirit,

so I feel led right now to preach. If it’s all right with you, we’ll just

get right at it.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled his New

Testament out and said, “I don’t need this, for we all know this verse.

Someone called it the Bible in a nutshell. It’s John 3:16.” He held the

Bible up and said in a ringing voice with his eyes flashing, “For God

so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever

believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.”

The First Baptist Church of Fairhope never forgot that sermon!

Those that were there would refer to it often as a point of reference.

They would say, “It was when Ryan preached his first sermon,” or “It

was two months after Colin preached his born-again sermon.”

And that was what the sermon was. Over and over again Ryan

would cry, “You must be born again! There’s no other way.”

Lanie, being in the choir, saw that the church was mesmerized.

Many were fascinated, but others appeared angry, such as Otis Lang-

ley and those who followed him. She saw with a shock that the mem-

bers of her own family were staring at the preacher as if he were from

another planet. Maeva, who never listened to a sermon but studied

the maps in the Bible or sometimes sneaked in a true romance, was

watching with eyes wide open, her lips slightly parted. Cody was

stock still. His face was pale, and Lanie could not understand what

his problem was.

No one in the First Baptist Church had ever heard a man quote

so many Scriptures, giving chapter and verse. He ranged to and fro

through the Old Testament and the New Testament, from Genesis

to Revelation. And never once did his voice lose power. He was not

shouting, but there was an intensity to it such as none of them had

ever heard.

Finally he came to his conclusion. “I’ve told you that Jesus is the

way,” he said, and his voice grew soft. “He’s the only way. Those of

you who know him are safe forever. Those of you who do not are

condemned. You must be born again. Some of you this morning have

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been touched by the Spirit of God. I’ve seen it in your eyes. You long

for peace, and you long to have this Jesus I preach as your Savior. We’re

going to sing an old invitation hymn. We don’t even need books for it.

Brother Wilson, sing the best invitation in the world, ‘Just as I Am.’ ”

The choir began to sing and the congregation joined in. The ser-

mon had touched Lanie’s heart, but still she was shocked to see people

beginning to come forward. This was almost unheard of at the begin-

ning of a revival. It usually took at least a week for the first to break

down before God, and for sinners to come forth.

And then she saw him — Cody, her brother!

She watched with astonishment as Cody moved out of the seat,

stepping on toes, and resolutely came forward. He was met by Colin

Ryan, and she could see that Cody’s eyes were filled with tears. She

watched as Ryan spoke with him, then the two knelt and the evange-

list put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Lanie’s heart gave a great

leap, and she silently cried out, Oh, God, he wants to be saved! Bring

him into the family of God!

Everyone was watching the evangelist and Cody, and finally

Brother Ryan held his hand up in the sign of victory. “Praise God, my

young friend here has found Jesus as his Savior.”

Cody got to his feet and his face was aglow. He looked up and saw

Lanie watching him and he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Don’t cry, Lanie, I’m saved! I’m born again!” he shouted.

Ryan laughed. “That’s what I like to see, enthusiasm in a new

believer.”

Five people found Jesus in that ser vice, and the church felt as if it

had been shaken.

Finally Brother Ryan said, “Well, God has begun to do something

in this church. It’s going to be exciting, isn’t it, to see who will be

saved next and what sinners will come to Jesus. But now, my brother,

I’ll turn the ser vice over to you.”

Gerald Pink was thrilled. “All in favor of receiving these that have

come by baptism, let it be known by saying aye.”

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The ayes were resounding. There were no nays, of course, although

some were looking rather sour.

“We’ll schedule a baptism after the revival is over.”

“No. I want to be baptized now!”

Everyone stared in astonishment at Cody Freeman. He turned to

face Brother Pink, and his eyes were wide open. “I don’t want to wait

two or three weeks. Jesus said to be baptized. I want it right now.”

“But, son,” Pink said. “You can’t just — ”

Colin Ryan suddenly laughed. “What’s the name of that little

river I crossed to get to this town?”

“Singing River is its name,” Dempsey Wilson said.

“Well, that’s one of the prettiest rivers I’ve ever seen, with a pretty

name to boot. What about we go baptize you right now, Cody?”

“That would be great, Brother Ryan.”

“Anybody who wants to come is welcome.”

“But he doesn’t have a change of clothes,” Pink protested.

“He’ll dry out. Any of the rest of you folks that want to get bap-

tized right now, you’re welcome. Come on, Cody.”

Consternation fell, and Effie Johnson suddenly began to laugh.

She leaned over and said to Cora, “I know what Sister Myrtle meant

now by things getting out of control. We Baptists get so set in our

ways that when God moves we sometimes don’t know it.”

“But is it all right?” Cora asked.

“If Cody wants it and that young man’s ready, then it’s all right,”

Effie said. “Come on. Let’s get down to the river with the rest of

them.”

Singing River was one of the most beautiful rivers in the Ozarks.

The water was crystal clear and at times it was a quarter mile wide.

During the dry period it shrank somewhat, but there were always

deep pools. The fish were fat and numerous, and one of the favorite

sports was floating the river in inner tubes.

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There had been baptisms in Singing River back before there was

a baptismal tank built in the First Baptist Church. The Presbyterians,

the Methodists, and the Episcopalians sprinkled, of course, but that

would not do for good Baptist folk. It had to be by immersion.

Lanie walked beside Cody holding his hand as they made their

way to the river. The whole church was walking, for the river was only

a quarter of a mile away. She noticed that Otis Langley was talking to

the evangelist Colin Ryan. There was a cloud on Langley’s face, but

Ryan was merely smiling. He shook his head from time to time, and

everyone knew that Langley was trying to persuade Ryan to put the

baptism off.

Ryan, however, was not to be contained. When they got to the

shallow bank of the river, he did not stop. He waded out until he was

waist deep and said, “Are you ready, Cody?”

“Yes!” Cody practically ran out into the river. When he came to

stand beside the tall form of Ryan, there was something everlasting

and sweet about the sight to Lanie. The hair of the evangelist was as

black as the darkest thing in nature while Cody’s red hair gave off

golden tints as the midday sun blazed down upon them.

“The Scripture says he that believeth and is baptized shall be

saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned. I rejoice that this

young man takes the command of the Lord Jesus, who is now his Lord,

seriously. In Africa baptism is a serious thing. They don’t pay much

attention to what people say. A man may say he’s a Chris tian, but until

he’s baptized it doesn’t mean anything to those people. Jesus himself

felt it was so important that he walked for miles to get baptized by a

Baptist preacher. John the Baptist didn’t want to do it, but Jesus said

it’s a righ teous thing. It behooveth us to fulfill all righ teous ness.”

And then Colin Ryan put his hand on the back of Cody’s neck,

held the boy’s hands in front of him, and said plainly, “Grab your

nose, Cody, so you won’t drown.”

Then Ryan’s voice rose. “In obedience to the command of our

Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I baptize you, my brother, in the name

of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.”

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Everyone watched avidly as Ryan lowered the boy into the river,

deep down under, then brought him up. Lanie began to applaud. She

had never done such a thing at a baptism before, but others took it up,

and soon most of the crowd were applauding.

Then Sister Myrtle’s voice was suddenly heard. The building

where the Fire Baptized Pentecostal Church met was only a few hun-

dred yards away. Evidently someone saw the Baptists flooding to the

river, and Sister Myrtle brought her entire flock so they could join

in. Sister Myrtle began to shout, “Glory to God! Glory to God!” and

even some of the Baptists echoed her cries.

Lanie could not see for the tears in her eyes. She came forward

and grabbed Cody, paying no attention to the fact that he was sop-

ping wet. He hugged her and swung her around shouting, “I’m saved

by the blood of the Lamb! Sister, why didn’t you tell me it was like

this to be a Chris tian?”

Lanie was stunned, and she watched as Cody moved around

shaking hands and asking some of the visitors, “Have you ever been

saved?”

Maeva moved closer to Lanie. Even she was intimidated. “What’s

wrong with him, Lanie?”

“He’s gotten saved.”

“Well, he’s acting like a Pentecostal. You think he’ll always act

like that?” Then she answered her own question. “Well, of course not.

It’s like the flu, Lanie. He’s acting holy right now, but he’ll get tired of

it quick enough. It’ll pass away.”

But Lanie was watching the face of her brother, and she said, “No.

What’s happened to Cody won’t pass away. As a matter of fact” — she

smiled — “I think it may even get worse!”

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Chapter 7

With quick practiced motions, Lanie ironed Davis’s shirt,

ignoring the heat of the living room. The windows were

open and a faint breeze stirred the curtains, but even though Septem-

ber had come, the weather still had not broken.

“It’s really hot today.”

Aunt Kezia looked up from where she was cracking walnuts on

an old iron. She held the iron upside down in her lap, hammer in her

right hand and a pick on the table beside her. She cracked a walnut,

pulled out a small portion of the kernel, and popped it in her mouth.

“It was hotter than this in El Paso, Texas, when me and Mr. Butter-

worth got married. I told him it was so hot we ought to wait till fall,

but he just laughed at me and married me anyhow.”

The radio was playing a peppy song, “I’m Looking Over a Four-

leaf Clover,” and Aunt Kezia hummed it under her breath. Then she

looked up with disgust. “That’s a stupid song,” she said firmly. “Four-

leaf clovers never brought nobody any luck.”

“That’s right. It’s just superstition.”

“What brings people luck is the foot of a rabbit. Has to be the

right front foot, though. The left front is no good, and the back feet

ain’t worth a lead nickel.”

Lanie laughed. “You don’t really believe that hanging a rabbit’s

foot around your neck or carrying it in your purse will bring you

luck.”

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Aunt Kezia looked up, her eyes as bright as a crow’s. “Why, cer-

tain I believe it!” she snapped. She got up, walked across the room,

and turned the dial of the radio. The station she picked up was play-

ing a song that was popular when the Depression first hit, “Happy

Days Are Here Again.”

“That song is about as dumb as you can get,” Aunt Kezia said.

“Days ain’t no happier than they ever were.”

As Lanie continued to iron, she thought of the revival. “Twenty-

one people have been saved in the meeting, Aunt Kezia. Isn’t that

wonderful?”

“Not bad. That preacher’s too good-lookin’, but I guess the poor

feller can’t help that.”

“He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“A heap too handsome! Lots of mamas are sayin’ they wouldn’t

trust their daughters with a preacher that good-lookin’.”

“Oh, that’s silly! He’s a fine man. People just like to gossip.”

“I wonder what Eve did.”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t have anybody to gossip about, and nobody to gossip

with except Adam.”

“You have the wildest ideas, Aunt Kezia. Why would Adam and

Eve want to gossip?”

“Why do people in Fairhope gossip? Just the nature of them.

Why, I tell you, that preacher is gonna get his foot in a trap. He’s

been goin’ around to some of the worst folks in the community. Of

course, I think that’s the way it ought to be done, but a lot of people

don’t like it.”

Indeed, Colin Ryan displeased many members of the church, the

more stuffy ones. He dredged up the worst elements of the county,

drunks and women whose reputation were in tatters, and somehow

persuaded them to come to church. Baxter Thompson, who had been

the town drunk for as long as Lanie could remember, had been saved

and was now bringing in others, mostly his old drinking partners.

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“Well, I think it’s wonderful what he’s doing. I don’t care what

people say.”

“If he wasn’t so purty, he’d do better, but I reckon — ” Aunt Kezia

did not finish, for Maeva suddenly came in wearing the new dress she

had been working on. She had saved up to buy the material and had

spent hours looking over the McCall’s patterns. The dress was made

out of a sheer blue organza with white polka dots, and emphasized the

bust with gathers underneath. A solid blue slip showed from under the

dress, and there was a white Peter Pan collar and short puffy sleeves

edged with white cuffs. The dress was slightly flared from the waist

to where the hem ended just below the knees, and tiny white buttons

ran down the front.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Well, I wish to my never!” Aunt Kezia said. “If I’d a knowed

you could sew like that, I’d a let you make me a pretty go-to-meetin’

dress.”

Aunt Kezia and Lanie were admiring the dress when suddenly

the front door burst open. Cody came in like a tornado. His hair was

tousled and he had a Bible in his right hand. Stopping dead still, he

stared at Maeva. “What are you doin’ wearin’ a dress like that?”

“I made it. I’m gonna wear it to the dance over at Springdale.”

“Well, you can’t wear it!”

All three of the women stared at Cody. His chin was stuck out in

the way he had when he grew stubborn, and now he shook his head

in short motions. “Why, you look like the anti-Christ in that thing!

You can’t wear it.”

“You mind your own business, Cody.”

“It is my business, and I’m telling you — you can’t wear it!”

Ever since Cody had been baptized he considered himself the spir-

itual leader of the Freeman family. At first it had been rather amusing,

but now Maeva’s face was flushed with anger. “There’s nothing wrong

with this dress!”

“There is too. It shows too much of you, and the Bible says that’s

wrong.” Cody whirled and said, “Ain’t that right, Lanie?”

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Lanie did think the dress was a little too revealing, but she didn’t

want to offend Maeva, who was hard enough to get along with as it

was. “Well, I’m not sure I agree with you, Cody.”

“You got to agree with me. I’m right.”

“You’re not right. You’ve lost your mind ever since Colin Ryan

came to town.” Maeva whirled to face Lanie and Aunt Kezia. “You

know what he’s doing? He’s been tearing pages out of the Bible and

giving them to people down on the street.”

“That’s what I been doin’, all right,” Cody snorted proudly. “This

Bible here.”

“You’re tearing pages out of it?” Lanie said. “I don’t think that’s

right.”

“It’s a sin is what it is,” Maeva cried. “It’s a sin to tear a Bible up.”

“It ain’t neither. I can’t afford no store-bought tracts. And anyway

the Bible’s better.”

Maeva snorted with disgust. “He gave a page out of that Bible to

Coy Wilhite, who needs God if anybody does. But it was a page out of

the book of Leviticus. It was all about the inside parts of a sheep and

how to cut it up. Now didn’t that do Coy a lot of good?”

Lanie stifled a smile. “I don’t think that that was exactly what

Coy needed, Cody.”

“It’s the Bible, ain’t it? Coy Wilhite needs the Bible, and I gave

him part of it.”

Lanie was trapped between two emotions. One was pride that

her brother would be such an outspoken advocate of his new faith.

The other was concern that in his freshly born excitement he would

do some damage. “I think you might be a little bit more careful about

which pages you give out.”

Shaking his head stubbornly, Cody said, “It’s all the Bible, Sister.”

“Where have you been, anyway?” Maeva demanded.

“I been out bearin’ witness to harlots.”

All three women stared at Cody as if he had said he had just been

for a visit to the top of the Himalayas. “What are you talking about!”

Lanie exclaimed.

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“Well, actually it was just one harlot. I went over with Brother

Ryan to where old man Jed Tyler lives. You know what a godless bunch

them Tylers are. He makes whiskey, and his daughter Lily’s a harlot.”

“She is not!” Maeva objected. “She’s a little wild, but she’s not a

prostitute.”

“Well, she’s gonna be one if she don’t get saved.”

Aunt Kezia interrupted. “How’d the visit go?”

“Why, it went plum fine after we got in. You know how old man

Tyler is. He had his shotgun out when we got on his land. He cussed

us out. Said some words I never even heard before.”

“What did Reverend Ryan do?” Lanie asked.

“He just stood there and started talkin’ quiet like. First thing

you know that old sinner asked us in. He kept his shotgun in his

hands, and I was kind of scared so I talked to Lily. I gave her a page

from the book of Ezekiel. All about some temple, I think it was, with

a river runnin’ through it. Told her she needed to get born again.”

Cody shook his head in disbelief. “She never heard of it. Can you

imagine?”

“I don’t expect any of those Tylers have been to church ever in

their lives,” Lanie said.

“Well, they’re comin’ next Sunday. Believe it or not, we stayed

nearly an hour. Old man Tyler finally put his shotgun down. It was

slicker than goose grease the way Colin worked it!”

“Don’t call him Colin.”

“It’s his name, ain’t it?” Cody was surprised. “He calls me by my

first name.”

“That’s different. You need to show more respect to the ministry,”

Lanie insisted.

“Well, anyhow, old man Tyler got prayed over and promised to

bring the whole kit and caboodle to the ser vice tonight. It’s the last

one. I’m expectin’ to see the whole bunch get converted.”

“Now that’s the kind of preacher we need around here,” Aunt

Kezia said in a tone of satisfaction. “Shake things up.”

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Cody was not through with Maeva. “Maeva, I don’t want you

wearin’ that dress. You know what the Bible says. It says, ‘Can the

rush grow up without mire? can the flag grow without water?’ ”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about!” Maeva cried.

“Well, it’s the eighth chapter of Job verse 11. I liked it so I mem-

orized it. What it means is you can’t wear that dress.” He turned

around and dashed out of the room, calling for Davis loudly.

“You got to do something with him, Lanie,” Maeva said with

exasperation. “He’s just impossible!”

“Well, maybe he’ll get over it,” Lanie said.

“I hope he don’t,” Aunt Kezia said loudly. “I hope he gets worse.”

Maeva suddenly laughed. “You may think that, but a lot of people

in the church don’t. I heard that Otis Langley had a fit about all the

riffraff that the preacher’s bringing into church.”

“You said he’s called them riffraff!” Lanie exclaimed. “I can’t

believe it.”

“I can,” Aunt Kezia said. “He’s just the kind that likes a lot of

dead folks in church.”

“Dead folks? What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how it is. When people get converted, they’re

excited about everything. It’s like a young girl in love. The whole

world’s wonderful.” She made a face then and shook her head with

disgust. “But a lot of women, after a few years of marriage, lose all

the romance. Let Cody alone. He’s gonna make some mistakes and

offend some folks, but he’s alive.” She cackled, and her eyes sparkled

as she said, “I’d a heap rather try to restrain a fanatic than try to resur-

rect a corpse!”

“Roger, you look so tired. I wish you’d quit that silly job,” Martha

Langley said.

Roger Langley was sitting across the dining room table from his

sister Louise. His parents were at either ends of the table, and there

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was an empty chair next to him that was usually Helen’s. The maid,

Elsie, was listening without appearing to, as she always did.

“I like my job, Mother. Lots of fresh air and sunshine.”

“You’ve got a bad sunburn,” Louise said. “If you have to have a

job, you could get one with a little more dignity.”

“You think surveying is not dignified?” Roger challenged his sis-

ter. “George Washington was a surveyor, and he was a pretty digni-

fied fellow from what I understand.”

“You’re making a fool out of yourself is what you’re doing,” Otis

Langley said. He forked a morsel of the meat that was on the fine

china plate, and he held it for a moment while he glared at Roger with

displeasure. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You lost whatever

common sense you had.”

Roger was accustomed to this conversation. It went on almost

every time his family got together. For a moment he considered saying

nothing, and his eyes ran around the room. It was a large room fur-

nished with the finest in furniture and china and silver. He knew that

the serving table against the wall cost over a thousand dollars, and

with men out of work all over the country it seemed to him very close

to a sin. He picked up his spoon and stirred his coffee, then lifted his

eyes to his father. “I like what I’m doing, Dad.”

“What are you doing? You’re missing out on a year of college.”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. I never had to work for anything.

You always handed it to me on a silver platter. I wanted to see if I

could do something on my own.”

Roger knew that such a thing was incomprehensible to his father,

but it was something he had to do. He leaned back in his chair and

listened as the family took turns explaining why he was wrong. He

had different ideas from the rest of them, and sometimes he almost

felt like a different species. His parents and his sisters were very much

concerned about their position in society and were caught up with

material possessions such as automobiles, furniture, and clothing.

Roger cared little for any of these things.

“You don’t have to work to pay your tuition,” Otis Langley

insisted. “I’ve agreed to do that.”

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“I appreciate that, Dad, and maybe after a while that’s what will

happen, but for this first year I’m going to make my own way.”

Louise stared at Roger and shook her head with distaste. “I wish

you’d stop seeing so much of Lanie Freeman.”

“Why would you want me to stop seeing Lanie?”

“She’s not our kind,” Otis said abruptly. “Your sister is right. You

ought to go around with a girl like Dottie McGiven.”

“She’s a stuck-up snob,” Roger said.

“Don’t be calling her names!” Roger’s mother said at once. The

McGivens and the Langleys were close friends, and it was the hope of

both families that Roger and Dottie would make a match of it, but

Roger wasn’t interested.

Louise began to speak critically of Lanie, something that angered

Roger. Finally he turned to face her and said, “Maybe you’d better

start trying to take care of your own affairs instead of meddling with

mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

Roger suddenly grinned. “I think you’d better be sure you can

hang on to Owen. He likes Lanie a lot. She might take him away

from you.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard in my life! Owen’s

not interested in that girl.”

Otis did not want to hear talk like this, so he changed the subject.

“Well, at least that meeting is over after tonight and that high-fly-

ing evangelist will be gone.” He leaned forward and smiled suddenly.

“I’ve been talking with some of the deacons. I think we can get Rev-

erend Clifford in as pastor. It’s all a matter of votes. That’s the good

thing about a Baptist church. Everybody has a vote. It’s one of the few

democracies left in the world.”

“Well, I don’t think Reverend Clifford’s the man for the church,”

Roger said. “He just doesn’t fit.”

“You’ve been fooled by that motorcycle rider!” Louise snapped.

She was still furious with Roger and added spitefully, “He’s just a

flashy fly-by-night.”

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An old memory suddenly touched Roger and he said, “Dad, you

told me one time about a preacher you liked when you were a boy.

His name was Ed Corwin, and he rode fast horses and preached like

Brother Colin. You said you thought he was the greatest preacher in

the world.”

Otis stared at his son, speechless. He had a vivid memory of how

he’d been so taken with Brother Ed that he’d followed him around

everywhere he could. “That — that was a long time ago, Roger.

I’ve learned better since then how important it is for people to keep

traditions.”

“But you told me that’s why you liked him, Dad — because he

refused to be like other ministers.”

Otis Langley remembered clearly how the evangelist had violated

several hallowed traditions of the church where he’d grown up. It

had thrilled him then, and for one moment he thought how much

Brother Ed was like this man who had such an influence on Roger.

He snapped, “I was wrong — just as you’re wrong now. A pastor needs

stability, and this evangelist has none. Now I want to hear no more

about it!”

“He would be a terrible pastor,” Louise agreed. “He may do very

well in the slums of a big city, but he’d never do for our church.”

“Your sister’s right, Roger. A pastor needs to be older and married

and a scholar,” Otis said and got to his feet. Tossing his napkin down,

he added with satisfaction, “He’ll be gone tomorrow, thank God!”

The deacons of First Baptist Church were frantically robbing the

Sunday school rooms of folding chairs to put around the aisles. Every

pew was packed and the ushers were wondering what they would do

with the overflow.

“I never seen a crowd like this except at associational meetings,”

Phineas Delaughter said with satisfaction.

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Francis Butterworth, a tall thin man with brown hair, nodded.

“Well, this has been the greatest revival meeting we ever had, I think,

except when Gypsy Smith was here, but that was before my time.”

“Where we going to put these people, Francis?”

“I guess we can open the windows and listen from the outside.”

Francis was observing all the people in the pews. “Look. There’s

Butcher Knife Annie. You don’t see her in church very often.”

Mayor Delaughter looked and saw a tall, gaunt woman with gray

hair sitting in the pew with the Freeman boys, Davis and Cody. She

was holding the youngest Freeman, Corliss, in her lap.

“Well, at least she’s cleaned up a little bit. She usually looks like

she came out of a garbage can.”

Indeed, Butcher Knife Annie, whose real name was Beulah Ann

Toliver, was careless about her appearance. She lived in an old shack

just outside the city limits where she kept innumerable cats. Everyone

in the county who had an unwanted cat dumped it onto Annie, and

she kept them all. She spent her days pulling a Radio Flyer wagon

around behind the shops, loading it up with throwaways. She owned

three acres, and most of them were cluttered up so that it appeared to

be another city junkyard.

Annie caught a glimpse of the two men watching her and said to

Davis, “Them fellers don’t think I’m fit to be here.”

Cody glanced over and saw Francis Butterworth talking with the

mayor. He started to get up. “I’ll just go straighten them out. This is

the house of God. We don’t need any hypocrites in here.”

Davis reached out, grabbed Cody by the back of the collar, and

jerked him down. “You sit down, bud,” he said. “You’re getting too

big for your britches.”

“Well, Jesus cast the money changers out of the temple. It might

be time we start throwin’ a few out around here.”

Annie laughed. “I’d like to see that,” she said. “Wouldn’t you,

sweetie?”

Corliss looked up and smiled at Annie. “I would,” she said.

“Throw them out, Cody!”

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“You see what a bad influence you are, Cody.” Davis grinned.

“Now you hush and behave yourself.”

“I might not be able to contain myself,” Cody said. “I get so

excited at these meetings I want to shout.”

“Well, try to hold it in if you can. Sometime we’ll go over to Sister

Myrtle’s church. All those people shout over there. You wouldn’t even

be noticed.”

As Lanie came out of the choir room, she was surprised to see the

evangelist standing with his back against the wall. It always gave her a

little shock when she saw him, for he never wore a tie. He was wearing

a pair of light gray trousers and a white dress shirt that was open at

the neck. His black hair was glistening, and she thought again about

what Aunt Kezia had said about good-looking preachers. He surely

was one of those!

“I wanted to tell you, Lanie, how much I enjoyed your singing.”

“Why, thank you, Brother Ryan, and I have to tell you how much

I’ve enjoyed your sermons.”

“Nice to hear that. I always feel like I’ve made a mess of it.”

“Where will you go when you leave here?”

“Back to Chicago workin’ the streets, if the Lord doesn’t tell me

different.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I’ve been worried about Cody. He’s acting — different.”

Colin Ryan smiled. “He’s excited. That’s all that’s wrong with

him. I was just like him when I first got saved. As a matter of fact, I

think I’m still that way. I hope when they put me in an old folks home

I’ll run up and down the halls and organize a bed pan Olympics for

all of us old folks.”

Lanie suddenly laughed. “What an awful thing to say!”

The young preacher turned serious. “I understand you’re going to

sing a duet tonight with your sister.”

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“Yes. She sings much better than I do.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

The choir was filing out now, and Lanie quickly went into the

choir loft. The ser vice started, and she sang the duet with Maeva.

Maeva had a beautiful voice, but she didn’t sing in church too often.

“I feel like a hypocrite,” she always said. “Lanie’s the good one. I’m

the bad one.” Lanie was always half angry when Maeva said this,

although she knew there was some truth to it.

Finally the singing was over, and Colin Ryan got up to preach.

He had a Bible in his hand, old and worn and practically falling to

pieces. “Some of you folks,” he began, “have asked me why I don’t get

a new Bible. Some of you good people even offered to buy me one.

Well, the truth is I started marking the answers to prayer that God

gave me when I was first saved. This was my first Bible, and I hope

it’s my last. I can open almost any page and there I’ll see a verse and

a date written beside it, and if it’s really exciting, I might find a star

beside it. Thanks for your offer, but I’ll stick with this old one.

“I want to tell you how much I enjoy being with you good people.

You’ve been very hospitable, and I’ll be praying that God will send you

exactly the man you need. Now then. The sermon tonight is — Jesus

is coming.” A sudden grin turned up the corners of Colin’s mouth,

and then he laughed out loud. “I imagine most of you have heard

sermons on the second coming many times. This one will be a little

bit different. I’ve heard the same sermons you have and read the same

books. I’ve seen the pictures of the beast that comes crawling up out

of the sea with thorns in the crown. It all works out very neatly on

paper, but tonight I want to remind you that when Jesus came the

first time, men had been looking for the coming of the Messiah for

many years. The scholars studied it intensely just as they do today.

They thought they had it all figured out, and, as a matter of fact, they

did have some of it figured out. But you’ll remember when the wise

men came and asked, ‘Where is the king of the Jews to be born?’ the

scribes shot back an answer. ‘Why, in Bethlehem.’ They knew the

time, they’d got that figured out, the place, and they knew exactly

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what the Messiah was going to do. He was going to lead Israel to

become a great national power and overthrow the Romans.”

A hush fell over the church. Something about Colin Ryan’s voice

seemed to hypnotize the people. They all waited breathlessly for the

next remark, and when it came they were surprised.

“The only thing about all of that is they were wrong about the

most important part. He was not the kind of Messiah they had told

everyone was coming. And I think whatever system people devise to

guess the coming of the Lord is wrong. I think God is going to sur-

prise us. God does surprise us most of the time. We get our little

plan made up, and then God interferes with it and tells us we have to

change it. So I have two thoughts on the second coming. First, Jesus is

coming back. There’s no question about that. He said it many times.

The second is, nobody knows when he’s coming back. And I might

add a third. It’s foolish to speculate and set dates. When he comes

back, I think we’ll all be caught off guard. Now, let’s see what the

Scripture says . . .”

Seven people came to be saved during the invitation, six came to

join the church, and many came to rededicate their lives.

Gerald Pink, chairman of the board of deacons, was elated. He

came to stand on the rostrum, and after the new converts were voted

into the church, he said beamingly, “We are all grateful to Brother

Ryan for coming to bring the gospel during this meeting. We will

schedule a baptism in about two weeks.”

Suddenly, to Lanie’s dismay, her brother Cody stood up. “Mr.

Pink,” he said loudly, “why can’t we have Brother Colin for a pastor?”

A hum went over the congregation, and Gerald Pink looked help-

lessly around.

“That would not be the fitting thing to do.” Otis Langley stood, a

big man, imposing and finely dressed. “Young man, I appreciate your

comment, but we have ways of doing things here.”

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But Cody said, “I heard some of the deacons talking about an

interim pastor. They said that man would be pastor until the church

gets a new one.”

“Well, that’s true, Cody. That’s what we plan to do,” Brother Pink

said.

“I get a vote now, and I vote Brother Ryan in as interim pastor.”

Cody’s remark started what was the most active and lively business

meeting in the history of First Baptist Church of Fairhope, Arkansas.

They were a slow-moving people. It took almost six months to decide

what color to paint the walls of the nursery, and here this young boy

was telling them to make a decision that would affect the whole life

of the church!

Roger sat back grinning as he saw that the tide was beginning

to run against his father. He almost felt sorry when he saw his father

having to face the dangers of a Baptist democracy. Many of the church

sided with him, but the new converts and the younger members of the

church won out. At the end of the battle, the vote was to accept Colin

Ryan as interim pastor.

When the vote was announced, Colin stood up and said, “I’m

honored that you would ask me to be your pastor, and I accept. I will

stay until you get a new pastor. ”

Louise Langley whispered to her father, “Dad, don’t worry about

this. That motorcycle rider won’t last long! I’ll see to it!”

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Chapter 8

Looking up out of the window, Lanie saw Dorsey Pender, the

mailman, coming up the steps. Getting up at once, she went out

on the front porch to meet him. “Good afternoon, Dorsey. How are

you today?”

Pender was a tall, lanky man with a balding head and a pair of

inquisitive blue eyes. Except for Henrietta Green, the telephone oper-

ator, he was without a doubt the nosiest gossip in Fairhope. He also

wrote terrible poetry, which amused Lanie a great deal. She took the

letter that he handed her and said, “Have you written any poetry

lately, Mr. Pender?”

“Shore have.” Pender grinned. “How about this one?

“Teet h are very nice to have,

They fi ll you with content;

If you do not know it now,

You will wh

en they have went!”

Lanie laughed. “That’s a good one. Shakespeare would be

jealous.”

“That letter’s from your pa, Lanie. He’s a little bit late with it.

The last one come nearly two weeks ago.”

“That’s right.” Lanie nodded, wondering how in the world one

head could hold so much trivia. Pender knew everything about every-

body in Fairhope and was not hesitant to pass along information.

“I hear that foreigner’s causin’ lots of trouble.”

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“What foreigner?” Lanie asked.

“Why, that preacher, Reverend Colin Ryan.”

“Why, he’s not causing any trouble, Mr. Pender. He’s doing a

wonderful job at the church.”

“That’s right, but he also went to visit Mamie Dorr at her house —

and after dark too.” Mamie Dorr owned the beauty parlor and had a

reputation that was not particularly good.

Pender nodded and continued. “You know her husband killed

himself because she messed around with other men.”

“Oh, that’s not true, Mr. Pender. He died of cancer.”

“Well, she probably caused the cancer. Anyway, that preacher

needs to watch where he goes. And it wasn’t only Mamie. He’s been

hangin’ out at the pool hall.”

“He goes everywhere to witness to the Lord. He’s gotten three of

those loafers down there to come to church.”

“Well, that’s as may be, but you better tell him to watch his step.

We Baptists don’t like our preachers to misbehave. What’s your dad

have to say?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t read the letter yet.”

“All right. And you pass the word to the preacher to stay away

from Mamie Dorr.”

“I’ll tell him.” Lanie went back into the house shaking her head

with disgust over Pender’s nosiness. She was always excited to get a

letter from her father, and before she shared it with the rest of the

family, she sat down in the living room and opened it up. She read it

slowly, savoring every bit of news that he had. The last line, however,

troubled her. “I’ve been a little bit under the weather lately, so you

might say an extra prayer for me.”

Lanie’s brow furrowed, for her father never complained. This

mere mention of not being well was the equivalent of a scream of

agony from someone else. She looked up at the calendar and saw that

her next visit was scheduled for two weeks away. “I can’t wait that

long,” she murmured. “I’ve got to go see how Daddy is.”

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She went into the kitchen and pulled a coffee can down off the

shelf. She opened it up and poured the change and the three bills out.

She counted it carefully, then shook her head. “Not enough. I need to

stay overnight.” Thoughts raced through her head, and she wondered

how she could cut corners or if there was anything to sell. But nothing

came to her. Finally, as she did so often, she bowed her head and said,

“Lord, I need to go see Daddy, and I don’t have the money. I know

you love him and would have me go visit with him, so I’m praying

for his healing and I’m praying that you would provide a way for me

to go. I ask this in Jesus’ name and I know that you’re going to hear

me. Amen.”

Lanie went at once and picked up her Bible and began to search

for a promise. It was her habit to go to the Bible and try to find a

promise that would apply to her current need. She always marked the

date of the prayer in her Bible and then the date that it was answered.

Since her Bible had previously been her mother’s, it was almost as

worn as that of Colin Ryan. Between Lanie’s and Elizabeth’s hand-

written notes, some pages were so marked up they were difficult to

read.

For a time she sat there reading through at random. She was turn-

ing the pages of Scripture, and suddenly her eyes fell on a passage that

she had marked at some time and underlined in red. There was no

date or indication that she had asked for any particular thing, but as

she read the passage of the verse aloud, it seemed to bring peace to her

heart. It was in the sixty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, and it said, “And it

shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they

are yet speaking, I will hear.”

Lanie did not read any further for somehow, in a way that had

happened to her a few times in her life, she knew that God heard her

prayer. Tears came to her eyes, and she said, “Lord, I don’t know how

I’m going to get to see Daddy, but I know that you heard me, and

I’m going to believe you that somehow you’ll open up the door.” She

closed the Bible and sat there for a time, then rose and started her

work for the day.

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Lanie decided to walk to town, for there was no money to spare

for gas. She walked down Jefferson Avenue headed south toward Main

when she looked over to her left and saw that Owen Merritt’s car was

parked in front of Butcher Knife Annie’s place. She hesitated for a

moment and then became concerned. Annie was getting on in years.

As Lanie approached the door, she was greeted by dozens of cats

of all sizes and shapes. Some of them were little more than kittens,

while others were old and grizzled. Carefully she navigated her way

between them, and when she came up to the door, she knocked. No

one came for a moment, and then suddenly Owen appeared.

“Why, hello, Lanie. Come in.”

Lanie stepped inside the screen door and looked down the hall.

“Is Annie sick?”

“Well, I’m afraid she is,” Owen said. He ran his hand through his

crisp brown hair and shook his head with enough doubt to give Lanie

some concern. “She’s had a little trouble with her heart, you know. I

thought I’d better stop by and take a look.”

“She won’t ever ask for help, but I’ll see to it that she has plenty

to eat.”

“I’ll have Nurse Pickens bring her supper tonight. Maybe you can

check on her tomorrow.”

“I’ll do that. Could I see her?”

“Sure. Come on in.”

Lanie moved down the hall. The house smelled terrible with so

many cats, but she’d learned that it was one of those things that she

had to put up with. As she went into Annie’s bedroom, she said, “Well,

now look at you, Annie, getting sick and not telling anybody.”

Annie was wearing an ancient robe and her feet were shoved into

some leather men’s shoes. At that instant Lanie made the resolution to

get her some house slippers. She leaned over and hugged Annie. “Why

didn’t you get word to me you were feeling bad?”

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“Oh, I didn’t want to trouble you,” Annie said. She had traces

of snuff at the edge of her lips, and her hair had not been washed

recently. But she took better care of herself now than before she had

become friends with the Freemans. Aunt Kezia helped with that. She

dropped by fairly often, and the two old ladies enjoyed each other’s

company.

“I tried to get her to the hospital, but she won’t go. She’s stubborn

as a blue-nosed mule,” Owen said.

“I’m all right here where I am. I feel a lot better now.”

Lanie stayed for a while and when she left she promised, “I’ll

come back to check on you later this afternoon. I’ll bring Aunt Kezia

over too.”

“Good. That woman encourages me.”

Lanie left the house and Owen came out with her.

“Where are you going, Lanie?”

“I need to go to the hardware store. The sink’s stopped up and

needs a new part.”

“Get in. I’ll take you.”

Lanie hesitated, and Owen turned to look at her. “What’s the

matter? You ashamed to be seen with an old man?”

“Well, no, I’m not. You’re not old. But you’re an engaged man.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I’m just offering you a ride, not

running off with you to the South Seas.”

Lanie could not think of any way to refuse his invitation gra-

ciously, so when he opened the door, she got in. Owen got in, started

the car, and began describing the condition of Annie as he drove.

Lanie felt restrained. She had, indeed, felt uncomfortable around

Doctor Owen Merritt since the incident of the Ferris wheel.

“How’s all the family getting along, Lanie?”

Lanie shook her head. “All right, I guess.”

Owen examined her. His warm brown eyes sharpened, and he

said, “You run yourself down taking care of your family. What’s going

on? You can tell me. I’m the friendly family doctor.”

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Suddenly it all boiled over. Lanie tried never to complain, but

she said now, “I get tired, Owen. Davis can’t learn how to read, and

I don’t know why. He’s so smart in every other way. Corliss is already

starting to learn her letters, and she’s only three and talks like a mag-

pie. Cody’s gotten so active since he got saved I can’t keep up with

him. He thinks he’s an apostle or something.”

“Don’t put him down. That’s good,” Owen said. “What about

Maeva and your father?”

“Well, you know Maeva. She’s wild sometimes. I don’t know

where she gets it. Not from Daddy or Mama.”

“She’ll be all right. She’s got good stuff in her, so don’t give up on

her now. What about your dad?”

For a moment Lanie hesitated, then she said, “I got a letter from

him today. He’s been sick, and I need to go see him.”

“Yes, you do. When are you leaving?” When Lanie did not answer

at once, Owen took his eyes off the road and took a quick glance at

her. “What’s the matter?”

“Well, it’s expensive to go down there. Gas and staying all night

at a hotel.”

“Look, I’ve told you I can help you with things like that.”

“No. I can’t take money from you, Owen.”

“Why not? I’d take it from you.”

“Because I’ve already made plans.”

“What sort of plans?”

“I asked God to get me to Cummings, and he gave me a promise.

The most wonderful promise. It’s found in Isaiah. ‘And it shall come

to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet

speaking, I will hear.’ Isn’t that a great promise?”

“It sure is. But maybe I’m the answer to that.”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know why. I just know.”

They arrived at the hardware store on Main Street, and when

Owen stopped the car, Lanie got out. “Thank you for offering,

Owen. You’re always good to help my family. But God will answer.

You’ll see.”

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Owen did not try to persuade Lanie. He had discovered that there

was a stubborn streak in the gentle young woman. He never heard her

speak a word in anger, but there was a certain point beyond which you

could not push her. As he turned the corner and went to his office on

Oak Street, he was trying to think of some way he could provide the

money without being directly involved.

Getting out of the car, he went inside and found that Bertha Pick-

ens, Doctor Givens’s nurse, was irritated with him. “You’ve had three

calls while you were out. Who did you see while you were gone?”

Owen gave her a quick grin and recited his visits. “How’s the

good Doctor Givens?” he asked.

“This is not one of his good days. I’m worried about him.”

“So am I. He ought to retire.”

Bertha Pickens sniffed. “You just try and get that man to stop

working. He’ll be seein’ patients until the day he goes to meet Jesus.”

“I expect you’re right about that. I’ll go see these people right now.”

Louise Langley had just stepped outside of the pharmacy when

she saw Owen drive by with Lanie Freeman in the car beside him.

Her eyes narrowed and a touch of anger came to her. He ought to know

better than that. He’s foolish about that girl, she thought. She turned

and started toward her car thinking that she would speak to Owen

about hauling the Freeman girl around, when suddenly she heard a

whistle. She turned involuntarily in front of Smitty’s Pool Hall and

saw three or four loafers leaning against the wall grinning at her. Her

face reddened, and she wanted to bawl them out, but she knew that

would only please them.

At that instant Reverend Colin Ryan, who had been standing in

the shadows, stepped out, said a word to the young men, and came

over to her. “Well, it’s good to see you, Miss Langley. How about if I

buy you a chocolate soda. I’m almost broke” — he grinned — “but we

can get two straws.”

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“I’m an engaged woman.”

“Congratulations,” Colin said. “I didn’t intend to try to win you

away from your fiancé.”

“That’s good, because you couldn’t.”

Colin fell into step beside Louise, who was walking as fast as she

could. He was an insufferable man, and now he said, “You know, I

hear your family has money. If you married me, I wouldn’t have to

work. Your folks could support us, and I wouldn’t have to do any-

thing but tell you how pretty you are.”

Louise Langley was astonished. She was accustomed to ministers

having a great deal of dignity, and she turned to glare at the interim

pastor of the First Baptist Church. “I — I can’t believe a minister

would say such a thing!”

“I can’t believe it either,” Colin said, but his eyes were dancing.

“It’s true enough though. The old Hebrews had a custom that I’ve

always admired. When a young couple got married, the man didn’t

do any work for a year. All he did was hang around the house telling

his bride how pretty she was and how wonderful it was to be married

to her.”

“It doesn’t say that in the Bible.”

Colin Ryan did not argue. “Well, I’m always saying the wrong

thing. Maybe you should counsel me.”

“You need it!”

Colin was looking fresh. His coal-black hair caught the afternoon

sunlight, and despite herself, Louise was thinking that he was the best-

looking man she had ever seen in her life. He was also intolerable!

“I’ll tell you one thing the Bible does say. It’s in Galatians chapter

six in the first verse. It says, ‘If a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one.’ So I’d appreciate it if you would

take me in hand.”

“All right, I will!” Louise said. She did not understand at that

moment that her anger was at Owen for chauffeuring Lanie around.

She didn’t like Colin Ryan, and without realizing it she began to pour

out all her criticisms. “Your clothes are terrible! I never saw a minister

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who would dare get behind the pulpit without a suit and a tie. And

you hang out with terrible people . . .”

Colin listened as she enumerated his faults, and finally when she

ran down, he nodded and tried to look serious. “Well, Miss Louise, I

don’t think clothes matter that much, and Jesus hung out with a rough

crowd. He said that was the bunch he had come to save. Remember? I’d

like to please you, but I’m really more concerned about pleasing God.”

“I can’t understand why you think you’re pleasing God. You’re

splitting the church. Half the members want you to leave.”

“Well, I’m pretty certain which half you belong to. Look,” he said,

“I know I’m different. And you may be right. I’ll tell you what — why

don’t you be my advisor?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Give me some pointers. You let me call you Louise, and you can

call me Colin. Why don’t I come and sit on your porch tonight? You

can work on me.”

Louise Langley laughed shortly. “My father would furnish the

reception. He wouldn’t permit it. Neither would my fiancé.”

“Well, how about this. I’ll go ask their permission.”

“You stay away from them and stay away from me! Now leave me

alone!” She turned and walked away, furious with the man.

“Good talking with you, Louise,” Colin called out and waved.

“I’ll be looking forward to some more advice from you the next time.”

He watched the young woman leave, noting that she held her head

high. She’s smart and pretty, but boy, is she rigid! he mused. Still, she’s got potential. Maybe she just needs a proper dose of the real world. The

thought pleased him, and he began to whistle a lively tune as schemes

to “develop” Louise Langley danced through his mind.

Two days had gone by since Lanie had prayed and claimed the

Scripture in Isaiah. She expected money to come somehow from an

unexpected source, but nothing was happening. As a matter of fact,

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she spent the little money that was left to buy food. Now she was

absolutely broke. Even with all everyone did to bring in funds, it just

wasn’t enough. Cody sold copies of Grit magazine at the newsstand.

Maeva went looking for sassafras roots that the general store would

want to buy, and Davis delivered newspapers. Later, Lanie would do

some more canning. The general store wanted more of her apple but-

ter next week.

She had awakened early this morning, and now the sun was ris-

ing. She had fixed breakfast, and the children were all off to do their

work for the day. Aunt Kezia was sleeping late along with Corliss.

The house was quiet. She always liked the early cobwebby time of the

morning, and now she drank another cup of coffee feeling guilty for

the expense. She wondered if she had been presumptuous in asking

God to provide for her this way. “Maybe God doesn’t want me to go

see Daddy right now. Maybe it’s all my imagination.”

The doubts troubled her, and even as she sat there, she heard

the sound of a roaring engine in front of the house. She got up and

walked to the door. She was surprised to see Reverend Colin Ryan

stepping off his motorcycle. He was wearing a helmet and shoved

the goggles up, and after leaning the motorcycle on the kickstand, he

came up the steps. When she stepped out, he greeted her with a smile.

“Hello, Sister Lanie. How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine, Brother Colin. What are you doing up and about so

early?”

“Out making calls. You’re my first.”

“Well, it’s good to have you, but there’s no one here but me.”

“Well, that’s fine. You and I can get to know each other.”

“Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t see any harm with it” — he winked at her — “as long as

there are no women and children present.”

Lanie laughed and took him inside. She sat him at the kitchen

table, poured him a cup of coffee, another for herself, then sat down.

“I guess your preaching has been a success. It’s wonderful seeing so

many people get saved.”

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“Well, I’m expecting a big harvest. We’ve got to learn to trust

God for these things. How’s your family? Is there anybody I need to

pray for?”

A shadow fell over Lanie’s face. “We all need prayer, I guess, but

I’m glad you asked. It’s Daddy. He’s not well.”

“He’s sick?”

“You know he’s in prison.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve heard about that. Is he in Cummings?”

“Yes.”

“Why, that’s not too far. You need to go at once.”

Lanie hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t have the money, Brother

Ryan, but I asked God and he gave me a Scripture. It’s in Isaiah.” She

quoted the Scripture and said, “I believe God heard me as soon as I

asked him, and the answer’s on the way.”

Colin Ryan suddenly laughed and slapped his hand on the table.

“I am the way,” he said. “I’ll take you to see your dad.”

“But you don’t even have a car.”

“No, but I’ve got a bike.”

For a moment Lanie didn’t understand what he meant. “You

mean — get on that motorcycle behind you and ride all the way to

Cummings?”

“Well, I wish I had a car, but I don’t. The church has been giving

me some money, but I’ve been finding people that need it worse than

I do. That bike will make it fine.”

Lanie was absolutely stunned. “Why, I can’t ride one of those

things!”

“Sure you can. God’s opened a door here, and you’ve got to go

through it.”

At that instant Aunt Kezia came through the door. She was wear-

ing a ratty old bathrobe that she loved and would not have exchanged

for a new one. “Hello, Preacher,” she said.

“Why, Miss Kezia,” Ryan said, “how wonderful to see you. An

amazing thing just happened.”

“Well, what is it?”

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“Lanie here has prayed, God told her he’d answer her prayer, and

I’m the answer.”

“Answer for what?”

“Daddy hasn’t been feeling well, and I need to go see him, Aunt

Kezia,” Lanie explained, “but I don’t have the money.”

Colin interjected, “Well, I’ve got enough money for gas to get us

there and back. We’ll make good time too.”

Lanie laughed helplessly. “He wants me to ride that motorcycle

with him all the way to Cummings and back, but I can’t do that.”

Aunt Kezia’s eyes twinkled. “Once when I was a girl growing up,

a little bit younger than you, my ma got sick. Somebody had to go for

the doctor. We didn’t have no horses at that time, we were so poor.

All we had was a bull. I rode that bull into town to get that doctor

and rode him all the way back. If I can ride a one-eyed red bull, I

reckon you can ride one of them two-wheel outfits. Don’t be a doubt-

ing woman, Lanie Freeman.”

“Aunt Kezia’s right,” Colin agreed. “Let’s go, Lanie.”

“You mean right now?” Lanie’s mind was reeling. “But what

about the kids?”

“I reckon they’ll all survive. Now git!” Aunt Kezia commanded.

“God spoke. Don’t ever doubt him.”

At that instant Lanie Freeman had one of those moments when

she knew that God had absolutely spoken. She suddenly stood up and

stared at the two and then said with determination, “All right, I’ll do

it. I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes.” She turned and ran out of the

kitchen, up the stairs to her room.

Aunt Kezia turned to the preacher and studied him. “You’re a

good-lookin’ scoundrel, you know it?”

“I’m glad you think so, Sister Kezia.”

“It’ll give the people somethin’ to talk about, Lanie ridin’ all

the way down to Cummings in forked pants with a good-lookin’

preacher.” She suddenly laughed. “Don’t be in a big hurry getting’

back, son. This’ll give the gossip mill somethin’ to work on!”

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Chapter 9

Lanie dashed into the bedroom that Davis shared with Cody and

after a frantic search found a pair of his old jeans. Davis was

now much taller than she was, but these were jeans that he had worn

before he had started to shoot up. She grabbed one of his old shirts,

ran back to her room, quickly pulled on the shirt, buttoned it, and

then slipped into the pants. For a moment she was daunted, for they

were too long for her, which didn’t matter, but they were also almost

skin tight. Davis had always been lean, and the jeans were not made

for a curvaceous young woman of seventeen!

For a moment she stood there uncertainly and thought of going

back, but these were the only ones she’d found that she could get into.

She drew her lips together and said firmly, “They’ll have to do. That’s

all there is to it.”

Leaving her room, she went downstairs and found Aunt Kezia

chatting in the kitchen with the preacher. She was trying to convince

him that he should try some of Major Scooby’s Liver Extract but

without much success. They both turned when Lanie came in. She

saw Aunt Kezia’s eyes open wide, and instantly she flushed.

“Well, that’s quite an outfit you got on there. Is that what motor-

cycle riders wear, Reverend?”

“Most of them wear whatever they’ve got,” Colin said. “It’ll be

fine, Lanie.”

“Have we got room to take Daddy some of these cookies I made?”

“Bring all you want. We’ll put ’em in the saddlebags.”

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Lanie quickly filled two sacks full of the oatmeal cookies that her

father loved. “I’m ready.”

The two moved out on the front porch and then stepped down

followed by Aunt Kezia. “Let me have those cookies.” Colin lifted the

flaps on the worn leather saddlebags mounted over the rear wheel and

put them in. “They’ll be fine there.”

At that instant Lanie looked up to see Cody, Davis, and Maeva

coming down the street. Cody broke into a run, then stopped. “I told

you not to wear them forked pants. They’re a shame and a disgrace!”

“Who died and made you pope?” Maeva said. Her eyes were

sparkling, and she moved closer, keeping her gaze fixed on Lanie’s

outfit. “Those are Davis’s clothes.”

“I had to wear them, Davis. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Why, shucks. That’s fine with me. I can’t get into them any-

more,” Davis said. “Where you goin’?”

“Your sister tells me she needs to see your dad, Davis. We’re all

kind of short on money and cars, so I’m taking her there.”

“Can three ride on one of those things?” Maeva winked at the

preacher. “I wouldn’t mind ridin’ with you myself.”

“You hush, Maeva,” Aunt Kezia said.

“Well, all right.” Maeva grinned. “But I will say that outfit is

mighty eye-catchin’.”

Cody looked stunned. Colin Ryan had become an important

man in his life, and he was shocked that a preacher would allow such a

thing. He swallowed hard, and Colin saw the trouble he was having.

“It’s an emergency, Cody,” he said, going over to put his hand on

the boy’s shoulder. “Your dad’s not well, and your sister needs to go

see him. Try to understand.”

“All right, I guess,” Cody mumbled. He took one more look at

Lanie and shook his head. “Well, all I can say is, it sure is unseemly.”

Lanie felt bad about embarrassing Cody. She went over and put

her arm around him, hugged him tightly, and whispered in his ear, “I

have to go, Cody. You take care of things while I’m gone, all right?”

“Sure, Sis. You tell Dad I miss him.”

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“Guess we’re ready,” Colin said. He turned and fished into the

saddlebags and pulled out a soft leather helmet with a pair of goggles.

“Better put this on,” he said cheerfully. “Gonna be windy.”

Lanie pulled the helmet on, tucking in her hair and snapping it

under her chin. She pulled the goggles down and watched as Colin

stepped onto the motorcycle and kicked the starter. The engine broke

into a roar, and Colin turned and said, “Get right on. I’ll show you

where to put your feet.” He guided her feet after she straddled the

machine.

Maeva came up. “You better hang on,” Maeva said loudly. “The

best chance you’ll ever have to hug a good-lookin’ preacher.”

Colin merely laughed and waved briefly. He gave the machine a

little gas and yelled, “Grab ahold — here we go!”

Lanie was thrown slightly backwards and in a panic she reached

out and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Just put your arms around me. We’ll be all right once you get

used to it.”

Lanie had never been so embarrassed in her life. It seemed wrong

somehow to put her arms around a preacher, but as he speeded up,

she found she needed to hold on. She hoped he would go out through

one of the side streets, maybe down Elm, but instead he turned right

down Main Street. They passed over Jeb Stuart Avenue and Stonewall

Jackson Boulevard and roared right past the library, the Dew Drop

Inn, and the bank. It seemed everybody she knew was standing out

watching her. She hoped that no one would recognize her with the

helmet on, but as she passed the Dew Drop Inn, Pardue Jessup was

coming out. He straightened up, laughed, and hollered, “Hang on,

Lanie!”

Does everybody have to see me? she wondered miserably.

Finally they passed the outskirts of town, and as the open coun-

try lay before them, Colin yelled over his shoulder, “We’re gonna fly

now!” Lanie had never experienced such speed! The telephone poles

became just a blur. Then Colin said, “Hang on tight! We gotta pass

this fella.”

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With alarm, Lanie looked ahead and saw a lumber truck with

a load of pine logs. She expected Colin to slow down, but instead

he speeded up and abruptly leaned over to his left. Frantically Lanie

grabbed him around the chest and held on, pressing her cheek against

his back. She felt the machine tilt and then slowly return upright and

lean the other way as Colin guided it back to the right.

That was the pattern for the next twenty minutes. Colin seemed

to be running the motorcycle at full speed, and he simply sailed by

everything in his path. Once he barely made it back in front of an

Oldsmobile, dodging the oncoming truck in the left lane by what

seemed like a hair’s breadth.

Finally, to her amazement, Lanie discovered that she was enjoy-

ing it. Although she was afraid at first, she discovered there was some-

thing exhilarating about the speed and the skill with which Colin

could weave his way in and out. She felt safe and secure, which was

strange considering how fast they were flying along.

She was also aware of something else: She was acutely conscious

of pressing herself against the muscular form of Colin Ryan. She tried

not to, but whenever the speed increased or they would weave, she had

to clutch him firmly. It was embarrassing for her, but it was just the

sort of thing Maeva would delight in.

I’ve got to learn to ride without holding on to him so tight, she

thought. But that proved to be impossible.

Colin pulled in beside a country store, stopping the cycle beside

the single gas pump with the glass top. “We need to fill up,” he said.

“Besides that, I expect you’re pretty stiff. We’ve been going for an

hour and a half.”

As Lanie stepped off, she was indeed stiff. She moved around

stretching her legs, bending over, and found that her arms were

cramped from holding onto Colin.

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A lean man with a long horse face and a droopy mustache came

out. He was wearing a pair of faded Toughnut overalls and a cap that

said Burris Mills across the front. “Help ya?” he asked.

“Need to fill up with gas and get a little something to eat. How

are you today, brother?”

The lean man grinned. “Doin’ finer than frog hair. If I felt any

better, I’d have to take shots for it.”

Colin suddenly laughed and winked at Lanie. “You must be a

believer. Only a Chris tian can be that happy.”

“You’re mighty right. I found the Lord twenty-two years ago.

Best thing I ever done.”

“Where’d you get saved?”

“Well, people ask me from time to time how to get saved. I tell

’em you go down to Grace Landmark Baptist Church, six miles down

this road and two miles off to the right back in a grove of pecan trees.

You go on Sunday morning. Take the third seat from the back set in

about the middle. Listen to the sermon,” he said grinning, “and on the

second verse of ‘I Surrender All’ you get up and walk down and fall

on your knees at the mourner’s bench. You mourn for a while and tell

God you’re sorry you’re a sinner and ask Jesus to save you. That’s it.”

Colin was laughing and Lanie could not help grinning. “You sup-

pose people have to go through all that?”

“Well, not really. That’s the way it happened to me and all I

could tell about it. You go on and get you some grub. I’ll fill up your

machine here.”

As the man wound the lever to pump the gas out of the tank up

into the pump itself, Lanie went inside followed by Colin. It was a

typical small store with one of everything, it seemed, and very rarely

more than that. One section was devoted to hardware — screws, nuts,

bolts; the groceries were on shelves reaching to the ceiling. There were

barrels of pickles and crackers and various calendars decorating the

wall. A rangy cinnamon-colored cat lay watching them lazily with

enormous golden eyes. Lanie went over and tried to pet him, but he

hissed at her.

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“Don’t pay no attention to Lucifer there,” the woman behind the

counter called. “He’s meaner than the devil. That’s why I named him

Lucifer.”

“Well, I know how to sweeten him up,” Colin said. “Give me

a can of those sardines.” She fished the sardines down, and Colin

added, “A box of crackers too.”

Colin ordered the lunch, which included sardines, crackers, two

big Nehi cream sodas, and a sack full of penny candy, mostly sugared

orange slices. Colin opened one of the cans with the key in the top

and reached out and got the saucer that was on the floor beside the

big tom. He put some of the sardines in, drained some of the juice,

and said, “There, Lucifer. See how you like that.” The big cat was up

instantly and began eating hungrily. As he ate, Colin grinned and ran

his hand down the big cat’s spine. “I’m afraid he’s not much of a Chris-

tian at that. He just follows for the sardines.”

“You got his number. You folks goin’ far?”

“All the way to Cummings,” Colin said cheerfully.

“You got folks in there?”

“Yes. We’re just gonna make a visit,” Colin said smoothly. The

lean man came in, and Colin paid for the gas and the food, then they

went outside and sat on a bench underneath a Sinclair Oil sign. They

ate the crackers and sardines, and Lanie said, “We’re going to smell

terrible.”

“Well, we probably will. I forgot to ask the blessing on this food.

I guess I can ask it anyway. Thank you, Lord, for this good food.” He

turned and said, “How do you like riding a bike?”

“Oh, it’s fun.” She studied Colin, thinking that most men as fine

looking as he was would be swollen with pride, but he didn’t seem to

think at all about his looks. “What was life like in Africa? Did you

ever see a lion?”

“Oh, sure. Lots of them.”

“What about the natives there? Are there cannibals?”

“There’s some cannibalism. The most interesting natives I ever saw

were the Masai. The men are all six feet, some of them up to six six.”

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“Do they carry spears like we see in the movies?”

“Well, I haven’t seen any of the movies, but most of them are

handsome people. The women too. You wouldn’t like what they eat.”

“What do they eat?”

“They have big herds of cattle. When they want to eat, they go out

and they milk the cow, catching the milk in a cup. Then they open up

a vein on the cow’s neck and drain off some blood into it. Then they

drink it.”

“You’re making that up!”

“No, I’m not. They tried me out. Thought a white man couldn’t

handle it, but I did. As a matter of fact, I’ve tasted worse stuff here in

America.”

The two talked for a while, and finally he said, “I’ve been praying

for your dad, but I don’t know the particulars. Do you want to tell

me about it?”

“It was a terrible thing. There was this man named Duke Biggins

who worked for Daddy. He was drunk most of the time, and Daddy

went over to fire him. Daddy carried a gun for snakes in the woods.

Duke got violent, and in the struggle it went off.”

“Well, that would be self-defense.”

“It would have been, but Duke’s brother, Alvin, and the woman

that lives with him, Ethel Crawford, both testified that Daddy

brought the gun in and shot him without any warning. They were

the only witnesses, so the jury had to find him guilty of manslaughter

at least.”

Colin was studying the young woman as she spoke. He had heard

a great deal about the character of Lanie Freeman, and now he said

quietly, “Well, I know you’re praying for him to be released. I’ll team

up with you on that.”

“He’s such a good man, Pastor.” Tears came to Lanie’s eyes.

“Sometimes I get so tired I just don’t think I can make it.”

Colin leaned over and took her hand, held it for a moment, then

stood up. “God is faithful,” he said simply. “We’ll pray until he’s out

of that place. Now let’s get going.”

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When they arrived at the prison, the guard, whose name was Jack

Taylor, grinned at Lanie’s outfit. “I like that outfit, Miss Freeman.

Didn’t know you was a biker.”

“I didn’t have any other way to get here, but my pastor offered to

bring me on his motorcycle.”

“Never heard of a preacher riding a motorcycle.” Taylor grinned.

“We’d like to see Dad.”

“Well, you know he’s been sick. He’s in the infirmary right now.

Come along. I’ll take you in.”

“Do I need a pass or anything?” Colin asked.

“Oh, I’ll take care of that. I don’t reckon you’ll get everybody to

bust out, will you, Reverend?”

“No, I won’t do that.”

Lanie and Colin followed the guard to the building that con-

tained the infirmary, then down a long hall. As soon as they turned

in, Lanie saw her father in bed. He turned his head toward them, his

eyes widened, and he struggled to sit up. “Muff, where’d you get that

outfit?” he asked.

Lanie ran over and put her arms around him and hugged him.

“It’s Davis’s — I had to wear it because we came on Brother Ryan’s

motorcycle. Daddy, I was so sorry to hear you’ve been sick. I just had

to come.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Who’s this with you?”

“This is Reverend Colin Ryan. He’s the new pastor of the

church.”

“Just interim,” Colin said. “Holding down the fort until they can

get a real preacher. Glad to meet you, Brother Freeman.”

Lanie said quickly, “I didn’t have any other way to get here, and

Brother Ryan brought me.”

“You rode a motorcycle all the way from home?” Forrest grinned.

“That must have been a different kind of trip.”

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“Here, Daddy, I brought you two big sacks full of oatmeal cook-

ies with raisins in them. The kind you like.”

“Sit down and tell me how everybody is.”

Colin said at once, “You two will want some time alone. I’m

going to see about visiting some of the other inmates. I’ll come back

after a while.”

As soon as Colin left, Forrest pulled out one of the cookies and

bit off of it. As he chewed it, he said, “Never saw a preacher quite like

that.”

“He’s the best preacher you ever heard, Daddy. Of course some

don’t like him because he doesn’t always act like a preacher.”

“What does he do?”

“Oh, he goes into awful places and preaches right in the middle

of taverns, for one thing. And he doesn’t dress like a preacher, for

another thing. Only preacher I ever saw that didn’t wear a tie on the

pulpit.”

“Well, I can tell he’s a good man. Now, tell me about everything . . .”

Potter Gladden, the warden at Cummings, was talking to Lanie

about Colin. “He barged right in here and asked permission to visit

with the inmates. I found out he was your pastor and figured it was all

right. You know what that sucker did? He got a bunch of the inmates

together and preached like there was a thousand people there.” War-

den Gladden, a short stocky man with a thick neck and intent gray

eyes, shook his head as he smiled. “I reckon he’s the kind of preacher

these fellows need around here. By the way, he told me you needed a

place to stay. We’ve got a cabin here, a little house we use for visitors.

You can stay there tonight. I’ll find a place for your pastor.”

“Thank you, Warden.”

“He talked me into having another ser vice tonight. I guess I’ll be

there. I never knew a motorcycle-ridin’ preacher.”

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Lanie and Colin ate supper with the men. The food was mostly

starches but was well cooked. The warden ate with them, and after

the meal they went into the large room used for a chapel. The ser-

vice was crowded. Lanie watched the inmates as they came in, and

as Colin preached, she studied their faces more intently. She saw a

hunger for God there and prayed for Colin and the men.

After the sermon, Colin gave a simple invitation, and there was

almost a stampede to get to the front.

“Are all these men going to be saved?” she whispered to the

warden.

“Oh, no,” Gladden said. “That’s their way of saying they want to

get closer to God. Most of them are Chris tians already. Some of them,

though, might find the Lord tonight. That fellow is some preacher!”

Lanie was tired from the exhausting trip and slept like a rock. She

got up and spent the morning with her father, and Colin sat with him

for some of the time. She could tell that her father liked him a great

deal, and she was glad to see that. She was even happier to see that her

father seemed well on the road to recovery.

“We’re going to have to go, I guess, Daddy. I wish we could stay

longer.”

“No. You need to make the trip back.”

“Is there anything I can bring you or mail to you?” Lanie asked.

“I’m all right.”

“You seem a little sad.”

“Well, it’s nothin’ you can do anything about.”

“You don’t know about that until you ask.” Colin smiled. “What

is it?”

“Well, you know my regular job here is taking care of Warden

Gladden’s dogs, the bloodhounds, and his horse. Not really a hard

job, but one of the dogs is gonna be put down.”

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“What’s wrong with him?” Colin asked.

“Well, he’s sick, and they can’t seem to find what it is. He’s my

favorite too. He’s a sweet-tempered dog. You know you think about

bloodhounds as vicious, man-eating dogs, but old Booger, he’s just as

sweet as sugar.”

“Booger? What an awful name!”

“It is pretty bad. I didn’t name him that.”

They were talking about the dog when Warden Gladden came

back. “I just wanted to say good-bye to you folks,” he said. “You come

and visit anytime you want, Preacher.”

“We’ve been talking about Booger,” Colin said. “You going to put

him down?”

“I can’t stand to see an animal suffer. He is a good dog. Best I ever

had on the trail.”

“I wish we could take him home,” Lanie said suddenly. “We’ve

got a fine vet there. He’s an Indian named Sixkiller. I bet he could

make him well. But we don’t have any way to get him there.”

“Why, if you want to try it, I can help you with that. We’ve got

an old truck here. You could take him home in that and come back

and get your motorcycle.”

Forrest said quickly, “I wish you’d do it, Lanie.” He looked at

Colin and said, “Preacher, I’d be forever grateful if you could help

Booger out. He’s a fine dog. Finest I’ve ever seen.”

“Why, we’ll do it.”

“All right then,” Gladden said. “I’ll have the men fix a bed for

Booger in the back of the truck.” He left at once, and Colin shook

Forrest’s hand. “I want you to know there’s one fellow that’ll be pray-

ing for you every day, Brother Forrest, and that’ll be me. I’ll be back

to see you too. Don’t worry about Booger. We’ll pray him through.”

Colin left, and Lanie leaned over and hugged Forrest. She kissed

him and whispered, “I hate to leave, as always.”

“I’ll be fine. Say, that preacher is somethin’, isn’t he?”

“He is. I wish he was the pastor all the time. Cody thinks he hung

the moon.”

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Lanie left, and as Jack let them out, he said, “You know, for a

preacher you ain’t a bad fella, Colin Ryan.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Colin said. “I’ll be back to see you, Jack.

You watch out for Forrest now.”

The two went to the truck and leaned over the back. The big

bloodhound was lying flat and his eyes were closed. Lanie whispered,

“He doesn’t look good, does he?”

Colin was stroking his head. The dog was wrinkled as all blood-

hounds are and would have been strong, but he had lost weight. “We’ll

pray that God’ll pull him up and make a strong dog out of him.”

“It would make Daddy happy, and me too.”

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Chapter 10

Orrin Pierce looked up from the table he shared with Pardue Jes-

sup in the Dew Drop Inn, spotting his friend Nelson Prather.

“There’s Nellie,” he said, a smile touching his lips. “Could we put up

with him, you think?”

Orrin Pierce was a distinguished-looking man of thirty with dark

hair and striking blue eyes. He was not married, and alcohol had

practically ruined his life, but he managed to make a living with a law

practice. “Why, sure, Sheriff,” he said. “He’s a good fellow.”

Pardue shook his head. “He’s so blasted superstitious. Drives me

crazy, but you’re right. He’s raised up all his younger brothers and

sisters after his dad died, and then his mom became an invalid and he

took care of her too.”

“I wonder why he’s never married. He’s a nice-looking fellow. Got

a good farm, best beef raiser in the county.”

“He’s pretty shy.”

Pardue waved and called, “Come over and join us, Nellie.”

Nelson Prather had been about to leave the Dew Drop Inn, for at

the noon hour every seat was filled. He stood there, a tall blond man

with mild blue eyes and an unpretentious air, then nodded and said,

“Don’t mind if I do, Sheriff. How are you, Mr. Pierce?”

“I’m fine,” Orrin said. “A little bit crowded in here today.”

Sister Myrtle Poindexter came over at once. “Howdy, Nellie.

What’ll you have today?”

“I don’t know. What’s good?”

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Pardue grinned and winked at Pierce. “Better not have any of

those burgers.”

“What’s wrong with the burgers?” Nellie asked.

“Why, they’re coon burgers.”

“What’s wrong with coon burgers?” Sister Myrtle said loudly, her

voice carrying throughout the room. “Charlie kills them and I fix

burgers out of ’em.”

“I don’t believe I’d care for any burgers today, Sister Myrtle,” Nel-

lie said. “They’re such cute things. I don’t think I could eat one.”

“They’d be better than possum.” Pierce grinned. “But they look

like big rats.”

“What’s the special today, Sister Myrtle?”

“Same as it is every Friday. Chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes,

and green beans.”

“I’ll have the special.”

After Sister Myrtle left, Pardue winked at Pierce. Pardue was a

big man with rough good looks who not only served as sheriff but

operated his own car repair business. “I don’t know what’s wrong with

me,” he said, trying to look mournful. “I’ve been carryin’ this rabbit

foot now for a week, and nothin’ good’s happened to me yet.”

Instantly Nellie Prather straightened up. “Let me see that rabbit’s

foot.”

He took the rabbit’s foot that Pardue held out to him and shook

his head. “Why, of course it didn’t bring you no luck. It’s the front

foot of a rabbit.”

“What difference does it make?” Pardue asked.

“Well, the only rabbit’s foot that’s worth a nickel for bringin’ luck

is the left hind foot of a rabbit killed at the full of the moon by a cross-

eyed person.”

Pierce covered his mouth with his napkin to keep Nellie from

seeing him smiling. It was just the sort of thing that Nellie Prather

would say. “Well, they would be hard to come by. Not many cross-

eyed people hunt rabbits, I wouldn’t think, especially during the full

moon.”

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“That’s what makes ’em so good,” Nellie said.

“You don’t have one, do you, Nellie?” Pardue said. “I’m needin’

some luck about this time.”

“Don’t talk to me about luck,” he said sadly. “I’m just about

ruined myself.”

“What’s the matter?” Pierce asked. Nellie, for all of his supersti-

tions, was usually cheerful.

“Well, it started last week. I didn’t pay much attention to what I

was doin’, and I leaned a broom against the bed.”

Both men stared at Nellie. “That’s bad, is it?” Pardue asked.

“Bad? There ain’t nothin’ worse! That’ll put an evil spell on a bed

quicker than you would think. Only thing worse is movin’ a broom

when you move into a new house.”

“I didn’t know that,” Pierce said.

“Oh, it’s terrible! I had a friend of mine that did that, moved a

new broom, and a cat — that’s bad too — into his new house. Three

years later that house burned right to the ground. It just goes to

show you.”

Sister Myrtle arrived back with Nellie’s food and set it down.

“You better try one of the coon burgers, Nellie. They’re right good.”

“Well, they’re scavengers. They eat anything they can find,” Nel-

lie protested.

“So are catfish,” Sister Myrtle snapped, “but you eat them quick

enough!”

Nellie bowed his head and asked a blessing, ignoring the other

two who were almost finished. He started eating and the voice of

Henrietta Green, the telephone operator who was seated at the next

table, carried clear. “. . . and I say it’s a shame that a minister of the

gospel would act like that.”

“Act like what, Henrietta?” Pierce said.

Henrietta replied, “Why, it’s what that Baptist preacher’s done.”

Doc Givens was sitting across the room, but he, like everyone

else, could hear Henrietta clearly. “I wish you’d stop talkin’ about

people in public. It’s bad enough when you do it in private.”

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Henrietta, however, was not to be put off. She turned to Pierce

and said, “You haven’t heard about what happened. That preacher

took Lanie Freeman to Cummings on the back of his motorcycle. She

put on pants just like a man and off they went just a roaring.”

Doc Givens was glaring at Henrietta. “He was trying to help the

girl was all.”

“Well, you would take up for him!” Henrietta snipped. “Your

partner Doctor Merritt did the same thing. He took that Freeman girl

all the way to Oklahoma, just the two of them.”

“That was to see about getting her aunt to come and stay with

them, Henrietta!” Givens snapped.

“Well, he took her to Cummings too. I tell you it’s a shame when

a young girl runs around all over the county with men like that.”

Alvin Biggins was seated with one of his friends, a small man

called Runt. It was Biggins’s brother that had been killed and resulted

in Forrest Freeman going to the penitentiary.

“He’s just like all other preachers. Ain’t worth dirt.”

Sister Myrtle instantly marched back and looked down. “I don’t

allow no bad talk and no profanity.”

“I didn’t use no profanity.”

“Well, you was about to. Now you can just leave, Alvin Biggins.”

“Aw, Sister Myrtle, let me finish my meal.”

“Well, keep your mouth shut then.”

Mamie Dorr was seated at one of the tables, and she said, “Now,

me, I like that new preacher. I wish he’d stay around.” Mamie saw

that Pardue Jessup was grinning at her, and she winked at him. “If he

stays long enough, even me and you might get converted.”

Pardue nodded. “Well, if I ever get any religion, Mamie, it’ll be

his brand.”

As Lanie and Colin pulled up to the house in the truck, the door

burst open and everyone came out. Cody was holding Corliss, and

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immediately he was popping questions. “Where’s your motorcycle?

How’s Daddy? Is he still sick?”

Davis stood back and watched, but he did glance over at the

truck. “Why, there’s a dog here,” he said.

“That’s Booger,” Colin said. “He was your dad’s favorite dog, and

he’s sick.”

Maeva approached and looked at him. “What kind of dog is he?”

she asked cautiously. “He doesn’t look too good.”

“He’s a bloodhound,” Lanie said.

“You mean they use him to run down escaped prisoners?”

“I guess so, but he’s not running anybody down. We’re going to

take him over to Doctor Sixkiller and see if he can fix him.”

“But we don’t have any money for that,” Davis said.

Colin Ryan grinned, his teeth white against his tanned skin.

“Maybe he’ll take his fee in preaching.”

“Come on in and tell us everything about Daddy,” Maeva said.

Lanie picked up Corliss and held her, kissed her on the cheek.

“Daddy said to give you a kiss,” she said.

“I wish I could give him one,” Corliss said.

“Well, we’ll pray until that happens. Now come on in. I’ll tell you

all about him . . .”

Matthew Sixkiller stood over the dog that was lying quietly on

the stainless steel table. He had gone over the dog carefully, and now

he turned to Lanie and Colin and said, “I’m going to have to do more

tests. But he doesn’t look good.”

“Could it be heartworm or something like that?” Colin asked.

“Maybe so. After I do the tests I’ll be able to tell you some more.”

He gave Lanie a quizzical look. “You say he came from Cummings

Farm?”

“Daddy got real fond of him. They were going to put him down,

but the warden said we could bring him home and try to get him

well.”

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Matthew Sixkiller smiled slightly. “Well, I’ll do everything I can,

Lanie, you know that.”

“We don’t have any money,” she said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I told the Freemans you could take it out in preaching. It might

take a year or two to get that much preaching out of me.”

Sixkiller grinned. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to get you in my

debt, Pastor. Some of your sermons have been pretty sharp. Almost

hurt my feelings. Maybe I can get you to tone ’em down a bit in

exchange for healing this dog. What’s his name, by the way?”

“His name is Booger.”

Sixkiller laughed. “Why don’t you name him something digni-

fied like Napoleon or Freddie?”

“No. His name is Booger. Look. He heard me.”

The big bloodhound’s eyes opened and he tried to lift his head.

Lanie put her hand out and said, “It’s all right, Booger. You’re going

to get well . . .”

Otis Langley looked across the supper table at his wife and said,

“I’m going to prayer meeting tonight.”

Martha, Roger, and Louise looked at him in surprise. Roger said,

“You never go to prayer meetings, Dad.”

“Well, I’m going tonight. Somebody’s got to take a hand in this

business. It’s gone too far.”

“What are you talking about?” Roger said. “What’s gone too

far?”

“That preacher, Ryan. He’s going to bring disrepute on our

church.”

“What’s he done now?” Roger demanded.

“He took that Freeman girl all the way to Cummings on the motor-

cycle and they stayed all night. An unmarried man running around

with an unmarried woman is not what I expect from my pastor.”

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Roger shook his head. “I heard all about that. Lanie’s father was

sick. She didn’t have any other way to get there. I think it was pretty

nice of Brother Ryan to take her.”

Otis looked at him with disapproval. “You’ve got to learn to show

a little discernment, Son.”

The argument grew rather sharp, and finally Otis said, “I’m going

to bring it to a vote. This is business night. I’m going to get the church

to get rid of that preacher.”

Roger’s face grew red. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that I’ve got a

vote too, and I’m going to cancel yours out.”

“Would you go against your own father?” Otis demanded.

“If he’s wrong — and you’re wrong about this.”

Louise said, “Well, I’m going, and I know how I’m going to vote.

That preacher needs someone to cut him down to size.”

“Well, I’m going to do all that I can to see that that’s done,” Otis

said. He got up and left the table, with Louise right behind him.

Martha Langley watched as Roger pushed the remains of his pie

with his fork, his eyes moody. “Try not to be upset with your dad,

Roger,” she said quietly. “He’s a good man.”

“I know he is in lots of ways, Mom, but he’s so determined to be

right all the time. Why is he like that?”

Martha rose and moved around to take the chair beside Roger. He

had always been her pride, and it grieved her to see the rift between

her son and her husband. “You have to know what a hard time your

dad had when he was growing up, Son. He never speaks of it, but his

childhood was terrible — and left scars on his soul.”

“He never told me anything about that.”

“No, he’s ashamed of it — though none of it was his fault.”

“What happened to him?” Roger asked.

“His father was a beast.”

Roger stared at his mother, speechless. “What do you mean?”

“He abused your father from the time he could walk.”

“You mean — he beat him?”

“Yes, and did things far worse than that.”

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“What could be worse than that?”

“He never said a kind word to him, Roger. He put your father

down in the cruelest ways you can imagine. He told him he was going

to be a failure, that he’d never amount to anything . . .”

Roger sat as still as a statue as his mother gave details of Otis’s

degradation at the hands of his own father. He saw the tears in his

mother’s eyes and asked, “Did you know my grandfather?”

“Oh, yes, I knew him,” Martha said bitterly. “He was such a hyp-

ocrite. He’d brag on your father when someone was present that he

wanted to impress, then as soon as they left, he’d sneer at Otis and tell

him he was making up lies about him.”

“I — I never knew any of this, Mom.”

“I wanted to tell you a long time ago, but your father won’t have it

spoken of. All those terrible things that Otis’s father did to him hard-

ened your dad. He set out to prove his father was wrong, and he did it

by determining never to be wrong. I’ve tried to help him understand

that we all make mistakes, but his hurt is too deep.” Martha Langley

squeezed Roger’s hand and whispered, “I wanted to tell you this so

that you could understand why your father is so hard at times. He’s

afraid he’ll fail, just as his own father said he would.”

Roger took a deep breath, then said firmly, “Thanks for telling

me, Mom. I’ll never forget what you’ve said.”

“Try to understand, Son, and don’t be angry with him,” Martha

said. “He hates himself sometimes after he’s shown hardness to some-

one. Nobody knows about that — but me. I’ve seen him unable to eat

for days because he treated someone in an unkind fashion. I’ve seen

tears in his eyes after he behaved badly.”

Roger sat for a long time holding his mother’s hand, then he

leaned forward and kissed her. “I think I see a side of Dad I never

knew about — and it’ll make it easier for me to understand him.” He

got up and said, “I’m going to the meeting. I’ll sit by Dad and Louise.

Even if we don’t agree on this, I’ll be next to them at least.”

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“I’ll tell you, Dorsey. It’s going to be a real showdown at the Bap-

tist church tonight.” Henrietta Green had called Dorsey Pender. They

each considered it their responsibility to spread information efficiently

in Fairhope, so they stayed in close touch to make sure they were

always current. Since she listened in on most telephone conversations

and Dorsey knew the mail everyone received, not much happened in

Fairhope without their knowing about it. Dorsey’s one regret was that

the people didn’t write all their mail on postcards. Of course, he could

always ask them what the letter said, but he was continually shocked

that some people refused to tell him.

“What’s going on, Henrietta?”

“Well, I heard Otis Langley tell Gerald Pink that he’s going to

vote to get rid of the preacher.”

“Is that right! Well, I usually don’t go to prayer meeting, but I

expect I’d better go tonight.”

“I’m going too,” Henrietta said. “You suppose they let Presbyteri-

ans into the Baptist church?”

“Why, of course they do. Anybody can go. Of course, in a busi-

ness meeting they sometimes ask the visitors to leave. But you come

on anyhow. You can sit with me.”

“Mr. Langley’s the biggest giver in the church since he moved his

membership there. I expect he’ll get his way.”

“He usually does. I’ll see you at church.”

When the Freemans arrived at church, Lanie was surprised at the

number of cars in the parking lot. Once inside, she glanced around

and saw that the sanctuary was crowded. “What are all these people

doing here?”

Davis shook his head. “I don’t know, but about half of them don’t

even belong to our church.”

Cody was pleased. “Well, I’m glad to see that people are waking

up,” he said. “It’s about time some of them got to church, and they’ve

come to the right place.”

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Davis shook his head. “Something’s wrong. I’ll go find out.”

“How are you gonna find out, Davis?” Lanie whispered.

“I will. Just wait here.”

Lanie watched as Davis walked over and pulled Sally Delaughter,

the sixteen-year-old daughter of the mayor, off to one side. Lanie knew

that Sally was absolutely in love with Davis, but then so were many of

the high school girls. She watched as the two talked, and finally Davis

turned and came back. He said at once, “Old man Langley’s gonna

try to get rid of the preacher.”

“No, he can’t do that!” Cody said.

“He’s a pretty good politician” — Davis shrugged — “and he’s just

mean enough to do it too. I wish we had known about all this. We’re

going to need every vote we can get.”

Lanie had a sinking sensation as she took her seat. On Wednes-

day night there was no choir, and after one hymn Colin stood up. He

was wearing a blue shirt with a white collar and a pair of rather worn

slacks. “Well, I’m glad to see such a good crowd here. It’s always good

to see people come out to hear the Word of God. Tonight we’re going

to continue our study of the heroes of faith in the Old Testament.

Tonight our study will be on Moses.”

Colin Ryan was an excellent teacher. He had a clear voice, and

he always seemed to be excited about his subject. He spoke for a long

time about the greatness of Moses, and finally he said, “What I want

you to know about Moses is he had to learn to lay aside his natural

abilities and talents before he could serve God. You remember that

Moses had a rod. It was what he used to herd his sheep with. He was

used to it. But God had determined that Moses would use that rod as

part of his plan for freeing the Israelites from the Egyptians.”

Lanie leaned forward and listened as Ryan spoke of how Moses

was commanded by God to do a strange thing. “God said, ‘Throw

down your rod, Moses,’ ” Colin said. “And I imagine Moses must

have been disturbed. He might have said something like, ‘But, Lord,

I’m used to it and it’s what I use. It’s one of my tools.’ But God said,

‘Throw it down.’

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“Do you see what’s happening here? Moses had to throw down

the rod and put his trust in God, not in the rod itself. He did, and

God began to use that rod. Up until this time it was the rod of Moses,

but from this time forward it became the rod of God.”

Everyone was listening breathlessly as Colin made the applica-

tion. “Some of you out there may have a great talent. You may have

a great singing voice. You may have the gift of teaching or making

money. It doesn’t matter what it is. What God is asking you to do is

throw it down, as he told Moses to throw aside his rod. Before God

can use any gift, it must be given to him as a sacrifice. So I’m praying

that in this church we all will throw down any natural talent we have,

anything that we do well, and let God sanctify it. Then it will not be

our voice or our talent or our ability. It will be God working through

us as he worked through the rod through Moses.”

It was a wonderful teaching, and finally Colin smiled and said,

“Now we’re going to have a prayer before we have a business meeting.

You know sometimes a prayer meeting has everything in it but prayer.

It has music. It has fellowship. It has teaching. But tonight we’re going

to pray. Now, I know all of you have something that you need to bring

to God in prayer. I want you to speak out those requests.”

As usual several requested prayers for members of their family

who were ill or experiencing other hardships. Lanie, however, was

shocked to hear Cody’s voice out loud. “Preacher, I want us to pray

for Booger.”

Lanie could sense the shock that ran over the congregation. She

caught a glimpse of Otis Langley’s face and saw that it was red.

Colin Ryan stepped in. “Some of you may not know about the

dog that Miss Freeman and I brought home from Cummings. He’s a

bloodhound, and he’s very sick. He was a favorite of the warden there

and also of our brother Forrest Freeman. So we have brought him

home and we’ve taken him to see the good Doctor Sixkiller. Doctor

Sixkiller, do you have a report?”

Matthew Sixkiller stood up and shook his head. “I’m sorry to

say that I haven’t been able to pin the trouble down yet, but he’s a

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very sick animal, and I don’t really expect him to live unless there’s a

miracle.”

“Well, we just need a miracle for Booger.”

Otis Langley stood up, and his voice was shocked. “I think it’s

entirely out of place to pray for a dog within our prayer meetings. I

insist that we put this nonsense behind us.”

Maeva Freeman was never one for church, but suddenly she stood

up and faced Otis Langley, her back straight and her eyes dancing

with anger. “I expect if God cares about sparrows, he cares for dogs

no matter what their name is!”

Otis Langley glared at the young woman, but the pastor spoke

quickly, “There was a woman who lived some time ago named Mrs.

Alexander. She wrote a beautiful poem. I’ve always liked it. It goes

like this:

The rich man in his castle,

The poor man at his gates ,

God made them, high or lowly,

And ordered their es tate.

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.

“I think God is interested in our world, and many of us have pets

that we love, so I don’t think it’s out of order to pray for this animal.

Now, are there other requests?”

The prayer session that followed was unlike anything that had

taken place in Fairhope’s First Baptist Church. Many spoke their

petitions out loud, and almost half of them included Booger in their

requests. When the prayers were over, Lanie looked up with tears in

her eyes. She saw that Colin was smiling. “I guarantee,” the pastor

said, “that God has heard your prayers.”

Otis Langley said at once, “I want to ask for a meeting for special

business.”

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“Very well,” Colin said quietly. “I will ask the chairman of our

board of deacons, Brother Pink, to preside.”

Gerald Pink reluctantly came forward and said, “What is the

nature of this business, Brother Langley?”

“I want to ask the church to vote to bring in Brother Clifford as

pastor of the church at once.”

A silence fell over the church, and Gerald Pink looked helplessly

at Colin, who said, “Take the vote, brother.”

But Gerald Pink said quickly, “I’m not sure that this is in order,

Brother Langley.”

“It’s a perfectly normal request,” Langley said.

Gerald Pink was a mild-mannered man and usually intimidated

by Langley, but something was working in him. “I’m sorry,” he said,

“you can come to the board of deacons meeting, and we will discuss

this matter. But it would be out of order tonight to have such a vote.

We’ve already agreed that Brother Colin Ryan will be our interim pas-

tor. I declare this meeting adjourned.”

Cody said loudly, “Well, praise the Lord!” And for once Lanie

felt that his exuberance was entirely in order. She turned and hugged

Corliss, who asked, “Is Booger going to be all right?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “God’s going to heal him. You just wait and

see!”

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Chapter 11

Doctor Matthew Sixkiller stood over the prone body of the big

dog, resting his hand lightly on the massive head. Sixkiller, as

someone had remarked, looked like one of Sitting Bull’s braves who

had wiped out Custer at the Little Big Horn. His skin was bronze, his

nose aquiline and bent, and his eyes were an obsidian black. At the

age of thirty-three, he had the strong body of a young man of twenty,

not tall but well built. It had been difficult gaining acceptance in the

Arkansas town. Some residents still had prejudice against Indians,

although they were not quite sure why.

“What’s wrong with him, Doctor Sixkiller?”

Sixkiller looked across the table at Lanie, who was watching him

closely. He tried for a moment to think of an answer that would be

satisfactory, but finding none he shrugged his trim shoulders. “I just

don’t know, Lanie. I’ve given him every test I can think of. There are

so many things that can go wrong with animals, and we just don’t

have all the answers yet.”

“Do you think he’s going to live?”

“Not unless he turns a corner soon. He’s getting worse all the

time.” He stroked the big dog’s head and said, “He’s a fine animal

too.”

“My daddy said he was the best tracker in the world.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He smiled, his teeth white against his coppery

skin. “Did you hear Sister Myrtle had her whole church praying for

him last night?”

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“No, but it sounds like something she would do.” Lanie reached

into her purse and pulled out a few bills. “Here, Doctor, I want to pay

you what I can.”

“Not necessary.”

“It’s all right,” Lanie said quickly. “Mamie Dorr put a coffee can

in her beauty shop with a sign on it that said Help Save Booger. People

have been donating to help pay you.”

Sixkiller laughed. “It’s a funny thing, Lanie, the way people are.

We’ve got human beings sicker than Booger in this town, and yet

nobody’s put up a coffee can in a business for them. I guess trying to

save a bloodhound is pretty spectacular. So many people sick during

these Depression days that it’s just become one more thing.”

“It’s not that people don’t care, Doctor,” Lanie said quickly.

“I know that. People are naturally drawn to drama. I’ve often

thought that the finest hour of the church’s life is when somebody’s

house burns down. Everybody turns out to help when that happens.

We just can’t do enough. But if the house doesn’t burn down, and

people are hurting without showing it, we’re not too hard-pressed to

find out what’s going on.”

“You’re right, Doctor.” Lanie paused and petted Booger’s big head

for a moment. “I’ve got to go to town, but I’ll come back tonight.”

“By the way, how’s Annie doing?”

“Not too well. I’m worried about her.”

“Well, we’ll have the church pray for her too at prayer meeting.

I’ve already started.”

Lanie left the vet and climbed into the pickup. As always she held

her breath, for it was always a question as to whether the truck would

start or not. It wound around slowly, and finally the engine coughed

and fired off. When it was running as smoothly as she could expect,

she put it in gear and eased out of the driveway. All the way to town

she thought about Booger and about what Doctor Sixkiller said. It

was rather amazing to her how many people had heard about the big

dog. Of course the gossip machine worked better than any other sys-

tem in Fairhope, thanks to Dorsey Pender and Henrietta Green.

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As she approached the city limits, Lanie looked over and saw three

men walking along the railroad tracks headed into town. “Boes,” short

for hoboes, were a familiar sight these days. Most of them were pretty

far gone. From time to time, they came into the town, and Lanie fed

them whenever she could. It disturbed her to think that not just in

Fairhope, Arkansas, but all over the United States homeless men were

searching desperately for work. She could not understand the Depres-

sion. She could understand an earthquake — that was a natural phe-

nomenon. But it didn’t seem like anything had happened to cause

this financial catastrophe. Nothing had changed except money was

suddenly impossible to come by, and work was a phantom that men

traipsed for miles to find and most often failed.

Pulling into town, she stopped in front of Pardue Jessup’s auto

repair shop. She shut the engine down, and as she did, Pardue came

out. He was wearing his sheriff’s uniform and grinned broadly at her.

“What’s up, Lanie?”

“Something’s wrong with this old truck. I wish you’d listen

to it.”

“Old age is what’s wrong with it.” Pardue shrugged. “Start her up

again.”

Lanie started the engine. Pardue lifted the hood, and for a time

he tinkered underneath it. Finally he came out from under it and said,

“Shut it down. It’s the carburetor.”

Lanie’s heart sank. “Will it cost much to fix it?”

“Nah, I can do it with some spare parts I got around here. Come

on out and have an RC Cola on the house.”

Lanie got out and walked over to the icebox. She opened it and

pulled an icy bottle out and pulled the cap off with the opener on the

side. “I guess RC Cola is about as good as soft drinks get.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I like them Nehi strawberry myself.”

“Yep, they’re good too.” She watched while Pardue fixed the car-

buretor. “Did you know that Mamie put out a coffee can to collect

money to help save Booger?”

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“No, I didn’t hear about that. She’s got a good heart though, that

woman has.”

Pardue was a mystery to much of Fairhope. He was in his late

thirties and considered the most eligible bachelor in the county. At

six foot two, he was well-built, with black hair and dark eyes. He was

admired by the men for his hunting and fishing ability and by the

women for his rough good looks and his wit. The gossip mill regu-

larly brought up the subject of why Pardue had not married. Marlene

Jenkins sniffed, “There’s got to be something wrong with him, a man

that don’t get married and him in his thirties.”

Lanie had often longed to ask Pardue about this, and now would

be a good time. “Pardue, can I ask you a question?”

“Let her fly.”

“How come you never got married?”

“Why, don’t you ever go to the movies?”

“I go every time I can get the money together.”

“Well, you ought to know then.” Pardue turned. He had a smudge

of grease on his right cheek, and his eyes were dancing. “Falling in

love is a hard thing, Lanie. What has to happen, a fella has to see a

girl for the first time, and suddenly it’s like — well, it’s like a bolt of

lightning hits you. His knees get weak and his hands tremble and

he begins to sweat.” Pardue suddenly laughed. “It’s a whole lot like

catchin’ the flu, I reckon.”

“Oh, that’s just the movies.”

“You don’t believe in romance like that? Why, you was talkin’ just

last week about how Robert Taylor had seen Barbara Stanwyck and at

first look he just got plumb goofy.”

Lanie laughed. “You’re teasing me, Pardue.”

“I guess so.” He straightened up and turned his head critically,

staring at the carburetor. “That ought to do it, I reckon.” He pulled

an oily rag off of a nail stuck on the side of the garage and began wip-

ing his hands. “Well, I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell.”

“I promise.”

“Not even Aunt Kezia.”

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“Not even her. What is it?”

“Well, I always wanted to get me a reading woman.”

“You mean like a schoolteacher.”

“Could be. That English teacher of yours, Eden Dunsmore. I set

out to win her one time, but she’s stuck on Dempsey Wilson. I had to

give up.” Pardue started the truck, checked the running of it, and then

stepped outside. “Well, who do you think I ought to marry?”

“I think you ought to marry Cassandra Sue Pruitt.”

Pardue laughed. “She’s a book woman, all right. You can’t get

more bookish then being a librarian. But I made a run at her. Took

her out one time, but her older sister Leah, she didn’t approve of me.

I don’t have enough education.”

“That doesn’t make any difference.”

“It does to Leah Pruitt. You know her old man was a judge, a big

muckety-muck in the legislature. She’s waitin’ for that kind of fella to

come along for Cassandra.”

“Well, he better hurry up. Cassandra’s twenty-eight. Most women

are married and have families by then.”

“You know, I think she’s lonesome.” Pardue suddenly looked

down at the ground and continued to wipe his hands automatically.

He looked up finally, and there was a sadness in his eyes that Lanie

had never seen before. “Well, who ain’t,” he muttered. He would have

said more but at that instant Otis Langley came rushing up. He was

huffing from the effort, and his face was red.

“Sheriff, you got to do something about that woman!”

“What woman’s that? Some brazen hussy shootin’ up the town,

Otis?”

“It’s not funny,” Otis said. He gave Lanie a hard look and waited

for her to leave, but she did not. It rather pleased her to see Langley

upset. He had upset enough people himself.

“It’s that woman they call Butcher Knife Annie.”

“Her name is Beulah Ann Toliver, Mr. Langley,” Lanie said

firmly.

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“I don’t care what her name is. You have to do something

about her.”

“What’s she done?”

“She’s marching back and forth in front of my house with a

sign.”

“What kind of a sign?”

“It’s a sign she made herself. It says Help Save Booger. ” He turned

suddenly and stared at Lanie. “Did you have anything to do with this,

Lanie Freeman?”

“No, sir, I didn’t even know about it.”

“I don’t reckon there’s a law against carryin’ signs around,” Par-

due said. “You posted lots of signs for your businesses, Otis.”

“This is different! That woman is invading my privacy.”

“Well, out of my jurisdiction. You’d better get Ed Hathcock. This

is a job for the chief of police.”

“He’s gone to Fort Smith.”

Pardue was amused, but he shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Me

and Lanie will go over and have a talk with Annie.”

“You take care of it, Sheriff!” Langley snapped, then turned

around and left abruptly.

“Let’s go in this pickup.” Pardue got behind the wheel and started

the engine.

As they turned out, Lanie said, “Why is Otis Langley so mean?”

“Because he’s got money, and he’s used to having his own way.”

“Not everybody that has money is mean.”

“No. That’s the truth. Well, one of these days, something’s going

to come up that money can’t fix, and then Mr. Otis Lawrence Langley

will come up short.”

They drove directly to the Langley home and stopped the truck.

When they got out they saw Annie sitting on the curb. Her face was

pale. The sign said, “HEp SaVE BOOgER!” Lanie approached her.

“Annie, you’re not well. You should be home.”

“I’m tired of wallowing around in that bed.”

“Come on, Annie. We’ll give you a ride back,” Pardue said.

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Lanie and Pardue argued with Annie, but she was stubborn.

Finally they talked her into going home, and twenty minutes later

Lanie was tucking Annie in bed. “You stay right here. I’ve got an

errand to run, and I’ll be right back to take care of you.”

“Don’t reckon I’m goin’ no place.”

When Lanie went out, she said, “We’d better go by and get Doc-

tor Merritt. I’m worried about Annie.”

“She kind of reminds me of you. Of course you’re a little cleaner

than Annie is. She don’t take to bathin’ much, but she’s stubborn like

you are. Wants her own way.”

“Sheriff, I’m not stubborn.”

“Yes, you are. Most young girls would have quit when they had

a whole family dumped on ’em. But you didn’t. I guess I never told

you how much I admire you for that. If you was a few years older, I’d

court you myself. You’re a book woman.”

“You better concentrate on Cassandra.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you educate me about books so I can

talk to her? All I can talk about is how to gut a fish or somethin’ like

that. It’s not real interesting. And it’s not romantic, is it?”

“I’ll get you a book and you can read it. Then we’ll talk about it

and you can bring it up with Cassandra.”

“Get one of them Zane Grey books. I like shootin’ and cowboys

and such.”

“No. That won’t do. I’ll find you just the right thing. Now, I’m

going to get Doctor Merritt. Come on. I’ll take you back to your

garage.”

“Annie, I ought to cut a switch to you. What are you doing with

that sign?”

“I heered that Langley didn’t want to pray for Booger.”

Owen Merritt had been examining Annie and now he removed

his stethoscope and put it in his black bag. “Doc Sixkiller’s taking

care of Booger, but I’m gonna have to put you in the hospital.”

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“Ain’t goin’.”

Merritt stared at her and tried to think of some way to force the

woman to go. “It would be better for you,” he said.

Lanie saw the expression on Annie’s face. “I’ll take care of her,

Doctor.”

“You’ve enough to take care of.” Owen saw the stubborn looks on

both Lanie and Annie’s faces, and he knew he was no match for them.

“All right, maybe together we can do it. I can stop by and check on

her. We’ll go by the drugstore and get some medicine, and you can

feed her up on chicken soup.”

The two left the house, and as they got into Owen’s car, he sud-

denly turned toward her and smiled. “You sure plowed up a snake

with that dog Booger. Talk’s all over town about it.”

“I don’t know why people are so nosy.”

“Everybody’s taking sides. Otis Langley wants to have him put

away.”

“Daddy says he’s the sweetest-tempered dog he ever saw. I hate it

when people get upset about things that are none of their business.

But Roger told me about his family. They just don’t like me.”

“Well, it’ll pass, Lanie. I hate it on your account. You’ve got

enough on your shoulders. Come along. We’ll go by and see what we

can find at the drugstore for Annie.”

Doctor Givens was sitting in his easy chair, his leg poked straight

out in front of him on a hassock. Ever since he had broken his leg, he

had been subject to quite a bit of pain, although he never mentioned

it. He listened while Owen told him about his cases, and finally he

said, “What about Annie?”

“Lanie’s taking care of her.”

“And what about this Booger thing?” Doctor Givens said. “I’m

not a man of prayer, but I’m a dog man. I ain’t had a dog now for

about a year, but I love the breed. Nothing wrong with praying for a

dog that I can see.”

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“I don’t think so either.”

Doctor Givens studied his young colleague through half-lidded

eyes. He had been doubtful about Owen Merritt making it in a small

town. Merritt had been a city doctor, knowing no life except that of

Memphis. Givens had told his nurse, “That young whippersnapper

won’t last six months.” He had been wrong about that, however, and

now he suddenly wondered about the engagement of Owen Merritt

to Louise Langley.

“How’re things going with your fiancée? You two have any good

fights lately?”

Merritt suddenly grinned. “She’s got strong opinions. Hard to

change when she gets an idea in her mind.”

“That’s natural. Louise’s always been the prettiest and the smart-

est and the richest. That’s a bad combination. She could always get

whatever she wanted one way or another.”

“I’ve told her she should marry a rich man. My dad was a furni-

ture salesman. We never had much.”

“You want my advice?”

“Sure. What do you think?”

“Take a stick to her.”

Owen Merritt suddenly began to laugh. His eyes studied the

older man with fondness. “I guess we can rule out marital counseling

as a career for you, Doctor. Well, I’ve got to get going.”

Roger had not come home for dinner, and Louise took the eve-

ning meal as an opportunity to talk with her dad about her dissatis-

faction with what her brother was doing. Martha Langley and Owen

Merritt listened to the discussion they’d heard many times. Louise

was petulant, which always emphasized the two small lines between

her eyebrows that were fairly deeply indented by now. “Roger should

be ashamed of himself. He’s wasting his life.”

“Well, maybe he’ll get tired of it. He’s working hard,” her father

said. The incident with Butcher Knife Annie had stuck with him. He

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was not a cruel man, but he’d forgotten how hard it was to be poor.

In his youth he had known, but money had come his way, and with

it he had lost something. He glanced over at Owen and said, “How is

that woman doing?”

“Annie? Not too well.”

“She should be in the hospital. The woman’s got no judgment.”

Owen Merritt shrugged his shoulders. “She’s pretty independent,

Mr. Langley. Used to having her own way.” He winked at Louise.

“Seems pretty common in the women around here.”

The family ignored Owen’s attempt at humor.

“Well, who’s going to take care of Annie? She’s all alone, isn’t

she?” Martha Langley asked.

“Lanie’s staying with her some of the time, and I’ll be going by

every day.”

Louise frowned. She started to say something about Lanie Free-

man but thought better of it. She had had several arguments with

Owen about the time he spent with the Freeman family, especially

with Lanie. Now she changed the subject. “Have you thought any

more about your practice, Owen?”

“Not really.”

“You’d do so well in a big city. If you could practice somewhere

like St. Louis or New York — ”

“Now wait a minute!” Otis said suddenly. “That would be a mis-

take. There’s going to be a new hospital built in this area — as big as

any big city’s hospital, state of the art. Big enough to serve the entire

county and more. I’m politickin’ to get it built right here in Fairhope.

If that happens, Owen, you’d be in on the ground floor.”

“Well, I’m not much of an administrator, I’m afraid.”

“It would be so nice if you could stay here,” Martha Langley

said.

Owen let the implications of her comment go, and for a while

all that was heard was the chink of silver against china while the

family ate.

“I’m worried about the church,” Otis eventually said. “That fel-

low Ryan isn’t the man we need here for a pastor.”

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“I agree with you, Dad,” Louise said. “He’s arrogant.”

Owen looked at Louise with surprise. “Arrogant? I never thought

that about Colin Ryan.”

“Well, he is.”

“He’s different,” Owen said. “He grew up in a different culture.”

Louise shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t like him. He has no idea

of dignity.”

Merritt lifted his eyebrow. “Well, I guess when you’re minister-

ing on the tough streets of Chicago, dignity is pretty hard to come

by.” He studied the Langleys carefully, and a familiar thought came

to him. Can I please these people? We’re so different! He left that night

earlier than he would have ordinarily.

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Part Three

The Romances

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Chapter 12

The office of the Fairhope Sentinel was relatively calm for a change.

The presses were shut down for minor repair, and except for the

sound of two voices arguing vociferously from the printing room, all

was quiet as Elspeth Patton sat enjoying her sassafras tea. She was a

small woman, erect with silver hair and gray eyes, fine looking at the

age of sixty-one. Her husband had started the Sentinel, and at his

death she had taken over as owner and editor. Elspeth enjoyed being

a newspaper woman, for she had an active inquiring mind and an

independent spirit. Since there was no other newspaper in the county,

she did not have to worry about competition.

Suddenly the front door swung open, and Elspeth looked up to

see Otis Langley. One look at his face told her that he was unhappy,

and she braced herself for whatever he had come to tell her. “Good

morning, Otis. How are you?”

Otis said, “I’ve come to talk to you about the problem with that

blasted dog.”

“You mean Booger?” Elspeth smiled. “Isn’t that a delightful

name?”

Otis Langley stared at the woman in disbelief. “I think it’s vulgar

and almost obscene! I’ve come down to ask you to write an editorial

about it.”

“And what do you think the editorial should say?” Elspeth asked,

quietly sipping her tea, her eyes fixed on the big man. He was her larg-

est advertiser, for he owned several businesses, but Elspeth Patton was

not a woman to be influenced by such a thing.

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“This country is going down so fast you can’t keep up with it,”

Otis said. He shook his head in despair. “Half the people in the coun-

try are out of work. There are people starving to death, and all we can

think about is one sick dog. Doesn’t that tell you something about

what kind of town we’ve got?”

“Have you seen the dog?”

“No, I haven’t seen the dog,” Otis said with irritation. “I don’t

need to. I understand he’s a bloodhound that that oldest Freeman girl

brought home from the prison farm. That tells you something about

her sense of responsibility.”

“Lanie has been pretty responsible, Otis. She took over after her

mother died; and then when her father went to prison, she had to

assume the burden for the whole household.”

It was a touchy situation, for Elspeth knew that Otis Langley

had yearned to buy the Freeman homeplace. It was located on the

west side of town, where growth would have to come. He had done

everything he could to buy the place after Forrest Freeman went to

prison, but somehow Lanie had hung on. Otis knew that Elspeth was

responsible for getting the mortgage on the place paid off. She had

brought the antique dealer to the Freeman place, who offered enough

money to pay off the mortgage. Langley never mentioned it to her,

but she knew it was a bitter pill for him to swallow — being beaten

by a woman!

“I’m depending on you to write an editorial on this thing,

Elspeth.”

“You may be sure that I will, and I certainly appreciate your

bringing this to my attention. Be assured, Otis, the next edition of

the Sentinel will have a strong editorial on this issue.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Otis said, rather shocked by the ease with

which he gained his victory. He won very few arguments with Elspeth

Patton, and now he smiled and said, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

A sudden impulse swept into Elspeth’s mind, and she said, “Otis,

don’t you get tired of being against things?”

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Just then the presses started back up and their noisy rumbling

filled the building.

“What?” Otis shouted.

Elspeth had known Otis Langley for many years and under-

stood him better than most. She knew his family and was aware that

Otis’s father had mistreated his son. Knowing his history, Elspeth was

always charitable in her thinking of Otis. “Why don’t you give a big

donation to help the dog, Otis? That would be a generous thing for

you to do.”

Otis stared at Elspeth with amazement. “Why would I do a thing

like that?”

“Because deep under all that hard surface you cultivate so care-

fully, there’s a goodness.”

“Why — that’s a strange thing for you to say!”

“I remember how generous you were as a child, Otis. You’ve come

a long way and you’re very successful. But you fought so hard for suc-

cess that you seem to have lost something.”

“Lost what?”

“Gentleness, kindness, understanding — the things you craved

from your father and never got.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, woman!” Otis Lang-

ley’s face was pale and his lips were trembling. He kept this part of his

life hidden, but Elspeth had touched him, and he whirled and left the

office without another word.

Elspeth shook her head, murmuring, “Poor Otis! You have it in

you to be such a good man, but you’re chained by those bad memo-

ries!” She rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter before her. She

typed rapidly for some time, and then she jerked the paper out, and

turning, she yelled as loud as she could, “Stop the presses!” She gig-

gled and leaned back in her chair, looking at the editorial. “I always

wanted to yell that, just like in the movies.”

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The meeting of the Ministerial Alliance of Stone County was held

in the Dew Drop Inn on the first Monday morning of each month.

They started at ten o’clock, which gave them time to eat breakfast and

leave, so Sister Myrtle and her husband Charlie could quickly clean

up in time for the lunch crowd.

There was a murmur of talk and some laughter as the members

of the alliance waited for Sister Myrtle to bring out the refreshments.

Colin Ryan was there, along with Roy Jefferson, the Episcopal priest;

Father Robert Quinn, the Catholic priest; Ellison Burke, the pastor

of the Methodist church; and Alex Digby, pastor of the Presbyterian

church. Madison Jones, the pastor of the black Methodist church,

was absent, and Sister Myrtle was in the kitchen. As pastor of the Fire

Baptized Pentecostal Church, she was used to being the only woman

present.

Roy Jefferson was teasing Ellison Burke about Sherman Teasdale,

a man in his eighties who had married a girl only sixteen years of age.

“Didn’t you give old Sherm any pastoral counseling before he

married Lucille?” Roy asked Ellison, slyly winking across the room at

the big form of Father Robert Quinn.

Ellison Burke was a small man, trim and neat in all of his ways.

He was the scholar of the group, though he had a keen sense of humor.

“Yes,” he said, “I did counsel him.”

“What did you say?” Father Quinn demanded.

“I told him as tactfully as I could that sex could be dangerous at

his age.”

“What did he say, Elly?” Alex Digby asked.

Ellis Burke grinned. “He looked straight at me and said, ‘Well,

Preacher, Lucy will just have to take her chances.’ ”

A laugh went around the table, and Roy Jefferson sipped his

coffee. He was a tall, gangly man without an ounce of excess flesh.

He looked, as a matter of fact, much like a piece of farming equip-

ment that was almost as awkward. Still, he was a fine preacher and

well liked in the town. He turned to Alex Digby and asked, “How’re

things at the Presbyterian church, Alex?”

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“Fine. Just fine.”

“Well,” Roy Jefferson put in, “that church is notorious for runnin’

preachers off. I can’t figure out how you manage to stay so long.”

Alex grinned. “Well, I found the secret. I keep the ones who want

to run me off away from those who haven’t made up their minds yet.

If they ever get together, I’m a gone coon.”

Sister Myrtle suddenly bustled in bringing saucers balanced on

her arm. She put them down in front of the ministers. “There. If you

don’t like buttermilk pie, you’re in the wrong place.”

Charlie, Sister Myrtle’s husband, came around filling the coffee

cups, then went back to the kitchen. Sister Myrtle took her seat and

for a time the only sounds in the café were forks digging into the

sweet creamy custard and statements of approval about the pie.

They were just finishing up when suddenly Reverend Madison

Jones, the black Methodist preacher, came rushing in. He had a news-

paper in his hand, and his teeth shone white against his ebony skin.

“The Sentinel just come out,” he said in his booming voice. “Look at

this.” He held the paper up so that they could see the headlines, which

said in extremely large print: PRAY FOR BOOGER.

Quinn slapped the table so hard with his hand that the plates

jumped. “Good for Sister Elspeth,” he laughed.

Roy Jefferson said with wonder, “That headline’s bigger than

when war was declared.”

Madison passed the newspaper to Alex Digby, then took a seat

while Sister Myrtle got him pie and coffee. As she was bringing it, he

said, “I asked Miss Elspeth about that, and she told me Mr. Langley

told her to write how foolish it was to be carryin’ on about a dog. So

that’s what she done.”

“Langley’s been frothing about the mouth about that dog for a

week,” Alex Digby said. “I told him it’d be dangerous to tell Elspeth

Patton how to run her newspaper.” He looked across the table at

Colin. “How are you getting along with Langley? Better than I did, I

hope. He was a sorry Presbyterian and probably will be a worse Bap-

tist. Tryin’ to run everything.”

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Colin Ryan was wearing worn jeans, a knit shirt, and a pair of

disreputable tennis shoes. “I’m trying to make him happy,” he said,

“but I don’t think it’s working. I’m only an interim pastor, and I’ll

be gone soon. What do you brethren think we should do about the

dog?”

Sister Myrtle straightened up, looking for all the world like a lady

Pentecostal preacher, with her hair done up in a knot at the back of

her head, no jewelry, and sleeves that came down to her wrist. She was

a handsome woman who appeared to be opposed to anything that

would make this apparent. “I think we ought to get all of our folks

together and let God know we want that dog to get healed.”

Ellison Burke nodded firmly. “I agree. I’ve been thinking about

it. Why don’t we call a special prayer meeting. All the churches com-

ing together to pray, not just for Booger but for God to work a miracle

in all of our hearts.”

A pleased murmur ran around the table, and for the next fifteen

minutes they talked about the meeting, agreeing to have it at the Bap-

tist church. After that the other business was quickly dispensed with,

and all of the ministers left except Colin, who took another piece of

Sister Myrtle’s pie. He grinned and winked at her. “Well, now, you

spit in the soup, sister! Mr. Langley won’t like this.”

Sister Myrtle sniffed. “Well,” she said regally, “God likes it!”

Lanie brought soup over to Annie and also some cat food. The

cats welcomed her frantically, as they always did. She heated the soup

and sat by as Annie ate it hungrily. “You’re looking better, Annie,”

she said.

“I feel a heap better. I don’t reckon I’m gonna go up the flue this

time.”

“Of course you won’t.”

The two women sat for a time until they heard footsteps.

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“That’s probably Doctor Merritt. I asked him to come by,” Lanie

said. “I’ll let him in.”

“Weren’t no need for that,” Annie said.

Lanie ignored her. She opened the door and smiled at Doctor

Merritt. “Come in. Annie’s looking much better.”

“Good.” Owen nodded. He went in to where Annie was sitting

at the kitchen table and grinned. “Well, I see you’re able to sit up and

take nourishment.”

“Are you going to that prayer meeting I’ve been hearing about?”

Annie demanded without preamble.

“The one about Booger? I sure am.”

Annie looked thin and frail. Her eyes were dark and piercing, the

liveliest thing about her. She was wearing a tattered housecoat, and

she sat watching the two. “Well, I ain’t much of a praying woman, but

I’d really like to go to that prayer meeting.”

“I’m going,” Lanie spoke up. “I’ll come and tell you about it.”

“Sure has got the town stirred up.” Owen grinned. “Everyone’s

talking about it. How is Booger, by the way?”

“I don’t know. I’m going over to see him now.”

“I’ll just go along with you. Maybe Booger needs a second

opinion.”

The two left after tucking Annie back into bed, and as they drove

out to Doctor Sixkiller’s office, Owen said, “I think you saved Annie.

She looks so much better.”

“She’s so all alone, Doctor Merritt.”

“Why don’t you call me Owen?”

“Why, that wouldn’t seem right to me.”

“I feel like an old man. I’d appreciate it if you would use my first

name.”

“Well, maybe I will when no one else is around — Owen.”

Owen nodded with satisfaction and soon the two were at the clinic.

When they went inside they found Doctor Sixkiller concerned. He

took them into where Booger was lying down in a cage not moving.

“He doesn’t look good,” Lanie whispered.

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“I’ve done everything I know how to do,” Sixkiller said. He hated

to lose hope, but this one had become a real challenge. “He won’t eat.

He won’t drink, and he’s getting dehydrated. Sure hope that prayer

meeting makes a difference.”

Owen asked, “Do you pray for your patients, Matthew?”

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. Sometimes I think the prayers help them more than

the pills I hand out.”

Lanie knelt down and stroked the coat of the big dog. His face was

wrinkled, and like all bloodhounds he looked worried. His ears were

huge, and she straightened one of them where it had fallen, exposing

the pink inner surface of his ear. “You just gotta get well, Booger,” she

whispered. She patted him again and then got up.

Matthew Sixkiller said, “I’ll see you at the prayer meeting.”

The two went out, got in Owen’s car, and then he said, “I’ll drop

you off at your place.”

“All right, Owen.”

Owen had been thinking a great deal about Lanie, and now he

asked suddenly, “Are you serious about Roger Langley?”

Lanie turned in the seat and stared at Owen. “I don’t know what

you mean.”

“Well, I mean are you engaged to him?”

“Nothing like that. We just go out sometimes.”

“Well, that’s good news. I want you to be careful. Marriage is

forever — at least I think so.”

Lanie was somewhat puzzled by Owen’s advice. “Well, I might

give you the very same advice about your engagement,” she said

pertly.

Owen was surprised. “Why? Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

Lanie wanted to blurt out, Yes, you’re making a terrible mistake! But

she said, “You don’t seem happy the way an engaged man should.”

“Well, I’m busy.”

“Too busy to be happy? That’s foolishness, Owen.”

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Owen discovered that he had no way to counter what Lanie sug-

gested. As a matter of fact, he’d been concerned lately over how he

and Louise would do when they were married. He did not answer

Lanie.

When she got out of the car at her house, she smiled. “I’ll see you

at the prayer meeting.”

“All right,” Owen said and drove away.

Lanie watched him go and smiled. “Maybe that’ll put a bug in

his ear.”

Once in a while Aunt Kezia decided to do the cooking, and she

refused to let anybody help. This was one of those days. “When I’m

cookin’, I’m cookin’,” she announced. She scurried around the kitchen,

a small woman, lean with iron silver hair and snapping black eyes. She

called out, “All right, you girls, come and put it on the table.”

Lanie and Maeva entered quickly, and Maeva said, “What did

you cook?”

“Get it on the table. My business is to cook it. Your business is to

serve it and eat it.”

Lanie laughed and winked at Maeva. “I bet it’ll be good.”

“If I cook it, it’s good. Now let’s get it on the table so we can lay

our ears back and fly right at it.”

The food was put on the table, and Aunt Kezia bowed her head

and gave a short lively prayer of thanks. She looked up and said, “Now.

There’s plenty of it.”

Davis was closest to the big pot on the table. It was the main dish.

When he lifted the lid and looked down, a puzzled look came into his

face. “What is this, Aunt Kezia?”

“It’s Presbyterian Pig Tail Perlow.”

“It’s what?” Davis exclaimed.

“You heard me. It’s Presbyterian Pig Tail Perlow. Start dippin’ it

out, Davis.”

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Davis scooped into the pot with a large spoon. “It’s pig tails!” he

exclaimed.

“I’m not eatin’ any pig tails!” Maeva exclaimed.

“You’re gonna be hungry then.”

Lanie was staring at her aunt and then suddenly picked up her

plate. “Give me some of that Pig Tail Perlow,” she said. “Where’d you

get all these pig tails?” she asked.

“I went down to the slaughter house and traded Dave Garver

a bunch of sassafras roots for pig tails. Lots of folks ain’t got sense

enough to know they’re good to eat.”

Lanie picked up one of the pig tails and tried it. “Why, this is

good! How do you cook it?”

“Well, you salt and pepper the tails and fry ’em down until they’re

good and brown. Then you put in some onions. When the onions are

brown, you add enough water to cover it and you simmer it until the

tails get all nice and tender and juicy. You add rice and bring it to a

boil and you cook it until it’s good. The only thing I like better is hog

head cheese.”

Despite Maeva’s proclamation she would not eat pig tails, she

found that they were delicious.

Cody ate rapidly, and finally he leaned back and said, “What’s for

dessert, Aunt Kezia?”

“I made us all a Pleasin’ Pappy Cake.”

“Pleasin’ Pappy Cake. Why do you call it that?” Maeva demanded.

“Well, that’s what it always does. My ma made it for my pa, and

it pleased him so good that’s what we’ve always called it.”

Pleasin’ Pappy Cake was simply a white cake, but so light and

fluffy that it seemed to melt in your mouth. While they were eating

the cake, Cody said, “What do you like to eat best in all the world,

Aunt Kezia?”

“Buffalo tongue.”

“Buffalo tongue! That sounds awful!” Lanie exclaimed.

“The best part of a buffalo except for maybe the innards.”

“Don’t talk about that,” Maeva whined.

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Cody said, “I been thinkin’ about goin’ to tell the Indians about

Jesus when I get a little older.”

“You don’t have to go west to find heathens,” Aunt Kezia

announced firmly. “There’s plenty of them right here in Fairhope.”

Davis grinned at his aunt. “You’re right about that. Are you goin’

to the prayer meeting about Booger?”

“Certain I am.”

“Well, I’m goin’ too,” Cody said, “and I might have a word

to say.”

Lanie at once grew apprehensive. “You be quiet at that meeting.”

Cody stared at her. “Well, if I was an old Episcopalian, I would.

Ain’t nobody gets to say anything in their meetings, but us Baptists

got our rights. We can say all we want to, and I might just do it!”

The Baptist church was packed with people, and many of them

were visitors. As Colin got onto the pulpit to call the meeting to order,

he recognized Presbyterians, Methodists, Pentecostals, and even a few

Catholics. He said at once, “We’re meeting in the Baptist church, but

I don’t think this is a Baptist meeting.” A quiet came over the congre-

gation, and Colin said, “I’m going to ask all the pastors to come and

say a word.”

One by one the pastors got up and spoke briefly. All of them

seemed to be pleased that the ecumenical gathering was going on.

Finally, after the last minister had spoken, Colin said, “I love

dogs, and Booger is a fine one. Forrest Freeman thinks a lot of him.

You know, God uses some odd things to get the kingdom on track.

And I think we’re here to pray for a lot more than a sick dog. I think

God wants to use his people in this town in a mighty way, and I’d like

to see this meeting as the beginning of a revival, a movement in the

Spirit of God. We’re going to pray for Booger, but we’re going to pray

more for ourselves, and I need it more than anyone in this building!

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“What I’d like to do,” he continued, “before we begin to call on

God, is to praise the Lord. We have some mighty fine singers in this

church, and I’m sure that the other churches in this area have the

same. Brother Madison Jones” — he paused to look up in the balcony

where the black congregation had gathered — “has a magnificent

singing voice. Reverend Jones, lead us in some songs of praise and

worship.”

Madison Jones had a powerful voice. Without preamble he began

to sing the hymn that all of them knew:

Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty!

Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee.

Holy, Holy, Holy, merciful and mighty

God in Three Persons, bless

ed Trinity.

The robust voice of Reverend Jones was joined by sopranos, altos,

tenors, and the deep voices. It seemed that the best singers of all the

churches were there, and the auditorium was filled with a glorious

sound.

As Lanie sang, tears came to her eyes. She always loved to praise

the Lord, and she loved songs like this one that did exactly that. She

put her own problems out of her mind and concentrated on the holi-

ness of God.

Others in the auditorium were doing the same. Latecomers

arrived, and as the singing continued, some people began to come

without invitation to the front. They fell on their knees and began to

pray. Others turned around and knelt right at their seats. Some held

their hands high in the air.

Lanie was caught up in a way that she rarely was. She was sud-

denly conscious that this went on for over an hour and no one left.

Finally Lanie looked over to see Doctor Matthew Sixkiller coming in.

He was smiling, and there was a spring in his step as he moved to the

pulpit. He mounted the rostrum and suddenly said, “I hate to inter-

rupt worship like this, but I think you all need to know something.”

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A silence fell over the congregation, and Matthew Sixkiller lifted

up his hand in a motion of victory. “Two miracles have taken place

in Fairhope. One is . . .” He hesitated and then turned to face Lanie.

Their eyes met, and he said, “Booger came out of that coma he’s been

in. About a half an hour ago he suddenly got up and began to whine

and bark. I fed him, and he drank about a gallon of water, and as far

as I can see, whatever was wrong with him is over.”

“Well, hallelujah and praise the Lord!” Cody yelled out, and oth-

ers joined him.

“The second miracle,” Sixkiller said, “is what’s happening here

tonight. I see people from every church and every denomination all

together with one purpose, and that’s what God’s kingdom and Chris-

tians should be.”

Owen Merritt had been listening to this and felt moved in a way

he rarely did. He quietly left the meeting and went to the home of

the Langleys, who had refused to attend the prayer meeting. Louise

was waiting for him, and when he told her what had happened, she

said, “Well, I think it’s disgraceful to get everybody together to pray

for a dog.”

“Is that all you see in this, Louise?” Owen said quietly. “You

know, the first time I ever saw you, I thought you were one of the

most beautiful women I’d ever seen. But there’s something missing in

you. Where is your heart?”

Louise stared at him and her mouth opened, but she could think

of nothing to say. She was angry, and for some reason her irritation

fixated on Colin Ryan. “It’s that preacher — Ryan! He stirred all

this up!”

“No. I don’t think so, Louise.” He paused and looked at the floor.

Then sadly he met her eyes again. “Good night.”

Louise Langley was not accustomed to having men walk out on

her. She stared at the door that closed behind Owen, and suddenly her

shoulders began to shake. “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong

with everyone?” she cried and ran to her room.

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Chapter 13

September brought cool breezes to north Arkansas, and Lanie

leaned on the windowsill drinking them in. The house was quiet

for a change since Davis, Maeva, and Cody had started the school

year just three days earlier. Aunt Kezia and Corliss were both nap-

ping, so Lanie had the time to herself.

Outside, red birds were gathering the scraps and seeds that Lanie

always put out for them. Not for the first time she wondered, Why are

the males always more brightly colored than the females? She watched

as one of the males picked up a seed, hopped over, and put it in the

mouth of the female who sat there patiently waiting. It was a scene

she had noted before, and it gave her a special fondness for the species.

“That’s a good husband,” she murmured aloud, smiling. A large blue

jay descended, scaring the red birds, who flew away rapidly. The big

jay strutted for a while and began pecking at the food. “You’re noth-

ing but a bully,” Lanie said indignantly.

She leaned forward, putting her chin on her hand, and weariness

seemed to creep up on her. She had worked hard the day before put-

ting up jam and jelly. The kitchen was still hot even though summer

was fading, and the thought of the rows of mason jars lined up on the

shelves didn’t give her any excitement. She was too tired for that. “I

wish,” she said, “some day we could just go in the store and get store-

bought food instead of doing it all ourselves.”

The instant the thought crossed Lanie’s mind she felt ashamed.

She thought of how the lean years of the Depression had driven so

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many people into bankruptcy, and men now roamed the country

looking for work. “I’m sorry, Lord,” she whispered aloud, “I don’t

mean to complain. I’m grateful for all that you’ve given us.”

A scratching at the bedroom door caught her attention, and with

a sigh she got up knowing well that it was Cap’n Brown. Crossing the

room, she opened the door and then stood staring down at the cat.

He had brought her a gift, and with disgust Lanie said, “Well, you’ve

done it again, Cap’n Brown. Give me that mouse.”

It was not a mouse, she saw, as she removed the victim from

Cap’n Brown’s powerful jaws. It was a tiny shrew no more than half

the size of a mouse. She had seen them often enough and had read in

a book somewhere that they were one of the most voracious eaters in

the animal world. This one seemed tame enough, however, and for a

moment she stroked his silky fur wondering at the smoothness and

the texture of it. Then she said, “You get in here and stay until I come

back.” Shoving Cap’n Brown in the room, she shut the door to keep

him confined, went outside, and walked for twenty yards into where

the tall grass began. She leaned down, let the shrew go, and watched

him scurry away.

As she turned, she suddenly bumped into a solid object and

nearly fell over it. “Booger!” she exclaimed. “You ought not to sneak

up that way.”

The big bloodhound had recovered completely from his illness.

Some of the people in the countryside were calling him the “Resur-

rection Dog,” because it seemed that God had brought him back from

certain death. His coat was brown and sleek, his eyes were warm and

lively, and the wrinkles in his jowls were deep. He opened his mouth

and gave a low moaning sound, for he hardly ever barked. Her father

had told her that the hardest thing about training a bloodhound to

pursue someone was to teach them not to bark, so the escapee would

not know how close they were. Booger did “talk” a lot, however.

He moaned and made chuckling noises in his throat, and now he

extended his huge paw to Lanie, asking for attention.

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“You act like you’re love-starved, Booger,” she said, running

her hand over his broad forehead. She reached out and grabbed the

loose jowls and smiled. “You got too much face is what you got.” She

laughed as Booger shoved himself against her, nearly upsetting her. “I

don’t have time to fool with you now. After supper I may take you out

for a walk.” She shoved her way past the big dog, went back upstairs,

and when she went inside, she saw that Cap’n Brown had climbed

into the bed and was already asleep. She stroked his fur and listened

to his purr. “I wish I didn’t have any more worries than you did,” she

murmured as she often did.

Moving over to the chest, she opened the bottom drawer and took

out a tablet, a pen, and several pencils. Sitting at the table beside the

window to catch the breeze, she began to think. She had been read-

ing in Scripture lately about the beginnings of the ministry of Jesus

and was trying to find a subject for a poem. Now as she sat there, she

unconsciously prayed, “Lord, help me to write a poem that would

please you.”

For some time she sat there, the silence broken only by the buzzing

of a big fly that had flown in through the open window. She picked

up a swatter and annihilated him without breaking her thought. I’ ll

bet the disciples were surprised when Jesus called them. You take Mat-

thew, for instance. He was a tax collector, and the Jews didn’t like tax

collectors. There was Peter and his brother, Andrew, James, and John, all

of them just fishermen. I’ ll bet they nearly fell out of the boat when Jesus

said, “Come and follow me, and I’ ll make you fishers of men.”

A thought came to her then, and as always, she knew it would turn

out to be a poem. I’ ll bet the people who followed Jesus around when he

first started expected he’ d get influential men to be his disciples — bankers

and lawyers and priests in the synagogue maybe. The thought intrigued

her, and as she sat there, the thoughts and words and lines seemed

to arrange themselves in her head. Her brother Davis had asked her

once, “How do you think of these poems?” and she couldn’t answer

him. If she thought on a subject long enough, it just came to be.

The most difficult part was over when she had decided what to write

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about, and now she thought about the early disciples and what people

must have said when they saw such a poor, uneducated group being

called out, one by one, by Jesus. She picked up a sharpened pencil and

put a verse of Scripture across the top of the page.

“And he ordained twelve, that they should be with him, and that

he might send them forth to preach” (Mark 3:14).

While she was writing, Lanie went into a world of her own and

time ceased to exist for her. At times the pencil seemed to move of its

own accord. At other times, however, the words and thoughts were

evasive, and she struggled with them.

When she finally finished, the poem filled several pages, but

many lines were crossed out. Now she made a copy on a clean sheet

of paper. When it was done, she blew on it and read it aloud in a

whisper.

Disciples

Oh, Sarah, look, there’s the carpenter —

You know, the one fr om Galilee wh

o’s out

To save us all.

Bett

er if he’d kept to mending chairs!

We get a bumper crop of backwoods prophet s

Here wh

o’ve “heard the call” to lift us out of sin.

Out of this rocky ground that won’t grow corn

Mess

iahs spring each year like bitt erweed.

This Jes us is the lates t, but he’ll soon fi nd

Men aren’t as easy to repair as chairs!

Look at them — his disciples there.

If this rabbi hopes to change the world

He’d bett

er learn to watch his company.

That big redheaded one? Not hing but

A fi sherman. He’s loud enough to preach;

Tough enough, they say, to punch a head.

He won’t save souls with noisy talk or fi st s!

Give him a month — glad enough he’ll be

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To get back to his net s again.

Men aren’t caught as easily as fi sh.

You see those two? That’s James and John.

What tempers they bot h have!

Smash an oar to splinters in a rage

Just bec ause of a miss ed fi sh or two.

No wonder they’re called the Sons of Thunder!

Look right there — I’d heard the carpenter

Had called a tax collect or named Matt hew;

Well, won’t that make the rabbi popular

With all the Jews wh

o hate the name of Rome!

Let ’s go, Sarah, this depress

es me.

A foolishness

, to call such men

From useful work — for wh

at? They’ll fail

Like all the ot hers.

What’s that? Why, yes , he is the one

Exception in the crowd — see how fi ne he looks,

Just as a preacher should — and glad enough

That crowd should be to have a business

man

Like Judas there to keep an eye on things!

What she had written pleased her, and she put it into a large file

envelope that she had bought at Kress Ten Cent Store. She looked at

some of the other poems she had written about the life of Jesus and

wondered if anyone would ever see them. She rather thought not, for

she didn’t know anyone who had published any poems. But at least

she enjoyed doing it. Now it was time to go down and do some chores,

but she felt refreshed after working on her poetry.

The family bowed their heads while Aunt Kezia asked the bless-

ing. One never knew how she would go about this activity. Sometimes

she would pray for every individual thing on the table, “Lord, bless

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the beans and bless the taters . . .” clear on down to mentioning the

salt and pepper. At other times she was very brief.

“Lord, bless the vittles. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Cody stared at his aunt indignantly. “That wasn’t no fit prayer,

Aunt Kezia.”

Aunt Kezia stared at him, her dark eyes snapping. “What do you

mean it wasn’t a fit prayer! I thanked God for the food, didn’t I?”

“Well, you didn’t say enough.”

“You think a prayer’s measured by how long it is?” Aunt Kezia

shot back. “God knows all of our hearts.”

“Well, sometimes you pray for everything on the table,” Cody

argued.

“Cody, let Aunt Kezia alone,” Lanie said.

Cody was still under the impression that as the spiritual head of

the Freeman family, he was called upon to point out the shortcomings

of each family member. He pointed his fork at Aunt Kezia and said,

“You talk enough when you’re fussin’ at me, I guess you can spare a

few more words to thank the good Lord for the food.”

“Oh, shut up, Cody!” Maeva said. She was dipping purple hull

peas out of a large dish onto her plate and gave him a disgusted look.

“You got so holy you wouldn’t eat an egg laid on Sunday. You give me

a pain in the rear!”

“Did you hear what she said?” Cody yelped. “She cussed.”

“I didn’t cuss. Tell me one cuss word I said.”

“You said ‘rear.’ ”

“That’s not cussin’.” Maeva grinned, winking at Davis. “You don’t

know cussin’ when you hear it. You ought to go down sometime when

the men are playin’ horseshoes at the park. Then you’ll hear some real

cussin’.”

The argument went on, Cody aligned against the unbelievers,

seeing himself as the apostle. The dinner of fried hominy, fried ham,

hoecakes, and purple hull peas had all come from their own garden

and from the hog that they had killed last fall, except for the store-

bought cornmeal for the hoecakes.

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Davis opened a jar of hot peppers and fished out several that had

turned brilliant crimson. He tossed them on the top of his purple hull

peas and Lanie exclaimed, “You’re gonna burn out all your taste buds,

Davis!”

“Well, I haven’t done it yet. It makes things taste better. Here.

Try some.”

“Not me,” Lanie said. “They burn my tongue.”

The talk went around the table until finally Cody said, “What’s

for dessert?”

“Fresh persimmons. I got ’em from old man Miller down the

road.” She went over to the icebox, opened it, and took out a bowl of

fruit. “There. All plump and sweet as can be. The possums are gonna

miss these.”

“I’d rather have pie,” Cody said.

“Why, Cody,” Aunt Kezia said, “I expect you to bust out in a

thanksgiving prayer for those persimmons. After the sermon you gave

me, I think you ought to.”

Cody struggled to find an answer and said, “Well, I’m just more

grateful for some things than others.”

“You’re not going to get the best of him, Aunt Kezia. He’d argue

with a stump.”

Davis looked out the window and said, “I reckon you and me

better cut some more wood, Cody.” He shook his head. “You know,

if a fellow knew how cold the winter was going to be, he’d know how

much wood to cut. Last year I didn’t cut enough. Had to go out in

the freezin’ weather and cut some. The summer before last we had

twice too much. It’s a shame we don’t know what the weather’s going

to be.”

“Well, you can know if you want to,” Aunt Kezia snapped. “Why

didn’t you tell me you wanted to know?”

Everyone looked at Aunt Kezia. She was always springing rather

startling information on them. Davis turned his head to one side. “All

right. I’m askin’. What’s the winter going to be like? Cold or warm?”

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Aunt Kezia picked up one of the fresh persimmons and said, “You

got the answer right in there, boy. Don’t they teach you nothin’ at this

school you’re going to?”

“Well, they don’t teach me how a piece of fruit can be a weather

prophet.” Davis winked at Lanie.

With a sigh of disgust, Aunt Kezia picked up a knife and sliced

through the persimmon. With the tip of it she fished out one of the

seeds.

Picking it up with her forefinger and thumb, she held it up. “Why,

the answer’s right in there. Inside every seed you’ll find one of three

things. Either you’ll find somethin’ that looks like a knife or some-

thin’ that looks like a spoon or somethin’ that looks like a fork.”

Lanie was fascinated by her aunt. “I didn’t know that, Aunt

Kezia.”

“Of course you didn’t. You don’t listen. Young folks don’t ever

listen to older people.”

“Well, what do the things mean, the fork, the spoon, and the

knife?” Cody demanded.

“A knife means it’s going to be so cold it’ll cut right through

you. If you see a spoon in there, you’ll get some snow, enough to use

a shovel with. And if it’s a fork, why, it’ll be plum warm weather all

winter.”

Aunt Kezia took the paring knife, slit the seed, and peered down

into it. “Better get lots of wood, Davis,” she announced. “Look at

that.”

Davis took the seed and blinked. “Why, I’ll be dipped!” he

exclaimed. “It does look like a knife.” He passed the seed on until

everyone had looked at it, but Cody, as usual, argued. “How would a

seed know when it’s going to be warm or cold?”

“The same way crickets can tell what the temperature is.”

Maeva stared at her aunt with disbelief. “What do you mean?

Bugs can’t tell temperatures.”

“That’s all you know.”

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“How do they do it?” Davis asked, fascinated by his aunt’s

knowledge.

“Well, they just know. God made ’em to know. You count the

number of chirps during a quarter of a minute and then you add

forty.” Aunt Kezia looked around at the shock on the faces of the

children. “I guess you young ’uns don’t even know you can tell how

hard a winter’s going to be by how thick a caterpillar’s fur is — or how

thick the hull is on an acorn.”

She got up and shook her head. “What do they teach these young

’uns in school these days?”

Davis suddenly laughed. “Well, I guess I’d better cut more wood

that I’d planned on. That means we’re going to need more winter

clothes too.”

The mention of winter clothes brought a troubled frown to Lanie’s

face. Where’s the money coming from to buy more clothes? She got up

and began to collect the dishes and said little as she tried to figure out

a way to provide for the winter.

Lanie was sitting on the floor playing with blocks with Corliss

when Cody said, “Somebody’s coming.” He had the sharpest hearing

of anyone in the family and got to his feet. “Who could be comin’ to

see us tonight?”

Lanie got to her feet quickly. “I’ll see who it is.” She went to the

door, opened it, and smiled to see Roger standing there. He had a

bundle of some kind in his hand and a grin on his face. “Hello, Lanie.

I brought you a birthday present.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Well, it will be some day.”

“Come on in, Roger.”

Roger stepped inside. The cool air had brightened his cheeks,

and he looked handsome as he stood there before her. “Here,” he said.

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“Happy birthday.” The others had all come in and Roger greeted

them, snatching Corliss up and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Why, it’s a ham!” Lanie exclaimed with surprise.

“A big one too!” Davis exclaimed. “That hog must have weighed

eight hundred pounds.”

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Lanie said.

“Yes, he should,” Aunt Kezia said. “Davis, don’t just stand there.

Take that ham into the kitchen and slice some chunks off of it for

breakfast in the morning. Maybe a few for tonight. I didn’t get enough

supper.”

Davis took the ham from Lanie, disappeared, and Lanie said,

“Come on into the living room, Roger.”

Maeva at once grabbed Roger’s arm and held it tight against her

side. “It was so nice of you to come by and see me, Roger, and to bring

me that ham.”

“Why, it was for Lanie!” Cody protested.

“No. It was really for me. Roger’s struck on me. He just pretends

to come see Lanie.”

Roger laughed out loud. “You’re a caution, Maeva Freeman.”

“Won’t do you any good to come moonin’ around Lanie. She’s

stuck on Doctor Owen Merritt,” Maeva said.

“Maeva, you hush your mouth!” Lanie said furiously. She could

feel her face flushing and knew that her embarrassment was obvious

to all of them.

Roger laughed and sat down on the couch. At once Maeva sat

down on one side of him and Cody on the other. “Tell us about that

ham,” Maeva said, still holding his arm.

“Well, it was like this. I was over at Parkin surveying today, and

I ran out of water. It’s pretty thirsty work. So I went to this house to

ask for a drink and this pretty young lady came to the door. I asked

for a drink of water, and she asked me inside and gave me lemonade.

To tell the truth,” he said with a straight face, “I hate to mention it,

but she just fell in love with me. I could tell.”

Maeva’s eyes were dancing. “Did you kiss her?”

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“No, I didn’t. And when she tried to make up to me, I made every

excuse I could to get out of there. She forced the ham on me as a token

of her devotion.”

“Roger Langley, you are a story!” Lanie said, her eyes dancing.

“I guess I am. Jake Perkins just killed one of his hogs, and I done

some work for him, didn’t charge him for it, so he made me take it. I

thought you all could use some fresh ham.”

Cody said, “I been wantin’ to talk to you, Roger. You’ve been to

college. I’ve got an idea for a business. Maybe you and me could go

in it together.”

“A business? What kind of business, Cody?”

“Well, we could sell people edible pets.”

Everyone stared at Cody, and Maeva exclaimed, “You’ve lost your

mind! What do you mean an edible pet? Pets aren’t edible.”

“Not when they’re little. You take a little rabbit and how they’re

cute and fuzzy. Lots of people give their kids little rabbits for Easter.

Then the things get big and just troublesome. So my idea is to sell

people cute little things when they’re little, and when they grow up

people can eat them. You know especially around Easter — rabbits

and those little colored chicks — they dye ’em and who wants a red or

a blue chicken runnin’ around the house? So just play with ’em until

they grow up and then eat ’em.”

“Cody Freeman, you have the weirdest ideas of any human being

I ever saw!” Roger laughed as did the others. “Did it occur to you that

the kids would get attached to a rabbit and would have a fit?”

“Well, that’ll just have to happen. You know I like the little pigs

sometimes, but by the time they get to be killin’ size, I’ve kind of

fallen out of love with ’em and don’t mind a bit when hog killin’

comes.”

“Cody, you got fifty ideas an hour with gusts up to seventy-five or

eighty. One of these days you’re gonna get a good one,” Roger said.

Davis came back from the kitchen and said, “How about if we

have some pickin’ and singin’?”

“Sounds good to me. I can’t pick but I’ll sing a little bit.”

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A scramble began for the youngsters to get their instruments. All

of them played an instrument, most of them more than one. This

time Maeva played the guitar, Lanie the dulcimer, Davis the fiddle,

and Cody the mandolin. Corliss Jeanne insisted on playing with the

autoharp, although she could not play it yet. The songs they played at

first were country songs such as “I’m Thinking Tonight of My Blue

Eyes,” “Lonesome Valley,” and “Keep on the Sunny Side.”

“Hey, Davis, do one of Jimmy Rogers’s songs.”

Davis said, “Which one?”

“ ‘Waitin’ for a Train.’ ”

Without preamble Davis started singing, and the others picked

up to follow him. A young singer named Jimmy Rogers had become

popular, and Davis could imitate him perfectly, even down to the

yodel that was Rogers’s trademark.

The singing went on for quite a while when finally Roger said,

“Well, I’ve got to go. Up in the mornin’ to go to work. Hey, there’s

a medicine show comin’ to Cedar Grove, and there’ll be a dance. I

heard the Carter family was going to be there and a young fellow

named Roy Acuff. They say he can sing as good as Jimmy Rogers.”

“Bet he can’t!” Davis exclaimed, for Rogers was his hero.

“What about it, Lanie? We’d have a good time.”

“I don’t know if I should go or not,” she said. “There’s always

drinking and fighting at those things.”

Maeva suddenly laughed. “You better go. I’m goin’ with Jesse

Cottrel. He’s a lady-killer, you know.” She suddenly nudged Lanie in

the ribs with her elbow. “You better go just to watch out I don’t get

in trouble.”

“You see!” Roger said. “You’ll have to go now.”

Lanie suddenly smiled. “All right. I’ll go, but we’ll have to come

home early.”

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Chapter 14

Louise greeted Owen, and said at once, “Come into the parlor.”

“Sorry I’m late. Got a call to go out. Turned out to be an

appendectomy. Pretty close call.” He took off his coat, handed it to

her, and followed her into the drawing room.

“Sit down, Owen. Something has come up.”

“What is it?” Owen said quickly. “No trouble, I hope.”

Louise studied Owen Merritt’s face. She had great plans for

Owen, more than he knew. He was content to be a doctor in a small

town. Her father had bigger plans in the event that a regional hospital

was built in Fairhope, but even that was not enough for Louise. The

dream of her life was to live in either New York or Chicago or Los

Angeles, some big city where a great deal was happening. She loved

concerts, the opera, and classical music of all kinds, but Owen did not

seem open to the city, so she rarely mentioned her dream to him.

“I’ve decided we ought to set a wedding date, Owen,” she said

and studied his face. He seemed surprised, and she said quickly, “I’d

like to get married in December. Sometime in the first part of the

month.”

“December? That’s less than three months away. You wouldn’t

want to wait until June?”

“Oh, no. That’s just an old superstition. This will give us plenty

of time to get ready.”

Owen suddenly grinned. “I’m ready now. Why don’t we just

go down to the parson’s house and get married up and leave on a

honeymoon.”

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“Oh, Owen, don’t be foolish. We can’t do that. My family would

be shocked.”

“I suppose so.” He sat still for a minute and said, “It’ll take a little

doing, Louise. I’ll have to find a house.”

“Oh, Daddy will take care of that.” Louise shrugged her shoul-

ders. “He’s already said he would either buy us a house or rent us a

very nice place.”

“I don’t think I’d care to do that,” Owen said carefully.

“Why not?”

“I suppose I’m just old-fashioned, but I’d rather handle it

myself.”

“Why, that’s foolish! It would be so easy. You’re busy with your

practice. You don’t have time to pick out a house. I’d planned all

along to take Daddy’s offer, and then we could think about building

one later.”

“I’d rather not,” Owen said, and something in the way he said it

made Louise understand at once that she could pursue this no fur-

ther. Usually Owen Merritt was an easygoing man, giving in to her

whims with a smile. From time to time, however, he would reveal

a stubbornness that lay under his easy exterior. She saw it now and

quickly changed the subject.

“Well, we can talk about a house later. By December we’ll have a

regular pastor to perform the ceremony.”

“You don’t think Colin will be here?”

“Oh, certainly not. He’s just an interim. The church will have

called a regular pastor by that time.”

“Maybe not,” Owen said. “Sometimes a pastor has to give notice

to a church just like anybody else.”

“I don’t want Colin Ryan performing the ceremony.”

Owen leaned back and studied Louise. “You don’t like Colin. You

never have. I don’t understand it. I think he’s a fine preacher.”

“Well, there are all kinds of preachers,” Louise said firmly. “On

the streets of Chicago dealing with rough people I’m sure he’s the

best, but in a small town like this a pastor has to have tact, and Colin

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Ryan doesn’t have any of that. He doesn’t even know how to dress like

a preacher.”

“I never even thought about that. What does it matter what he

wears?”

“I think he’s vain. He’s good-looking, and half the women in the

church are in love with him,” she sniffed with disdain. “He encour-

ages it.”

Owen was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess we just

won’t see eye-to-eye on this, and there’s no point arguing. You’re prob-

ably right. He’ll be gone by the time December comes.”

“I’ll have the announcement put in the paper this week.” She

leaned over, pulled him close, and kissed him. “It’s going to be won-

derful being married to you, Owen.”

Owen held her tightly. He was always taken somewhat aback

by the passion that Louise showed once in a while. Occasionally she

would reveal that there was a desire in her as there was in him. “You’ll

make a good wife,” he said huskily and kissed her again.

“Hey, Lanie, come out here.”

Lanie had finished her chores for the morning and was sitting in

the kitchen when she heard Davis call out. She went outside and said,

“What is it?”

“You see this?”

“It’s a coat. Whose is it?”

“It belongs to Bascom,” he said. Bascom was the son of Reverend

Madison Jones, pastor of the black church. “He came by here earlier

this morning while I was choppin’ wood. He helped me for a while

and took off his coat, then he left.”

“Well, he’ll remember where he left it.”

“He won’t have to. I’m gonna find him.”

“Do you know where he went?”

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“No. I’m gonna find him though.” He turned and said,

“Booger — come here. Come here, boy!” When the big bloodhound

came loping up, Davis grinned. “We’re gonna find out if these blood-

hounds can really track people.”

“You’re gonna let Booger track Bascom?”

“Sure am. Here, boy, smell this coat.” Booger, evidently, knew the

drill. He began to sniff the coat eagerly, and Davis cried, “Get him,

Booger!” The hound turned at once and began sniffing the ground.

“Look at him. He’s huntin’ for the trail!” Davis cried.

Cody came out and said, “What are you doing?”

“We’re gonna let Booger track Bascom. That’s what blood-

hounds do.”

Cody was at once involved, and within a few moments Booger

barked sharply one time and then turned toward the north.

“He’s headin’ for the river,” Cody cried. “Come on. Let’s follow

him.”

Lanie laughed and said, “You boys go play with that dog. I’ve got

work to do.”

The two boys took off after Booger, who kept his head low. He

stopped from time to time and moved around in circles, but confi-

dently continued.

They crossed two open fields, followed a path through some

heavy woods, and then Davis cried, “Look. There’s the river!” Sing-

ing River held Fairhope in one arm, as a poet might have put it. “I bet

he’s gone fishin’.”

Indeed, that was the case. They reached the bank, and Booger

went down one bank and then turned and traced the other one. He

made a soft sound but never once did he bark.

“I thought they were supposed to holler loud when they trailed

people,” Cody panted as they chased after the dog.

“They train ’em not to do that so the one that’s escapin’ won’t

know they’re at ’em.” They turned a bend, and Davis hollered, “Hey,

Bascom!”

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Bascom Jones was standing by the bank holding a cane pole. He

turned and his teeth shone whitely against his dark skin. “Hey, Davis.

Hi, Cody. What you fellas doin’?”

“We tracked you, Bascom.”

“What you mean you tracked me?”

“You left your coat at our house this morning, and Booger here

found you. He followed your scent.”

“Well, ain’t that a caution now.” Bascom grinned. He reached

over and rubbed the big dog’s head. “That sure is handy, ain’t it?”

“I know what we could do,” Cody said. “We can find people

with him.”

“Find what kind of people?” Davis asked.

“Well, people lose kids and some of ’em lose grown people. When

somebody gets lost, we can take Booger and track ’em down.”

“That’s about as foolish as most of your notions. How many

people you hear about gettin’ lost?”

“Leroy Hopson got lost.”

“He was back in two hours, and he wasn’t lost. He just run off

to play.”

“Well,” Cody said, “if it ever comes up, we can charge a bunch

of money.”

Bascom grinned and winked at Davis. “That brother of yours,

he’s gonna be rich some day. Anybody with as many schemes as he’s

got bound to run onto one that will trot!”

The dance was held in an old schoolhouse. The desks had been

taken out, and now the sound of fiddles and guitars filled it. It was a

rather large building, but it was crowded now. The band was at one

end, and to their right and left were tables where people could buy

drinks. Liquor was not supposed to be served, so the drinks were

mostly RC Colas.

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Lanie and Maeva had both been dancing, and then the star of the

show began to sing. Roy Acuff had a powerful voice, and he played a

fiddle better than anyone Lanie or Maeva had ever heard — except for

their daddy, they both said loyally.

“That’s some fiddle player,” Roger said with admiration. The song

was “The Wabash Cannonball,” and Acuff performed it in a lively

fashion. He was a small man, trim and neat, and when he finished

the song, he put the bow on his chin and balanced it there for quite a

while, then announced that the band was taking a short break.

“Come on, Maeva. Let’s you and me go outside and get a breath

of fresh air.” Jesse pulled on Maeva’s arm.

“No, you don’t, Jesse,” Lanie said at once. “I know what you’re

goin’ outside for.” Jesse was a tall, dark young man with handsome

features and a poor reputation. “You’re going out to take a drink is

what you were going out to do. Either that or take advantage of my

sister.”

Maeva laughed. “Lanie’s trying to be a sheriff’s deputy,” she said.

“You better be careful, Jesse.”

Jesse grinned ruefully. “Well, let’s go have an RC then.”

Roger left Lanie talking to a friend and walked over to speak with

Roy Acuff. He introduced himself and said, “If your throat gets dry,

Mr. Acuff, there’s a couple of girls you ought to hear. The best singers

you ever heard.”

“Your lady friends, both of ’em?” Acuff grinned.

“Well, I’m tryin’ to make one of them fit that description. The

other one’s her sister. There’s four a them kids, and they all sing and

play just about everything.”

“Where are they?” Acuff asked. Roger pointed Lanie out in the

crowd and Acuff said, “A nice-lookin’ lady. You think they’d sing for

the folks?”

“Well, Maeva will. I don’t know about Lanie. She’s pretty shy.”

Roger went back and claimed Lanie. “Next dance is mine,” he said,

but then he heard Acuff’s voice rising over the noise of the crowd.

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“Well, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a treat for you tonight. We

have a couple of young ladies who I hear sing almost as good as they

look. Want you to give them a hand now and encourage the Freeman

girls to honor us with a selection.”

Lanie turned and said, “You did that, Roger.”

“I did. Now go on and sing.”

Lanie was reluctant, but Maeva was eager. She grabbed Lanie’s

arm and said, “Come on. Here’s our chance.”

Acuff grinned broadly as the two girls came forward. “Ain’t they

somethin’, folks? Pretty as a speckled pup under a wagon! What are

you girls gonna sing? We’ll try to stay up with you.”

“We’re going to sing one of yours, Mr. Acuff. ‘The Great Speck-

led Bird,’ if you don’t mind.” Maeva grinned.

“I don’t mind a bit. You girls start in, and we’ll find the key. Some

of my boys read music, but it don’t hurt their pickin’ none.”

Lanie and Maeva both had perfect pitch, so they started off

together, and at once Roy Acuff and the rest of the musicians broke

right in behind them. They both had strong voices, but Maeva was by

far the better singer. They filled the building with the song, and when

it was over Roy Acuff was the first one to break out into applause.

“That was prime! That was prime! That was prime!” he exclaimed.

“How about another one?”

“Just you this time, Maeva,” Lanie said. She refused to argue,

and Maeva turned at once and said, “Mr. Acuff, do you know ‘I’m

Thinkin’ Tonight of My Blue Eyes’?”

Acuff laughed. “Honey, I know it well. Come on, boys, let’s play

it sweet for the lady.”

This song was entirely different from the other songs. It was a

plaintive song, and Maeva made it even more so. Her voice was clear

and sweet, and as loud as anyone’s in the country. She sang it as if her

heart were breaking, the sad lyrics made even sadder by her expres-

sions and by the poignancy of her voice.

When she finished, the crowd broke into wild applause.

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“We’ll never get her down from there,” Roger whispered. “She’s

stagestruck.”

Indeed, Maeva was persuaded to sing three more songs, one with

Roy Acuff himself.

Finally the singing was over, and Roy Acuff came down to speak

to Lanie. “Thank you, girls, for singin’ with me. You got beautiful

voices.”

“Oh, that’s Maeva mostly,” Lanie said. “She can make anybody

sound good.”

Roy Acuff pulled a card out of his pocket. “If you girls ever want

to hit the road and go into show business, there’s my address. I won’t

be there probably, but it’ll catch up with me.”

They left at once, and as soon as they were in Jesse’s car, Maeva

said, “Let’s do it, Lanie.”

“Do what?”

“Go on the road. Sing with Roy Acuff. We could become stars.”

“Didn’t you look around you tonight, Maeva? Didn’t you see the

drinking? There were two fights, and you could just tell by lookin’ at

some of those dancers they had bad things on their mind. Don’t even

think about it!”

“Well, that was quite a night,” Roger said. The two were sitting out

on the front porch. They had gotten home at ten o’clock, and Maeva

had gone right in to tell the others about her triumph. Roger had asked

Lanie to sit down with him, and they watched the silver moon.

Lanie said, “I wish I hadn’t gone — or I wish Maeva hadn’t gone.”

“That wasn’t the first time she’s been to a dance.”

“No. But it’s the first time, as far as I know, that she ever got an

invitation to be a paid singer. I hope she’ll forget it.”

“I hope so too, but you know Maeva better than anybody.”

The two sat there for a time talking about the dance. Finally

Roger said rather abruptly, “You know what, Lanie?”

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“What?”

“You’re the sweetest, prettiest girl I ever saw.”

“Maeva’s a lot prettier than I am.”

“Not to my notion. I just been thinkin’ that it’s one thing for me

to go around having feelings about you, but not fair if I don’t tell you

about them.”

Lanie suddenly felt strange. “What do you mean, feelings?”

“Why, don’t you know? I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Roger, that’s impossible.”

“Why is it impossible? Am I so hard to take?”

“No, not you. You don’t know what a crush I had on you in high

school.” Lanie laughed. “Of course every girl there did. You were the

best looking and always the smartest.”

“Not as smart as you. Not as good-looking either.” Roger grinned.

He reached out, took her hand, and suddenly lifted it to his lips and

kissed it. Lanie was stricken speechless. He said, “What I want to

know is how you feel about me.”

At that instant Lanie actually had no idea of how she felt about

Roger Langley. True enough, she had been dazzled by him in high

school. He was a star athlete, fine looking, and had everything, but

that was when they were kids. Now he was a full-grown man, and

she admired the way that he was making his own way. But for all

this, she did not know how she felt about him. “I don’t know, Roger.

I can’t say.”

He was silent for a moment, and Lanie suddenly realized she

had hurt his feelings. “You’re — you’re the finest young man I know,

Roger.”

The words stirred something in Roger. He was a lonely young

man. He was cut off, to some degree, from his family, who disagreed

violently with his ambitions to make his own way. He had many

friends, but something in Lanie Freeman drew him. He knew she was

not a young woman given to idle caresses as some were, but a reckless-

ness seized him. He reached out, pulled her to him, and when she did

not draw back, he lowered his lips and kissed her. Suddenly the heat

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of something rash and timeless came to him. She had the power to stir

him, and he held her tightly, savoring the softness of her lips. Then

she pulled away and at once he released her.

“You — shouldn’t have done that, Roger.”

Roger was shaken, but he only said, “What should I do — shake

hands with you? It was just a kiss, Lanie.”

“I know.”

A thought came to Roger at that moment, and before he thought

it out he blurted the words. “You still have a crush on Owen Merritt,

don’t you?”

“Roger! He’s engaged to your sister!”

Those were not the words Roger wanted to hear. He wanted to

hear her say she felt nothing for Owen Merritt. He and Merritt had

one brief brush here on this very porch, and he had seen that Owen,

despite his disavowals, felt something for Lanie. He hoped it was just

the admiration of a good man for a determined young woman who

could perform well under difficult circumstances. But now he was

more troubled about what Lanie felt for him. He got to his feet and

said, “I guess I’ll say good night, Lanie. Thanks for going to the dance

with me.”

Lanie rose too. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Will we do it again sometime then?”

“Of course. Good night.”

Roger left and as he stepped down off the porch, an owl sailed

over his head. Roger heard nothing but saw the shadow on the ground.

Quickly he looked up and saw the hunter, silent as the grave, move

across the yard and to an open field. He saw the owl suddenly double

up and fall to the earth. He heard a faint squeal and then silence. It

gave him a bad feeling, and he hurried away.

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Chapter 15

Davis, I wish you wouldn’t go to Fort Smith for that ball game.”

Davis looked up from his place at the table where he was

finishing the last of the meal Lanie had fixed for him. It was a Satur-

day, the other children were out playing, and Aunt Kezia was taking

her daily nap. Davis shook his head and said, “I’ve got to go, Sister.

They’ll pay me ten dollars, and we need it for winter clothes.” He

tried to smile and said, “Get the Monkey Ward catalog out and pick

some winter coats for Cody and Maeva.”

“What about you?”

“I can wear Dad’s old coat.”

Lanie sat down across from her brother and gave him a fond look.

“You’re as tall as he is now.”

“Not as wide though.”

Lanie reached over and took Davis’s hand. “That bunch of ball-

players are not good people for you to be around. Most of them drink

and even worse.”

“I don’t have to be a part of that. All I have to do is play ball.” He

hesitated and then shoved his plate back. “I’ve been thinkin’ that I

ought to quit school. I’m not learning anything. Can’t read. But I can

get a job somehow and help with the expenses.”

It was an old argument, and Lanie at once shook her head. “You

can’t do that, Davis. Daddy wouldn’t like it, and you know how strict

Mama would have been about any of her children dropping out of

school.”

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“But I can’t stay up with the others. I feel like an idiot.”

“I know it’s hard, and I don’t know why you can’t read, but some-

how God’s going to help you. I just know it.”

The two sat there bonded together by the burden of keeping a

household going. Lanie had taken over as a surrogate mother, and

Davis, being the oldest son, was forced to become the closest thing

to a father the family had. The two of them had been drawn closer

together by their responsibilities, and now Davis suddenly got up and

walked around the table. Leaning over, he hugged Lanie and said,

“You’re a winner, Sis. Don’t worry about me now. I’ll be all right.”

“I’ll wait up for you, Davis, and I’ll have a surprise. Something

you really like.” She hugged him, then watched as he picked up his

canvas bag and his bat. “Don’t they furnish bats for you at these

games?” she asked.

“Oh, they got some, but this is my lucky bat.” He grinned. “Got

lots of hits left in it yet.” Davis winked at her and left the house.

Lanie watched him go and felt a sudden pull at her heart. Her

brother was so mature and capable — she didn’t know how she would

have handled this family without him. She admired his strength and

his cleverness, which made it even more difficult for her to under-

stand his inability to read. It had become the prayer of her heart, ever

since his deficiency had shown itself, that one day God would touch

him. Now she prayed that God would keep him safe on his journey

to Fort Smith.

The game was anything but a pitcher’s duel! The score at the bot-

tom of the ninth, with the Mountaineers up, was ten-ten, and now

with two outs, Davis dug in and waited for the pitch. The game had

been hard fought, with runners slashing into the basemen and a fight

turning into a bench-clearing brawl.

The pitcher for the Lions was a huge redheaded man of twenty-

five. He had come in to relieve the starter, and now he grinned at

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Davis and jeered. “Well, they got the nursery in. Why ain’t you home

with your mama, sonny?”

Davis had learned to ignore the talk of the players on other

teams. He simply stood there in the batter’s box taking a few practice

swings and then went into a crouch. He had an odd way of hitting

the ball, stooping down almost to a sitting position with the bat held

way back over his shoulders. When he decided to swing, his whole

body uncoiled and seemed to explode as it made contact with the ball.

Many years later, Davis would learn that Stan Musial, the star for the

St. Louis Cardinals, had exactly the same kind of batting stance.

The redheaded pitcher, whom everyone called Bubba, took his

windup and threw the ball — straight at Davis’s head. Davis had the

best reactions of any man in the Mountaineers and pulled his head

back, nearly falling to escape the pitch.

“Cut that out, Bubba,” the Mountaineers manager said, “or we’ll

bean you when you come up.”

Bubba simply grinned and took the ball back from the catcher. “I

missed you that time, baby, but I’ll get you this time.”

Davis had developed the art of reading pitchers, and the thought

flashed through his mind, He threw at me that time, and he’s threaten-

ing to throw at me again. That means he won’t. He’ ll throw a strike right

over the plate expecting me to dodge back to keep from getting hit.

He set himself, and sure enough, when the pitch came, it was a

fastball right down the middle. Davis unwound, and when he heard

the crack of the bat, he knew by the sound that it was gone. Tossing

the bat down, he smiled at Bubba and said, “There’s your ball game,

Bubba.” He trotted around the bases ignoring the sullen glances of

the Lions, and when he got back across home plate, Tal Bonner, the

manager of the Mountaineers, was grinning.

Bonner was a short fireplug of a man with two missing teeth in

the front, which made his words hard to understand. “That’s good,

Davis. Give you a five-dollar bonus for that.”

“Thanks, Mr. Bonner.”

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“You be ready to play next week. It’ll be the last game of the sea-

son. We’ll be playing the Seals over at Marion.”

“All right, Mr. Bonner. I’ll be there.”

The team had permission to use the high school facilities, so they

showered. Afterward Bonner said, “We’re gonna celebrate, boys. The

drinks are on me.”

Davis’s heart sank, for he knew what that meant. The team would

find a bar or a gin mill somewhere and get drunk, everyone except the

driver. He had no desire to participate, so he approached the manager

and said, “Mr. Bonner, I think I’ll get on home. My sister will be wor-

ried about me.”

“Well, you deserve a little relaxation.”

“No. I better get on.”

“Well, you can’t walk the whole way.”

“No, but there’s a train that goes right through Fort Smith and

stops outside my house about eight o’clock for water. You can see it

every day. I’ll find an empty boxcar.”

Bonner argued, but Davis was adamant. He left the high school

and began walking, taking the fifteen dollars out every once in a

while to look at it. It was more money than most men would earn

in two weeks. A dollar a day wasn’t a bad pay for the time. A warm

glow came to him as he thought of how it would feel to lay it down

before Lanie and say, “There, Sis. There’s the winter coats for the

young ’uns.”

By the time Davis got to the train yards, he saw that his timing

was just about right. Darkness was beginning to fall, and he would

not be easily seen by any of the crew. He moved quietly and waited

until the engine gave a blast that reverberated throughout the air, and

then quickly ran. He had studied trains, as all boys did, planning one

day to hop a freight and do as the hoboes did, but he never had. Now

he spotted a boxcar with the door cracked about a foot, and running

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quickly, he shoved it further open even as the train began to move.

It was an easy task for him to haul himself up, and as he sprawled

on the floor, he heard the familiar clicking of the cars as the engine

pulled them over the tracks. He got to his feet and moved over to the

door and watched as the outskirts of Fort Smith flashed by. The train

picked up speed, but he did not sit down for a time. It was an adven-

ture, and there was not much of that in Davis’s life.

A small noise suddenly caught his attention, and Davis was star-

tled. He turned and squinted his eyes. It was gloomy in the boxcar,

almost pitch dark, and he took a few steps toward the back of the car.

“Who’s that?” he said.

“Just me.”

Davis moved back and was cautious. He knew some pretty rough

men rode the rods, as it was called, and he said, “What are you doing

here?”

“Same thing you are. Gettin’ a free ride.”

Davis was nervous, for though the voice was not rough, one could

never tell. “What’s your name?” he said.

“Cass.”

“Where you goin’?”

“Headed south.”

“Well, you’re not headed south on this train. It’s headed east.”

“Don’t matter.”

Davis hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m only going as far as Fairhope.

Then I’m jumpin’ out. The train takes on water there.” He got no

answer and then decided that his unseen companion was no danger.

He sat down and watched the scenery go by. The moon was bright

so he could see the fields and especially the forest. The train route

was circuitous, for the track had been laid through the valleys rather

than crossing the tops of the mountains. He had always thought the

mountains were the prettiest part of the world, and to him the Sing-

ing River was the prettiest river, although it was practically the only

one he had ever seen.

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Davis sat there growing sleepy by the clickety-clack, clickety-clack,

clickety-clack of the wheels passing over the tracks, and finally he felt

the train slowing down. “This is Chesterville,” he said. “Train always

stops here to pick up freight.”

“Will they load this car?”

“I don’t think so. Usually there’s a baggage car. They put mail

and packages and stuff like that in there.”

The train ground to a stop. They heard the engine release a blast

of steam, and then there was silence for a time. But suddenly there was

a sound of running feet, and without warning the door was shoved

open. Davis moved back as three men clambered on. They were obvi-

ously hoboes. He could see that much from the light of the moon, and

he could smell the raw alcohol as they piled into the car. The biggest

one saw Davis and came to his feet at once. He put his hand in his

pocket and said, “What you up to, bo?”

“Just ridin’ to Fairhope.”

“You got anything to eat?”

“No.”

“How about money?”

“I’m keepin’ what’s mine.” Davis held the bat in a cocked posi-

tion, and the hobo suddenly laughed. “You’re a tough kid. Ah, keep

your money.” He turned to the other two and said, “Watch out for

this one. He’s tough.”

“He don’t look tough to me, Rufe.” The speaker was a short man.

Rufe immediately responded, “Watch out for him, Shorty. You

and Tad don’t know bad guys when you see ’em.”

The third member, Tad, was a tall, skinny man. He said nothing

but stared at Davis.

“You think you can whip all three of us?”

“Try me and find out,” Davis said. His adrenaline was pumping,

and as the train began to pick up speed, he measured the distance. If

he had to, he could jump for it, and he didn’t figure these three would

follow him.

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The big man called Rufe laughed harshly, but he suddenly turned

and squinted. “Who’s that back there? You got a friend here, tough

guy?”

“No. Just another rider.”

Suddenly the big man pulled a flashlight out of his pocket. He

threw the beam back, and Davis, for the first time, saw the figure in

the corner at the back of the car. He was wearing the usual garb of

a tramp, oversized rough-looking clothes and a soft cap pulled down

over his face. “Hey, bud, you got anything to eat?”

“No. I ain’t got nothin’.”

“What you got in that bundle?” Tad said. The tall man moved

quickly and reached out and grabbed the bundle. The passenger stood

up and held to it. “Leave me alone!”

“Leave me alone,” Tad mocked. “Hey, Rufe, I think he’s got some

grub in here.”

“Well, take it away from him. You know the rules of the road, bo.

You’ve got to share what you’ve got.”

Tad reached out and grabbed the bundle, but the rider struggled

and Tad swung and struck him in the head. The blow knocked the

soft cap off, and Davis was shocked to see the long blond hair of a

woman as it fell about the hobo’s shoulders.

“Well, look at this,” Rufe said with a coarse laugh. “We got a lady

friend here.”

Shorty went over to join Tad. “Look at this. Ain’t she a pretty

thing.”

“Leave me alone!”

Now that Davis knew this was a woman, he wondered why he

had not heard it in the voice before. He watched as Rufe went over

and the three stood there in a semicircle.

Rufe was laughing. “Don’t be afraid of us. We’re real friendly,

ain’t we, fellas?”

“Yeah, real friendly,” Shorty said.

There was danger in the situation. Davis had a sudden thought of

what it would be like if Maeva or Lanie were trapped in a boxcar with

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three men like this. He watched them close in, and Rufe reached out

and touched the girl’s hair. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

When the girl did not answer, Rufe reached out and took her

arm. “Come on. Be friendly. We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Leave me alone.” The girl pulled back, or tried to, but the big

man’s hand still held her fast. The other two reached out and began to

paw her, and the girl cried out, begging, “Please don’t hurt me.”

The girl’s voice went right to something deep inside of Davis

Freeman. He knew that the three were rough, and they probably car-

ried knives if not a gun between them, but he had to do something.

Reaching down, he picked up the bat. He stepped forward and said,

“You fellows leave that girl alone.”

Instantly all three turned to face him, and Rufe laughed. “Well,

we got a hero here. Just like in the movies. You must have been

watchin’ too many of them moon pictures, boy.”

“Leave her alone,” Davis said. He managed to keep his voice

steady, and he held the bat loosely in his hand.

Shorty snarled, “He’s just a kid! I’ll take care of him.” He came

forward, a bulky shape, and suddenly there was a knife in his hand.

He was laughing softly as if something pleased him, and as he passed

by the door, Davis saw the glint of the blade. Without hesitation he

stepped forward and swung the bat. He struck as hard as he could but

did not strike for the head. The bat hit solid flesh and drove Shorty to

one side. The bat had struck him on his left arm, and Davis thought

he heard the crack of a bone.

“Hey, he hit Shorty!” Rufe said. “Come on, Tad, get him!”

The two were old hands at this, and as they approached, they

separated, attacking him from two sides. Davis knew they both had

knives, and there was no hope unless he struck quickly. Turning his

back on one, he took a crack at the biggest man. Rufe jumped back,

the bat merely grazing his shoulder. He let out a yelp, and at the same

time the one called Tad was on Davis. He felt the blade of the knife

as it grazed his side, ripping through his clothes, but he was able to

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THE DREAM

swing the bat backhandedly. Fortunately it caught the tall man in the

head and he fell with a low moan.

Davis’s back was to the big man. As he turned, he saw that Rufe

had drawn a knife and was on him. There was no time to draw back

the bat, but at that instant the girl threw herself between the two.

Davis saw the knife make a wild slash and heard the girl cry out. But

he had time to swing the bat, and this time he caught the big man

right in the torso.

“Ow, you broke my ribs!”

Davis picked up the knife the big man had dropped. He folded it

and stuck it in his pocket. “Get off this train,” he said.

“We can’t jump off — it’s movin’,” Shorty gasped.

“Then I’ll beat your brains out. Take your choice.” He jumped

toward Shorty and lifted the bat, and the short man with a single cry

turned and leaped out the door.

“You two blow out of here!”

Tad stared at him, but the bat was a lethal weapon, and with a

curse he turned and left.

Rufe was holding his side. “You’re a pretty tough kid after all. If

you didn’t have that bat, I’d show you something.”

Davis stepped forward and said, “I’ll make mush out of your head

if you don’t jump off the train, Rufe.”

“You’d do it too, wouldn’t you?”

“Just try me!”

With a crude laugh, Rufe looked at the girl, who had backed up

against the wall. “You got a real hero here, sweetie. You better hang on

to him.” He turned, went to the door of the car, and leaped off.

Davis found that he was shaking. Now that it was over, he was

having a reaction.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a voice not quite steady.

He got no answer, and putting the bat down he went over, but his

foot struck the flashlight that Rufe had dropped. He picked it up and

turned it on the girl. She was small and seemed to be no older than

he. “Are you all right?” he repeated.

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“He — he — cut me.”

“Let me see.”

With the flashlight he saw that she had a cut across her back and

her shoulder.

“You’re bleeding bad,” he said. “We’ve got to stop that. Sit

down.”

Without a word the girl sat down and Davis said, “Have you got

any kind of clothes I can use to make a bandage?”

“In the — bundle.”

Quickly he pulled the bundle open and grabbed the first garment

he saw. It was a shirt. He went back and said, “Here. Turn around.”

She turned and tried to untuck her shirt, but she was shaking. Davis

said, “We’ve got to get something on that to stop the bleeding.” He

pulled up her shirt and his heart lurched as he saw the gap across her

back. “That’s got to be sewn up,” he said. “You need to see a doctor.”

He tore the shirt up, made bandages, and was able to use the sleeves as

ties to hold it in place. He tried to think. “We’ll be in Fairhope pretty

soon. I can get you to a doctor there. I know a good one. You’ll be all

right. He’ll get you fixed up.”

The girl said nothing. She was sitting on the floor, and suddenly

she began leaning to one side.

“Hey, don’t faint on me, Cass!”

But the girl slumped, and Davis reached out and caught her. He

put his arm around her, avoiding the wound as best he could, and

held her as the train sped toward Fairhope.

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Chapter 16

It’s closing time, Lanie.”

Startled, Lanie looked up from the newspaper she was reading

to find the librarian, Cassandra Sue Pruitt, looking over her shoulder.

She was a woman of medium height with auburn hair and blue eyes

and had been a great friend to Lanie.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Reading the newspapers?”

“Yes. There’s not very much good news. They’re having a riot

in London. It seems the Depression’s not just in this country but

there too.”

“I know. It feels like the whole world is in the grip of some terrible

catastrophe.”

“Look. It says here that Major James Doolittle set a record for

coast-to-coast travel. He flew from California to New York in eleven

hours, sixteen minutes. Isn’t that something?”

“It really is. Just think how long it would have taken back in the

days before the automobile or the trains to cross this country. Months

and months, I suppose.” Cassandra suddenly said, “Wait right here.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you, Lanie.”

Lanie carefully folded the newspaper and put it back on the rack,

and Cassandra came to stand beside her. “Look at this,” she said. “I

clipped it out of the paper for you.”

Lanie took the paper the librarian held out. “ ‘National poetry

contest,’ ” she read aloud. “ ‘First prize five hundred dollars.’ Why are

you showing this to me?” she said.

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“Because they’ve got a category there for young people. Anyone

under eighteen can enter.”

Lanie blinked with surprise. “You don’t mean I should enter it,

do you?”

“I surely do. I haven’t seen much of your poetry, but I know it’s

good.”

“Why, I wouldn’t stand a chance, Cassandra.”

“You might. All it costs is a postage stamp. You can gamble three

cents, can’t you?”

Lanie laughed. “I’m not even sure about that.”

“Well, take it with you; there’s a list of rules and an application.

You have to be sponsored by a teacher or a librarian, and that’s me.”

She reached out and hugged Lanie and said, “You fly right at it.”

“All right. I’ll think about it, but I doubt if I’ll be risking three

cents.”

Leaving the library, Lanie wandered home. It was still light, but

the days were getting shorter now that fall was just around the corner.

She walked down Robert E. Lee Avenue to Walnut, took a shortcut

through a vacant lot, and spoke to people she knew who lived in the

houses set back off Walnut Street. The homeplace was set in a block

fronting Jefferson Davis Avenue on the east. She thought again how

nice it was to have a place that was both in town and out of town. The

five acres was big enough to keep a cow and some pigs, and being just

outside the city limits there were no problems with zoning. The house

was an old two-story frame painted white, with a porch running on

three sides.

Going inside, she went about the business of fixing supper, but

her mind was on Davis all the time. She worried about him getting

home safely from Fort Smith, and thinking of him naturally led to

more worry about his reading problem. After supper she worked on a

dress that she was making for Corliss and for a time played checkers

with Cody. Cody was a terrible player. Whenever he made a jump he

liked to slam his man down with such violence that it jarred most of

the checkers out of their places. When he got beat, he groaned and

pulled at his hair and declared that it was all luck.

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Finally the household went to bed, and Lanie sat up waiting for

Davis. She read a brand new book she had checked out of the library,

The Good Earth, by a woman called Pearl Buck. She was intrigued by

the novel, which dealt with a family struggling to live through hard

times in China. I guess, she thought, there’s no easy place to live. China’s just as hard as America.

She finished the book and was almost dozing off when Aunt

Kezia came in.

“Are you still up, Lanie?”

“Yes. I’m waiting up for Davis.”

“I couldn’t sleep a wink, as usual,” Aunt Kezia said with a loud

yawn. “You’re worried about Davis getting back from his game?”

“Yes, a little. But Aunt Kezia, I just can’t seem to stop thinking

about why he can’t learn to read. He’s so smart in some things. Sci-

ence and math, anything with numbers. Nobody knows what’s wrong

with him.”

“Well, it won’t help you to worry about it. I decided a long time

ago to give up worrying.” Aunt Kezia plunked herself down on the

couch beside Lanie. She was wearing a flannel nightgown made of the

most hideous purple material anyone had ever seen. Cody declared it

hurt his eyes just to look at her, but Aunt Kezia treasured it.

“What do you mean you decided to stop worrying? You can’t just

decide things like that.”

Aunt Kezia looked like a bright bird as she perched there. “Why,

you can decide whatever you want to. Didn’t you know that?”

“Well, how did you decide to stop worrying?”

“It happened when my second husband Calvin Butterworth was

sheriff in Kansas. He got word that a tough character — Long Dave

Matheny — was mad at him and was comin’ to shoot it out with him.”

Lanie’s eyes opened wide.

“Now he was a sight paradin’ up and down! Wore his hair long. It

was yellow. He had eyes like I never seen before. They was dead eyes.

Looked like there was nothin’ behind ’em, and he was mean too. Just

as soon kill a fellow as look at him.”

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“Why was he mad at your husband?”

“’Cause he got drunk, and Mr. Butterworth had to arrest him

and lock him up. So the word got around that he was gonna come and

shoot him next time he came to town. He was in town and everybody

was skeered to death. I didn’t sleep a wink for four days. Mr. Butter-

worth kept tellin’ me Matheny was just a big blowhard, but I knowed

that wasn’t so. He was a vile person.”

“Well, what happened?”

“What happened was after I worried myself sick, Matheny came

into town. He went into a saloon and boasted about how he was going

to shoot my husband. He sat down in a card game, and a feller come

in the back door, crept up behind him, and shot him dead.”

“How awful.”

“Well, when I heard about it, I saw how foolish I’d been. God

knew all the time that that man wasn’t gonna shoot my husband. I

wasted all my time worryin’ about it. So now I just don’t do it any-

more. If I’m gonna worry about anything, it’s about somethin’ that’s

happenin’ right now, like the beans gonna burn on the back burner.

Somethin’ I can fix. I ain’t gonna worry about some problem that

might never come around.”

Lanie laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I think I’ll adopt your system.”

“I been meanin’ to talk to you, Lanie. Have you got your cap set

for that Roger fella?”

Instantly Lanie grew defensive. “Oh, I don’t know. How does a

girl know she likes a man? I mean, enough to think about marrying

him. How did you know?” she demanded of Aunt Kezia.

“Well, twice I didn’t know.” Aunt Kezia’s eyes grew dim as mem-

ories stirred her. She rubbed her hands together and finally shook her

head. “I married my first husband because I was in a hard place and

I wanted to get out of it. I married my last husband because I was

stupid. I thought I had to have somebody to take care of me. But I

married Calvin Butterworth because the Lord told me to.”

“That’s wonderful that God pointed out the man for you to

marry.”

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“Mr. Butterworth didn’t think so at first. I was foolish enough to

tell some folks I was gonna marry him and I hadn’t even met him. So

one day I was comin’ out of a store, and there he was big as life. My,

he was handsome! It fluttered me so much I spilled all my groceries.

He helped me pick ’em up, and he was laughin’ at me. Well, his eyes

was. He had laughin’ eyes, that man did.”

“What did he say?” Lanie asked. Although she had heard the

story, she loved to hear Aunt Kezia tell it.

“He said, ‘I hear you tellin’ it around that you and me is gonna

get married.’ ”

“What did you say?”

“I couldn’t say nothin’, Lanie, not a word. He just laughed at me

and said, ‘Well, I’ll be around about supper time tonight. If we’re

gonna get married, I expect we need to get to know each other better.’

So he come around and he took me out, and a week later he proposed.

Two weeks after that we got married up. Happiest time of my life.

Maybe you better wait until the Lord tells you. Some of these jelly

beans that hang around young girls ain’t fit to be kilt.”

Lanie held up her hand. “Listen. There comes Davis.”

Both women got up and went toward the door. Lanie opened the

door and froze. Davis stood there half supporting what appeared to

be a young man in baggy clothes and a soft cap. She could see by the

porch light that the young fellow was bleeding.

Davis gasped, “Lanie, this is Cass. Hurt pretty bad.”

Lanie at once said, “Well, bring him in.”

Davis entered the door and his face was pale and his eyes were

filled with worry. “He ain’t a boy. Her name is Cass Johnson.”

“Well, don’t give us her biography,” Aunt Kezia said. “Bring her

in here and let’s have a look at that wound.”

Davis half carried the young woman in, and Lanie put an old

quilt over the couch. “Put her right here, Davis.”

Davis helped Cass down, put her feet up, and then said, “I got to

go get the doctor.”

“I’ll do that, Davis. You stay here.”

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“She just about saved my life, Lanie,” he said. He pulled the hat

off the young woman and the golden blond hair tumbled out. Her

face was white as paper, and Davis said in a shaky voice, “Hurry with

that doctor. She’s lost lots of blood.”

Lanie slammed the brakes on the pickup, cut the engine, and

jumped out. Running around the vehicle, she dashed up the front

steps of Doctor Givens’s house and banged on the door. It was close

to midnight, but she did not care. She banged incessantly until finally

a light came on and a voice said through the door, “Who is it? What

do you want?”

“It’s Lanie Freeman. I’ve got to see Doctor Merritt.” The door

opened, and Matilda Satterfield, Doctor Givens’s housekeeper,

stood there clutching her robe about her. “What’s the matter?” she

demanded.

“There’s been an accident. Don’t have time to explain it. I’ve got

to see Doctor Merritt.”

Even as she spoke, she saw Owen coming down the stairs. He

was pulling on a robe and Lanie cried out, “Doctor Merritt, Davis

brought a young woman home. She’s been hurt pretty bad. You’ve got

to come.”

Merritt said instantly, “All right. I’ll get dressed. Give me five

minutes.”

On their way back Lanie explained as best she could the circum-

stances. When she finished, Owen asked, “So you don’t know how it

happened?”

“Must have happened on the way home from the ball game.”

“She probably ought to be in the hospital.”

“I was afraid to take that much time.”

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Merritt pulled up in front of the house and jumped out. He hur-

ried in, followed by Lanie, and found that everybody in the house

was up.

“How is she?” Owen demanded of Aunt Kezia.

“She’s hurt pretty bad, Merritt.”

Everyone started to crowd back into the living room, but Lanie

said, “No one goes in there. You all go to bed.” It took some doing,

but finally all except Davis were shooed out of the living room. By

that time Lanie saw that the girl was sitting up, and Owen turned and

said, “This has to be stitched.”

“Can I help you, Doctor Merritt?” Lanie said.

“Yes, you can. Get some hot water boiling to sterilize the

instruments.”

Lanie quickly went to the kitchen, and when she got back with

the water, the young woman was on her face on the couch. Davis

was standing back watching without saying a word. Lanie watched as

Owen carefully stitched the flesh back together. It was very quiet in

the room, and Cass did not make a sound, although it must have been

very painful. Finally Owen put the bandage on, saying, “No way to

hold this on except to make kind of a harness.” He held the bandage

in place by strips that crossed the girl’s chest and over her shoulder.

“You’re going to be all right, Cass. How’d this happen?”

The girl just shook her head. She had lost a great deal of blood,

and it was Davis who told the story.

He ended up by saying, “I think that fellow would have killed me

if she hadn’t jumped in. She saved my life.”

“What happened to those three?” Owen asked.

“We made ’em jump out. I hope they didn’t get hurt bad. I guess

they could have been killed.”

“You did the right thing, Davis,” Owen said. “I’m proud of

you.” He stood looking down at the girl who had dozed off. “You

think you could keep her tonight, Lanie? We’ll see about the hospital

tomorrow.”

“Of course. We’ll fix her a place and take care of her.”

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“I’ll stop early in the morning and see how she makes it through

the night. But there shouldn’t be any trouble. If she wakes up, get her

to drink as much water as she can, and she needs to eat too.”

Owen left, and Aunt Kezia stood looking down at the young

woman. “Well, we got another mouth to feed.”

Lanie went over and said, “I’m proud of you, Davis, taking up for

a young woman like that.”

Aunt Kezia nodded and said, “So am I. It’s just the kind of thing

Mr. Butterworth would have done.”

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Chapter 17

Cass was disoriented as she began to wake up. She slowly opened

her eyes and startled in fear, for everything was strange, but the

sudden movement caused a stab of pain to shoot down her back and

high up on her shoulder and arm. She groaned and closed her eyes.

She could tell she was lying facedown on some sort of a sofa. Images

came flooding back, but she could make sense of very little that had

happened except for the doctor stitching her up like a rag doll.

Opening her eyes again, she saw that she was in a large room with

wallpaper figured in small daisies. The window was open, and she

could hear the sounds of crickets singing outside. Turning her head

carefully, another shock ran over her as she encountered the gaze of a

small girl watching her with intent dark blue eyes. The girl was stand-

ing so that her face was not twelve inches away from that of Cass. She

waited for the little girl to speak, and when she did not, Cass said,

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watchin’ you.” The young girl had a round face with trans-

lucent skin and a solemn expression.

“Why are you watching me?”

“Wanted to see if you were going to die.”

The words struck Cass, and she did not know whether to laugh

or be afraid. Was she really that bad off? “I never seen anybody die.

Did you?” the girl said.

“No, I didn’t.”

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“Lanie said you wouldn’t die, but she doesn’t know everything.

My name is Corliss Jeanne Freeman, and I’m three years old. What’s

your name?”

“My name is Cass.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Where do you come from?”

Cass stared at the child, but before she could answer, a young

woman came through the door. Cass remembered her vaguely as she

spoke. “Corliss, stop pestering her.”

“I wasn’t pestering. I just wanted to find out who she was.”

Cass looked at Lanie. The pain was bad and it made it difficult to

speak. “She’s only three years old?”

Lanie smiled. “Yes. She just started talking all at once like a grown

person. How do you feel?”

Cass did not answer for a moment. She was studying the young

woman carefully. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lanie Freeman. This is our house. I live here with my broth-

ers and sisters.”

“Don’t you have a mama or a daddy?”

“Our aunt lives with us. Our mother’s gone to be with the Lord,

and Daddy’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in prison,” Corliss piped up. “He shot a man, but it wasn’t

his fault, and God’s going to get him out some day.”

“My name’s Lanie and your name is Cass, Davis tells me. Can

you let me take a look at that bandage?”

Cass nodded and laid her head back down. She felt Lanie’s hands

lifting her shirt and adjusting her bandages. “Doctor Merritt will be here

pretty soon, and he can change this dressing. Can you eat something?”

“Guess so.”

“I’ll go fix you something. Doctor Merritt said you need to drink

as much as you can.” She poured some water out of a pitcher and the

girl rolled over. “Can you sit up?”

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Cass did not answer. The pain coursed through her as she tried

to pull herself upright. She took the glass and drank thirstily, then

handed it back. “Where is this place?”

“Fairhope.”

“I mean what state?”

Lanie gave her a look of surprise. “Fairhope, Arkansas. Where

were you headed when all this happened?”

“Headed south.” The answer came grudgingly, and then she said,

“What happened to my things?”

“Don’t worry about it, Cass. Davis brought your things with you.

I don’t know how he carried you and your bag and his bat, but he did.

See. There’s your things over there on that chest.”

Cass relaxed then and lay there as Lanie left. She insisted on tak-

ing Corliss with her, telling Cass that the child would drive her crazy

with questions.

As soon as the two were gone, Cass sat up, reaching back over

her shoulder. She could not reach the cut place, but it hurt when she

moved. She looked up quickly as a young man came through and she

recognized Davis. He looked worried and came over and said, “Are

you all right, Cass?”

“I’m okay.”

“Doctor Merritt will be here pretty soon. He did a good job of

sewing you up. Must have hurt like everything.” When she did not

answer, Davis said, “Is there anybody we need to get in touch with?

Your folks might be worried about you.”

“No. There’s nobody.”

Davis was taken aback by the brevity of the answer. Everybody he

knew had somebody, and he studied the young woman’s face. She had

hair as blond as any he had ever seen, and her eyes were a light blue or

gray. He could not tell which. They were large eyes, deep set and wide

spaced, and her face was an oval shape. She looked thin, and he said,

“I’m glad we made it back. It was pretty iffy there for a while.”

“Why’d you take up for me?”

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Davis could not think for a moment, for the answer to him was

obvious. “Why, you needed help.” He noticed that her accent was

odd. It was not an Arkansas accent, and he was familiar with other

accents such as Oklahoma, Tennessee, and Missouri. He said quickly,

“I’m sorry you got hurt trying to help me. It’s a good thing you did.

Those fellows were pretty rough.”

“I’m glad you brought my things back.”

Davis shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I could have done a little

better looking out for you.”

At that point Lanie came in, followed by Cody, Maeva, Aunt

Kezia, and Corliss.

“I brought you some broth that Aunt Kezia made. Let me intro-

duce you to the family. You may not remember them from last night.

This is our Aunt Kezia. This is my brother Cody, my sister Maeva,

and, of course, you already met Corliss.”

“I hear you saved Davis’s life,” Maeva said moving closer. “That

was pretty neat.”

“Well, he was taking up for me.”

“Where you from?” Cody asked. “You talk funny.”

“Cody, you hush!” Lanie said. “That’s not polite.”

As always Cody was surprised when he was rebuked for his man-

ners. “Well, I just wanted to know. We’re from Arkansas. You’re not

from here, huh?”

“No. Not from here.”

“Don’t be so nosy, Cody,” Maeva said. “You’ll have to excuse him,

Cass. He doesn’t have many manners.”

“I got perfect manners,” Cody said indignantly.

“All right. That’s enough talk. All of you can get out of here now.

I want Cass to eat and rest before the doctor comes.” As they left the

room, Lanie and Cass could hear Cody speaking loudly. “I’ll bet she’s

from the north. Probably from Massachusetts.”

“You’ll have to forgive Cody. He’s very nosy and so is Corliss.”

She put the bowl of soup down and said, “Do you think you can

manage this?”

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“I can eat it.” Cass took the soup and carefully began to eat it.

It had big chunks of chicken in it, and Lanie smiled. “That’s Aunt

Kezia’s recipe. She’s really a fine cook.”

Cass ate hurriedly and seemed half starved. When she finished

the bowl, Lanie said, “I’ll go get you some more.”

She went back to the kitchen, but when she returned the girl was

asleep. Her blond hair was spread out on the pillow, and there was

a look of troubled innocence on her face. Lanie stood over her for a

moment, then turned and left the room.

“She looks plumb wore out,” Aunt Kezia said as Lanie went back

into the kitchen. “I’ll be glad when Merritt gets here. I want to give

that girl some of Doctor Luthor’s Phosphorus Water.”

“Don’t you be dosing that girl, Aunt Kezia. You let Owen do the

doctoring.”

Aunt Kezia sniffed. “If you wasn’t in love with him, you wouldn’t

have so much confidence in him. You don’t know as much about doc-

tors as I do.”

“I am not in love with Owen Merritt, and if you say one more word,

I’m not going to take you to that awful movie you want to see!”

Aunt Kezia opened her mouth to argue, but she saw a certain look

on Lanie’s face she had learned to recognize. She longed to challenge

her, but she said, “Well, you’re gettin’ uppity, Lanie, I’m sorry to tell

you. And the Bible says uppityness goes before a fall.”

“It doesn’t say that. Now, you behave yourself.”

The Dew Drop Inn was packed, as it usually was on Wednesday

at noon. It was the day Charlie Poindexter made his specialty — calf

liver and bacon. Charlie cut the liver into slices, fried it in bacon, then

put the liver in the dish and the bacon on top. He served it up with

gravy made in a pan with boiling water, parsnip, onion, and lemon.

The only trouble with the specialty was that the two vegetables were

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inevitably greens and black-eyed peas. He also made cold-water corn-

bread, which somehow tasted better than the regular kind. He would

never reveal his secret for the cornbread, but Pardue Jessup thought he

put brandy or beer in it. “Tastes too good not to have a little bait of

alcohol,” Pardue had joked. And Charlie had not disagreed with him.

As usual, Pardue and Orrin Pierce were sitting together, and they

were both pleased when Nelson Prather came in and joined them.

They all three ordered the special and were eating when Pierce noticed

the necklace Nellie was wearing. “What’s that you got around your

neck, Nellie?”

Nellie reached up and touched the nut that was hanging by a

piece of string. “Why, this here’s to keep the fever off.”

“What is that — a pecan?”

“Just the shell of it, but it’s what’s inside that counts,” Nellie said.

He fingered the pecan and held it up cautiously. Nellie was one of

the best-looking men in the county but never failed to live up to his

reputation as the most superstitious man that ever drew breath. Now

he nodded firmly, “There’s a spider in there.”

“A spider! What for?”

“Why, Orrin, everybody knows that spiders is good luck espe-

cially if you wear one in a nutshell around your neck. It keeps fevers

off. I been wearing one off an’ on since I was six years old and I ain’t

never had a fever. Don’t you see? You fellows ought to get one. As a

matter of fact, I’d be glad to make you one, if you like.”

Both Orrin and Pardue tried to keep their smiles from showing,

for Nellie was a sensitive man. He lived alone now after having raised

his brother and sister and caring for his mother until she died. Most

of the young women in the county had tried to entice Nellie into mar-

riage, for he had a fine farm and was known to be one of the kindest,

best-natured men in all Stone County.

Sister Myrtle came by at that time with a pitcher of iced tea to

freshen up their drinks. She stopped and looked down at Nellie Prather

and without preamble and with her usual piercing, thunderous voice

said, “Nellie Prather, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

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Startled, Nellie looked up. “About what, Sister Myrtle?”

“Because you’re robbin’ some young woman.”

“Why, I never robbed a woman in my life nor anybody else.”

“You’re robbin’ ’em of a husband. Why in the world don’t you get

married? How old are you anyhow?”

“I’m thirty.”

“Then you’re late.”

Nelson fingered the nut containing the deceased spider and did

not seem to be aware that every customer in the Dew Drop Inn was

listening to his answer and smiling behind their hands. Everyone

liked Nellie, though they all teased him about his superstitions.

“Well, I been thinkin’ about that a lot lately, Sister Myrtle, and

I thought I had a handle on it. But my uncle Seedy — you remember

him, Sister Myrtle?”

“I remember him. What about him?”

“Well, my uncle Seedy told me how to go about findin’ out who

to marry.”

“I’d like to know that myself,” Pardue said, winking at Orrin

Pierce. “How does it work?”

“Well, you do it this a way,” Nellie said, serious as a judge. “You

get out a bunch of socks before you go to bed at night and you name

each one of them socks, don’t you see, after a lady you know, and

then you put ’em under your pillow. Then the important part is you

don’t get into bed like usual. You get into bed over the footboard

backwards. You gotta be careful to do it right. It’s kind of hard to do.

But it’s the only thing that works. You get in from the side that’s no

good at all.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think so,” Pierce said. “Then what?”

“Well, if you do it right, the lady you dream about that night, it’ll

be one of them you named a sock after. And that’ll be the one you

marry.”

“Have you tried it?” Pardue demanded.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, how come you didn’t marry?”

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“Well, the one I named, she ran off with a paint salesman before I

had a chance to ask her. So I guess I done somethin’ wrong.”

Myrtle exclaimed, “That’s the most foolish thing I ever heard of!

You wanna get married, I’ll help ya. I know all the young women, and

I can tell you which ones you don’t want to hitch up with.”

Myrtle started going over a list of young women in the county

that would qualify as a wife for Nellie Prather, but at that moment

Owen Merritt came in. She turned and exclaimed, “And speaking of

marriage, why, it’s the soon-to-be groom, Doc Merritt! Louise Lang-

ley finally twisted your arm into setting a date, eh, Doc?”

Owen made a face. “Sister Myrtle, did you ever stop and think

that some people might not want their business announced at the top

of your lungs at the Dew Drop Inn?”

“If they got nothin’ to be ashamed of, it don’t matter none.

Besides, your engagement was announced in the Sentinel! Not like

it’s a secret.”

Owen shook his head. “Fine, Myrtle, talk about my engagement

all you want.”

“I will, Doc, and I’ll be lookin’ for some details soon.” Myrtle

switched gears quickly and demanded, “How’s that girl Davis brought

home from the ball game?”

“You really are something, Myrtle,” Owen replied.

“How is she? What’s her name? Where’s she from?”

“There’s such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Owen was peppered with questions, and finally Orrin Pierce said,

“Sit down here, Owen, and have the special. Give him room, folks.

He’s gonna be stingy with that story.”

Owen sat down and lowered his voice saying, “The girl and Davis

were assaulted by three hoboes, but I don’t guess there’s anything to

do about ’em.”

“Just give me their names. I’ll lock ’em up.”

“Don’t know, but I’ll tell you this much. Davis threw ’em all off

the car. Used his baseball bat on the three of them.”

“He did? Well, I do admire his spunk.”

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Owen sat there eating his meal listening to the other two tease

Nellie about his superstitions, but finally when Nelson and Pardue

left, Owen leaned forward and said to Orrin Pierce, “You remember I

told you my brother Dave was going to try to find Thelma Mays?”

“The one that’s supposed to be a witness to the shooting of Duke

Biggins?”

“That’s the one. Well, Dave found her.”

Orrin leaned over, his face intent. “Did he get anything out of

her?”

“No. She won’t talk. I think she’s afraid she’ll get drawn into the

shooting somehow or other. Dave’s going to keep after her. She’s a

low-down woman. I think she might be out to make some money on

this.”

“That wouldn’t do for a witness.”

“You think we ought to tell Lanie?”

“I think so,” Orrin said. “At least it’ll give ’em a little hope. Lord

knows they don’t have much of that right now.”

“Well, I’ve got to go by and visit Cass, the girl Davis brought

home.”

“I know you couldn’t tell everybody, but how is she doing?”

“She’ll be all right. Got a bad cut. The thing is she won’t talk

about herself. Don’t know where she’s from. Just kind of a female

hobo.”

“She look pretty tough?”

“No. On the contrary. She’d be a real pretty girl if she gained a

little weight, but she’s troubled. I can tell that much.”

“Well, let me know if I can do anything. Does she need help?”

“I thought about putting her in the hospital, but Lanie’s willing

to keep her, so I guess that would be best for a while.”

“Let me know then, and let me know about how your brother

comes out with Thelma.”

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Davis had brought some iced tea to Cass. He put it down on

the table and saw her starting to get up. “Here. Let me help you.”

He reached out and took her arm, but she struck out at him, hitting

him across the chest. “Don’t you manhandle me!” she said. Davis was

shocked to see the fierce anger in her eyes.

“Why, I was just — ”

“I know what you were just doing. You keep your hands off me,

you hear?”

Davis stood shocked by the sudden burst of anger. He could not

even think for a moment how to speak to her. He turned without a

word and left, meeting Lanie in the hall along with Doctor Merritt.

“How is she, Davis?”

“Mean as a snake,” Davis said. “I was gonna help her sit up and

she hit me.” There was hurt in the boy’s eyes.

Lanie said, “She’s obviously had a hard time, Davis. Don’t hold

it against her.” Davis shook his head and walked away. “He’s so sensi-

tive, Owen. Just like a woman almost.”

“Well, let’s see what the spitfire’s doing.”

“Don’t you pick on her now,” Lanie warned.

“I won’t.”

The two went in, and Merritt was indeed gentle with the girl. He

changed the bandage and then said, “Don’t see why you can’t get up

and move around a little bit more. You’ll get stiff if you lie there.”

“Thanks.”

The single word of gratitude was grudging, but Merritt said

cheerfully, “That’s all right. You don’t want to do too much. They

treating you all right here?”

Cass shot a glance at Lanie and nodded.

Lanie took all this in, and when she went outside with Owen, she

said, “Something’s wrong with her.”

“Yes, there is. She’s healing fine physically, but she’s mad at the

world. You can see it in her eyes.”

The two discussed Cass for a moment, and finally Owen said, “I

can probably get her into the hospital.”

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“Oh, don’t do that, Owen. She can stay with us.”

Lanie walked out to the car with him, and he stood there looking

across the field. “You know, I’d like to just forget about doctoring and

go fishing over at Singing River. How about it?”

“What, me go fishing with you?”

“Sure,” he said recklessly. “Nobody’s dying.”

“I couldn’t do that, Owen.”

“Why not?”

“Because. It wouldn’t be right.”

Owen looked befuddled for a minute and said, “I keep forgetting

you’re a grown-up young woman now. It was easier when you were

just a little girl.”

Suddenly Lanie asked a question that had been on her mind, but

she had been afraid to ask. “Are you happy, Owen?”

“Happy? About what?”

“Why, about getting married, of course. It’s coming up quickly now.”

The question seemed to trouble Owen Merritt, for he snapped

back at once, “Well, of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lanie studied his face. She had always thought him to be a hand-

some man, but now there seemed to be something troubling him.

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Well, shucks, Lanie. A man can’t go around grinning like an

idiot and singing love songs all the time, can he?” He shook his head.

“Good-bye. I’ll come back to see how Cass is doing later.”

Lanie watched as he got in the car and drove away, squealing the

tires as he went.

“I don’t know what he’s so mad about. ” Suddenly Lanie squared

her shoulders and said angrily, “Lanie Freeman, you’ve got to stop

thinking about Owen Merritt.”

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The Transformation

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Chapter 18

Usually from her seat in the choir, Lanie got a good view of the

back of the minister’s head, but seldom did she see his face.

She was used to it and didn’t mind, but the coming of Colin Ryan

changed everything. Ryan was as unorthodox in his pulpit manner-

isms as he was in his dress. He ignored the pulpit and with a Bible in

his left hand he would move from one side of the rostrum to the other,

often turning around to face the choir. On occasion he would even

step off the rostrum and move up and down the aisle, confusing many

of the members who were accustomed to a preacher as firmly fixed

behind the pulpit as if his shoes were nailed to the floor.

Lanie liked to sit in the choir, for even if she could not see the

preacher’s face, she could see the congregation. She knew exactly who

would go to sleep during the sermon, and could read various reactions

to the preacher’s words. It had been especially interesting since Colin

Ryan had come, for his preaching was revolutionary, and during every

message the expressions in the congregation ranged from disapproval

to delight, depending on how the sermon struck the individuals.

After the choir had sung their special, an arrangement of “I

Come to the Garden,” everyone settled down for the sermon. Usually

preachers edged into their topics carefully, laying a foundation and

background for their message, but Lanie was not too shocked when

Brother Ryan rose up and swung his Bible around in a circle, point-

ing first to the congregation, then to the choir, and without preamble

began to read Scripture.

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“In the twenty-first chapter of Luke we find these words: ‘And he

looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury.

And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites.

And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast

in more than they all: for all these have of their abundance cast in

unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the

living that she had.’ ”

Excitement brightened the face of Ryan as he began to speak, and

something about his attitude and his posture and the tone of his voice

warned Lanie that something was coming that the Baptist church in

Fairhope, Arkansas, was not accustomed to.

“I doubt seriously that there is anyone in this congregation who

has ever done what this poor woman did. The Bible said she had what

would amount to a few cents in our money, but it was all she had.

Instead of saving something for tomorrow, she put everything she had

into the offering. And the Lord Jesus commended her for it.”

Lanie looked over the congregation and her eyes fell on Lou-

ise Langley. She watched Louise every Sunday morning, and as she

expected, the young woman was sitting bolt upright, her lips drawn

together in a tight line. She made no secret of her dislike for Colin

Ryan, and now she was sitting there waiting to see what she could

criticize.

“I think the Lord God put this incident in the Bible as a challenge

to see if there would be one individual or a church or even a denomi-

nation that would love Him enough to put their last two pence, their

last penny into His ser vice. This morning I’m going to find out if

we’re one of those rare churches who trust God enough to do this.”

Opening his Bible, he said, “I want to read you one more Scrip-

ture and then give you a challenge. This one verse I’m going to read

was written by the wisest man who ever lived on the face of the earth,

Solomon, the son of David. In the book of Proverbs, chapter nineteen,

verse seventeen, the Scripture says, ‘He that hath pity upon the poor

lendeth unto the LORD; and that which he hath given will he pay him

again.’ ”

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Closing his Bible, Colin began to walk from one side of the ros-

trum to the other. He turned often to the choir, and once his eyes

met Lanie’s, and she gave him an encouraging smile. He winked at

her, then continued to speak. “I’m not going to preach a sermon this

morning. The two Scriptures I’ve read are plain. I’ve never heard of

anyone challenging the interpretation of these two. Number one,

Jesus commended the woman who gave all that she had. Then in

Proverbs the Lord says that anyone who gives to the poor is not really

giving to the poor at all. He is giving to the Lord. And He says that

whatever we give to the poor, God will give it back to us again.”

Colin suddenly became very serious. “It’s one thing to come and

sit in a comfortable pew, and it’s another thing to throw ourselves into

the battle against the works of the devil. I’m going to ask this church

this morning if you are willing to do what that widow did. I’m going

to ask you — will you trust God? Will you lend God some money and

wait until He pays you back?”

Lanie could see the resistance building up on many of the faces

in the congregation. Louise Langley especially was waiting, as if to

pounce on whatever point Colin Ryan was about to make. Colin

stopped abruptly and said, “This church has almost six thousand dol-

lars in a building fund.” He looked around and swept the auditorium

with an eloquent gesture. “We don’t need a new building.”

A rustle went over the congregation, and several feathers were ruf-

fled by this proclamation. Lanie knew that many had been pushing

for a new building, one that would equal the size of the Presbyterian

church built three years ago. She saw the opposition as plainly as if it

were written on a page.

“We are in this beautiful building sitting on comfortable pews.

None of us are starving, and in the wintertime we’re warm, but there

are many in this country who are out in the cold and who don’t have

food enough to eat. There are those in our own community who are

destitute and desperate for help. Some members of this church have

lost their jobs and don’t know how they’re going to pay their rent.”

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Ryan stopped and looked up for a moment as if he expected to

hear a voice from heaven. It did not come, but when he looked over

the congregation, his eyes darting here and there, he said, “I’m going

to challenge this church to take the money in that building fund and

do a wonderful and glorious thing. I’m going to ask you to lend that

money to God by spending it on those who need food and shelter and

medical care. I’m going to ask you to put your faith and trust in the

Word of God. Do you really believe the Bible? I know this is not the

Baptist way. But I’m going to ask how many of you would be willing

to take this money that’s sitting in a bank doing no good to anybody

and spend it on the family of God who have such desperate needs.

How many of you would be willing to do that? Raise your hand.”

Lanie raised her hand instantly, and as her gaze swept the congre-

gation, she saw that the vote would be close. As she expected, none of

the Langleys lifted their hands, and to her surprise suddenly Louise

Langley stood up. Her face was red, and her voice was as hard as

chilled steel. “Reverend Ryan, may I say a word?”

“Certainly, Miss Langley.”

“You are an interim pastor. You’ll be gone from here soon. The

rest of us will be here, and we have to think of the future. No one

would object to helping the poor, but to take the entire building fund

would be improvident, and I’m going to ask you to withdraw your

challenge.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Langley, I can’t do that. I believe the Lord has

put this on my heart, and I’m asking the church to make a decision.”

He turned and said, “Brother Pink, I’m going to step aside and ask

you to lead the church in whatever direction you think is right.”

Gerald Pink looked as if he had been suddenly shot. He owned the

only drugstore in Fairhope and was a devoted Chris tian, but he was

not a particularly quick thinker. He needed time to think things over,

and now he rose from his place in the choir and stuttered, “Well — I

don’t know — it seems to me that we need to move carefully.” Several

amens, especially from the Langleys, could be heard. “I will put this

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matter off until Wednesday night. We will have a special business

meeting to consider this one item of business.”

“I think that’s very wise, Deacon Pink,” Ryan said. “And now

let’s all stand and sing ‘Amazing Grace,’ and as we sing it, I hope this

amazing grace of God that we sing about will fill our hearts.”

Lanie rose with the others, and she could tell that even in the

singing of the hymn a division had come. Those who favored spend-

ing the building fund money sang loud and looked happy. Those who

did not, for the most part, did not sing at all. They simply stood there

waiting, and after the benediction was pronounced by Gerald Pink,

they turned and left. Lanie saw that Louise Langley gave Colin Ryan

a look that was almost frightening before she walked out, her head

high in the air.

The town of Fairhope rarely got excited, but the news of the

meeting at the Baptist church on Wednesday night had carried itself

everywhere. Cody loved it! He made it his business to go to as many

of the church members as he could, informing them in no uncertain

terms that their duty was to vote, as he put it, to “spend that old build-

ing fund money on something that is worthwhile.”

At the height of his excitement, while he was out rounding up

votes for a welfare committee, Cody stopped Mrs. Butterworth, whose

husband owned the Rialto Theater. “Hallelujah!” Cody greeted her.

“You gonna vote for or against the building fund?”

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Butterworth said. She did

not know Cody by name, and now she stared at him with consterna-

tion. “Are you talking about that business at the Baptist church?”

“That’s right. I want you to vote right.”

“I’m not a member of the First Baptist Church.”

“Oh,” Cody said with disappointment. “Well, here’s something

for you anyhow.” He tore out a page of the Bible he carried and handed

it to her.

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“What’s this?” Mrs. Butterworth exclaimed.

“Read it. It’ll do you good.” Cody dodged around Mrs. Butter-

worth and left her reading the page in the Bible. Her face grew red as

she studied it, and she said, “I’m going to see about this.”

She turned at once and started for the First Baptist Church, deter-

mined to have it out with the preacher she had heard so much about.

She found him out in front of the church raking leaves.

“Reverend Ryan, may I have a word with you?”

“Why, certainly. Mrs. Butterworth, isn’t it?” Colin said, smiling.

He put the rake aside and said, “Will you come into my office?”

“No. I just want to tell you that you’re going to have to control

your church members.”

“I’m not sure I can promise that. I can’t even control myself.

What’s the trouble?”

“Look at what one of your members, a young boy, gave me.” She

described Cody, and Colin said, “Yes. That’s Cody Freeman. What’s

he done?”

“He gave me this. Look what it says.” She whispered as she read

the words, “It says here, ‘A bundle of myrrh is my wellbeloved unto

me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.’ ”

Mrs. Butterworth thrust the page at Colin, saying, “It’s a disgrace

passing out this sort of thing.”

“Well, it’s from the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament, Mrs.

Butterworth.”

“It should be read in private.”

Colin tried to keep from smiling. “It’s a very beautiful book in

the Bible. It’s a love song. It preaches the love between God and His

people as between a husband and a wife, between two lovers.”

He knew he was fighting a losing cause, and finally Mrs. Butter-

worth said, “Well, if that’s the sort of thing you Baptists do, I’m glad

I’m not a member of your church!”

Colin Ryan watched as Mrs. Butterworth sailed away and shook

his head. “Poor woman. She’s missing a lot.” He turned his thought to

the business meeting that would take place at seven o’clock and began

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to pray, “Lord, I have no idea how the church is going to vote. I just

ask that You get glory out of this situation.”

The Baptist church was filled for the business meeting. It was not

the first time, for the Baptists had stirred up the town on more than

one occasion. As Colin looked over the congregation, he smiled, see-

ing that there were more non-Baptists than Baptists. He asked Gerald

Pink to take over, as was proper, and he sat there as Pink got up and

began to approach the subject as if it were a stick of dynamite.

“Folks, you know why we’re all here. Our interim pastor has sug-

gested we take the money in our building fund and use it to help

people in need. Do I hear a motion that this be done?”

“I move that we use the money in the building fund to help the

needy.”

Lanie was shocked, for she had never spoken at a business meet-

ing. The words seemed to pop out of her, and she flushed and sat

down, but she saw that Colin Ryan was smiling at her warmly and

even gave her a quick conspiratorial wink.

“Do I hear a second?”

“I ain’t no Baptist, but I second the motion anyhow,” Sister Myrtle

Poindexter said loudly.

“I’m afraid it has to be a second by someone who’s a member of

the church.”

“I second the motion.” Doctor Owen Merritt’s voice rose over the

congregation, and Lanie saw that Louise gave him a quick look and

whispered in his ear. She’s dressing him down, I reckon, Lanie thought,

and it gave her a perverse pleasure.

In Baptist churches, once a motion is made and seconded, any

member of the church is free to speak. Other denominations have

some degree of freedom, but in an independent Baptist church, a

twelve-year-old who has just been baptized into the fellowship has

a vote and the right to speak exactly as has the oldest member, no

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matter if he is a deacon. Lanie had always enjoyed the fact that the

Baptist church was a democracy, although at times in critical situa-

tions the meetings did get a little bit rowdy. Now, for the next half

hour, the battle raged.

Lanie sat back and listened, and she could have prophesied who

would be for the motion and who would be against it.

Finally the vote was taken, and it carried only by a slender major-

ity of six votes. In a democracy, however, that was enough.

“The motion is carried,” Gerald Pink said, and then stood there

waiting helplessly as if he didn’t know what to do next.

Louise Langley rose at once. “I move that we elect a responsible

member of the church to distribute the funds alongside the pastor.”

“I second the motion,” Otis Langley said loudly.

The motion was carried, and Gerald Pink said, “Nominations are

now in order.”

Colin Ryan had said nothing during all this. Now he stood to

his feet and said, “I’m not a member of this church, only the interim

pastor, but I would like to ask the church to nominate and elect Miss

Louise Langley.”

Lanie saw that Colin Ryan’s words shocked Louise severely.

She stood there, and her jaw actually dropped open. She did not

move. Deoin Jinks said loudly, “I move that Miss Louise Langley be

appointed by acclamation of the church.”

“Second the motion,” several people said. And the vote was

unanimous.

For a moment there was silence in the church. So much had hap-

pened that it was as if a bomb had gone off, and now people were

trying to find out who had been wounded.

Discussion began to determine exactly how to go about imple-

menting the welfare project. Various members brought up names of

families in the community who were in need of assistance right away,

and it was decided that Colin and Louise would begin by immedi-

ately providing food, clothing, and money to those in the most dire

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straits. The two were granted access to the building fund, provided

they kept an accurate accounting of how each dollar was used.

Lanie watched as Gerald Pink announced the benediction. Lanie

saw Colin go to Louise, and she was close enough to hear him say,

“I’m sure the welfare committee will be well led. Shall we meet tomor-

row to begin our work?”

“I’ll be at your office at eight o’clock,” Louise said. Her voice was

cold, and she turned and walked away without another word.

Orrin Pierce was not a member of any church but had come for

the meeting. He had heard Louise speak coldly to Colin, and now he

came and whispered, “I think you’re going to have your hands full

with that one, Preacher.”

“She’ll be all right,” Colin said cheerfully. “You’ll see.”

The next day after the meeting, Lanie went out to the cemetery as

she often did to tend to her mother’s grave. She carried her notebook

with her, thinking she might write. It was a quiet place, of course, and

she had gotten some fine thoughts there.

After she had tended her mother’s grave, she sat down, and when

she lifted her eyes she noticed a tombstone that was almost hidden

behind grass over at the edge of the cemetery. The cemetery was

joined to a wood, and the men of the various churches came periodi-

cally to clean it out. She moved over to the stone, wondering that she

had never noticed it before. She leaned down and saw the words. The

carving was worn and faded. She made out the letters by running her

fingers over them. “C. S. A. Christopher Scott. Company B Sixth

Battalion. The Army of the Stonewall Brigade.”

A strange feeling came over her as she thought about the man.

This was the grave of a soldier who had fought in the Civil War. The

grave was not tended, and as she thought about the man, trying to

picture him, she wondered what kind of a life he had led and whether

he had gone to meet God with joy, or if he was lost.

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She looked down and saw that there were some more words that

were almost covered. Just the tops of the letters were visible. She began

to dig and uncovered a poem that someone had carved low on the

stone. It was hard to read, but she finally was able to decipher it all:

Warm summer sun shine kindly here.

Warm southern wind blow soft

ly here.

Green sod above lie light, lie light.

Good night, dear heart,

Good night,

Good night.

Tears came to Lanie Freeman’s eyes. Someone had loved this man

enough to write a few beautiful lines. They had been almost destroyed

by time and weather, but they were still there. She whispered, “I wish

I could write something beautiful like that.”

A thought came to her. A poem began to take shape in her mind,

and quickly she grabbed her pencil and began scribbling. She wrote

rapidly for a time, then slower, and the sun moved across the sky until

finally an hour had passed, and she looked down at what she had

written.

Confederate’s Epitaph — Fairhope Cemetery

From wh

ere he lies , Chris Scott

Can see the Levi plant.

Over his grass

y plot

Shadows fall aslant;

Twist ed and grot es que

From a radio tower,

In patt erns arabes que

They cross his fi nal bower.

Once he heard at Shiloh

The loud artillery grumble —

Now the alien ec ho

Of city traffi c’s rumble.

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He hears somet imes the hymns

From the small church just south

On Main. They fall like dim

Caress

es on his mouth.

So many times I’ve read

The epitaph with lichen’s blot

Above the Rebel’s head:

C.S.A. CHRISTOPHER SCOTT

But could not know the man.

So strangely still he kept

I could not cross the span

Nor stir the sleep he slept.

Until by chance I read

The tombstone’s buried hidden face.

What someone once had said

Was furred with moss, like lace;

With fi ngertips I brushed

The deep-grooved sec ret lines —

Deep, O deep, the quiet hush

When I read his love’s des ign:

“Warm summer sun shine kindly here.

Warm southern wind blow soft

ly here.

Green sod above lie light, lie light.

Good night, dear heart,

Good night,

Good night.”

She studied the words and knew this was the poem that she would

send to enter the contest. She put her hand on the tombstone and ran

it over, brushing the secret lines that had been lost for so many years,

and murmured, “Good night, dear heart. Good night . . .”

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Chapter 19

For some perverse reason Louise Langley had donned her most

expensive and ornate outfit for her meeting with Colin Ryan.

He himself would be dressed like a tramp, she thought as she slipped

into her dress. It was a silk, flat-crepe frock with rippling flares and

tiny pleats. She admired it in the full-length mirror, turning to notice

the gay little bows and the neckline, remembering how her father had

rebuked her for spending so much on a dress. She always had been

able to get what she wanted from him, and she smiled as she thought

of it. It was turning cold outside, the last of September, and going to

her closet, she chose to wear her newest coat. It was all wool, extra

warm, and the collar was genuine silver fox. The coat had cost a hun-

dred and fifty dollars, and she had kept it a secret from her father.

Her hat was a genuine Adrienne Ames made out of soft wool with

silver fox trim. She put it on, turned it down in the front, up in the

back, and put a jaunty soft crease in the crown. Spinning around she

studied herself and then said aloud, “That preacher may go dressed

like a hobo, but I’m going to dress like a lady!”

Leaving the house, she drove to the church and found Colin Ryan

sitting on the steps. As she expected, he wore a pair of cotton slacks, a

blue dress shirt open at the neck, and a worn leather jacket. He wore

no cap, and his black hair glistened in the morning sun.

“Ready to go?”

“Before we leave,” Louise said clearly, “I want it understood that I

will keep the record for every penny we spend. I brought a notebook

and I’ll be the accountant.”

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“That’s fine. Suppose we go by and pick up some supplies. I’ve got

a pretty good idea of what we ought to buy for today.”

“Very well.” Despite herself Louise was struck by the good looks

of Colin Ryan. She usually tried not to notice his chiseled features,

tan skin, and deep-set electric blue eyes. She had heard some of the

young women in church sigh over the cleft in his chin, which they

thought was adorable. She, however, did not sigh but said viciously,

“All right. Let’s go.”

“Can we use your car? I don’t have one, you know.”

“That’s why I brought it,” Louise said sharply. “Now let’s go.”

The two went at once to the center of town, where Colin loaded

the car down with groceries. He also stopped at the clothing store and

picked out some winter clothes. Louise followed along taking receipts

and keeping a running list of expenses. Colin was spending money

like it was water, and she clamped her lips tightly together, reserving

her opinion for later.

“I guess that’s it,” Ryan said. “You want me to drive?”

“I’ll drive. You direct me.”

The drive proved to be longer than Louise had anticipated. They

left the city limits and went to the very edge of town, and Colin

pointed at a shack that sat by itself. “We’ll stop there first. That’s the

Taylor place. Just pull up there. Mrs. Taylor’s washing, I see.”

Louise pulled up slowly and got out. A woman was stirring clothes

with a stick. The fire crackled under a black pot, and the woman’s

hands, she noticed, were red and rough. Her face was lined, and she

wore clothes that seemed insubstantial for such weather. A faded red

sweater was so short the sleeves came halfway up to her elbows.

“Well, how are you, Sister Ada?”

“I’m fine, Pastor.”

“I’d like for you to meet Miss Louise Langley. You’ve probably

seen Louise in church.”

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“I suppose so,” Ada said. The woman was thin, and her face was

drawn together in the perpetual sign of one who has to struggle just

to stay alive. She had no chance to say more, for two small children

came running out of the shack, one carrying an infant. They were all

dirty with runny noses, but Colin swept them up. “How you doin’,

Ailene?”

A girl no more than three grinned at him and said hello shyly.

“And, Dooley, how’s that young brother of yours?”

Dooley, no more than six or seven, handed the baby to Colin.

Louise watched as he cuddled the infant in his arms. “Well, how are

you doin’, big fellow? Is that cold any better, Sister Ada?”

“Yes. That medicine you brought helped a lot, Pastor.” She hesi-

tated, then said, “Will you come in?”

“Of course we will. We’ll visit for a little while.” Colin kept the

baby in his arms, and when Louise followed him inside, she was

shocked at the poverty that met her eyes. It was what was called a

shotgun house with one room in front that served as living room and

bedroom, and the second room through the door was the kitchen,

dining room, and general workroom. There was, she saw, no bath-

room, and no sign of running water.

Louise had never been this close to abject poverty. She stood there

helplessly watching as Colin laughed and kept the baby in his arms

while he was ruffling Dooley’s hair and pinching Ailene’s cheek. She

did not know what to do with herself and was acutely aware that she

was embarrassingly overdressed.

Finally Colin said, “The church has started a new program, Sister

Ada. It’s kind of a pre-Christmas thing, so we brought some things

out for you. Here. You hold this young man, Miss Louise, while I go

get the things.”

The baby was thrust into Louise’s arms, and she had no choice.

She held onto it awkwardly, and when Colin left the room, she looked

down and said, “He’s a beautiful baby.”

“Yes. I reckon he is. My husband thinks he looks like him.”

“Is your husband at work?”

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“No, ma’am, he went to St. Louis to try to find work. I’m hopin’

he finds it soon.”

Louise had no answer for that. The destitution of the family

appalled her, and she could only stand there helplessly until Colin came

back burdened down with two huge sacks. He put them down, fished

inside, and came out with a sack of candy. “Hey,” he said, winking at

the two older children, “I bet I could eat more candy than you can.”

“Bet you can’t!” Dooley said. Colin gave the two children candy,

popped a lollipop in his own mouth, and shoved one at Louise, who

rejected it.

For the next twenty minutes Louise stood there while Colin saw

to it that the winter coats fit and that the shoes he had bought were

right.

She wondered how in the world he knew all the sizes. Ada Taylor

stood there, and Louise saw that tears were filling her eyes. She could

hardly speak when she whispered, “I don’t know how to thank you,

Pastor.”

“Oh, it’s not me. You’ll have to thank Miss Louise here. I’m just

a fly-by-night preacher. She’s chairman of the committee that takes

care of all this.”

The woman turned and said, “I thank you kindly, Miss Langley.”

“You’re so welcome.” Louise could hardly get the words out. She

stood there while Colin shook Ada Taylor’s hand, and then they left.

“Well, that’s one,” Colin said as they got into the car. “She’s a fine

woman. Her husband’s a good man too. Doesn’t have any skills, so

they’ve had a rough time of it.”

“Are — are there many like that in our town?”

“Too many,” Colin said, “so let’s get started on the rest.”

By three o’clock Louise Langley was as tired as she could ever

remember. They had visited nine families and returned to the stores

twice to replenish their supplies.

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Colin was as cheerful and energetic as ever, but as they came out

of the last house, he said, “Let’s call it a day. You’re tired.”

Louise was not sure why she was so exhausted. She gamely said,

“Why, I can go on.”

“No. We’ve made a good beginning.” They were seated in the car,

and he faced her curiously. “So what do you think about the welfare

program, Louise?”

She was shocked at the use of her first name. “I — ” She started to

say she thought it was a good thing, but pride suddenly rose up in her.

She could not admit that she had been wrong. “It’s very nice, but you

can go overboard on these things.”

Colin Ryan stared at the young woman. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes. I’ll total these up, and you can check my figures tomorrow.”

Ryan laughed. “Never could keep books, but I’ll be ready to go

again tomorrow. Maybe we can visit some folks in need that you

know.”

“Perhaps,” Louise said, but suddenly she realized that she didn’t

know anyone in that condition. And somehow the thought humbled

her. “All right,” she said. She took him back to the church and let him

out with a mere, “Good day.”

The rest of the day was troublesome to her. Her father asked her

how it had gone, and she was short with him. That night when she

went to bed, she was restless for a long time, and when she finally did

go to sleep, she had a terrible dream. She dreamed that she was poor

and had no money, and her clothes were torn and ragged. She woke up

frightened to death and found that her hands were trembling. It was

almost impossible to go back to sleep, but finally she did, although it

was not a sound rest.

Cass had been up and around more than usual and found that,

although her back and arm were still sore, she was getting better. The

food had been so much more than she was used to, but not once had

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she said a thank you to anyone. She was sharp when Lanie tried to

find out more about how to help her. Corliss followed Cass around

and had witnessed the rudeness of the girl toward her sister.

One day Cass suddenly turned on Corliss and said, “What are

you staring at?”

“Why are you so mean?”

The direct question from the child startled Cass. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

“You’d be mean too, if you — ”

Suddenly Aunt Kezia, who had been sitting across the room read-

ing a True Romance, looked up and said, “Child’s right. You don’t have

to be mean.”

“I don’t need any sermons from you!”

Aunt Kezia got up and came over to stand before Cass. “I don’t

like to eavesdrop,” she said, “but when Davis was trying to read his

lesson last night, you found out he can’t read good and you called him

stupid.”

Cass dropped her eyes, unable to meet those of Aunt Kezia. “I

was surprised. That was all.”

“Maybe you’re surprised, but you’re also cruel. I don’t know what

you’ve been through, child, but I know there ain’t no excuse for mean-

ness. Lanie and these kids have done their best to make you feel at

home. Davis plunged in to help you when nobody else was there.

What you need is a good larrupin’, and I expect you’ll get it one day.

The only way I can think of for you not to get it is to give your heart

to Jesus.”

“Don’t talk to me about religion!”

Aunt Kezia looked up at the girl, who was taller than she. “What

have you got against Jesus?”

Cass bit her lip. “I’m not gonna talk about it,” she said. Turning

around, she walked off.

Aunt Kezia called after her, “You’re gonna have to settle this Jesus

question sooner or later.” She watched the girl disappear, slamming

the door behind her. “That girl’s headed for a fall,” she said, then went

back to her True Romance.

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Chapter 20

As he often did on Thursday nights, Owen ate dinner with the

Langleys. Martha put out a wonderful meal as usual, but Owen

was unimpressed, since he knew they had a cook, Julie, who did noth-

ing else. He said nothing about the welfare work until after he and

Louise were alone in the parlor. She put on a new record called “Life

Is Just a Bowl of Cherries.” It’s ironic, Owen thought, to think of life as something as nice as a bowl of cherries when the Depression is tearing the

life out of the country.

He turned to Louise. “You look worn out.”

“I am tired.”

“I’ve been hearing about the welfare work you’re doing. How’s it

going?”

Louise started to answer and then suddenly realized that his

simple question had no uncomplicated answer. She had been going

out every day with Colin Ryan, and she had seen more poor people

and more hard things in the past week than she had seen in her life.

Finally she said, “It’s going fine.”

“I was talking to the treasurer of the church, Deoin Jinks. He told

me a rather marvelous thing.”

“What’s that?”

“He said checks have been coming in, three very large ones, and

that the money that’s come in has almost equaled the money that you

and the committee have spent so far. I think that’s a miracle.”

Louise knew about this, but she said, “Well, it’s just a coincidence.”

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“I don’t think so,” Owen said. “I think God is keeping His word.

Makes me feel good.”

“It’s just a coincidence,” she repeated.

Owen turned to her. “Have you changed your opinion of Colin?”

“In a way I guess I have. I’ll have to say this for him — for all

his crazy ways, he stays busy. I’ve never seen anybody with as much

energy.”

“I think he knows everybody in town. I don’t know how he

does it.”

“He does have a heart for poor people. I found that out.”

Owen laughed suddenly. “He’s pretty popular too. Marilyn

Simms is out to marry him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, she was foolish enough to tell Henrietta Green, and, of

course, that’s like putting it on the front page of the Sentinel.”

“She’s a foolish girl.”

“I suppose so, but she’s got good taste.” Owen suddenly reached

over and took Louise’s hand. “Maybe I ought to be jealous, your run-

ning around with a good-looking fellow like that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Louise snapped. She got to her feet and

began to pace rapidly. “I can’t believe he’s as good as he makes out.”

“I think he is, Louise.”

“Just wait,” she said. “He’ll do something that’ll show you what

he really is.”

“Why do you dislike him so?”

Louise could not answer. She knew deep in her heart she disliked

Colin Ryan because he had a simplicity about his life that she lacked.

There was a goodness in him, and she had learned over the past week

it was not something he did for show. Preachers that were trying to

rise didn’t spend their time with poor people. They went after the big

fish. And they didn’t spend all their money on welfare. They built

enormous churches. She shook her head and said, “I just don’t trust

him, Owen. He’ll show what he is one day.”

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“We’ve got to go quite a long way this time. It’s almost all the way

over to Pine Ridge.”

It was getting late in the afternoon, and it had been a busy day.

Louise was driving the car over the rutted road. They had left the

main highway, and she said, “How much farther is it?”

“About two or three more miles. It’s rough going. It turns into a

logging road when you get to the end of this one. This is the good

part.”

The Oldsmobile dropped a wheel into a pothole that jarred Lou-

ise’s teeth. She was thinking about her conversation with Owen last

night. She glanced over at Colin, who was sitting loosely in the seat

beside her. He seemed perfectly relaxed, as always, and she wondered

again if he was the real thing.

He directed her, “Right up there.” He studied the road for a

moment. “Maybe we better walk the rest of the way. The rain’s made

the road pretty sticky.”

They got out of the car, divided the load between them, and

made their way to the house. The family was named Logan, and were

in even worse shape than most they had visited. They were apprecia-

tive for the gifts, and seemed to enjoy the company even more. Louise

was a little bit more comfortable, and she certainly had dressed more

conservatively than on their first trip. As they left the cabin, she said,

“How do you meet all these people?”

“Oh, I just keep my ears to the ground. People talk. I heard

Dempsey Wilson talk about this family back here, so I looked them

up. You’re doing a good job,” he added.

Louise did not answer. She could not understand why she was

upset with Colin Ryan, and she was tired of thinking about it.

The ground was muddy, and she moved around a log to keep from

stepping in a deep puddle. Her shoe went down deep and came off

when she pulled her foot out. She bent over to pick it up and as she did,

she suddenly heard a sharp whirling sound. She lifted her eyes and not

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three feet away was the most enormous rattlesnake she had ever seen!

He was curled and had lifted his head in the striking position.

Louise Langley had been terrified of snakes all her life, and this

was a monster. She’d heard of the speed of a striking rattlesnake but

could not seem to move.

Suddenly she was thrown violently to one side as Colin struck

her in a full body blow. As she slammed to the ground she was aware

that the snake had moved also, and terror raced through her, but she

felt no bite. She rolled over in the mud and raised herself up and saw

that Colin was getting up slowly. He said, “Come on. Get away from

that snake.”

Scrambling to her feet, Louise found at first she could not breathe,

and then she was hyperventilating.

Approaching the car, she said, “I’ve always been terrified of

snakes.”

“I don’t like them myself. We’ll have to get back into town in a

hurry.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Colin pulled his pants leg up and she saw two red marks on his

calf. “He got me,” he said. “I wouldn’t waste any time.” He got in the

car, and Louise scrambled in. She started the engine, turned the car

around, and asked, “Are you all right, Colin?” It was the first time she

had ever used his first name.

“I don’t think so,” he said. He laid his head back on the seat and

said, “Better hurry.”

Louise gunned the car and slung the mud out as the car lurched

forward. She sped toward town, ignoring potholes and skidding

around corners. Terror came to her and she caught a glance of his

face, a pale white, as he lay back. Then the thought came to her, He

took that bite for me!

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Chapter 21

Otis Langley rushed in through the front doors of the hospi-

tal and demanded of the receptionist, “Marlene, where is my

daughter?”

Marlene Stanley, a tall stately woman with silver hair, pointed up.

“Second floor. She’s up there with the preacher.”

“What happened?” Otis demanded. “I just got a call.”

“It wasn’t Louise. It’s that preacher. He’s got bitten by a snake.”

Langley whirled and ran to the stairs, skipping the elevator. He

took the stairs two at a time, and when he stepped out into the hall,

he saw Louise standing at the window at the far end. “Louise, what in

the world happened?”

Louise stared at her father. She was pale and could not seem to

answer. Finally she whispered, “He — he jumped in between me and

that awful snake. It bit him instead of me.”

“You look terrible. Come home, Louise. You need to go to bed.”

“No. I’ve got to stay here.”

Otis blinked and tried to think of something to do. Finally he said,

“Can you tell me more about what happened?” He stood there and lis-

tened as Louise got the story out. She spoke in broken sentences and her

voice was hushed. He could see that she was in a state of shock and was

just about to insist that she come home when Owen came out of the

room.

Louise ran to him and said, “Owen, how is he?”

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Owen shook his head. “There’s not a lot we can do for snakebites.

This must have been a big one.”

“It was — monstrous.” Louise swallowed hard and then asked

almost timidly, “Is he — is he going to be all right, Owen?”

“I don’t want to be too optimistic. A lot of people have died from

snakebites, but Colin’s got a lot going for him. He’s led a healthy life.

He’s a strong man, and I’m not going to give up on him.”

“Can I see him?”

Owen hesitated. “He won’t know you. He’s in a coma. Happens

sometimes with these bites. Not very pretty.”

“I don’t care. I want to see him.”

“Don’t be foolish, Louise!” Otis said sharply. “You can’t help him

here.”

“You go home, Daddy,” Louise said, and without another word

turned and walked toward the room.

Owen said, “I’ve never seen her this stubborn.”

“She’s in a state of shock. You need to make her go home,” Lang-

ley demanded.

“You’re her father. If you can’t force her, I doubt if I could. Why

don’t you go home. I’ll bring Louise home pretty soon.”

“All right. I’ll go home. Her mother will be worried.”

Louise had stepped inside the door and took a startled breath.

Colin Ryan was lying flat on his back. His face was red as if he had a

fever. His limbs were twitching, and she was shocked to see that his

right leg was swollen to almost twice its normal size. She could barely

stand to look at him.

She heard the door close and turned to see Owen. “He looks

pretty bad, doesn’t he?”

“It’s awful. His leg.”

“That often happens with snakebites.”

The two stood there silently for a time, and finally Owen said

gently, “There’s nothing you can do, Louise. You might as well go

home. Your mother will be worried.”

“Daddy will tell her I’m all right. Can I stay here for a while?”

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“Of course,” Owen said gently. He moved across the room, drew

a chair up, and said, “Here. I’ll come back from time to time to check

on him, and I’ve got the nurses all on notice to call if there’s any

change.” He hesitated and studied her. He had never seen her like

this before, and there was something pathetic about her expression.

He had always known her as a self-confident, strong young woman,

able to handle anything. Her good looks and her riches had always

provided a shelter, a shield. Now she was different somehow, vulner-

able, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “God’s able to do all things,

Louise. We’ll pray for Colin.”

After Owen left the room Louise suddenly began to tremble. She

had kept herself stiffly in motion ever since the incident had occurred.

Now, however, in the quietness of the room, staring at the young man

who had thrown himself into harm’s way for her, she suddenly felt a

weakness. Without warning tears rolled down her cheeks. She leaned

forward and buried her face in her hands and began to weep.

Lanie was ironing as she and Aunt Kezia talked of the plight of

Colin Ryan. Both of them were concerned, for they had a fondness

for the young minister. Now she put the iron down and stared at Aunt

Kezia. “I’m ashamed of myself, Aunt Kezia.”

“Ashamed of what?”

“Why, I’ve been sitting around here worrying about how we’re

going to make ends meet, and there’s our preacher in bed with a

snakebite and maybe won’t live.”

“You worry too much. I’ve talked to you about that before.”

“The taxes on this place will be due in a few weeks, and we don’t

have the money. I wanted to mail a letter to Daddy yesterday and

didn’t have three cents for a stamp.”

“Oh, posh! I’ve got three cents.”

“No. I can’t be living off of you. It’s just such a struggle. Of course

we’ve got a place to live, a garden, chickens, and a cow, so we make

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out better than a lot. But it’s hard. And yet, at least we’re all healthy,

right?”

Lanie and Aunt Kezia continued to discuss the struggle to exist,

and neither woman noticed that Cass had come to the door. She

stopped abruptly and listened to Lanie, and then with an odd expres-

sion on her face turned and disappeared, tiptoeing away.

No sooner had she left than Maeva, Cody, and Corliss came

in. Maeva said, “Come on, Aunt Kezia. We’re gonna be late for the

movie.”

“Where’d you get the money for movies?” Lanie demanded.

Aunt Kezia waved her hand. “Me, of course. It’s only one time,

and it’s forty cents. We can take the popcorn we popped last night

and eat that.”

“They’re gonna be good today,” Cody said eagerly. “Buck Jones

and The Cisco Kid.”

“Yep, and Charlie Chaplin in City Lights,” Aunt Kezia nodded.

“I’d rather see Dracula, but that ain’t on no more.”

“Isn’t Cass going with you?” Lanie asked.

“No.” Maeva shrugged. “She ain’t feelin’ good today. She was sick

this morning. Said she had some kind of stomachache.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll see how she’s doing later.”

The moviegoers left, and Lanie gave a sigh of relief. She valued

her quiet time, and putting the ironing away she went upstairs and

did what she often did to uncoil and relax. Taking out her folders that

contained her writings, she began to work on a poem. She had been

reading in Scripture about the woman who had touched the hem of

Jesus’ robe and was healed instantly. She had decided to call the poem

“The Touch,” and for the next hour she worked silently. As always,

time flew by as she changed words, rearranged sentences, found just

the right word that seemed to click. She tried to put herself in the

mind of that dying woman who so desperately needed a touch from

the Healer. Finally she was satisfied, made a fresh copy, and read it

aloud just to see how it sounded:

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The Touch

“And a certain woman . . . wh

en she had heard of Jes us, came in

the press

behind, and touched his garment. For she said, If I may

touch but his clot hes , I shall be wh

ole.” (Mark 5:25 – 28)

Come, Jacob, see the breakfast I have made —

Hot bread and honey cakes , ripe fi gs, and thick

Warm milk with rice plumped thick with juicy raisins.

O Husband, so many days I’ve watched you cook

While I lay sick, more your patient than your wife;

So now, to rise and fi x a simple meal

For you — almost it seems I am a bride

A sec ond time so strong and young I feel!

Was it but yes terday I woke

So drained and weak you had to hold my cup?

Now see how easily this heavy jug

I toss — O do not scold me — not today!

Since I touched his robe my wh

itened blood

Has fl ushed to scarlet (see the pulsing throb?)

Overfl owing my heart and quickened like

Spring fr eshlet s fed by drenching harves t showers.

Not so wh

en yes terday I dragg ed myself

Through crowded street s holding to the walls,

And would have fallen, but so packed the street

Like close-set grain, we held each ot her up.

Then he came — the air so noisy grew

My voice was drowned like a cricket ’s chirp.

How did I ever have the strength to push

Myself bet ween those bruising bodies , to reach

My sticklike arm until the tendons stret ched

Like tensioned wire?

I know but this: I touched his robe

More lightly than this breeze brushes my hair,

Just so — then muted all the clamorous noise;

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A sudden force broke forth, the throbbing blood

Beat through my veins and drummed so loudly that

I almost failed to hear his voice:

“Daughter, thy faith hath made thee wh

ole.”

So strong the pounding of my blood I did

Not see him go, but in a silent street

I found myself alone.

But Jacob,

How can we really be alone wh

en God

Walks down our street s —

And let s himself be touched?

Satisfied with her effort, she put the work back in the folder, con-

cealed it in the bottom drawer of her chest, and started out of the

room. She went down to the room that Cass shared with Maeva and

knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she called softly,

“Cass, are you awake?” Still no answer, so she opened the door. She

saw instantly that the room was empty and the bed was made up. A

small square of paper was on the bed, and she went to it at once. She

picked it up and alarm ran through her as she read:

You’re not able to take care of me. Thanks for all you’ve done.

Cass

.

At once Lanie ran down the stairs and sailed out the back door.

Davis had planned on hunting with Gerald Ramsey later in the after-

noon instead of going to the movie. She cried out, “Davis, Cass is

gone!”

Davis had raised the maul that was used for splitting wood, and

he stared at her. “What do you mean, gone?”

“She wrote a note. She said we can’t afford to keep her.”

Davis took the note and stared at it. “How long has she been

gone, do you think?”

“She was there when the kids went to the movie. That’s about an

hour or an hour and a half ago.” Lanie’s mind worked quickly. “I’ve

got to go get Sheriff Jessup. He’ll have to help us look.”

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THE DREAM

“That’ll take too long. She’s real weak. She couldn’t have gone

far.” Suddenly Davis’s eyes lit on Booger, who was sitting a few feet

away staring at the two as they spoke. “Booger can find her!” he

exclaimed. “Go up and get something she’s worn.”

“She took all of her things,” Lanie said. Then she cried out, “I

know. She’s been wearing a dress of mine. That would have her scent

on it.” She dashed into the house and was back in a moment.

Davis took the dress and said, “Come here, Booger.” The big dog

came over wagging his tail furiously. “Smell this.” Booger sniffed

eagerly, and finally when Davis said, “Find her, boy,” he put his nose

to the ground and began running in tight circles. Cass, of course, had

been out in the yard before, so her trail was crisscrossed, but finally

Booger turned out of the yard and headed north. “He’s found her

track,” Davis said. “You wait here, Lanie.”

“No! I’m going with you.”

The two followed the big dog, who moved with incredible speed.

He kept his nose to the ground and didn’t turn to the right or the

left.

“I think he’s headed toward the railroad. She might have gone

there to catch a train out,” Davis said.

“Well, there’s not a train for another three hours, so she’ll still be

there.”

Cass had made it to the water tank and now was sitting in the

shade. She had thrown up on the way, and her head was whirling. She

was so dizzy she could hardly keep her head up. Sitting there, she tried

to think about what she would do, but apart from getting on a freight

and getting away from Fairhope, she had no plan.

From far away came voices and the sound of footsteps, but she

paid no heed. She had never felt worse in her life. Besides being physi-

cally ill, she was in a deep state of despair. She was accustomed to hard

times, but the cumulative effect now seemed to press down upon her

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like a dark cloud. She sat there despondent, wishing she was dead.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, overcome with weakness and

vertigo, and went off into a half doze.

Suddenly her head jerked. She heard her name being called. Look-

ing to her right, she saw the big bloodhound Booger galloping toward

her with his ears flapping. Behind him, coming at a run, were Lanie

and Davis. She tried to get up, but before she could make it Davis was

next to her on one side and Lanie on the other.

“You can’t do this, Cass,” Davis said. He put his hand on her

shoulder. “Come on. You’ve got to go back home.”

“I don’t have any home.”

“Yes, you do. Your home is with us,” Lanie said. “You’re in no

condition to go anywhere. We’re going to take care of you.”

Cass could barely speak, but she summoned up all her strength

and said, “You can’t afford to keep a stranger. I heard you and Aunt

Kezia talking about how hard things are.”

Davis Freeman was not an eloquent young man. He was much

better with a bat on the ball field or fixing something mechanical

than making fine speeches. But there kneeling beside the girl whose

face was ashen pale and whose baggy clothes concealed the first signs

of young womanhood, he managed to say something that was abso-

lutely right.

“You’re not a stranger, Cass. You’re family. God has put you to be

with us for now.”

“That’s right,” Lanie said. “Now get up. You’re going home where

we can take care of you.”

Tears came to Cass’s eyes, and she wiped them away as the two

helped her up. She tried to think of something to say, but her mind

was in a whirl. As they headed back toward the Freeman house, she

surrendered herself to the two. The big dog Booger kept close at hand,

often nudging Davis with his nose, and was rewarded by a pat on his

head. Cass finally managed to say, “Nobody’s ever been so good to

me.” That was all she had the strength for, and she concentrated on

making it back to the house.

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Chapter 22

Martha and I are worried sick about Louise, Owen. Ever since

that preacher got snakebit she’s been here at the hospital

except for a few hours when she comes home to sleep.”

Otis Langley was a man who was in charge of most situations.

He was able to handle things, as a rule, but this time he had not been

able to control his daughter, which troubled him considerably. He

squeezed his hands together in a nervous fashion and said, “I’ve never

seen her act like this, Owen.”

“Well, she’s never had anything like this come up in her life,”

Owen explained.

“It was an accident, but it’s almost as if she feels responsible.”

More than once Owen noted that Louise had drawn close to Colin,

but he put it down to the rather traumatic experience and her gratitude

for Colin’s help.

“The way I understand it,” Owen said, “that snake would have

gotten her if it hadn’t been for Colin. He jumped in between them,

and it got him instead of her. When someone saves your life at the risk

of their own, it’s bound to have some effect.”

“I suppose you’re right, but — ”

“If I were you, I’d let her show all the concern she wants to.”

“But it’s been three days. How is that preacher anyway?”

“He’s recovering. He’s going to be all right. The leg’s gone down,

but that snake must have been a doozy. Colin got a big dose of poison.

As I’ve told you before, there’s not a lot we can do about the snakebite.

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It mostly depends on the constitution of the one who was bitten.”

Owen put his hand on Otis’s shoulder. “You ought to be proud of

Louise,” he said quietly. “I know that I am.”

“She’s not behaving logically.”

“Well, some things aren’t very logical. Sometimes our lives get to

be too organized, I think.”

“What do you mean by that?” Otis demanded.

“Well, did you ever read Robinson Crusoe?”

“Yes, I did. A long time ago.”

“I think that fellow got too caught up with neatness and effi-

ciency. Everything had to be just so. The big change in his life came

when he found a footprint. That meant he had a fellow human being

to respond to. That’s the way we are sometimes. We get caught up

with our business or with our hobbies, until suddenly we notice a

footprint. We become aware of another human being, and we know

we’re responsible for them somehow or other. I think that’s what hap-

pened to Louise, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing at all.”

Otis stared at the young man in front of him wondering, not for

the first time, what he was like. This was the man that Louise was

going to marry, and the desire of Otis Langley’s heart was that his

children would make good marriages. He said finally, “I wish you’d

make her go home.”

“I couldn’t do that, Otis. Like I said, I’ve never admired Louise so

much as I do over the way she’s caring for Colin Ryan.”

The blackness turned to a milky whiteness, and the voices that

had seemed far off became clearer. He could hear a whirring sound

and feel the coolness of a breeze blowing on his face.

Opening his eyes, Colin first saw the fan that was trained to blow

on him. He lay there, his mind reaching out, as he tried to think

where he was. The room was white, and there was only a bedside

table, except when he looked over to the right, he saw a chair. It took

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THE DREAM

him a long moment to recognize that a woman was in it. His thinking

processes were moving slowly, and after a few moments he realized,

Why, I’m in a hospital, and that’s Louise Langley.

And then the memories came rushing back. The instant when the

snake’s fangs had sunk into his calf, the trip to the hospital, and the

descent into a blackened bottomless pit interrupted, at times, by fiery

waves of pain and nausea.

Looking down, he saw that his leg was enormous. It felt tight

and looked like a sausage. “Well, aren’t you a pretty sight,” he

murmured.

The sound of his voice stirred the stillness of the room, and Lou-

ise, who had been dozing, sprang to her feet at once. She came over

to look down at him. Her face was pale, and for some reason her lips

were trembling. “Hello, Sister Louise,” he whispered. “This is a pretty

mess, isn’t it?”

Louise reached out and put her hand on his arm. “You’re awake,”

she said in an unsteady voice. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like I’ve been dragged through a knothole.” He looked

down at the leg and said, “That snake should have bit me in both legs,

then I’d have a matched set.”

“Don’t — don’t talk like that,” Louise said.

“It all seems kind of like a bad dream. I can only remember parts

of it.”

“You remember the snake biting you.”

“I thought he was going to get you,” Colin said slowly. “He was a

big one, wasn’t he?”

“If you hadn’t jumped between us, he would have bitten me.”

Colin’s mind was clearing up now, and he shrugged his shoulders

and stretched. Looking at her, he grinned slightly. “Well, women don’t

have a good history with snakes. I think it all started with Eve.”

Louise could not help smiling. “I don’t see how you can joke. It’s

been terrible.”

“You know, you look worse than I’ve ever seen you,” Colin said.

“How long have I been here?”

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“Three days.”

“Three days! I can’t afford to lose three days. There’s too much

to do.”

“You’re not going to do anything for a while,” Louise said firmly,

“but rest.”

Colin Ryan laughed softly. “You are the bossiest woman I’ve ever

seen. If I were any kind of a man, I would get up and walk out of here

and go my own way.”

Louise put her hand on his chest. “I wouldn’t let you.” She tried to

think of some way to thank him for what he had done, and finally she

swallowed and said, “If it hadn’t been for you, that snake would have

bitten me. Owen talked to me about it. He said that being smaller, the

poison would have worked more damage on me than on you. He said

I probably would have died if the snake had gotten me.”

Colin Ryan studied the face of the young woman. She had, he

knew, a tremendous self-sufficiency, and she would always be on

guard. Her pride could sweep her violently, but that pride had some-

how been broken, and he saw this in her eyes and in her posture.

“Well, when’s somebody coming to give me the medal?”

“What medal?”

“The medal for saving your life. Maybe there’ll be a check to go

with it.”

Louise found herself with a lightness of spirit that buoyed her

up. “You’re impossible,” she said. “You almost died, and you lie there

joking.”

“Well, if I saved your life, you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? What do you want?”

“I want to be sure that the church keeps on lending money

to God.”

“You mean the welfare program,” Louise said. “You want me to

keep it going.”

“Yes. I think it’s been a great thing for the church.”

“I’ll do that, Colin.” Calling him by his first name felt natural. As

she looked down on him, she was considering his request. She knew

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that if she were in his position, she would not have been thinking of

poor people but of her own misfortune. Something’s been left out of me

that’s in this young man, she thought. And as she stood over him, she

was determined to somehow find out what that element was and how

she might appropriate some of it.

As Owen entered the room, he saw that Louise seemed much bet-

ter. The drained expression that had manifested itself in her features

during the first three days of Colin Ryan’s sickness was gone, and she

was smiling. He turned to study Colin, who was sitting upright in

bed. “How’s my patient today?”

“Well, I’m a little bit lopsided. One leg’s bigger than the other. Is

it going to be that way forever, Doctor?”

“Come on, Reverend, it’s gone down considerably.” Owen went over

and studied the leg and said, “I think we can put you in a wheelchair.”

“I’d like to go home.”

“Well, you can’t.” Owen suddenly laughed. “Now, if you were

married and had a wife to take care of you, that would work out

fine.”

“Well, I don’t suppose it would be very romantic to marry a woman

just to take care of me. But I would almost be willing to do it.”

Louise had been standing back, and now she asked, “Are you

really so unhappy here, Colin?”

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Louise said impulsively, “You could come and stay with us until

you’re well.”

Both Merritt and Ryan gave her a look of surprise. “I don’t know

why you’re so shocked about that,” Louise said, her face reddening.

“We’ve got a huge house and a spare bedroom.”

“Well, your father might have some objections,” Colin said. “He

hasn’t been leading the cheering section for me since I’ve come to

town.”

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“I know you two have had your differences, but you wouldn’t

even have to see him. Julie’s a good cook, and we could bring you

your meals just as they do here. If you’d like to come,” she said rather

stiffly, “it would be all right with me.”

“Well, it sounds a little ungracious to say this, but I’d stay any-

where to get out of this hospital. Doctor, you think your fiancée is

capable of taking care of a snakebit preacher?”

“I think she’ll do a fine job.” He turned to Louise and smiled.

“I’m surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Louise suddenly laughed but seemed embarrassed. “I’m surprised

at myself.” She looked at Colin and said, “Don’t worry. It’ll just be for

a few days.”

“Maybe I’ll have a relapse.” Colin winked at Merritt. “You’ll have

me on your hands for a year or so.”

Louise said, “I’d better go tell my parents.”

She left the room, and Colin grinned broadly. “You’re quite a fel-

low, Owen Merritt. Most fiancés would be a little bit jealous.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Something’s wrong then. To put your fiancée within range of a

good-looking, charming, witty fellow like me. Most men would find

that a little bit not to their taste.”

“I think Louise can handle you. I’ll go arrange for your release.”

“I have something to tell you that may be a shock,” Louise said

quickly. She had called her parents together in the parlor and was star-

ing at them with a certain stubbornness in her eyes.

“What is it, Louise?” Martha asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll bet it’s that preacher. Has he had a relapse?”

“No. But it’s about him I have to talk to you.” Louise had prac-

ticed her speech on the way home, and now she said it quickly and

with energy. “Brother Ryan is sick of that hospital. Owen says he

doesn’t have to stay there, but that he has to have some care for a few

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days. I invited him to stay with us. He can stay in our guest room and

won’t be any trouble.”

Martha was surprised indeed. “I thought you didn’t like the man,

Louise.”

“He saved me from that snake, Mother.” She hesitated and then

said, “I’ve had bad dreams about that. It was an awful-looking thing,

and he saw it and jumped right between me and that snake. I don’t

think I would do that for anybody. I couldn’t!”

Otis tried to think of a reason why this would not work, but he

saw the stubbornness in his daughter’s eyes. He couldn’t help smiling

as he recognized where she had gotten that quality. “Well, I suppose

it will only be for a few days.”

“Of course, Daddy, and I’ll see that he doesn’t bother you.” She

turned and began calling for Elsie, the maid. Her parents stood there

listening as she gave orders to have the guest room cleaned.

“Where does she get that willful stubbornness from, Martha?”

Martha Langley turned to her husband and smiled. “Not from

me, dear,” she said sweetly, then turned away.

The rain had begun early in the morning and was still falling

when Louise came into the guest room where Colin was staying. He

was dressed and seated in the chair, and she said with surprise, “I

thought you’d stay in bed today.”

“No. I’m sick of bed. What’s for breakfast?”

“Just what you ordered. Ham, eggs, and biscuits.”

Colin took the tray and balanced it on his knees. “You know, I

could get used to treatment like this.” It was his second day visiting

with the Langleys, and he had slept like a log and was feeling much

better. “Actually, I might feel strong enough to go to church.”

“You’re not going to church,” Louise said firmly. “Brother Pink

got a substitute preacher.”

“Who did he get?”

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“I forgot his name. It doesn’t matter. You’re not going.”

Colin turned his head to one side and studied her. “You know,

you sound an awful lot like a domineering woman.”

“I am a domineering woman. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I like domineering women myself. It saves me from hav-

ing to make decisions of my own.” He looked down at the food and

without closing his eyes said, “Well, Lord, I’m thankful for this food.

Amen.”

“You call that a blessing?”

“I don’t pray eloquently when I’m hungry.” He took a mouthful

of eggs and said, “Tell Julie the eggs are just right. Did you notice she

put some bell pepper in them and some hot sauce?”

“That’s the way to ruin good eggs.” Louise smiled. “I tried them

and it tasted horrible.”

“I’ve got a favor to ask. You haven’t done anything for me in the

last ten minutes.”

“What is it, Colin?” She suddenly said, “I shouldn’t be calling

you Colin. It should be Brother Colin or Brother Ryan.”

“I like Colin. I’m just sort of an imitation preacher anyhow. Just

a fill-in until the real man gets here. As long as we’re in private, let’s

just call each other by our names, okay?”

“All right,” Louise said. “What’s the favor?”

“I was talking with Pardue on the phone trying to get him to go

to church. He wouldn’t come, but he told me that the Freemans’ truck

had broken down. He’s got it in his shop working on it. They were

gonna walk to church, but it’s pouring out there. Would you mind

going by and getting them, taking them to church this morning?” He

watched her cautiously.

Louise hesitated for a moment then said, “Of course I’ll do that.

Any other requests?”

“Don’t run off too quick. I may want another helping of these

eggs.”

“I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. After church I’ll come back and tell

you how much better the preacher’s sermon was than yours.”

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“Take notes, will you. I’ll use the material and improve on it.”

“I love that new dress, Maeva,” Lanie said. “It’s the prettiest one

you’ve ever had.”

“You’re a right natural seamstress, you are,” Aunt Kezia said.

“When you gonna make me a dress?”

The family had gathered to go to church. Deoin Jinks from across

the street had come over with a message from Brother Ryan that some-

one would come to pick them up.

“Did you ask Cass to go to church?” Lanie spoke to Davis.

“She said she didn’t feel like it. She really needs to see Doctor

Owen. She’s been sick for a week now. I’m worried about her.”

“I’ll tell him at church. Maybe he’ll come by,” Lanie said.

Cody said, “Well, we’re a little bit early, so I have an announce-

ment to make.”

Everyone turned to look at Cody, not knowing what to expect.

“What is it this time, Cody? You gonna give us another sermon?”

Davis grinned.

“No, but I’m here to announce that our financial worries are

over.” He looked around in triumph as everyone stared at him. “I

found out a way to make lots of money. I want to show you what it is.

Stay right here.”

He dashed out of the house, and Corliss went over to watch through

the window. “He’s going to the barn where he works on things,” she

announced.

“Another one of his inventions, I guess.” Maeva shrugged. “Some

day he’s going to invent one that’s really useful.”

The rain was still pouring down, and Cody was wet as he came

inside. “I have to change shirts,” he said, “but I couldn’t wait until

after church to show you this.”

He put an object down on the table and said, “Well, there she is.

What do you think?”

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Everyone crowded around and stared at the object. It was about

fourteen inches high and made of black walnut. Cody was an excel-

lent woodworker, and the wood gleamed. On the bottom of it was a

round flat pan of some kind. Lanie said, “What is it?”

“What is it! Why, I was looking at a Monkey Ward Catalog and I

seen one of these things. I put on my thinkin’ cap and I invented one.”

“Well, whatever it is, the wood sure is nice,” Davis said.

Cody said in a disgusted tone, “Why, it’s one of them mixin’

machines, don’t you see?”

“A mixer?” Lanie said. “Where are the blades?”

“Right here.” Cody whipped one out of his pocket. He shoved it

up where it caught somehow and said, “There. Look. It tilts back. Let

me get a big bowl. Come on into the kitchen. I’m going to try it out.”

At that instant there was a knock at the door. “We’ll have to do it

later, Cody,” Lanie said. “Our ride’s here.” She went to the door and

opened it and saw Louise Langley standing there.

“Hello, Lanie,” Louise said. “Brother Ryan said your truck was in

the shop. He asked me to take you to church.”

“Why, how thoughtful of you, Louise. Come in. We’re almost

ready.”

Louise stepped inside. Lanie said, “Come on into the kitchen.

Cody was about to show us his new invention.”

Louise followed Lanie into the kitchen, and Lanie said, “Look.

Louise came to take us to church.”

“Well, that’s right neighborly of you, Miss Louise,” Davis said

with a smile.

Cody said, “You’re just in time to see my new invention.”

“You invent things?” Louise said.

“He does, and none of them ever work,” Maeva said. “Let’s go to

church.”

“Wait a minute. It won’t take but a few seconds. I want to show

you how it all works. You can see too, Miss Louise. It’s a mixer.”

“Oh, yes. We have one of those.”

Cody said, “How much did it cost?”

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“That’s none of your business,” Lanie said.

Louise suddenly laughed. “I have no idea. I suppose around ten

or fifteen dollars.”

“Well, my mixer only cost twenty-five cents. That’s what the

beater blade cost. The rest of it I made up out of stuff I found. Here.

Let me show you how it works.” He grabbed a big bowl from the

cabinet and said, “Lanie, put some stuff in here like you mix up for a

cake, whatever it is. Flour and chocolate and butter and stuff like that.

We’ll actually make us a cake.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Sure we do,” Cody insisted. “I just want you to see a genius at

work.”

“Go ahead,” Louise said. “I came a little bit early. I’d like to see

this invention work.”

“All right,” Lanie said. Quickly she added the various ingredients

to the big bowl, including eggs, chocolate, flour, and oil. “Here,” she

said. “What next?”

“Why, you just put the bowl right here. It’s what’s called a Lazy

Susan. That means it just rolls around while the stuff is mixing. You

see the top tilts back so that the beater’s out. And you see this? This

is the switch. You turn it on here.” He turned it on, and the beater

began to whir.

“Well, the thing works,” Davis said. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh, I’ve tried that part out before. I just didn’t have the ingredi-

ents to make nothin’. Everybody ready? Gather around close so you

can see.”

Everybody got as close to the table as they could, and Cody said

with a triumphant voice, “Here we go — !”

What happened then was so quick that nobody could actually see

it. Lanie did see Cody lower the blade into the dish containing the

ingredients — but then it was like a bomb going off. The ingredients

of the dish simply disappeared when the blade hit it. There was a uni-

versal gasp as the mixture flew out of the bowl — and onto everybody

else.

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“My dress!” Maeva screamed. “Look at my dress!”

Lanie saw that the front of Maeva’s dress was spattered with the

dark brown mixture — as was her face. It looked like she had brown

freckles. Maeva reached up and touched her hair. “My hair! You got

this mess in my hair!” she cried. “You monster!”

Everyone was looking around, and Davis, who was spotted as

much as the others, said, “Look. It’s all over the ceiling and the walls.

What did you do, you idiot?”

Cody’s face was speckled and dotted, and his hair in front was one

solid mass of cake mix. His white shirt was spotted, and he opened his

mouth but could not frame the words.

Aunt Kezia was licking her finger. “Mmm. Not bad, Cody.”

Suddenly Lanie remembered Louise. She whirled quickly and saw

that the beautiful clothes Louise wore were as spotted as everyone

else’s. Her face and hat were also spotted, and her eyes were wide open

with shock. Lanie was totally humiliated. “What have you done? This

is awful.” She knew that Louise Langley would never let them forget

this.

Suddenly Louise began to giggle. She touched her face and

said, “If I look as bad as the rest of you, I’d hate to see myself in the

mirror.”

“I’m so sorry, Louise,” Lanie whispered. “He’s — he’s just terrible.”

Davis marched over and looked at the machine. He reached out

and said, “Where did you get the motor for this crazy thing, Cody.”

“Why, off of an old washing machine — it ran fine.”

Davis suddenly began to laugh. “A mixer runs around eight or

nine hundred revolutions per minute. You know how many revolu-

tions a minute a washing machine motor makes, Cody?”

“No. I don’t have no idea.”

“Three thousand one hundred and twenty-five.”

Suddenly Aunt Kezia began to laugh. “Well, we’re gonna be quite

a sight if we go to church looking like this.”

Louise said quickly, “I think we’re going to have to regroup. Why

don’t I go home and we’ll all get cleaned up, and I’ll come later and

take you to the night ser vice.”

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“That’s so sweet of you, Louise. I’m surprised you’d ever speak to

us again,” Lanie said.

Louise looked over at Cody and said, “It must be interesting living

with you, young man. Let me know the next time you have an inven-

tion to demonstrate. I’ll arrange to be somewhere else.” She laughed

again, touched her face, and smeared the chocolate. “I think I’ll just

step in to see our pastor and show him what sort of reception I got.”

She was still laughing as she left, and Maeva stared after her.

“What’s got into her? She’s always despised us. How come she’s so

nice?”

Cody stood there with his speckled face looking at his invention.

He looked up then and pronounced his version of what had happened

to Louise Langley.

“Well, it’s pretty clear to me what happened.” He nodded confi-

dently. “That snake scared the meanness out of her. Maybe,” he said,

“we ought to put a snake on her dad and it’d do the same for him.”

“That makes about as much sense as your stupid invention,”

Maeva said. “You’ve ruined my dress.” She turned and fled from the

room.

Corliss came over to Cody and reached up and took his hand.

Turning her speckled face up, she said, “That was fun, Cody. Let’s put

somethin’ else in there and do it again!”

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Chapter 23

Lanie pulled on a sweater, for the room was cold, then she sat

down, opening her journal, and began to write:

November the sec ond, 1931. The papers have all been fi lled

with how Al Capone has fi nally gone to prison. They say he mur-

dered a great many people, but they couldn’t catch him, and

now they’ve sent him to jail for income tax evasion. What really

troubles me is that people treat him like a hero. One of the stories

said that thousands of people lined up just to see him as he was

carried out of the courthouse. Why would people admire a man

like that? I think it’s awful.

It’s been almost a month now since Brot her Ryan was bit by

that awful snake, and praise the Lord, he’s complet ely rec overed.

I think that experience aff ect ed Louise more than it did Brot her

Ryan. She’s changed so much! She’s thrown herself complet ely into

the welfare program, and she and Brot her Ryan run all over the

place trying to help people wh

o need it.

It’s a great work, but wouldn’t you know it, there’s already

goss ip fl oating around about how it’s not right for an unmar-

ried preacher to be es corting a young woman around so much. I

don’t think you could please everybody, but I’m happ y that Lou-

ise has had a change of heart. I can see it in her face fr om wh

ere

I sit in the choir. She seems to have a joy now that she never

had before. I do not ice that she’s diff erent toward Brot her Ryan.

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She keeps her eyes fi xed on him wh

en he’s preaching, like he was

Moses . Not hing wrong with that, I supp ose, but I think —

A knock at the door interrupted Lanie, and she closed the journal

quickly and called out, “Come on in.”

Davis came in and said, “Are you busy?”

“No. What is it?”

“I been thinkin’ about Cass. I don’t like what’s happening to her.”

“Sit down, Davis.” Lanie waited until Davis sat down on the bed,

and she noticed how his face was drawn with worry. He was a serious

teenager, far more so than Cody or Maeva, and was the one that Lanie

could talk to about her problems. “I know she’s having a hard time.

She’s trying to help around the house, but her heart’s not in it.”

“She seems so hopeless, Lanie. It’s like her whole world has

stopped.”

“She’s had a hard life. You can tell that.”

“I’ve tried to get her to go to church, but she just won’t go. I don’t

know why.”

The two sat there talking for some time, and Lanie’s heart went

out to Davis. He was a gentle young man far more concerned with

the problems of others than most boys his age. Finally he got up and

sighed. “Well, I wish you’d try to talk to her, Lanie.”

“I will. And you talk to her too. Between the two of us, we’ll see

her come around.”

The snow was falling as Owen Merritt walked along the street

toward the church. The flakes were small and hard, and they bit at

his face, as he was not wearing a hat. It was late afternoon now, and

already the sky was darkening. Merritt lifted his eyes and saw Louise

coming out of the church. He hurried forward and said, “Louise!”

When she turned, he smiled and said, “I came to get you.”

“What for?”

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“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, Owen, I can’t right now. Colin and I’ve got three more fam-

ilies to see today.”

“We were supposed to go out and have dinner tonight.”

“I don’t think we’ll be back in time. Let’s postpone it.”

Owen wanted to remind her that they had postponed several

engagements, but he refrained. “I’ve got some good news then. I was

going to buy you a good supper and tell you while you were eating,

but I guess it’ll have to be here.”

“Good news? What is it, Owen?”

“I found us a house.”

“A house? What do you mean?”

“I mean we’ve been talking about where we’re going to live after

we’re married, and I found just the place for us.” Owen waited for her

to light up, but she did not. She only looked harried.

“Can’t we talk about this later, Owen?”

“Sure. I just thought you’d want to know. But I want to warn

you, it’s not a fine place. Just a little two-bedroom house. The little

white one off of Gaines Street across from the Millers. It’s been vacant

quite a while now and will need a lot of fixing up. But I talked to Mr.

Oz who owns it. We can get it cheap. It’ll be fun moving in and fix-

ing it up.”

“Well, that’s nice, Owen.”

Owen was disappointed in Louise’s response. He had worked

hard to find a house that would fit within their budget. He was finally

excited about it, and now Louise’s attitude dampened his spirit. He

said, “Well, we can look at it later if you like.”

“Hello, Owen.” Colin came out with his arms loaded, carrying a

big box. “Looks like we’re going to get some weather.”

“I guess so.”

“Colin, we’d better hurry if we’re going to make all of our stops.”

Louise seemed anxious to leave.

“All right. This is the last box. You want to come with us, Owen?”

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“No. I’ve got another house call to make.” He hesitated, then

said, “I can’t tell you how happy I am that your welfare program has

worked out.”

“It’s been a miracle,” Louise said, her face brightening. “It was just

as Colin said. The more we give, the more keeps coming in. I don’t

think I could ever doubt God again.”

Colin looked at her fondly, then winked at Owen. “She’s gonna

be the preacher around here if I don’t watch out.”

Owen smiled and nodded. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Louise,

for dinner if you can get free.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can.” Louise smiled, then turned and said, “We’d

better get going, Colin.”

Louise was holding the baby, who looked up at her with owlish

eyes. “He’s such a beautiful child,” Louise said. The two had come to

the home of the Williamsons and had delivered the groceries. It was

in the poorest section of town, and the Williamsons were in desper-

ate need. Louise had grown accustomed, more than she would have

dreamed, to the hard face of poverty. Now she touched the baby’s

chin and laughed when he suddenly smiled at her toothlessly. “You’re

a charmer, you are.”

Colin winked at Mrs. Williamson. “You better watch out. She’s

liable to be one of those fairies that steal babies.”

“Don’t be silly, Colin,” Louise said.

“Well, we have to leave. Sister Williamson, you let us know if

there’s anything else.”

Mrs. Williamson was a small woman. Between three children

and a husband who was often ill, she was worn down. But her eyes

were bright, and there was spirit in her voice as she said, “Thank you

so much, Pastor, and you, Miss Langley. I don’t know what we would

have done without you.”

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The two left, and as they came down the porch steps, Colin looked

up and said, “I’ve never seen it snow this hard. Look. The flakes are

almost as big as quarters.”

“I love the snow.”

“I love it when it’s falling, and I love it the morning after,” Colin

said. He took her arm and led her down the walk and toward the car.

“What I hate is getting around in the slush and trying to get a car

started.”

Colin opened the door, helped Louise in, and then started the

engine. “The first car my folks ever had was a Model T. You remem-

ber those?”

“Yes. We had one,” Louise said.

“You had to crank the thing. My father broke his arm with that.

That crank spun around and snapped it like it was a dry stick. He

let me do the cranking from then on.” He grinned and started the

engine. “Self-starting engines. Now that’s progress.”

The snow was coming so thickly that it was almost impossible

to see more than a few feet ahead. Colin drove very slowly. Lean-

ing forward, he peered through the windshield that was cleared only

momentarily of the snow. He was listening as Louise spoke of the

visits that they had made that day. She began talking about other

people that were on their list. Colin turned to look at her, and when

he looked back he suddenly saw a form on the highway directly in

front of them. Desperately he twisted the wheel, and the car skidded

sideways then turned completely around and dropped the rear wheel

off into the ditch with a resounding racket.

“What was that, Colin?”

Colin stared out the side window. “It was a deer, but I thought at

first it might be a person.” The car was tilted over toward the passen-

ger’s side. Colin gunned the engine, but the wheel spun. “This is not

good,” he said. He got out, walked around the car, came back, and

got in. “No way we can get out of this ditch without help,” he said. “I

better start walking. There’s a house about three or four miles down

the road.”

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“I’ll go with you.”

“No. Look at those shoes. You’d freeze your feet.”

“Then let’s just sit here. Somebody will come along pretty soon.

They can take us into town. We can have Pardue send somebody to

pull the car in tomorrow.”

“All right. I guess that’s the best thing.” Colin sat there and

remarked, “Do you ever notice how quiet snow is? It seems to muffle

everything.”

“It is quiet, isn’t it?” She turned to face him and could barely

make out his features. “You don’t worry about things much, do you,

Colin?”

“I try not to.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You mean now? We’re going to wait for a car.”

“I mean after you leave Fairhope.”

“Don’t know.” Colin shrugged. “Don’t have to know. God knows

and that’s enough.”

Louise was silent for a time and then shook her head. “I never

took God into my confidence. I mean, whenever I wanted to do

something, I just did it.”

“That’s what most people do.”

The two sat there talking, and despite the unpleasantness of the

situation, Louise was not worried. This amazed her, for ordinarily the

old Louise would have been worried sick right about now.

The cold, however, began to bite at both of them, and seeing

Louise shiver, Colin said, “I’ve got to go for help. We could be here

all night.”

“You’re not strong enough for that. Not after that awful time with

the snakebite.”

“Why, I’m fit as a fiddle. They might have a tractor they could

pull us out with, or maybe some mules.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Well,” Colin said, “we’ll wait another half hour. Then if some-

one doesn’t come, I’ll have to go. Here. What are we thinking of.

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We’ve got some blankets we were going to give away.” He leaned over

and pulled a blanket out of the backseat. “Just one left. Here. Put it

around you.”

He undid the blanket and put it around her, but she said, “You

get under here too. You’re freezing just like I am.”

Colin hesitated, then laughed. “All right. You know what this

reminds me of?” he said as he arranged the blanket. He was sitting

close to her now, and it seemed a natural thing to put his arm around

her shoulder. “It reminds me of bundling back in the old Puritan

days.”

“Bundling? What was that?”

“It was a custom the Puritans had. When a young man was court-

ing a young woman, he’d stay all night, and they’d sleep together in

the same bed with just a board between them. Sometimes not even

that.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I don’t think it’s a custom that needs to be revived.”

Louise was getting warmer. The blanket helped, and Colin was

sitting very close to her with his arm around her. She sat there amazed

that she could be contented, and finally she said, “I’ve never told you

how sorry I am for the way I treated you when you first came to

town.”

“I’ve been treated lots worse than that.”

“Well, I’m sorry, and I want you to forgive me.”

Colin turned. Her features were clear in the moonlight. She had

large expressive eyes, and the perfume that she wore was faint but

distinct. “Well, I don’t think I’ve told you how much I’ve admired the

way you’ve changed and how happy I’ve been for you.”

“Changed?”

“You’re a different woman. I’ve always thought you were beauti-

ful on the outside, but now since I got bit by that snake and you took

care of me, and with the work we’ve done on the welfare project, I see

something beautiful on the inside as well.”

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A warmth came to Louise Langley then. “Nobody’s ever said any-

thing like that to me before. It makes me feel — very good.”

Louise had learned during her time with Colin Ryan that he was

actually a very lonely young man. He stayed busy enough, but there

were times when she would see in him a hunger for something more

than his work. She watched him now and realized that she did not

admire any man as much as she admired this one. She whispered, “It’s

been wonderful working with you.”

At that moment she was also aware of the strong attraction this

man had for her. A shock ran along her nerves as the thought came,

Why, I want him to kiss me and to put his arms around me.

Then as if he had read her thoughts, he pulled her close and with-

out stopping to consider, she lifted her face. His lips were firm on

hers, and she knew as he held her that she had a power over him, and

the thought pleased her. She was aware of the urgency of his need, for

it made a turbulent eddy around them both. She knew, somehow, she

should be afraid, but it was only a strange sort of breathless anticipa-

tion she felt. The pressure of his wants held her there, and for the first

time in her life she was aware that the potential to stir a man was in

her in a way she had never known.

Colin lifted his head and said huskily, “I shouldn’t have done

that.”

“I . . . I guess we’re entitled to one mistake.”

Both of them were aware at that moment that they were on the

edge of the mystery that exists between men and women. It was that

moment when neither knew where they were going, and now Louise

felt a sense of possessiveness. She reached up and touched his cheek.

“I feel safe with you, Colin.”

Colin Ryan suddenly straightened up and cleared his throat. His

voice wasn’t steady as he said, “I’ve got to go get help, Louise. We can’t

stay here all night.”

Louise smiled, for she knew his motives. He did not trust him-

self with her, and she understood that. “I didn’t think preachers did

things like this.”

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“I don’t. That is, I never have. But I’m human like everyone else.”

He started to leave and had thrown the blanket back, but then he

turned to face her. “Louise, are you in love with Owen?”

Confusion suddenly filled Louise. “I . . . I thought I was.”

“It’s something to think about. You need to know.” He opened

the door and said, “I’m going to get help.” He shut the door and left.

The windows were covered with snow, and Louise could not see

him. She pulled the covers around her, tucked her feet up under her-

self, and in the silence of the car she reviewed her decision to marry

Owen. She went over it in her mind, and she suddenly realized that

she had always expected to marry a “comfortable” man, and that’s

what Owen was. Comfortable — and a doctor. He fit all her precon-

ceived notions of the perfect husband.

Suddenly she thought, I’ve never been stirred by Owen as I have

been by Colin. And as she sat there in the silence, she knew she would

have a hard time getting away from the memory of their caress.

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Chapter 24

Aunt Kezia was firm about choosing the time to kill the hog they

had been fattening up. “If you kill a hog in the new moon and

slice it and put it in a pan,” she said, “you can’t fry the grease out of it

hardly. You don’t want to kill it on the new moon. We got to wait for

the full moon.” Lanie considered this to be superstition but agreed to

wait until later in November, and now as the whole family was gath-

ered together, she thought rebelliously, I’ d rather do anything in the

world than kill and dress a hog. Still, it had to be done, for there was no money to buy the meat at the grocery store.

Cass joined the family, but she was pale, and now as Davis

approached the hog, she asked Maeva, “What’s he going to do?”

“Why, he’s going to kill that hog, of course.”

No sooner had she said this than Davis lifted his rifle and shot

the hog in the back of the head. He reached down at once, pulled out

his sheath knife, and cut the jugular vein.

Cass turned deathly pale and muttered, “I can’t stand to look at

this.”

Lanie looked up and said, “If the rest of us can stand it, Cass, I

guess you can too.”

“No. It’s going to make me sick.” Cass turned and walked blindly

away, her head bent and her hand over her mouth.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to do a little work,” Lanie called out as the

girl walked away. Ordinarily she would not have thought of speak-

ing this roughly to anyone, but Lanie, who hated every step in the

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process, was not herself. She had become fond of the hog, named

her Suzy, and was angry that there was no alternative to killing her.

In addition Lanie was frustrated with Cass’s constant listlessness and

lack of gratitude, and now she uncharacteristically allowed her fury to

fly. “You come back here, Cass!” she called.

Davis turned to go after her, and Lanie said, “Davis, you come

back here. We’ve got to get this hog dressed.”

Davis hesitated and then said, “You get the water scalding hot.

Somebody needs to tell Cass it’s okay.”

Turning without another word, Davis ran off and Lanie said, “All

right. Let’s get the water boiling. We’ve got to get this hide scraped.”

The process was complicated enough and a nasty business. The hair

had to be scraped with a dull knife until all the hair was off the hide.

All except Corliss gathered around to pour the scalding water and

scrape.

Cody hated the job as bad as anybody else. “I don’t see why we

just can’t eat bologna all the time,” he muttered.

“You’d be the first one to complain if you didn’t get your bacon

and ham and pork chops,” Lanie said. “Now hush and get to work.”

“I sure hope there ain’t no hogs to be killed in heaven,” Cody

said.

“Why, you ninny, of course there won’t be any hogs to kill in

heaven!” Maeva said crossly. She was wearing her oldest dress and

dumped more scalding water that splattered on her. “There’s no death

in heaven.”

“I know that, but I always figured it meant humans wouldn’t

die. What are we going to eat in heaven? I always figured it would be

about like here.”

“Will there be ice cream in heaven?” Corliss asked, edging in

closer toward Cody.

“Well, of course there’ll be ice cream in heaven. What kind of a

place would it be without ice cream?”

Maeva was irritated with Cody. “Show me one place in the Bible

where it says there’ll be ice cream in heaven.”

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Cody did not like to lose arguments, and he immediately changed

the subject. “Let’s get this here hog butchered as quick as we can.

One of these days,” he added, “I’m going to invent a machine that’ll

butcher hogs. Just march one in with the hair all on them and out

the other end comes sausage and hams all tied up neat. Won’t that be

something?”

“I’m sorry Lanie’s so sharp, Cass,” Davis said. He caught up with

Cass, who had walked into the woods and now sat down on a rot-

ting log. Her face was pale, and her lower lip was trembling. Davis

sat down beside her. He wanted to put his arm around her to pat her

shoulder, but he had discovered that she hated to be touched. “It’s just

Lanie hates killing hogs, and I guess everybody else does too.”

Cass sat there looking as miserable as a young woman could.

Davis glanced at her occasionally as he tried to make things right. It

was hard to remember that this was the same young woman he had

met in a box car. She wore one of Maeva’s old dresses, which was too

small for her, and the sunlight set its rich shining on her light hair.

He noticed that her lips were pleasantly firm, and her eyes were well-

shaped, but now they seemed to be filled with misery. They were

shadowed and obscure and reserved, made that way by some past

that she refused to speak of. There was a silence about her, and Davis

felt a sudden gust of compassion go through him. He could not help

but notice that she was round and mature, and once or twice he had

seen her laugh and knew that there was humor in her that she did not

often allow to be seen. Now as he studied her, he saw that there was an

undertow in her spirit, something that was pulling her down. Think-

ing it must be the hog killing and the sharpness of Lanie’s words, he

said, “Don’t be mad at Lanie. She’s got a hard row to hoe. We’d all be

in foster homes now, separated, if it weren’t for her.”

Cass suddenly shook her head, and her lips were pulled together

into a line. She looked at the ground for a time and then she whis-

pered, “I’m leaving here, Davis.”

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Davis blinked with surprise. “Why, you can’t do that, Cass. We

don’t have much here, but you’ve got a place to sleep and there’ll

always be food. You can — ”

“I can’t stay here anymore.”

“We all want you to stay.”

Suddenly Cass turned and looked full at Davis. Her lips trem-

bled, and her voice was unsteady as she said, “You won’t want me here

when you find out — ”

Davis waited for her to finish, but she said no more and turned

her head away. He had seen the tears in her eyes, and more than ever

he wanted to help her. “Why would you want to leave here?”

The silence was broken by the voices of the others as they worked

on the hog. From far off they could hear Beau barking at some hap-

less squirrel that he had run up a tree. The weather was cold, and the

sounds carried sharply. Davis reached out and touched Cass’s shoul-

der. “What’s wrong, Cass?” he said. “Why would you want to leave

here?”

“You’ll hate me when you find out that . . .” She hesitated again.

“That I’m going to have a baby.”

Davis dropped his hand immediately. The shock of her words ran

through his nerves. He was a fairly innocent young man, although

he knew such things happened to young girls. He had heard about

it, but somehow he never imagined that this could happen to anyone

he knew. He felt tied to her in some peculiar way that he could not

understand or explain to anyone. He tried desperately to find some

way to answer her, and finally he said, “Well, I’m sorry. You should

have told us before.”

“I couldn’t. I’m too ashamed.”

Davis felt completely beyond his depths. “Cass, you got to talk to

Lanie about this.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. She’ll hate me. Everybody will.”

“Lanie never hated anybody in her life. You go on to the house

now. I’ll get Lanie off to one side and tell her, and then you two can

talk. It’ll be all right.”

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“No. It won’t be all right. Not ever.” Cass got up and walked away

without a backward look.

Davis watched her go and then his shoulders sagged. Turning

back, he walked back toward the others.

Lanie said, “Come on. We’ve got this critter scalded. Now let’s

hang him up.”

“Okay.”

Davis worked automatically. Once the hide was scraped and the

hamstring was exposed on both hind legs, a stick sharpened on both

ends was slipped behind the exposed tendon. This was used to pull

the hog up to hang upside down from a log that was set in forked

supports.

Davis was the best at what came next. He made a long incision

on the underside and across the chin, taking care not to cut the intes-

tinal membrane. Cody was there to shove a tub under, and when

Davis made the second incision, the worst part for most of them hap-

pened, when the intestines dropped from the cavity and were caught

in the tub. The work went on silently except for the complaints from

Maeva, and finally the fat was cut off while the white carcass was still

hanging. It was thrown into a fat pot to be rendered into lard and

cracklins.

Davis then took an ax and chopped all the way down both sides

of the backbone, and from this point it was a matter of cutting up

the meat. “All right. That’s done. Now we got to cure this meat and

smoke it,” Lanie said, her lips tight. “Let’s hurry up. I’m glad this only

happens once a year.”

“I sure am glad there won’t be any hog killing in heaven,” Cody

muttered, and they all hurried to finish.

It was almost dark by the time the curing and the smoking pro-

cess had started. As they went back toward the house, Davis said,

“Lanie, I’ve got to tell you something.”

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“What is it, Davis? I’m tired.”

“It’s Cass. She’s — she’s going to have a baby.”

Lanie suddenly stopped dead still. “What?”

“That’s right. She told me earlier today. That’s why she’s been

sick, I guess.”

Lanie remembered the sicknesses and upset stomachs, and sud-

denly it all made sense. “What else did she tell you about it?”

“She said she was going to leave here. I told her I’d tell you and

you’d talk to her.” Davis suddenly broke out in a desperate voice.

“You’ve got to help her, Lanie. We all do. She doesn’t have any place

to go. If she did, she’d have gone there. Will you talk to her?”

Lanie paused, thinking. She turned resolutely to Davis. “Of

course I will. I’ll get cleaned up, and then we’ll both go.”

Davis and Lanie were sitting across from Cass. The girl’s head

was down, and tears were running down her cheek. “It’s going to be

all right. Don’t cry, Cass.”

Lanie had been gentle with the girl. She saw the terrible fear in

Cass’s eyes and tried to imagine if she herself were in such a condition.

Now she said, “What about the father, Cass?”

Cass simply shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “I can’t go

back there.”

Resolving to carry this further when the girl was more open to

talk, Lanie said quickly, “Well, we’re going to see Doctor Merritt

tomorrow. We need to find out more about how to take care of you.”

Cass looked up and said, “I wish I were dead.” Her voice was

toneless, and her cheeks were stained with tears.

“No, you don’t,” Davis said quickly. “Everything is going to work

out. You’ll see.”

“Not for me,” Cass said tightly. “Nothing ever works out for me.”

She turned away from the two of them.

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“Well, Cass, you’re going to have a baby. No question about that.”

Owen Merritt studied the young woman that he had just examined.

He had become interested in her when he had first treated the wound

in her back and arm, and now compassion for her rose within him.

“You’re strong and healthy and shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Cass suddenly turned to face him and straightened up. “You’ve

got to help me with this.”

“Help you? Why, of course I will.”

“No. I mean — ” Cass suddenly flushed. “I don’t want to have

this baby. You’ve got to help me get rid of it.”

Instantly Owen said firmly, “I can’t do that, Cass. I don’t think

it’s right.”

“But I can’t have a baby. I can’t take care of one. Please help me.”

“It’s out of the question. You have lots of help, Cass. I’ll help you.

The Freemans will help you. And there’ll be others too.”

“If you don’t help me, I’ll find someone who will,” Cass said,

stubbornly lifting her chin.

“That’s a good way to kill yourself. These granny women have

murdered a lot of young women. It’s just wrong, Cass.”

That was the end of the interview as far as Cass was concerned.

But Owen was worried. As soon as he could, he took Lanie aside

to speak with her privately. “You’ve got to watch her. She’ll go off and

get an abortion.”

“She wouldn’t know where to go.”

“I hope not,” Owen said grimly. “She’s going to need a lot of love

and a lot of acceptance. I don’t know how you can do it with all that’s

on your shoulders, but I’ll help all I can, Lanie.” He put his hand on

her shoulder, and when she turned to face him, he managed a smile.

“We can do it, don’t you think?”

“If you say so, Owen.”

“I think we’re going to have to tell the rest of your family. They’ll

need to help too.”

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“I’m going to see Daddy day after tomorrow. I’ll tell them before

I go. That way they can keep an eye on her.”

“Tell your dad I’m still praying for him. I’m still believing God’s

going to get him out of that prison.”

“I’ll tell him, Owen.” Lanie hesitated, then said, “I — I need to

ask you something. I’m worried about something.”

Instantly Owen lifted his head and studied the young woman.

He could see that she was troubled and asked gently, “Tell me about

it, Lanie. Are you sick?”

“No, not really. But I — I’ve been having a dream, Owen, and it

scares me.”

“A bad dream, like a nightmare?”

“Oh, no, not really. Actually it’s a good dream, in a way.”

“Have you had this dream many times?”

“Yes! Over and over, and always the same.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“I dream about Mama, about when she was alive and taking care

of all of us. And I dream about Daddy too . . .” With considerable

hesitation, Lanie spoke of the dream that had come so often. Finally

she took a deep breath and said, “It scares me, Owen. It’s like . . . like

when I go to sleep, I always go back to those times. Like I’m somehow

ungrateful for all the blessings we do have, like I’m always wanting

more. And I can’t accept that Mama is gone forever, and Daddy is

gone . . . who knows how long. What does it all mean? Am I a bad

person? Or am I just going crazy?”

“Of course not!” Owen said quickly. “You’re just dreaming of a

good part of your life, a simple time when you weren’t responsible for

the rest of your family. You shouldn’t let this dream trouble you.”

“But — why do I dream it over and over?” Lanie whispered. She

lifted her eyes to his and Owen saw the trouble there.

“I think all of us dream,” Owen said slowly. “Most of us day-

dream — think of good times and a life without problems. You dream

at night of the same things.”

“Do you dream of a life that’s better than the one you have now?”

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Owen didn’t answer for a moment and seemed to be searching

for an answer. In all truth, he did find himself longing for a life that

was — different. He didn’t dwell on these thoughts, but even as he

felt Lanie’s eyes on him, he became aware that a strange discontent

troubled him. It had come before, but he’d shoved the thoughts aside,

and he knew he could not really speak of them to Lanie.

“Why, I guess I sometimes think of a life that’s a little easier, but

that’s normal. Now I don’t want you to worry about this, Lanie. Can

you promise me that?” He reached over and took her hand, adding,

“You’ve had to bear a heavy burden, but God’s given you courage, and

I admire you more than I’ve ever admired anyone.”

Warmth flooded Lanie, and she felt her face glowing. “What a

nice thing to say!” she exclaimed. She was aware of the strength of his

hand, and of the admiration in his eyes. “I guess it’s not right to worry

about good dreams.”

“God sometimes uses dreams. Maybe He gives you this one as a

promise that everything is going to be fine.”

Lanie stood up and smiled. “Thank you, Owen. I promise not to

worry about my dream. Thanks for listening to me.”

“Well now, if this isn’t a meal fit for a king!”

Forrest Freeman was seated at a table across from Lanie. He did

not live in the units with the other prisoners but was a trustee assigned

to take care of Warden Gladden’s horses and dogs. The warden also

liked to raise his own meat, so Forrest took care of feeding the hogs

and the chickens.

Along with his job, Forrest had a room over the garage with a

bath and a tiny kitchen — or at least a stove and a sink.

“Look at this Thanksgiving dinner!” he exclaimed and pulled a

leg off of the hen.

“Well, I didn’t cook a turkey. I’m gonna have to do that for every-

body else.”

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“This is fine, Muff. There’s not many folks that have a Thanks-

giving dinner this good.”

Lanie had brought a fat hen and a big pan of cornbread dress-

ing. Her father didn’t like cranberry sauce with the dressing as most

people did, but he loved grape jelly, so she had brought a jar of that.

She had also brought English peas and rolls. She had made two pies,

one pecan and one pumpkin, and knew that he would feast on them

after she left.

“Now tell me about everything,” Forrest said as he ate hungrily.

He listened, stopping to inquire once about Booger, and was pleased

to hear that the big dog was as healthy as he could be.

Finally, after a piece of pumpkin and a piece of pecan pie, he

leaned back and picked up the coffee cup. “If I ate any more, I’d bust,”

he said. He added, “You know, I like this meal, but I love the poems

you send me. They’re downright beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You ever send any of them off to a magazine?”

“No. I never have. I sent one poem off to a contest, but I’ll never

win it.”

“You don’t know about that.”

Lanie was anxious to change the subject. “You remember the girl

that Davis brought home?”

“The one named Cass? Sure I remember. How is she?”

“Not good.” Lanie went ahead to explain the situation, and For-

rest shook his head.

“Poor girl,” he said. “We’ll have to pray that God will give her a

love for that baby she’s carrying.”

“I’m praying for her all the time. I wish I brought you better

news, Daddy.”

“Well, let’s see. How about Owen and Louise? They got hitched

yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

Seeing something in Lanie’s face, Forrest leaned forward. “What’s

wrong?”

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“Well, Louise has changed, Daddy. She was always so selfish and

really mean. But something happened to her. It had something to do

with Brother Ryan getting snakebit and almost dying.” She hesitated

then said, “She’s spending an awful lot of time with Brother Ryan.

The two of them are involved in a program to help people that need

it. Food and clothing and fuel. There’s a lot of gossip going around

about them. It’s not fair to Owen.”

Forrest knew his daughter well. He could read her as easily as he

read the printed page of a book. He knew how sensitive she was, and

he had been aware from the beginning that she had a special feeling

for Owen Merritt. “You still feel something for Owen, Daughter?”

“Why, no, not really.”

Forrest did not argue because he saw that Lanie did not want to

talk about it. He did not mention Owen again, but when she got ready

to leave, he put his arms around her, and his last words to her before

she left were, “God’s got big plans for you, Muff. You wait and see.”

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Chapter 25

Cody Freeman looked over the table burdened down with food

and bowed his head to ask the blessing. Praying over the

Thanksgiving meal had always been his father’s responsibility, but

Cody felt that the mantle had fallen upon him and that he was now

the spiritual head of the family. His voice assumed an unctuous tone

as he began the blessing.

“Lord, we thank you for the turkey that lies before us. We thank

you for the drumsticks, for the dark meat, and for the breast and the

white meat. Lord, we are especially grateful for the cornbread dress-

ing, and I know, Lord, that there’s probably not enough sage in it

because Lanie doesn’t make it as good as Mama did, but forgive her

for that, I pray. We’re thankful for the celery we couldn’t afford, but

since we always had celery when Mama and Daddy were here, we felt,

Lord, that it would be appropriate to spend the extra money for that.

This was Lanie’s idea, as you probably know, but forgive her for being

a spendthrift in this particular instance.”

Maeva looked up indignantly ready to protest, but she met Lanie’s

eyes. Lanie’s mouth formed the word, No, and she clamped her lips

together and shook her head angrily.

“And now, Lord, we’re grateful for the rolls, which I must admit

in all honesty that Maeva makes better than even Mama did, and I’m

glad that there’s one thing that she can cook better than Mama.”

Roger Langley had joined the Freemans for Thanksgiving, giving

vent to his rebellious streak and his need for a break from his family.

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Now he was doing his best to keep from laughing out loud. He opened

his eyes and saw that Davis was grinning broadly, and winked at him.

Davis returned the wink, and they both listened as Cody proceeded to

bless everything on the table. Finally, when he had touched on every

item — including the salt and pepper — he said, “And, Lord, we thank

you for these knives and the forks and the spoons — ”

Suddenly Maeva’s voice rose up, drowning Cody out. “While my

brother finishes his prayer, the rest of us are going to eat,” she said.

“Amen.”

A laugh went around the table, and Cody opened his eyes and

said indignantly, “I wasn’t through with the blessing yet, Maeva!”

“You go right ahead and bless. I’m eating.”

“That was a beautiful prayer, Cody,” Lanie said quickly. “I’ll bet

there’s not another one more thorough spoken anywhere in this coun-

try. Now, Davis, you start carving that turkey while the rest of us load

up on the trimmings.”

The trimmings were distributed, Roger taking an enormous dol-

lop of potatoes, hollowing out a space with his spoon and forming

a volcano of sorts, and filling the cavity with giblet gravy. His plate

was soon crowded, but he found room for both white meat and dark

meat.

The dining room was noisy, except for Cass. She said little and

appeared to pick at her food. Davis said, “You know, Mama and

Daddy always went around the table on Thanksgiving, and every-

body had to tell something they were thankful for. So I’ll be first. I’m

thankful that I’ve got a family better than any in the world.”

Maeva, who was sitting next to Davis, piped up with her mouth

full of turkey, “Well, I’m mighty grateful for the new shoes that I

finally saved up enough money to buy. I can’t wait to go dancing in

them.”

Cody said, “There are a lot of things I’m thankful for. First of

all — ”

“Just one thing, Cody,” Maeva said. “That’s the way Daddy always

did it.”

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“Well, one thing then. I’m grateful for all of the money my inven-

tions are going to make.”

“They haven’t made anything yet,” Maeva said spitefully.

“Are you forgetting how much we made on the toilet seats?”

Cody asked.

“Well, that didn’t last long,” Maeva retorted.

“Are you working on a perpetual motion machine?” Roger

grinned.

“I been working on that for quite a while. It’s slow, but I’m going

to get there.”

“What are you grateful for, sweetheart?” Lanie smiled at Corliss.

“I’m grateful for that nothing got in and ate our new chickens,”

Corliss said.

“Amen. That’s a good prayer,” Lanie said. “And I’m grateful for

Cass here. That she’s with us today.”

Cass looked up and everyone saw that her face was pale.

“You have to tell something you’re thankful for, Cass.” Corliss

nodded earnestly. “That’s the way we do on Thanksgiving.”

Cass swallowed hard and said, “I’m grateful.” She suddenly stopped

and tears came to her eyes. “I’m grateful to be here with people that

care about me.”

“Well, you got that right,” Roger said, warmly smiling at the girl.

“This is a loving bunch if I ever saw one.”

“What about you, Aunt Kezia?”

Aunt Kezia had a mouthful of turkey, but that didn’t stop her.

Waving a giant drumstick, she declared, “Why, I’m downright tickled

my eyes are good and I still got the use a these here limbs. Gave me a

chance to come here and whip you sorry young’uns into shape.” Her

eyes twinkled as she stifled a grin.

They all laughed, and soon conversation resumed.

Cass had almost nothing to say during dinner. She was a shy

young woman and still uncomfortable with the boisterous Freemans.

Even so, she had been trying over the last few days to be helpful

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around the house. She was not from a farm, and her efforts to milk

had been ludicrous, but at least she was trying.

After the meal was over they all helped to clean up. Then they

went into the parlor where the instruments were produced, and soon

the house was filled with music. Even as they played, however, Lanie’s

attention was focused on Cass. The girl took a chair as far back as she

could with her back against the wall, and the longer the music went

on and the happier it got, the more sober and even sad she seemed.

Finally, after one of the songs, Corliss went over to Cass and said,

“Don’t cry, Cass. That was a happy song.”

“I can’t help it, Corliss.”

Everyone stared at Cass, and Lanie put her dulcimer down and

went over to sit beside her. “This is Thanksgiving, the day that we

give thanks to God for all of our blessings. And you bless us just by

being here.”

Cass looked around and then said in an unsteady voice, “I didn’t

know there were people like you in all the world.”

“What about your family?” Davis asked quietly.

“They weren’t like you. All I had was a daddy and a stepmama.

She had four kids, and I was the only one my daddy had. My mama

died when I was six. It wasn’t — it wasn’t a happy place.”

The group was silent. Lanie held her breath, for this was the first

time Cass had said anything about her past. She hoped the girl would

tell more, and she was not disappointed. “I know all of you are won-

dering about me and it’s only fair, since you’ve been so good, to tell

you what happened. I was put out to work when I was thirteen. I

worked in a place that put medicine in bottles. That’s all I did all

day long, fill up tiny bottles and put a cap on it. It was awful hard

and long hours and not much money. I was miserable at home and

they took all the money I made, and then — ” She choked and tears

gathered in her eyes.

“Here. Take this,” Lanie said, fishing a handkerchief out of her

pocket.

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Cass took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes and said, “You

all know I’m going to have a baby. I know you’re wondering why the

baby’s daddy’s not here. He’ll never be here. He was just a year older

than I was, and he was poor too. He was good to me and — well, we

done wrong. We was going to get married, but he — he died. He got

killed in an accident in the steel mill. When my family learned about

the baby, they put me out. I didn’t have anywhere to go so I started to

come south where it would be warm in the winter.”

Lanie glanced around the circle and saw that everyone was listen-

ing breathlessly. She reached over and took Cass’s hand. “We’re your

family now, Cass, and we’ll be a family to your baby too.”

Suddenly Cass began to weep. “I want to keep my baby.”

“We’re going to pray right now for that baby. Everybody come

pray for Cass and for her baby.” Everyone in the room came close to

Cass, putting their hands on her. They all began to pray. Cody, this

time mercifully, was silent, and it was Davis who finally said, “Lord,

we thank you for this child that’s to be born. Whether it’s a boy or a

girl, put your hands upon this baby. Let Cass know that not only do

we love her, but you love her, and let her be filled with happiness.”

Aunt Kezia, who had said almost nothing, now reached over and

took the girl in her arms. “Your baby is going to have lots of brothers

and sisters,” she said, “and one grandma. That’s me!”

“That was a wonderful thing, Lanie,” Roger said. It was dusk

now, and the two of them were out walking toward the river. Roger

had asked her to go, and Lanie had slipped away with him.

Now as they reached the banks of the Singing River, Lanie looked

down. “I think that’s the most beautiful river in the world,” she said.

“It’s not the biggest but it sings.”

Roger reached out and took her hand. “It does sing, doesn’t it?”

The two stood looking down into the dark waters of the river. It was

not a large river as rivers go, not like the Mississippi or the Missouri,

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but the waters were clear, and it did make a sibilant musical sound

over the stones at their feet.

Roger suddenly pulled Lanie toward him and said without pre-

amble, “Lanie, I told you once before, and now I’m sure of it — I’m

in love with you.”

Lanie could not help knowing that Roger had developed an affec-

tion for her, but she was unprepared for the intensity in his next words.

“I love you and I want you to marry me.”

A thousand things seemed to flash through Lanie’s mind at that

moment, but she knew her answer instantly. “Roger, it wouldn’t be

right to even think of such a thing. You’ve got to get through college,

and I’ve got my family to care for. Besides that,” she added with some

hesitation, “your family wouldn’t ever accept me.”

“I’m not asking you to marry my family. I’m asking you to

marry me.”

Lanie was aware of the warmth of his hands as he held hers and

tried to think, but her thoughts were jumbled up. “I can’t give you

an answer, Roger. I’m not sure that you’re the one God wants me to

marry.”

“But can we be engaged then? We can be secretly engaged. No

one will have to know it.”

“Why, Roger, that wouldn’t be fair to you. Next year you’ll be

going off to college. You’ll meet lots of girls there. You have to be free

to make your choice.”

“You’re my choice, Lanie,” he said.

“I can’t think of marriage, Roger,” Lanie said. “Not for a long

time.”

Roger suddenly pulled her forward and put his arms around her.

He was gentle, and when he kissed her, she was aware of his tender-

ness. She put her hand up on his cheek. “You’re the finest young man

I’ve ever known, but I can’t promise to marry you.”

Roger did not argue. He smiled and shook his head. “I’m a stub-

born fellow, Lanie. I’m going to get through college in three years,

then I’m going to go to work, marry you, and take care of you.”

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Lanie knew that such a thing bordered on the impossible, but she

felt a warmth and a fondness for this young man. He was so far above

her in every way. He came from a fine family that had money, and she

came from a family that was poor with a father in prison. She looked

down at the river as it purled around her feet and said, “The river does

sing, doesn’t it?”

When Roger walked into the front door, he heard his name called,

and from his father’s voice he knew he was in trouble.

“Roger, come in here. We’ve got to talk to you.”

Roger walked down the hall and turned into the larger of the two

parlors. His father and mother were there waiting for him, Louise sit-

ting off to the side pretending to read.

“Where have you been, Roger? We expected you here for Thanks-

giving dinner.”

“Why, Dad, I told you I was having Thanksgiving dinner with

the Freemans.”

“I thought I told you not to do that.”

“Well, Dad, you did tell me, but I’d already agreed to go. I thought

I made that clear.”

“You’ve lost your mind over that girl and over those Freemans.

You prefer them over your own family. I told you that wasn’t right.”

Roger hated these confrontations with his father. More than once

he had determined to move out of the house, but he loved his mother

and his sisters and yes, he loved his father too, so he had toughed it

out. “Let’s not argue about this, Dad. On Christmas I’ll be here for

dinner. I promise.”

“That’s not good enough. I’m disappointed in you, Roger. You’re

not being a good son.”

Roger turned pale. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Dad.”

“Well, I do feel that way,” Otis Langley said, and his voice was

hard. He was a man who had risen in the world through relentless

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struggle and always being tougher than his competitors, but unfortu-

nately he had not learned that what worked in business did not neces-

sarily work in other relationships. Finally he said, “You’ve managed to

spoil Thanksgiving for your whole family. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Mother,” Roger said. He turned and

walked out of the room, keeping a tight hold on his temper.

As soon as he left the room, Martha shook her head. “You were

too hard on him.”

Louise had remained silent, but now she said, “Mother’s right.

Roger’s a fine boy. You don’t agree with him, but I’m proud of him.”

Otis, who was stung by Roger’s refusal to bow to his will,

turned to her. “I don’t think you’re one to be talking. I spoiled every-

one — Roger, Helen, and you. My son won’t obey me, one daughter’s

about to flunk out of school, and the other’s making a spectacle of

herself by running all over the countryside with that preacher.”

Louise gasped as if he had struck her. “Daddy, there’s absolutely

nothing wrong with my working with Colin.”

She turned and stalked out of the room. Martha said, “I wish you

hadn’t done that, Otis.”

Indeed, Otis himself wished he had not behaved as he had. He

was often like this, acting impulsively and regretting it later. But he

refused to back down. “You’re to blame for all three of those kids.

Especially Louise, the way she’s carrying on with the reverend.”

“Why, how can you say that, Otis?”

“You should have told her to stop going around with that man.

It’s unseemly for a woman, and what can Owen be thinking of? He’s

letting another man spend more time with his fiancée than he does.”

“He trusts Louise, and I do too. And I think you should,” Mar-

tha said. She turned and walked away, and Otis Langley stood alone,

angry and unhappy.

The dawn had barely begun to touch the east when Roger stepped

out of the house. He was carrying his rifle and bundled up against

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the cold. Terribly hurt by his father’s words, he had decided to take

the day off and go to the mountains. He didn’t care about hunting so

much, but he did want to get away and be alone. His father’s words

seemed to burn into him, and he turned toward the hills that lay to

the north of Fairhope. He usually hunted in the hills to the west, but

they were low hills, and he had the desire suddenly for height.

As he walked along, he went over in his mind what his father had

said and questioned whether he had done the right thing. He wanted

to honor his father, but there was no understanding in Otis Langley.

Roger wanted to be treated as an adult. His father had never appreci-

ated that.

He walked quickly and easily and realized that the long hours he

had spent on the survey team had strengthened him. He had always

been strong and active and a good athlete, but the past few months he

had walked miles every day. Now he broke into a trot, anxious to put

Fairhope and his family and the words of his father behind him.

From the flat land of the valley to the low-lying hills, the earth

followed a gentle incline, then rose more steeply to the sharp breaking

ridge that reached upward. Mount Benton was the highest spot in the

county, and it lay before him, ghostlike in the clouds. The cold bit into

him, and the sting of tiny fragments of sleet stung his face, but there

was an exultation in him as he climbed into the silence and solitude of

the mountains. The trees still had traces of the last snow clinging to

the tops, and as he went higher, from time to time the pull of gravity

would cause a clump of snow to turn loose and drop to the earth.

Finally he turned to look back, and he could see what seemed to

be his whole world laid out before him. Fairhope lay in the distance,

but he could see the smoke rising from the chimneys. Over to the west

the ridges broke the flatness of the plain.

On and on he climbed until finally he was scrambling up, hav-

ing to use his hands. He reached a point where he had to cut around.

Something had shaken the rocks loose, and there was only a narrow

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defile that went around a sharp rising bluff. Roger had to struggle

to hang on to his rifle and at the same time keep from slipping. He

looked down to his right, and there far below, it seemed, was the for-

est where the first-growth pines covered the earth. On the slope there

were smaller spindly bushes, and Roger moved more carefully.

Finally he reached a point where the path was less than a foot

wide. He looked at it and wondered if he could find an easier way.

The land sloped beneath him at a very steep angle. He leaned out to

see if the path widened and then decided to go back. As he turned, his

foot caught on a rise in the rock and threw him off balance. He made

a wild grab at a small sapling. Dropping his rifle, he caught the tree

but both feet slipped and he fell, pulling the sapling out by the roots.

The world seemed to go round, and as Roger tumbled down the

slope, the length of his body crashed into small saplings and brush.

When he hit a larger tree that struck him in the side and flipped him

over, he suddenly somersaulted. Grabbing to find a purchase, he found

nothing, but his hands were scraped by the rocks. He shot out over

a small precipice, fell seven or eight feet, and slammed down on his

shoulders, knocking his breath out. His mind was working, but his

body was rendered helpless by the force of the fall. He ended his slide

by crashing through some small trees, and then his foot caught between

two saplings, and he cried out as a searing pain shot through his leg.

He lay motionless, his eyes shut, fighting against the waves of

pain that went through his body. He knew his leg was broken, and as

he freed it, he looked up and saw the height from which he had fallen.

Despair seized him.

The enormity of his plight came to Roger as he lay there. He had

no gun with which to fire a shot to draw any hunters that might be

near. He couldn’t walk. He had told no one where he was going. No

one knew where he was, no one at all.

The earth beneath him was damp, and he found he was lying in a

small puddle of icy water. The trees above partially protected him, but

the whistling winds brought fine particles of sleet to sting his face.

The wind had an ominous note to Roger, and he lay there in pain

and fear knowing that he could not get himself out of this trouble.

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Chapter 26

Martha Langley picked up the phone and said, “Hello.” At once

she heard Ralph Mixson’s voice. Mixson was Roger’s boss on

the surveying crew. “Hey, is this Mrs. Langley?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ralph Mixson here, Mrs. Langley.”

“Oh, yes. What can I do for you?”

“I’m wondering if Roger is there?”

“Why, no. I assumed he was at work.”

“No. He didn’t come in this morning. Not like Roger. I thought

maybe he was sick.”

“Well, just a minute. Let me go check his room.”

Laying the phone down on the table, Martha went to Roger’s room,

looked in, and saw that the bed was not messed up. She stopped Elsie,

the maid, and said, “Did you make up Roger’s bed this morning?”

“No, ma’am. Yesterday morning.”

“Have you seen Roger?”

“Why, no, ma’am. I ain’t seen him in two days now.”

A troubled frown creased Martha Langley’s brow and she went

back to the phone. “Ralph, Roger’s not here.”

“Well, we’ll go out on the job without him. If you find him, tell

him to come on out. We need him today.”

“I’ll tell him, Ralph.”

Martha pressed the cradle down and then dialed the number of

Otis’s office.

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He answered on the fourth ring. “What is it, Martha? Don’t have

much time this morning.”

“Have you seen Roger today?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Well, he’s not here, he’s not at work, and he didn’t sleep here last

night. I’m worried about him.”

“Oh, he’s probably out with some of his friends.”

“Roger’s very responsible, Otis. You know that.”

“Well, make a few calls, and I’ll have Grace do the same thing

here. He’s all right.”

Martha laid the phone down and then picked up a book of phone

numbers. She dialed the first one and said, “Hello, Harry, have you

seen Roger this morning?”

“Well, hello, Louise,” Lanie said. “Come on in.”

“No. I can’t stay, Lanie. I’m looking for Roger. Is he here?”

“Roger? Why no,” Lanie said. “I haven’t seen Roger for — oh, for

a couple of days. Since Thanksgiving.”

“And he didn’t call you or come by yesterday or this morning?”

“No. What is it, Louise?”

“He and Dad had a disagreement on Thanksgiving, and he disap-

peared, and we haven’t seen him since. I’m sure he’s fine, but, well,

we’re worried about him.”

“You don’t think he moved out, do you?”

“No.” Louise shook her head. “His clothes are there, toothbrush,

everything. But he’s gone. He didn’t go to work, and we’ve been call-

ing his friends. I’m going down to talk with Dad. We’re going to talk

to Pardue about putting a notice on the police radio.”

“Why, I hope it’s nothing serious, but I’ll get word to you if I

see him.”

“Thank you, Lanie.”

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“Look, Pardue, I don’t know how you go about these things, but

we’ve got to get the police to be on the lookout for Roger.”

Pardue Jessup was wearing his sheriff’s uniform instead of his

mechanic’s uniform. He had been sitting in his chair when Otis

Langley came in and told him that Roger was missing.

“Well, it’s easy enough to do, but most of the time missing people

aren’t really missing. They’re just out of place.”

“That’s what I told Martha, but she insists that something’s

wrong. I’ve checked around the house, and it looks like his rifle and

hunting clothes are gone, but no tenting gear. He’s never gone off

overnight before without his tent — or without telling us.”

Pardue gave Otis Langley a careful glance. The man seemed wor-

ried, and Pardue asked in a casual tone, “Has Roger been upset about

anything lately?”

Otis reddened and said, “Well, to tell the truth, he and I had a

disagreement on Thanksgiving. It was just a little thing, but he may

have gotten his feathers ruffled.”

Pardue chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “Well, he often goes

hunting over on Blue Ridge, but it does seem like he would have

returned by now. I’ll alert the state police. We’ll get it on the radio

so all the police stations in the area will get a description. You go on

home now. I’ll call you if I get anything.”

Colin got the news about Roger’s disappearance from Louise. She

had come to the church and he assumed that she was ready to go

out on missions to those who needed help. But she had said at once,

“Colin, have you seen Roger?”

“Roger? No. Should I have?”

“I was hoping you did,” Louise said. She fumbled nervously with

her purse. “He and Dad had a big fight on Thanksgiving, and he

hasn’t been seen since. Not like Roger to be this thoughtless. He’s got

Mom and Dad worried sick — and me too.”

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“Have you gone to the police?”

“Yes. Dad went to Sheriff Jessup, and it’s on all the police radio

channels. Pardue says we ought to put it on the regular radio station,

maybe as far away as Fort Smith, with a description.” Louise suddenly

bit her lower lip. “I’m scared, Colin.”

“Oh, come now. It’s not that bad. Roger’s able to take care of

himself.”

“Daddy’s getting some of the men that work for him to start

searching.”

“You mean in town?”

“I doubt he’s in town. Somebody would have seen him. But Par-

due says that sometimes he goes hunting over at Blue Ridge. They’re

going over that way.”

Colin nodded briefly. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll get ahold of all the

preachers in town. We’ll join in the search.”

“Colin, what if something’s happened to him?”

Colin saw that Louise was terrified. He had been very careful not

to touch her since that moment in the car, but now he reached forward

and she fell against him with a slight sob. He held her gently, patted her

back, and said, “We’ll get all the people to search the rest of the day,

and then tomorrow instead of having church we’ll have all the men

out. We’ll comb this whole county. We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

Sunday morning at ten o’clock the church was filled but not with

the usual congregation. Lanie looked over the auditorium and saw

that the crowd was mostly older people and those very young, and

most of them were women. She sat there quietly with her arm around

Corliss, and after a time she saw Otis Langley come in with his family.

“You wait right here, honey,” she said to Corliss. “I’ll be right back.”

Rising from the pew, she made her way to Otis and said at once,

“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Langley, but Roger will be all right.

I’m sure of it.”

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Otis Langley looked different. It appeared to Lanie that he was

broken, something she never thought she’d see. He was trying to keep

a rough exterior, but Martha Langley’s eyes were filled with fear, and

Louise was little better off. Lanie said, “I’m sure that God will help

the men to find him.”

A shadow crossed Otis’s face as he remembered how he had

treated the Freemans. He had been terribly angry when Lanie had

beaten Roger for a scholarship award when they were in high school.

He also remembered how he had tried by means not too gentle to get

the homeplace away from them. He bowed his head for a moment,

and when he looked up, his voice was unsteady. “I haven’t — I haven’t

been generous to you, Lanie, and I haven’t been fair to Roger. But if

God gives me another chance, I promise him and I promise you here

and now I’ll do better.”

“There’s nothing more we can do,” Louise said. “The men are

searching along the Blue Ridge, but it’s such a big area. And we’re not

even sure he’s there.”

“I wish I could do something,” Otis murmured. “Anything. But

I just don’t know what.”

At that moment Lanie stood absolutely still. She had heard from

her English teacher that there was such a thing as an epiphany, a sud-

den idea or concept that just leaped into the mind, and Lanie had

often wished that she could have such a thing happen to her.

And it did happen!

Without any doubt, she knew what to do. She turned and ran

over to where Maeva was with Corliss. “Take care of Corliss,” she

said, and then started out.

“Where are you going?” Maeva called out.

“I had an epiphany.”

Corliss watched her older sister leave the church. “What’s an

epiphany?”

“I don’t know,” Maeva replied, “but trust Lanie to have one of

them if such a thing is possible!”

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Chapter 27

Dashing into the house, Lanie took the stairs two at a time.

After quickly changing her clothes, she rushed into Davis’s

room, looked around wildly, and then saw a box over by the wardrobe

where he kept his clothes. Tearing it open, she nodded with satisfac-

tion. “They’re here,” she whispered as she grabbed some shirts and

then turned and ran down the steps.

The clothes had belonged to Roger, who had outgrown them and

had passed them along to Davis. She could only hope they had not

been washed.

She ran outside and called, “Booger — Booger, come here!”

At once the big bloodhound came loping up, his eyes bright.

“Come on, Booger. You got a job to do,” she said. She opened the

door to the truck, and Booger jumped in beside her. Beau whined and

wanted to go, but Lanie said, “No. You can’t go this time, Beau.”

She drove faster than usual until she got to the Langley house.

Piling out of the truck, she ran around, opened the door, and Booger

came out. Opening the box, she pulled out the shirts and turned and

bent over. “Here, Booger. Smell these. You’ve got to find Roger.”

Booger sniffed and snorted and finally without being told, he put

his nose to the ground and began running in small circles. He had

not gone far when he suddenly said, “Woof!” Lanie knew he had been

trained not to bark on the trail, but the way he started out she knew

he had found the scent. Of course Roger’s scent would not be hard to

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find around the house, and Booger might be on an old trail, but she

prayed that he would find the right one.

Booger took off directly down the street, then turned and headed

north on Jefferson Davis Avenue. There was a purposefulness in the

big dog, and Lanie wondered for a moment if she should have gotten

someone to go with them. What if I find him and he’s hurt? I won’t

have any way to bring him back.

But Booger was in pursuit and there was no stopping him. The

big dog had soon passed the last of the houses in Fairhope and was on

a little-used country road headed toward the mountains to the north.

Lanie was panting, trying to keep up with Booger, and had to call

him back once or twice.

They had just passed through a large cotton field with the stalks

bare and reaching up to the sky as if in prayer when Lanie looked

up and saw a car coming. She felt a gladness, for she recognized it as

Owen’s car. She waved frantically, and Owen stopped and rolled the

window down. “What are you doing out here, Lanie?”

“Booger’s tracking Roger. He’s on his trail. Will you come

with me?”

“Sure. Why don’t you drive the car and I’ll follow Booger on

foot.”

Lanie was out of breath and said, “All right.” Owen got out and

took off toward where Booger was fast disappearing. Lanie got behind

the wheel and kept behind Owen a safe distance.

She was praying all the time and knew with certainty that God

was going to work another miracle in Fairhope.

“I don’t think we can take the car any farther,” Owen said. They

had turned off the main road onto an old logging road. It was barely

wider than the car and full of deep ruts. Fortunately the ground was

frozen so they hadn’t gotten stuck, but now they had apparently run

out of room.

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“We’ll follow him anyway and leave the car here,” Lanie said.

“All right. Be rough going. I better take my bag.” He reached into

the back of the car, grabbed his black bag, and nodded. “Come on.

Let’s see if we can keep up with that hound.”

The two crashed through the brush, and through an even older

logging trail. It must have been at least twenty-five years old. The

trees were big enough to impede their progress, but finally they got

to the foot of the mountain. “It’ll be easier going here. Booger’s going

right up the side of the mountain. The trees aren’t so thick,” Owen

said.

For the next half hour the two followed Booger, always climbing

upward. Finally the trail grew narrow, and Owen said cautiously, “I

don’t know if we can follow this trail.”

“Look. Booger’s found something,” Lanie cried.

The two edged forward on the narrow ledge. Lanie had never

liked heights, and now as she looked down, it made her dizzy, so she

turned her face to the wall.

“What is it, Booger?” Owen said. When he got there, he bent

over and cried out, “Look. It’s a rifle.”

“Let me see.” Lanie took the rifle and nodded. “It’s Roger’s! It’s

got his initials carved in the stock.”

“He wouldn’t have dropped it here,” Owen said. “Where is

he, boy?”

There was little room to maneuver, and Booger was whining. He

refused to go any farther, and suddenly Lanie looked down. “Owen, I

bet he fell off and slid down this slope.”

“I hope not,” Owen said. He stared down and said, “That has to

be what happened.”

“We can’t go down that slope.”

“No. We’ll have to go back and find a better way. Look.” He

turned and pointed upward. “You see those two points there? Kind of

like small volcanoes?”

“Yes. What about them?”

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“When we get down there, that’ll be our point of location. Right

down from those points is where we want to be. Come on.”

The two made their way back down, and when they got to the

lower land, they skirted the heavy timber. Booger was running to and

fro and moaning slightly. Owen called out, “There are the peaks. Can

you make it?”

“Yes. I can make it,” Lanie panted and struggled on, trying to

catch her breath.

Roger was shaking with the cold. His lips were dry and chapped,

and the pain in his leg was constant. He lay there only half conscious

and tried to slip back into a dream he had had. He could not remem-

ber much about the dream except he had been warm and felt safe.

He moved his leg and cried out involuntarily. He thought about

calling for help, which he did a few times, but his voice had sounded

tiny and fragile in the midst of the heavy woods.

Time ceased to exist, and he had no idea how long he had been

there. He thought he could remember two nights, terrible nights, dur-

ing which he shook with fear and cold and cried out in pain.

Finally he felt himself slipping back into the dream — only this

time the dream was different. In the other dream he had heard noth-

ing. He had simply been warm, but now he heard something. He

listened carefully and whispered, “It’s a dog. It’s a dog whining.”

And then suddenly a shadow crossed his face, and he felt some-

thing warm. Opening his eyes he saw a huge dog. He tried to speak,

but his lips were numb.

Out of the blue there were voices. He couldn’t call out, but some-

how people were there and they were talking.

“Roger! Roger, are you all right?”

Roger tried to focus his eyes. A face came into focus, and he man-

aged to croak, “Lanie, is it you?”

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“Yes. You’re going to be all right.” Her voice was like an angel’s,

and he thought he must still be dreaming.

“Where are you hurt?”

Roger turned his head and saw Owen Merritt. The doctor! “My

leg,” he whispered.

He felt Owen moving the leg slightly and he could not keep from

crying out.

“Well, it’s broken. Here. Take a big swallow of this.” Owen

fished a bottle out of his bag, then lifted Roger’s head up while he

held the bottle to his lips. “Take two swallows,” he said. “You’re

going to need it.”

The drink was bitter, but Roger gulped it down. He turned his

eyes to Lanie and stammered, “How’d you find me?”

“It was Booger.”

“Good old Booger!”

“But it was more than that,” Lanie said. She had knelt down and

was holding Roger’s head in her lap now. “I was at church talking

to your father, and the Lord spoke to my heart and told me to use

Booger to find you.”

Roger listened, but already the strong narcotic was beginning to

work. He felt himself slipping away, but he reached up and when

Lanie took his hand, he said, “Well — you’ll have to marry me now.

You saved my life and you owe it to me.” He tried to smile, but the

world slipped away.

Owen was crouched beside Roger. He listened to the last words,

and he said, “You going to marry Roger?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying, Owen.”

“Well, I don’t want to leave him out here while we go back to

town and get help. I gave him enough to knock him out. We’ll have

to get him to the car and take him to the hospital.”

In the end Owen simply carried Roger’s limp body over his shoul-

ders. By the time they got the young man into the backseat of the car,

Owen was gasping for breath. “I’m not in training for this kind of

thing,” he said.

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“We’ll have to take Booger with us.”

“Sure. Get in, Booger.”

Booger scrambled into the front seat while Lanie in the backseat

held Roger’s head in her lap. “It was a miracle, Owen.”

“Well, yes, it was.” He started the car, turned it, and gunned the

engine as they sped back toward Fairhope.

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Chapter 28

The rescue of Roger Langley was the big news in Fairhope. The

story of how Lanie Freeman and Doctor Owen Merritt had

used the bloodhound with the abysmal name of Booger to find the

young man was featured in the Fairhope Sentinel. The reporting

stressed how Booger, the miracle dog who’d been saved by the town’s

prayers, had now saved the life of one of Fairhope’s citizens.

Both the Arkansas Gazette and the Arkansas Democrat in Little

Rock had sent reporters. Pictures of Booger and Roger as well as

Lanie and Owen were in a Sunday feature in the Gazette and a special

editorial in the Democrat.

The Chamber of Commerce had struck a medal for Booger with

Hero engraved on one side and the date of the event on the other. The

medal was now attached to Booger’s collar, and everybody in Stone

County was familiar with the big dog’s heroics.

Roger had recovered in the hospital. His father had scarcely left

his side, and finally Martha had to practically drag him home.

By the time a week had passed and the congregation was gath-

ering in the Baptist church, most of the talk was still about Roger’s

narrow escape from death.

Lanie was seated in the choir, and her neighbor, Isabelle, pressed

her repeatedly to tell the story of Roger’s rescue.

“Not now,” Lanie whispered. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Look. There comes the family now.”

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Lanie quickly turned to see all of the Langleys coming in. Their

younger daughter, Helen, had returned early for the Christmas holi-

day, and now she and Louise followed their father and mother. Otis

was pushing a wheelchair with a grinning Roger in the seat. His eye

caught Lanie’s, and he waved cheerfully and winked at her.

The Langleys always sat in the third row from the front on the

left-hand side of the church. There were no name plates or reserva-

tions in the Baptist church, but most people had staked out a territory.

Once Gerald Pink had even approached a stranger who had inno-

cently taken Gerald’s seat and asked him to move. The man had said,

“I’ll move, all right. I’ll move right out of this church.”

But there was no confrontation today. As they entered, there was

applause, and Otis Langley looked around with shock and surprise

written on his face. The family moved into the pew with Otis on the

end and Roger in his wheelchair in the aisle.

Colin got up and went down the aisle at once to shake hands with

Roger, and then with Otis, who said, “Would you mind if I say a few

words, Pastor?”

“Not at all. This is your church and these are your people.” Colin

smiled.

Otis Langley got to his feet and turned around so that he could

face the congregation. The room grew quiet, and Otis seemed to have

trouble putting his words together. Finally he said in a rather subdued

voice, “I want to thank everyone for your support during this trying

time for my family.” He hesitated and then cleared his throat. “I — I

never really thought of the church as a family. I suppose I thought of

it more as a social club such as the Elks, but I was wrong about that.

My family’s been overwhelmed by the many expressions of concern

and love that have come our way from all of you.” He hesitated, and

then suddenly his voice grew firm. “We’re not Catholics here so we

don’t go to a priest to confess, but I have something to confess, and I

think it’s fitting that I confess it to the whole church.”

Every sound in the building was muted then. Every eye was fixed

on Otis Langley, and he spread his hands out and said, “I want to

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confess that I have not been the father I should have been to Roger. I

put undue pressure on him, and I refused to let him make decisions

that were rightfully his to make. Most of you know that I am a driv-

ing sort of fellow, used to throwing myself into things, thinking I can

solve any problem if I fight it hard enough. But there are times in a

father’s life when he needs to step back and give his children room. I

should have recognized that but I didn’t. So, Roger, I want to ask you

to forgive me and to help me be a better dad.”

Roger reached up, grabbed his father’s hand, and pulled him

down. He hugged him fiercely and said, “You bet, Dad. I’ll be going

back to college, and we’ll go back to your original plan.”

Langley stood up and had difficulty speaking. “While I’m con-

fessing, I could mention that I have not shown the right spirit toward

many of you here.” He turned, his eyes fixing on the Freeman family

and then on Lanie in the choir. “I want to ask the Freeman family to

forgive me. I took advantage of them at a time when they needed help

and love and support. So I ask each one of you to forgive me.”

None of the Freemans seemed to know what to say — except

Cody. He stood up at once and said, “Well, sure we forgive you, Mr.

Langley. You was pretty much of a pain in the rear, but we all get that

way sometimes, don’t we?”

Snickers and muffled laughter went around the church. Langley

could not help but smile. “That’s a very gracious thing for you to say,

Cody.”

“Of course you ought to give some credit to Booger.”

“I am thankful in my heart for Booger. I’m sorry that I wasn’t

one of you good people who prayed for him and paid for his treat-

ment when he was ill, because without Booger my son wouldn’t be

here today.”

Langley sat down abruptly and bowed his head as if unable to

face anybody’s eyes. His wife, Martha, put her arm around him and

hugged him, whispering fiercely, “You did fine, Otis, just fine!”

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Owen dropped in for breakfast at the Dew Drop Inn the next day.

Much of the conversation consisted in teasing him about his marriage,

now that it was only a couple of weeks away. There was something

comical that he could not understand about a man getting married.

Total strangers would come up and make suggestive remarks, and

even now Pardue was ribbing him. “Enjoy your freedom, man. Soon

you’ll be chained up just like the rest of them married fellows.”

“I hope you marry a woman that’ll keep you on a short rope,

Pardue.” Owen shook his head.

“Oh, all the women do that,” Pardue said. He started to elaborate

on his theory when he said, “Whoops, I’ll tell you more about this

marriage stuff later, but here comes your fiancée.”

Owen turned with surprise and saw Louise coming toward him.

He got up and could tell that she was troubled. “Owen, I have to talk

to you.”

“Well, sure. You want to sit down?”

“No. Not here.”

Owen turned to Pardue and said, “You can have the rest of my

eggs, Sheriff.”

He followed Louise out of the café, and she walked over to the

car. She didn’t get in, however, but turned to him, and he asked at

once, “What’s wrong?”

“Owen,” Louise said. She seemed to be short of breath. Her face

was pale, and her hands were unsteady as she gripped them together.

“I don’t know any tactful or any nice way to say this.”

“To say what, Louise?”

Owen had no idea what to expect. It was obvious that he and

Louise had been drifting apart, although he had found himself more

enamored of her since she’d been working on the welfare committee.

She seemed to have changed, and he’d decided to let go of any linger-

ing doubts about marrying her.

“Owen, it would be a mistake if you and I got married.”

Owen stared at her, unable to speak for a moment. He had come

to the idea of marriage slowly, and now he felt as if he had been

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walking across a bridge that had collapsed beneath him. All of his

future plans seemed to lie about him in a wreckage. “Why would

you say that, Louise?”

“It’s very simple, Owen,” Louise said. “I’ve been thinking about

it and praying about it, and I don’t mind telling you I’ve been crying

about it. I don’t love you like a woman should love the man she’s going

to marry. And I don’t think you love me as much as you think.”

A tiny alarm suddenly went off in Owen Merritt’s head. He hesi-

tated, thought about what he wanted to say, and then asked simply,

“Is there someone else you care for, Louise?”

“I don’t know, Owen. You’re a fine man. There’s none finer, but I

just don’t feel comfortable — ” Suddenly she broke off and shook her

head. “Everything I say sounds foolish and ridiculous, but you’ll never

know how hard it was for me to say this.”

“I can imagine.”

“I hate to be wrong. You know that. But better to have a little

embarrassment now than to have a marriage that isn’t what I’d like

it to be.”

“Are you sure about this, Louise?” Owen asked gently.

“Yes.” She looked up at Owen. “You hate me now, I suppose.”

“Why, Louise, that’s foolish. I care for you. Maybe not as much

as I should. This comes as quite a shock.” He took her hand, held it

for a moment. “I don’t want this to be a burden to you. I don’t have

very many friends, and I’d like for you to be one of those no matter

what happens.”

Tears came to Louise Langley’s eyes. “That’s like you, Owen,” she

whispered. “It’s so much like you!”

“So,” Owen said, squeezing her hand and dropping it. He tried

to adopt a light air. “How does one go about announcing a broken

engagement?”

“That’s easy,” Louise said. She was trying to get control of herself

and looking for the right remark. “We’ll just let Henrietta Green or

Dorsey Pender know.”

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“Let’s tell both of them. That way Henrietta can take care of tell-

ing folks on the phone. Dorsey goes to every house in town to deliver

the mail. Maybe we should have him pass out fliers.”

They both laughed awkwardly, and then Louise asked rather tim-

idly, “Are you — all right, Owen?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I’ve never been dumped by a prospec-

tive bride.”

“I’m sorry, Owen.”

“I know you are, Louise. So am I.” The two stood for a moment,

then Louise turned and walked away. As she did, both of them knew

they were saying good-bye to the life that they had planned. But

somehow neither of them felt a very deep grief.

The news of the breakup between Doctor Owen Merritt and

Louise Langley was not announced in the Sentinel, but it may as well

have been. Martha Langley called the church to cancel the date for

the wedding, and Henrietta Green, who happened to be listening, at

once put two and two together and came up with four. She called her

best friend, Alice Haynes, and said, “Alice, you mustn’t tell a soul, but

Louise Langley has broken her engagement with Doctor Merritt. It’s

true, as sure as I sit here. But you mustn’t tell a soul. Promise me.”

Of course that promise meant nothing and by nightfall, with the

help of the telephone and Dorsey Pender, just about everyone in town

had heard the news. By the time Dorsey got home in the darkness, he

said wearily to his wife, “Well, it’s been a hard day, but I managed to

get the word out about the doctor and Louise Langley.”

After a week and a half, news of the breakup between Owen and

Louise had become stale. Lanie had not seen either of them, but there

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had been enough talk to keep her informed. She confided her own

thoughts to her journal:

Owen and Louise broke up. I supp ose I should be grieving for them,

but somehow I can’t. I never thought they belonged toget her.

Lanie had wanted to write much more, but the thought came

to her, What if I put down how I really feel about Owen and I die and

somebody finds this journal? That would be embarrassing to me even if

I were dead.

Lanie had refused to talk much about the matter. She was spend-

ing a great deal of time these days with Cass. They were talking about

the baby late one Thursday, and Cass was apprehensive. “Lanie, I

don’t have anything. I don’t even have any diapers.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Cass.” Lanie smiled. “I’m going

to give you a shower and there’ll be other showers. The people of

Fairhope will make sure we have everything we need. It’s going to be

wonderful, Cass. I love babies. What about a name?”

“If it’s a girl,” Cass said with a shy smile, “I’m going to name her

Belle, because that’s your middle name. And if it’s a boy I’ll name him

Lee, because that’s Davis’s middle name.”

“Those are both good names. There’s a book with baby names

in it — ”

A knock at the door interrupted the two, and when Lanie got up,

she found Dorsey Pender. “Well, you’re getting important, Lanie. I

got a registered letter for you all the way from Chicago.”

“A registered letter? What’s that?”

“Why, it means that you have to sign for it saying that you’ve

received it. Here. You sign right here.”

Wondering what this could mean, Lanie signed the slip that

Dorsey handed to her and then took the envelope. “I don’t know what

this could be.”

“Well, just go on and open it up, then we’ll know.”

Lanie did not choose to do this. She simply said, “Thank you,

Dorsey,” and started to step inside.

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“Well, I hope it’s good news, but registered letters usually ain’t.”

Without a break he said, “Too bad about Doctor Owen, ain’t it? He’s

grievin’ his heart out over Louise. I been afraid he might do harm to

himself. Has he talked to you about it?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Well, I knew it was going to happen. I’ve got a feeling about

things like that, Lanie. They weren’t meant for each other.”

“I suppose not. Excuse me, Dorsey.” Stepping inside, she quickly

shut the door and then stared at the letter. Maeva had come in from

the kitchen, followed by Cody. “What’s that?”

“It’s a letter. A registered letter.”

Davis was on the floor playing with Corliss. “Well, open it,” he

said and got up to come over to stand beside her.

Lanie did have a slight fear. Ever since there had been an attempt

to break up the family and put them in foster homes, she had been

apprehensive about official letters. She looked at the return address,

but it meant nothing to her. Slowly she said, “Well, let’s see what it

is.” Carefully she opened the envelope and took out a single sheet of

paper. Her eyes fell on the first word. “ ‘Congratulations,’ ” it says. “It

must be good news.”

“Maybe not.” Davis grinned. “They may want to sell you a car or

something.”

But Lanie was reading down, and the second line seemed to leap

out at her. It was very brief, and she was aware that the others were

staring at her.

“Well, what is it, Sister?” Cody demanded.

“I won second place in the National Poetry Contest,” she

whispered, her face pale. “Look. Here’s a check for three hundred

dollars.”

“Three hundred dollars!” Cody yelped. “Why, we’re rich!”

There was a celebration then! They all danced around Lanie hug-

ging her, and even Cass joined in. When they finally quieted down,

Cody said, “Well, I always knew you’d be a rich and famous writer.”

“You never told me that.” Lanie smiled.

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“Well, I didn’t think you needed to be told. Now let’s see what

we’re going to do with the money. I’ll tell you what I want. I want to

buy a new fishing rod.”

“Wait a minute. That’s not your money. That’s Lanie’s money!”

Davis protested.

“No, Cody’s right. This money will come just in time to pay off

the taxes on the house, but I want every one of us to get something

that we can keep forever and remember.”

“Well, I can remember that fishing pole and keep it forever.”

Cody nodded assertively.

“All right. You will have it. What about you, Davis?”

She went around, and everyone mentioned something they might

like to have, but when she got to Cass, she put her arm around the girl

and said, “Now. What would you like, Cass?”

Cass’s eyes were shining. “You mean it, Lanie? I can get

something?”

“Of your very own.”

“I’d like my baby to have a cradle.”

“Why, of course. Absolutely.”

Maeva waited until the others had left, then she came over and

put her arm around Lanie. “I want lots of makeup so I can look like

a scarlet woman.”

“Don’t talk that way.”

“Just teasing.” Maeva gave Lanie an arch look. “Well, now that

Louise has dumped Owen, there’s your chance. You can get him if

you play your cards right.”

“Maeva, hush that talk.”

Maeva laughed. “I know you too well. If you want any tips, you

can always count on me.”

Lanie stood there holding the check with a contented feeling that

the taxes would be paid. It also gave her pleasure to give gifts, some-

thing she had not been able to do much of. She went to her room and

sat there for a long time staring at the check, then she got on her knees

and thanked God for His faithfulness.

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The wind had died down, but the winter had been sharp in Stone

County. Lanie had come down to the Singing River and brought her

pencil and her tablets with her. She seated herself on a log, and for a

time she watched the river and listened to the noise of its passage. It

did make a melodious sound.

Finally she opened the tablet and began to write. She worked on

the poem until her hands grew numb, but she finally finished it and

read it with satisfaction.

Suddenly she heard her name called, and she turned quickly to see

Owen walking toward her. She closed the tablet, and he said, “Lanie,

I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hello, Owen. What are you doing way out here?”

“I got lonesome.”

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

“Well, I wanted to congratulate you on winning the prize in that

contest.”

“It was only second place.”

“Only second place!” Owen cried. “Why, that’s great. It was a

national contest. The first thing you sent off, I’d guess.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Then let’s have no more only second place. I’m so proud of you!”

Lanie knew she had to say something about Louise, but could not

think of a way to put it. Finally she said, “I was so sorry to hear about

you and — ”

She could not finish, and Owen laughed shortly. He ran his hand

over his hair and said, “Well, I’m no longer an engaged man. Every-

body’s heard about it, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve spent a lot of time alone lately.

There’s a play by a Frenchman about a man called Candide. This

man believes that everything that happens to a person is really good,

no matter how bad it seems. When he breaks his leg, he thinks that’s

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GILBERT MORRIS

exactly the way it should have been. A family gets a terrible disease,

and he says it’s meant to be. His nose rots off, and he’s thankful for

that. I remember he said he was thankful because now he’d be so ugly

no woman would have him, and that’s good because he would never

leave a widow or orphans.”

“What a terrible play!”

“It’s pretty awful.”

“Do you feel like that, Owen, that this is good?”

Owen dropped his eyes and seemed to study the ground for a

moment. “I didn’t at first, but Louise said something that I’ve thought

about a lot.”

“What was that?”

“She said she didn’t care for me as a woman should care for the

man she’s going to marry. So I think she’s right about that.”

Lanie’s heart suddenly went out to Owen Merritt. “I’m so sorry

to see you hurt, Owen.”

Owen suddenly smiled. “You’d be sorry for Judas or Attila

the Hun.”

“I — I have a present for you — well, kind of a present.”

“What is it?”

Lanie opened the tablet and said, “It’s just a little thing I wrote

thinking about you.” She took the page out and handed it to him. He

looked down and read it aloud:

To Doctor Owen Merritt

He brings hope to those wh

o have only fear.

Day aft er day he is the knight wh

o fi ghts

The dragons of sickness

and death.

His armor is not burnished steel,

He wears instead a pale cott

on gown.

No lance or sword he bears;

His weapons are compass

ion and love.

And how is he paid, this man wh

o gives so much?

Not in coin but in gratitude fr om thankful hearts.

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THE DREAM

Let those wh

o will admire the knights of old,

I will keep my admiration for the man in wh

ite.

When Owen finished the poem, he looked up and took a deep

breath and studied the face of the young woman in front of him.

He’d thought of her as a child when he had first met her, but now she

was a woman. He studied her wide and clean-edged lips and the fair

smoothness of her skin, the gleaming of her hair, and then he said,

“That’s the best thing anyone has ever given me. You’re good for a

man, Lanie.” He suddenly reached out and took her free hand and

held it.

At that moment something passed between the two. It touched

them both, and they stood unable to move. There was a mystery about

it all somehow, and Lanie felt at that moment that if he took her in his

arms and kissed her, she would not resist.

“Lanie, I want you to know — ”

Whatever it was that Owen Merritt wanted Lanie Freeman to

know was shoved aside, for Owen was struck in the back by a heavy

weight. He was thrown off balance, tripped over a branch, and fell

headlong. He turned around to face Booger, who had reared up on

him. Booger at once put both feet on Owen’s chest and began licking

his face.

Owen grabbed the dog and held him away. “Booger,” he said as he

struggled to his feet, “you sure know how to break up a tender scene.”

Lanie was disappointed. She had wanted to hear what Owen was

going to say, and now the moment seemed to be broken. Owen petted

the huge dog, and when he turned to face her, she saw the honesty and

the truth in his eyes, and knew that this man had something that no

other man had, at least for her. She reached up and put her hand on

his cheek. “Please don’t feel bad, Owen.”

Owen put his hand over hers and held it firmly there. “As long as

you’re around to pick me up, Lanie Freeman, I’ll be fine.”

The two stood there and Booger looked up expectantly. He was

often puzzled by the things that his people did, and now he watched

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GILBERT MORRIS

them, waiting to see what would happen next. He was disappointed

when they simply turned and moved away from the river. They were

holding hands, and when he shoved his way between them, they both

laughed.

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Read an Excerpt from

Gilbert Morris’s Next Novel — The Miracle

Chapter 1

A grinding cold had settled down over Stone County and most

of northern Arkansas. As Lanie Freeman hurried to slip into

her dress, she noted the frost on the windowpanes and shivered. Her

upstairs bedroom had a small wood-burning fireplace, but she only

used it when she stayed up late reading or writing. Her dress was

made of gray lightweight wool with long sleeves, a high neckline, and

a fringe of black lace around the edges. Even so, it did not provide

enough warmth against the early morning chill.

Moving over to the mirror above her dresser, she studied herself

with a critical eye. A faint memory brushed the edges of her mind,

pulling the corners of her lips into a smile. The memory brought back

a day when she had cried because she was so skinny. One of the boys

at school had called her rake handle, and she had flown at him in a

rage. Only Davis had been able to pull her off of the boy.

“Well, I’m not skinny any more.” The young woman who gazed

back at her from the mirror, on this last day of December 1931, cer-

tainly was no rake handle! As Lanie considered the lissome curves

clearly outlined by the dress, she remembered an entry she had made

in her journal when she was much younger.

Moving to the pine chest of drawers against the wall, she opened

the bottom drawer and pulled out one of many notebooks concealed

beneath her folded clothing. She opened the book and, ignoring her

shivers, read the entry dated April the twelfth, 1929:

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THE MIRACLE

I had to kill Lucille today and it broke my heart. I hated to do it,

but I had to admit she was delicious. I fr ied her for supp er, and

we ate all of her. Mama only ate a litt le bit of the breast and some

of the gravy. I’ll be glad wh

en the baby comes and mama’s strong

again, and I’ll be glad if I ever fatt en up a litt le bit.

Lanie felt a keen sense of pain as she remembered her mother

who had, at the time, only a short time left on earth. She was carrying

Corliss and would give her life to bring the baby girl into the world.

She leafed through the journal, sometimes smiling as her words

brought touching memories, sometimes frowning as her words brought

with them pangs of sorrow. When she came to an entry where a letter

marked the place, she smoothed back the page and read her words

again, just as she had many times before.

They’re going to put us in a foster home if somet hing don’t hap-

pen. But I’ve heard about my daddy’s aunt wh

o’s in a nursing

home in Oklahoma. We’re going to go try to get her to come and

live with us so the government won’t break our family up.

Lanie next opened the letter, which was from her Aunt Kezia to

her father.

Forres t, my husband has died and the fool spent all his money

on a hussy fr om Muskogee. I’d have shot him if I had caught him

and her, too. He didn’t leave a cent, and I’m living in a room in

a rundown boarding house full of idiot s! Got a litt le money, but

wh

en that plays out, they’ll put me in some kind of old folks

home. Bah! I’ll shoot myself before I put up with that.

A wave of affection for Aunt Kezia filled Lanie. For all her many

years, the old woman had brought safety to the Freeman house-

hold. With Lanie’s mother dead and her father in prison, the state

had almost broken up the family, but Aunt Kezia had provided a safe

haven for them all. She was indeed difficult to live with at times, but

Lanie loved her.

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GILBERT MORRIS

She thumbed through the pages and stopped abruptly at the entry

marked July the fourth, 1931. That had been the last Fourth of July,

and the memory of it was etched clearly on her memory. As she read

her words, her cheeks turned warm.

At the fair today I was standing at the Ferris wh

eel afr aid to

get in it bec ause they always scare me. Suddenly Owen was there,

and he teased me into gett

ing on the Ferris wh

eel with him.

We got in and I hung on but, as always, I was scared. He put his

arm around me, and wh

en the car started rocking I just threw

myself against him and hung on as if I was a litt le girl and he

was my daddy.

But it wasn’t like that. As I was press

ed against him, I knew

he was aware I wasn’t the litt le girl he always thinks of wh

en he

thinks of Lanie Freeman. And I knew he wasn’t the father fi gure

either. I could have let go but I didn’t want to. I just held onto

him and pret ended I was fr ightened. I know it was wrong, but

it’ll never come to anything else. He’s engaged to Louise now, and

I’ve had to put that dream away.

For a long moment Lanie stood in the center of the room staring

down at the words. She had written things in this journal she would

never share with anyone else. The thought drew her to her writing

table. Still shivering against the cold, she pulled on a sweater and

rubbed her hands together to warm her fingers. Then she opened the

notebook, picked up a pen, and began to write:

Dec ember the thirtiet h, 1931. Owen is not married to Lou-

ise Langley. That’s the bigg es t thing in my life right now. She

broke their engagement, and wh

en I heard of it my heart nearly

jumped out of my ches t.

Roger wants me to marry him but I can’t. I’ve got too many

problems. I’ve got to handle all of thes e things.

1. Davis can’t read.

2. My sist er Maeva has a wild streak that’s liable to bust

out at any time.

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THE MIRACLE

3. Daddy’s in prison and may not be out for a long time.

4. I want to be a writer but there’s no way I ever can be.

5. The Depress

ion is gett

ing worse, and I don’t see how we can

pay the bills.

6. I’ve got Cass

to think of . Davis brought her home and she’s

going to have a baby, and I’ve got to help her somehow or

ot her.

She held her pen poised over the journal for a moment, and then

she added one note:

In a few hours it’s going to be a brand new year. I’m going to trust

God for every one of thes e problems.

Firmly she blotted the ink, closed the notebook, and put it back

in the lower drawer of the chest. Then she rose and left the room, her

head high.

As she started down the hall toward the stairs, she stopped by

the room that Maeva shared with Cass. She opened the door and saw

her sister propped up in bed, wearing a heavy mackinaw coat to keep

off the cold. She was reading a copy of True Romance magazine, and

looking up, she grinned. “You ought to read some of these stories,

Lanie.”

“Never mind those stories. Get out of bed. It’s time to go to

church.”

“I’m not going to church this morning. It’s too cold.”

“You’ve got to go to church. You know that, so let’s not argue

about it.”

“You can’t make me go. I’m bigger than you are.”

Indeed, it was true that Maeva, at sixteen and one year younger

than Lanie, was larger. She was also stronger and more athletic. She

stared at the girl and tried to think of a way to convince her. “You

know,” she finally said, “I can’t make you go, but if daddy were here,

you’d go, wouldn’t you?”

Maeva bit her lower lip, threw the magazine on the floor, and

came out from under the covers. “All right. I’ll go to church.” She

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GILBERT MORRIS

glared at Lanie. “I’m telling you. You need to read a few love stories.

All you ever think about is money!”

The words hurt for Lanie knew some of what she said was

true. Maeva was convinced that all her sister thought about was

money — which was not true. Of course she had to think about

money. Somebody had to pay the bills, and considering the desper-

ate times of the Depression, it was a tight squeeze. Almost everybody

in Fairhope, in Stone County — in the whole country for that mat-

ter — was enduring hardship.

As she turned and went down the stairs, Lanie thought of Maeva’s

charge that she had no romance. I’ve got as much romance in my heart

as you have, Maeva. I just don’t fly a flag about it. The angry thought bounced around in her, but she put it aside firmly as she went into the

kitchen. The warmth from the wood-burning cook stove greeted her,

and she saw at a glance they were all there: Aunt Kezia, Davis, Cody,

Corliss, and Cass, the newest member of the household. Cass was wear-

ing an old dress of hers and a coat that had belonged to her mother.

The girl had been in pitiful shape when Davis had found her riding in

a box car. He had brought her home, not knowing what else to do, and

when it was discovered she was only sixteen years old and going to have

a baby, by common consent they had agreed to keep her.

“Well, is everybody ready to go to church?”

“Not yet,” Cody said. He was a wide-eyed young man of fifteen

with red hair and green eyes much like his father’s. He was short and

stocky with a head as packed with ideas as an egg is packed with a

yolk. The fact that most of these concepts never got off the ground

never seemed to trouble Cody. His eyes were gleaming.

Davis, his older brother, said, “We got a new invention, Lanie.”

Davis was tall, lanky and had auburn hair and blue eyes. He looked

a great deal like his father and was a good athlete like him too. “We

don’t know what it is yet. He won’t tell us.”

“We don’t have time for that, Cody,” Lanie said. “We’ve got to

get to church.”

Aunt Kezia grinned. She never wore old ladies clothes but, instead,

wore whatever suited her. The dress she had on today was a bright red

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THE MIRACLE

and white, fit for summer, and over it she had on a coat with a fur

neckpiece that was rather bare in spots. She was ninety one now, but

her mind was as sharp as ever. “What is it this time, Cody? Is it a

perpetual motion machine?”

“Nah. I’m working on that, but I ain’t quite got it yet. Here it is.”

Lanie moved closer to see the invention. It was a strange-looking

device, but Cody was expert at creating strange-looking things. It had

a steel rod in the middle and blades of some sort that seemed to circle

around it.

“What is it, Cody?’

“Why, can’t you see? It’s a potato peeler. Here, lem’me me show

you how it works. Give me a potato, Lanie.”

Maeva pulled a potato out of the bin and tossed it to him. “I bet

ya a nickel it won’t work.”

“You ain’t got a nickel.” Cody grinned. “Besides, you already owe

me a nickel.” He plunked the potato down, impaling it on the upright

pole, and then reached for a wheel that was on one side. “You watch

this now. No more sitting around with a knife trying to get that skin

off of there and picking out them little eyes. Cody Freeman’s never-fail,

sure-fire, always on the spot, potato peeler is going to make us rich!”

“Let’s see the silly thing work,” Aunt Kezia said. “I peeled enough

infernal potatoes that it’d be a good thing if you could put a stop to

that.”

“Watch out. Here we go.” Cody turned the wheel, and the blade

slashed and circled the potato. It was all over in a few seconds, and

then Davis began to laugh. “Look at that. You peeled that potato all

right.”

Lanie couldn’t help but smile. The blades had not just peeled the

skin off; it had removed all the potato except a stubby round shape no

more than an inch thick.

Maeva snorted. “I told you that dumb thing wouldn’t work. Now

you owe me a nickel.”

“No I don’t. You wouldn’t bet.” They all waited to see how Cody

would defend his failure, for he never admitted defeat. Since he had

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GILBERT MORRIS

been converted recently and baptized in the Singing River, he con-

sidered himself the spiritual head of the Freeman dynasty. “It’s gonna

work. It just needs a few adjustments.”

“We got to do something about this lack of confidence you got,

Cody.” Davis grinned.

“You just wait.” Cody nodded firmly. “I got another invention.

It’s going to work, too.”

“What is it?” Lanie asked.

“It’s a chicken plucking invention.”

“Oh, that’ll never work.” Maeva shook her head and scowled.

“You probably want to pluck ’em while they’re still alive.”

“We can argue about that some other day,” Lanie said, “but right

now we’ve got to get to church. So let’s go.”

She picked up Corliss who had been watching the doings of the

grown ups. At the age of three she was the pet of all the Freemans. She

was her mother all over again and all they had on earth left of her. She

would have been spoiled rotten, but she was the sweetest tempered,

smartest child any of them had ever seen. “Going to church,” she said

with a bright smile.

“Yes. Going to church.” Lanie kissed her on the cheek and said, “If

everybody in the world were as sweet as you, it’d be a good world.”

They piled into the ancient Ford pickup, the girls in the front,

and Davis and Cody in the back. The engine turned over slowly and

burst into a cacophonous roar. “I’m sure glad Pardue put a self-starter

on this thing,” Lanie said to Aunt Kezia.

Kezia was bundled up to the eyes. “I wish there wasn’t nothing

but horses. You didn’t have to crank them. Just get on and go.”

Since Aunt Kezia had grown up in the world where the horse was

king, the girls could not argue. Lanie moved the Ford away from the

curb. As she drove down the street, she waved at the neighbors who

waved back. In a town like Fairhope almost everyone went to church.

The Catholics had already been, most of them going to an early mass,

but the Presbyterians, the Methodists, the Baptists, and the Pentecos-

tals were making their way to their respective churches.

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THE MIRACLE

When she got to the Baptist Church, Lanie had to park a block

away. Everyone got out, and they walked toward the church join-

ing others from their congregations. Reverend Colin Ryan was there

to greet them. He was the interim pastor of the Fairhope Baptist

Church, and many said with his black hair and dark blue eyes he was

too good looking to be a preacher. He came forward to meet them.

“Well, here’s my favorite folks.”

Lanie smiled. “You say that to everyone.”

“Well, I guess they’re all my favorites. How you doing, Cody?

Still preaching the word?”

“Every chance I get, Brother Colin.” Ever since Cody’s conver-

sion he had stuck as close as possible to the pastor. Colin Ryan rode a

motorcycle, rarely wore a tie, and broke most of the conventions that

Baptists usually expected their pastor’s to follow. Those who didn’t

like his ways comforted themselves by saying, “He’ll soon be gone

from here.”

“Better get in. It’s crowded this morning.” He smiled, showing his

cleft chin to its fullest.

Lanie went inside and deposited Corliss in the nursery where

she at once began playing with blocks spelling words out with them.

She had already learned her letters, which mystified all the other

Freemans.

As she left the auditorium, Lanie encountered Louise Langley,

which gave her more than a moment’s worth of discomfort. The his-

tory of the Langleys and the Freemans had not been congenial. Otis

Langley, the patriarch of the clan, had been furious when Lanie won

an academic prize he felt it should go to his son Roger. Then later,

when Louise had been engaged to Doctor Owen Merritt, the whole

family had been, more or less, jealous of the attention Owen paid to

the Freemans — especially to Lanie.

Now, however, Louise was smiling. “Hello, Lanie, it’s good to see

you. What a pretty dress.”

“Hello, Louise. It’s cold out today.”

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GILBERT MORRIS

“Yes.” There was a moment’s silence, and Lanie wondered whether

she should say something about the broken engagement. Finally she

said, “I . . . was surprised to hear about your breaking your engage-

ment to Doctor Merritt.”

Louise’s face changed momentarily, but then she smiled. “It was a

hard thing to do, but it was the right thing to do.”

“I haven’t seen Owen lately.”

“No. He’s keeping to himself. I suppose he’s hurt by my decision

not to marry, but he’ll thank me for it some day.” Lanie noticed there

was no sign of regret on Louise’s face.

“I must get to back to the choir room,” she said. “We’re singing a

special today so we need extra practice.”

Leaving Louise, she went to the choir room where the practice

was being led by the choir director, Dempsey Wilson. Wilson was

the high school football coach and was almost as attractive as Colin

Ryan. Lanie was amused at how the women in the choir could not

keep their eyes off him. He was single, and those who had no ambi-

tions for him themselves had daughters they wanted to promote.

Loreen Parks leaned forward and said, “Why don’t you set your

cap for Dempsey? He likes you. I can tell.”

“Oh, hush! Dempsey likes everyone.”

As soon as the choir filed into the loft, Lanie’s heart warmed, for

she saw that Colin Ryan had gone over and squatted down beside Cass

who was sitting at the end of the row toward the back of the sanctu-

ary. The young girl’s face was usually tight with tension, but some-

thing Colin said amused her, and she was smiling. It struck Lanie that

she was indeed an attractive girl, but a girl with lots of troubles.

She watched the little drama of the church, which was what it

seemed from her place in the choir loft. Why, this church is like a cosmos, a little world of its own — or maybe like one of the old English sailing ships. It has a captain — that’s the pastor — and the deacons are

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THE MIRACLE

the officers. Everyone has to do their job at the church, just like sailors on a ship. . . .

Lanie rebuked herself for her wandering thoughts, but it was a

good place to observe what was happening. She noticed, for example,

that Louise Langley did not seem particularly distraught about her

broken engagement. Her gaze was firmly fixed on Colin, and Lanie

remembered that Aunt Kezia had once observed, “That woman can’t

keep her eyes off the preacher. She’s looking at him like he’s a piece of

caramel cake!”

Finally the song ser vice began, and when the choir special was

over, Colin came around and stood before the choir, his back to the

congregation. “That was what music in heaven must sound like.” He

smiled, showing off the cleft in his chin. “Thank you, choir.” He had

a way of showing gratitude that made people feel good, and as he

turned and began to preach, Lanie’s gaze went back to Louise, who

still watched Colin intently.

She’s not grieving over Owen, that’s for sure!

There was satisfaction in this for Lanie, and she settled back with

a little secret smile.

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Document Outline

- Title Page

- Copyright Page

- Dedication

- Contents

- Part One: The Worries

- Chapter 1

- Chapter 2

- Chapter 3

- Chapter 4

- Chapter 5

- Part Two: The Pastor

- Chapter 6

- Chapter 7

- Chapter 8

- Chapter 9

- Chapter 10

- Chapter 11

- Part Three: The Romances

- Chapter 12

- Chapter 13

- Chapter 14

- Chapter 15

- Chapter 16

- Chapter 17

- Part Four: The Transformation

- Chapter 18

- Chapter 19

- Chapter 20

- Chapter 21

- Chapter 22

- Chapter 23

- Part Five: The Thanksgiving

- Chapter 24

- Chapter 25

- Chapter 26

- Chapter 27

- Chapter 28

- Read an Excerpt from Gilbert Morris’s Next Novel — The Miracle

- About the Publisher

- Share Your Thoughts

Table of Contents

Part One:The Worries

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part Two:The Pastor

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part Three:The Romances

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Unnamed

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part Four:The Transformation

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Part Five:The Thanksgiving

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

About The Publisher

Share Your Thoughts

Part One

Chapter 14

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Read an Excerpt from Gilbert Morris’s Next Novel — The Miracle

Table of Contents

Part One:The Worries

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part Two:The Pastor

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part Three:The Romances

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Unnamed

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part Four:The Transformation

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Part Five:The Thanksgiving

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

About The Publisher

Share Your Thoughts

Part One

Chapter 14

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Read an Excerpt from Gilbert Morris’s Next Novel — The Miracle