by Ann Shorey
“You awake in there?” Meecham called.
“I am. I’ll be out directly.”
The door swung wide and Meecham entered, carrying a garment over his arm. “Let me help you get a shirt on. Likely you aren’t wanting to move that arm any more than you must.”
“Thanks, but I can manage.”
The smell of fried ham filtered in from the kitchen. Matthew’s stomach growled, reminding him how hungry he was.
Ignoring his objection, Meecham leaned down and slipped one sleeve onto Matthew’s left arm, then draped the shirt over his right shoulder. No one had helped him put his clothes on since he was a child, and the intimacy of the act embarrassed Matthew. Further, the difference in their height left him feeling like the boy Mrs. Meecham had said he was. He grabbed his pants before Meecham could think of helping him with those too.
When Matthew entered the kitchen, platters of fried ham and eggs waited on the table, next to a pan of steaming biscuits.
Mrs. Meecham glanced at him. “Dig in, young man. We always eat good for breakfast—you never know what a day might bring.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He tugged a chair away from the table with his left hand and lowered his weight onto it. Mrs. Meecham filled his plate, cutting his ham into bite-sized pieces while he watched, half amused. Dressing him, cutting his food. The next thing he knew, they’d offer to feed him.
She pointed at his plate. “Want me to help you with that?”
Matthew shook his head, awkwardly manipulating his fork with his left hand. “Sooner I get the hang of this, the better.”
Once he’d wiped the last of the egg yolk from his plate with a biscuit, Matthew eased his body back in the chair. Feeling strengthened, he decided to divulge his mission before his courage deserted him. “Brother Meecham, I came to ask you to assign me to another church in the Quincy district.”
He looked surprised. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? Want to tell me why you’re giving up on Beldon Grove?”
“It’s the other way around. Beldon Grove is giving up on me.”
Meecham shifted in his chair to allow his mother to clear the table, then leaned toward Matthew. “Start at the beginning.”
Matthew told him about Marcus Beldon’s arrival in Beldon Grove and the man’s belief that the community was his rightful heritage. He related the deaths of his and Ellie’s four infants and the whispering campaign that had sprung up in town, claiming that the deaths were God’s judgment against him as a preacher.
Mrs. Meecham turned from the basin. “Don’t you believe it, young man. Barton’s papa and me lost all our babies ’cept this one.” She pointed a soapy hand at her son. “Wasn’t a judgment. God weeps when his little ones pass on, but he weeps for us, not them. They’re in a better place.”
Tears formed in Matthew’s eyes at her gentle tone. He looked at the ceiling and blinked hard to keep them from spilling. “Yes, ma’am, I believe that too, but there’s plenty of folks in Beldon Grove think otherwise right now.”
Meecham’s expression softened. “I understand this has been hard on your family. But it doesn’t sound like enough reason to give up your church. Is that all?”
Matthew started to lean forward, but the pain in his ribs stopped him. Drawing a thin breath, he again rested against the chair back. “There was one other matter. About the same time Beldon got to town, handbills went up about a Shakespeare play that would be coming.”
“All the way to Beldon Grove? Which one? I’m quite fond of Shakespeare myself.”
Nervous sweat prickled Matthew’s forehead. “Uh, Macbeth.” If it weren’t for his sore ribs, he would have squirmed in his chair. Ben was right. Everyone was right. He felt his skin flush under his beard. Why hadn’t he listened?
“Macbeth. One of my particular favorites. And how was the performance?”
Matthew gulped. “I didn’t go.”
At Meecham’s look of surprise, he told him the whole story of his opposition to the play, how Beldon had used it against him, and how eventually it had split his congregation. “But it wasn’t the play itself. I worried about actor folk corrupting our young people.” He jutted his chin forward. “Turns out I was right. My wife’s aunt ran off with one of the performers.”
“How does that make you right? Your wife’s aunt is probably old enough to know what she’s doing. You can’t blame the acting troupe for her decision. Might’ve happened another time with someone else.”
Speechless, Matthew blinked. He hadn’t considered that possibility.
Meecham tilted his head, a skeptical light in his eyes. “I’m wondering if you’re exaggerating your problems with this Mr. Beldon, as well.”
“No. I’m not. He claims her adultery proves I can’t manage my own family.” Matthew’s left hand curled into a fist. “I need to leave the Beldon Grove church for the good of the body.”
One eyebrow raised almost to his low hairline, Meecham folded his arms and studied Matthew for a long moment. “The good of the body? Sure it’s not your wounded pride that’s making you run?” He pushed back his chair and paced the length of the room. Then he turned toward Matthew, shaking his head. “You owe fidelity to your congregation. You’ve led them for years. Now you want to leave when things go sour?”
Matthew felt like a child being scolded by an angry parent. He stood. “What’s to be gained by my staying? Beldon has most of the congregation gathering at the hotel now. No one comes to the church on Sundays.” In the background, the stove brush scratched as Mrs. Meecham scrubbed the surface of the squat range.
After glancing at his mother, Meecham stepped next to Matthew, placed a gentle hand on his left shoulder, and directed him toward the parlor. “Let’s go in here. It’s quieter.”
Cold air in the unheated room struck Matthew’s face like a damp cloth. Rather than sit in the chair Meecham pointed out, he walked over to the bookshelves and leaned against them. If his ribs hadn’t been so painful, he’d have crossed his arms over his chest. As it was, he slipped his left hand in his pocket and waited.
“No one comes on Sundays?” Meecham repeated Matthew’s statement back to him. “Your family is there, and you mentioned several other people in the community who are standing with you. Are they of no consequence?”
“They’ll understand. They’ve seen what’s happened.”
“So you’re leaving them to worship at a hotel? Have you thought about that?”
In his mind, Matthew saw a vision of his family and friends smiling up at him as he stood behind the pulpit. He bowed his head. “Maybe you could trade me to another station, and someone else could minister in Beldon Grove.” Put into words, the idea sounded lack-witted, even to him.
Meecham’s dark eyes flared. “Uproot two families to salve your wounded pride? Brother Craig, I expected better of you. You were recommended for the Beldon Grove church based on the strength of your good work on the circuit. No one mentioned you’d cut and run when you encountered difficulties.”
“I believe I’m doing what is best.” A nagging thought surfaced. Like opposing the play was for the best? His ribs throbbed, and he sank into a chair. He’d run out of arguments. He only knew he’d lost most of his congregation to Marcus Beldon, and all of Meech–am’s persuasive words wouldn’t bring them back.
Frowning, Meecham walked across the narrow room and stared down at Matthew, regret in his eyes. “There are seven missions in the Quincy district, and except for Beldon Grove now, all the pulpits are filled. I have no place to send you.”
Matthew opened his mouth to reply, but Meecham cut him off. “If you really feel you have to leave, you can go back to riding circuit. There’s a need for an itinerant preacher in the southern part of the state.”
Riding circuit was the last thing he wanted. How could he look after his family if he was gone all the time? He remembered long days in the saddle in all sorts of weather. No set place to sleep most nights. Poor food.
Trapped, he choked out,
“What are the boundaries?”
“We can go over that later, when you’re fit to travel.” Meecham opened the kitchen door and spoke to his mother. “I have calls to make this morning. You look after Brother Craig.”
After the front door closed, Matthew continued to sit in the unheated parlor. He’d won the argument, but at a high price. How would Ellie react when she found out he’d be riding circuit? He shook his head. What had he gotten himself into?
As the days of Matthew’s recovery slipped by, Elder Meecham treated him with restrained courtesy. Occasionally, Matthew would sense that he was being watched and look up to find Meecham studying him with a speculative expression. But the subject of the Beldon Grove church was not raised again.
The following Sunday he felt well enough to walk to church with them and attend services. As they covered the distance, Matthew’s thoughts were far from the steepled building down the lane. Instead, they centered around his wife and family—they were bound to be frantic at his prolonged absence. If only he had a way to get word home quickly.
When he stepped into the sanctuary of the Quincy church, he noted the differences between the small building in Beldon Grove and this one. Where his church had benches, the Quincy meeting house had high-backed pews. One of the windows had been set with tiny panes of stained glass, which scattered drops of color over the heads of the worshipers. A simple cross was carved into the front of the tall pulpit. He made a note to himself to have someone carve a similar cross on his pulpit in Beldon Grove. Then heaviness filled his chest as he remembered. It wasn’t his church anymore.
His gaze fell on a blonde woman seated near the aisle. She held a sleeping infant wrapped in a blue blanket. Next to her sat three children, stairstepped in age. Her husband sat at the other end of the pew. Matthew groaned. His loneliness felt like physical pain.
“Are your ribs hurting?” Mrs. Meecham whispered. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too painful.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be all right. Please don’t worry.” Once seated, Matthew opened his Bible, flipping to the Psalms for comfort. It was time to go home.
When Matthew reached the grove of cottonwoods marking the ten-mile point from Quincy, he turned his horse due east and plodded toward home. Although his ribs and shoulder had begun to heal during the nine days he’d spent at Meechams’, every step Samson took sent a jolt of pain through Matthew’s right side. He gritted his teeth and rode on, determined to reach Beldon Grove before nightfall.
In the distance, he saw a rider coming toward him. Tall grass concealed the horse’s legs, making it appear the rider was sailing across the prairie. Several minutes passed before Matthew saw the man’s face clearly. Daniel Griffith. He tugged on Samson’s reins and stopped to wait.
Daniel pulled his hat off and hollered, “Reverend!” A wide grin split his tanned face. “Wish all my tracking jobs was this easy.”
“Someone sent you to find me? Did something happen to Ellie? One of the children?”
“Naw, nothing like that. You was gone so long Doc asked me to go looking for you. Miz Craig’s been sore worried.”
Matthew pushed his hat back and rubbed his forehead. “Fell off my horse the day after I left.” He shifted in the saddle so Daniel could see that his right arm was bound to his side. “I’ve been in Quincy being tended to. I knew my wife would worry, but couldn’t find anyone to take word back.”
Daniel affected a world-weary expression. “Well, you know how women are. The least little thing throws them into a tizzy.”
The image of young Daniel as an expert on women amused Matthew. Although Daniel was twenty-four years old, he’d never left his parents’ home, nor showed any interest in the girls who shined up to him. Matthew figured it had something to do with his older brother running away when the boys were in their late teens. Since then, Daniel had done all he could to reassure his mother that he had no plans to desert her.
Matthew suppressed a smile and said, “That being the case, I’d best hurry along.”
Daniel swung his horse around and rode next to him. “I’ll stick with you, Reverend, ’til you get to your farm. Wouldn’t want nothing else to happen to you out here.” He pointed to the east. “Saw some wolf tracks back yonder. We need to keep a bright lookout.”
Alarm prickled through Matthew. “How many, do you think?”
“More than a few. Heard they’ve been killing sheep.”
The image of his wife and children alone on the farm rose in his mind. Before Matthew left Quincy, Elder Meecham gave him the names of settlements to visit on the southern Illinois circuit. Matthew knew the assignment would keep him away from home for weeks on end.
“I expect you to get started just as quick as you can,” Meecham had said. “You’re leaving me hard pressed to fill the pulpit in Beldon Grove—don’t shirk on the circuit too.”
Matthew’s gaze locked on his horse’s tangled mane while a fresh wave of anger washed over him. Lord, you know I’m not shirking. Help Ellie and Meecham to see it too.
Daniel interrupted his thoughts. “Say, how come you were in Quincy? Have business there?”
“Yes.” Matthew drew a shallow breath. “I’m leaving the Beldon Grove church.”
Daniel gaped at him. “Because of what people are saying about you and the missus having them babies die on you?”
“Mostly.”
“Never figured you for a quitter, Reverend.”
17
Ellie opened both the front door and the sitting room window, hoping for a cooling breeze while she stitched her way through the week’s mending. She sewed patches on the knees of Harrison’s pants, but her mind remained preoccupied with Matthew. Karl had assured her Daniel could find him, but she didn’t see how. It had rained twice since he left. Any tracks would have been washed away. She thought of Mr. Beldon’s offer to assist in the search, wishing the twins hadn’t been so rude to him. The more help they had, the sooner Matthew might be found.
Hooves clattered on the plank bridge.
She startled at the sound, her needle stabbing the soft flesh of her index finger. Ellie swiped at the drop of blood with her apron and hurried to the back door in time to see Daniel Griffith ride into the yard. And behind him, Matthew.
She dropped her mending on the porch floor and dashed down the steps. “You’re safe!”
“Yes.” Matthew eased off his horse. Deep creases lined his face, making him look older than his years. His right arm was bound to his body.
“Oh my word. What happened?” She went to him and nestled close to his left side, breathing in his special Matthew smell. Having him close brought the frayed edges of her life back together.
“I’ll tell you when we get inside. I need to sit on something that’s not moving.” Matthew’s face showed surprise when Uncle Arthur shuffled onto the porch. “Looks like you have news for me too.”
Daniel turned his horse toward the road. “Be seeing you, Reverend. I hope.” He tipped his hat and rode out of the farmyard.
Ellie watched him go, puzzled. “What does he mean, ‘I hope’? Why wouldn’t he be seeing you?”
“In a minute. I’ve got to rest.” Matthew climbed the stairs, drawing a breath between each step.
Once in the kitchen, the children came running as he made his way to Ellie’s rocking chair. Matthew sat carefully, tipping the chair so that his weight rested against the back. “Helps to get pressure off my ribs.”
Maria slipped next to his left side and patted his hand. “What’s wrong with your ribs?”
Matthew’s mouth twisted in a half smile, half grimace. “I think they’re all broke. The ones on my right side, anyway.”
“Oh, Matt.” The words flew from Ellie’s mouth. “And you rode home like that?” She slid into a chair facing her husband. “When did it happen?”
The family gathered around the kitchen table and listened while Matthew told of his accident and stay in Quincy. “I knew you’d be worried.” His eyes met Ellie’s. �
��But there wasn’t any way to get word back quick enough. When Daniel showed up, I guessed you must have thought I was a goner.”
“Daniel found you?”
“We met on the trail. I wasn’t lost, but he stayed with me. Said he was worried something else would happen.” His lips stretched in a wry grin. “Can’t say I was sorry for the company.”
“And Elder Meecham? What did he have to say?”
“Plenty of time for that later.” Matthew nodded in the direction of their children. He tilted his head and sniffed the air. “Something smells good. What’s for supper?”
Ellie recognized a deliberate change of subject. “Stewed prairie hens. The boys snared two this morning.” She moved toward the stove. “It’ll be on the table in a few minutes.”
During the meal Matthew focused his attention on Uncle Arthur, peppering him with questions regarding his whereabouts during the past several weeks. Ellie listened, fingers drumming impatiently in her lap, while he took Matthew through every mile of his search for Aunt Ruby.
As soon as he wound down, Ellie turned to the children. “Bedtime. You need to be up early to start your chores.”
Matthew laid his fork on his empty plate and took a swallow of coffee. “Don’t hurry them. They can stay up a few extra minutes tonight.”
Ellie bit her lower lip. “Fine.” She seized a stack of plates and plunked them in the basin. “Maria, come help me.”
“But I want to talk to Papa.”
“So do I.” After nearly two weeks alone with her children, at that moment Ellie felt ready to lock them in the root cellar. She set her jaw and poured steaming water over the supper dishes. What happened at Meechams’? Frustrated, she plunged her hands into the cloudy water. A sharp pain shot across the base of her thumb and she jerked her hand out to find blood trickling from a gash in her palm. A moan escaped her lips as she wrapped the wound in her apron.
“Ellie.” Matthew struggled from the chair and crossed the room. He lifted her hand. “Let me see.”
“I can take care of it myself.” She jerked her hand free. “Maria, please wash those dishes. Watch out, there’s a knife in the water.” Ellie stalked toward the stairs. “Good night. I’m going to bed.”