“Tarah, I imagine you’re relieved the school term will be over soon,” Louisa piped in. “I hear things haven’t gone well.”
Tarah flushed and glared at Anthony. Indignation swelled his chest at the accusation in her eyes. Did she really think he had betrayed her confidence about his unruly niece and her brother?
Louisa pressed on before Tarah could answer. “Perhaps the town council will give someone else a chance to teach the children since you apparently aren’t enjoying the position.” She cast a hopeful sidelong glance at Dell.
“Tarah’s the best teacher alive,” Laney declared hotly.
“How would you know?” Josie’s voice rang with challenge. “You didn’t stay at school long enough to sit down, much less see her teach.”
Laney’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her lips pushing out from her face. “Tarah’s a sight better’n anybody could be in a million years. And I ain’t gotta go to no school to figure that out. And iffen anyone’s callin’ me a liar, I’ll knock ‘em flat.”
“That won’t be necessary, little lightning bolt.” Dell cleared his throat and eyed Louisa with a stern glance. “I reckon the job for next term will be Tarah’s if she wants to accept it. The council has heard no complaints about her teaching.”
Color flooded Louisa’s cheeks, and she ducked her head.
“Oh, honestly. I probably won’t be here to teach another term anyway.” Tarah shot to her feet. “I had planned to discuss this with Ma and Pa privately, but since you all feel so comfortable speaking about my life, I guess I’ll just go ahead and tell you.”
Dread filled Anthony at her words, and he waited impatiently while she paused to take a breath.
“Tell us what, Tarah?” Cassidy asked, her brow furrowing.
“I received a letter Friday from Mr. Halston—”
“Clyde Halston? From Starling?” Dell asked. “Why would he write to you?”
Anthony wanted to know the same thing. A surge of jealousy shot through him at the thought of another man courting Tarah.
“It seems Starling has come into some funds to build a small school and hire a teacher. And he suggested me.”
“But that’s nearly twenty miles away!” Cassidy’s frown deepened. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
“Darling,” Dell said gently, placing a hand on her arm. “Our little girl is old enough to make this decision on her own.”
“Now hold on!” Laney hopped to her feet and stood facing Tarah, her features twisted into a scowl. “Ya just cain’t get a body to goin’ to school and then up and leave ‘em. I ain’t goin’ if she’s teachin’.” She tossed her head toward Louisa without moving her gaze from Tarah.
Tarah’s face softened considerably as she stared down at the little ball of fire. “I will finish out my term in Harper.” She glanced back up, her eyes shifting between Dell and Cassidy. “They’re building the schoolhouse now and would want me to start teaching a winter term. Mr. Halston said the town has the funds to pay a teacher for five months.” Tarah glanced around the circle of family and friends, and her voice faltered. “Th–they want me to come right after the new year.”
“But, Tarah, you can’t go.” Emily’s lips trembled, her wide green eyes regarding Tarah sorrowfully. “We’d miss you something awful if you left home.”
“Oh honey. I’d miss you, too. But—”
“Well, I think it would be a wonderful opportunity for Tarah,” Louisa said brightly.
“Yer just sayin’ that ‘cuz you wanna steal her job out from under her.” The look of disdain on Laney’s face could have melted the strongest of men, but Louisa opened her mouth as though ready to take on the tiny creature.
“Laney,” Cassidy said before Louisa could voice her retort, “you owe Miss Thomas an apology.”
The child stamped her foot and glared at Louisa.
Anthony thought he detected a note of triumph in Louisa’s returning gaze. Laney must have detected the same thing, for she jerked her chin and planted her hands firmly on her tiny hips. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna ‘pologize to her. I stand by what I said, and ain’t nobody gonna make me say nothin’ else!” With that, she dashed off toward the river, leaving the group around the blanket to stare in disbelief.
“I’ll go after her,” Tarah offered.
“Well, I certainly hope you give her a good talking to,” Louisa said indignantly. “What a spoiled child!”
Anthony shook his head as his anger surged. “Laney is the least spoiled child I’ve ever known. It’s ridiculous to even say such a thing.” Louisa’s mouth dropped as Anthony continued. “And I don’t believe I’d be remiss in pointing out that she has a wisdom about human nature that many of us lack.”
He caught Tarah’s wide-eyed gaze. “Would you mind if I go after Laney and have a talk with her?” he asked.
“I—I guess not.”
“I’m goin’, too.” Ben stood beside Anthony. “She can get awfully stubborn.”
With a nod, Anthony set off toward the river with Ben close on his heels. He found Laney seated on the bank, tossing stray twigs into the rippling water.
She dashed a tear from her cheek and didn’t bother to glance up as Anthony dropped to the ground beside her. Ben took the space on her other side. “I stand by what I said, and I ain’t ’pologizin’ to that hoity-toit even if she is yer girl. So you can fergit it, Preacher. And you ain’t talkin’ me into it, Ben. I don’t care if Tarah’s folks kick us out neither.”
Anthony chuckled. “I didn’t come here to try to get you to apologize. You don’t need to worry about Tarah’s folks kicking you out. And how many times do I have to tell you Louisa’s not my girl?”
Laney snorted. “Then yer the only one who don’t think so.” She tossed a twig into the water. “I even heard that Josie say you’ll most likely marry up with her.”
“Well, my niece is wrong.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it if I was you.”
Ben kept silent through the exchange. He met Anthony’s gaze over Laney’s head and held on as though trying to read into the depths of his soul. Anthony looked away from the wizened perusal and released a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t come over here to discuss me, anyway.”
“Then what’d you want to talk about?”
Suddenly Anthony didn’t know. He wanted to reassure her. To gather her in his lap and give her the kind of love a child deserved. Reaching into his heart, he asked the first question that came to mind. “You two haven’t been to church much, have you?”
“Ain’t never been b’fore today.”
“What did you think of the service?”
Laney shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. My b’hind got sore sittin’ there so long. Ya yelled real good though. Just like Pa when he’s all liquored up.”
Anthony felt the heat creep up his neck. He turned toward Ben, suddenly caring what the child thought.
Ben frowned.
With a sinking heart, Anthony gave him a wry smile. “You didn’t care for the service either, I take it?”
“Reckon I did,” he said quietly. “You enjoyed the sermon?”
“Cain’t rightly say I understood a lot of it. But the part about bein’ sinners and how we need God—that part I understood. ‘Course, I reckon Laney and me was the only ones in the whole church that didn’t already know it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You talkin’’bout that fella that kept talkin’ in front of us, Ben?”
Ben nodded.
Anthony waited for someone to elaborate and was just about to suggest it when Laney obliged. “Kept sayin’ how there weren’t no real sinners in the whole place and how you was spittin’ in the wind.”
Embarrassment swept over Anthony. Did the whole town believe he was preaching in vain? Didn’t Paul say, “All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God”? Or was it Peter? Anthony’s muddled brain couldn’t conjure up a single verse of scripture he could quote with certainty. He raked his fingers through his
hair. “I just don’t know what to do.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, his gaze darted to the two children. They stared back at him, curiosity on Laney’s face, understanding on Ben’s. The boy gave a hesitant frown and looked away.
“It’s all right, Ben. You can speak your mind.”
“Naw.”
Curiosity piqued, Anthony felt compelled to hear what the boy had to say. “Go ahead,” he urged. “I won’t be angry.”
Ben took a long breath, then released it with a whoosh. “Seems to me,” he began earnestly, “that tryin’ to tell folks who already go to church that they need God is sorta like tryin’ to talk a hound dog into eatin’ a rabbit. He already knows a rabbit’s good eatin’.”
Defenses raised, Anthony stared at Ben. What did this kid know about anything? The strongest lesson Reverend Cahill had taught Anthony was to hammer the salvation message into his congregation. “Many church folks think their lives are just fine,” Anthony’s mentor had said, “when in reality, they’re closer to the gates of hell than they know. As ministers of the Gospel, it’s our responsibility not to let even the smallest opportunity pass without sharing the truth. And that will more than likely make you unpopular.”
Well, it had certainly made Anthony unpopular. His three-month trial period was half over, and he worried he might not have his position extended to a permanent status—despite the fact that he’d visited each of the remaining families this week.
He took comfort from the memory of Reverend Cahill’s words. “Always preach the truth, no matter the cost. It’s better to lose man’s favor than to stand before God and answer why you took the easy road.”
With his arms behind him, he leaned on his palms and stared reflectively into the water.
“Sorry, Preacher. I shoulda kept my mouth shut.”
“No, Ben,” he said. “You pretty much summed up the reason my congregation has been getting smaller and smaller each week. But you have to understand. Not everyone attends church services for the right reasons. There are many people sitting on benches week after week who don’t know the Lord.”
“And you figure some of them are sittin’ in yer church?”
Anthony shrugged. “I can’t see the hearts of men. I only have to preach what I feel God is telling me to preach.”
“So yer not mad?”
Anthony smiled. “Not a bit. I think you’re a very bright boy with a lot of insight.”
Ben flushed with pleasure.
“Anthony?” Louisa’s soft voice behind him drew Anthony’s attention from his newfound revelation.
“I’m leavin’.” Laney shot to her feet and stomped away.
“The boys are planning to play baseball, if you’d like to join them,” Louisa offered to Ben as he stood.
“I cain’t.” He limped away, leaving a red-faced Louisa to stare after him.
“I hoped perhaps we could take a walk while the children are playing,” she said, her voice more subdued than Anthony had ever observed.
“Let’s sit here for a while instead.”
She eyed the ground dubiously, then nodded. “If that’s what you prefer.” Carefully she lowered herself until she sat beside him. “I know you didn’t mean to speak to me the way you did earlier,” she said, a hint of her usual cheerfulness returning. “So I’ve decided to forgive you.”
“That’s good of you,” Anthony drawled. He had intended to apologize for admonishing her in front of the St. Johns, but apparently an apology wasn’t necessary.
“Hey Anthony!”
Anthony turned at the sound of Luke’s voice.
“Come play baseball with us. We need a pitcher.”
“Oh Anthony.” Louisa’s countenance took on a pretty pout. “You’re not going to play with the children, are you?”
Relieved at the chance to make a graceful exit, Anthony stood and grinned down at her. “You heard Luke. They need a pitcher.”
He heard her huff as he strode toward the players. A niggling of unease swept over him at the thought of the entire town believing they were courting. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, but he had to find a way to let Louisa know she had to look elsewhere for a husband. Of course, if she had her heart set on marrying him, as Laney seemed to think she did, he would probably have an easier time trying to convince a rattlesnake not to strike.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Anthony tried to push away his troublesome thoughts. Between Louisa’s relentless pursuit, his congregation’s lack of response, and Tarah’s disinterest, his life wasn’t going at all as he had planned.
Chapter 10
After hours spent on his knees bombarding heaven with desperate questions, Anthony still had no answers. Releasing a weary breath, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and stretched out on his bed. He closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him as his mind whirled like a spring twister.
Two weeks had passed since the picnic, and whether Anthony liked it or not, Ben’s words weighed heavily on his heart. His nerves were taut with uncertainty.
Conflicting thoughts warred against each other like two great armies on a field of battle. While he didn’t want to neglect the salvation message, how could he ignore the spiritual needs of folks who were truly living for God? Should he abandon his firm message of the consequences of sin and begin to teach the fundamentals of godly living as Ben, in his innocence, had suggested?
It would have been so easy to disregard the boy’s comments—and he had been prepared to do just that—but last week’s message had once again fallen on deaf ears. The apathy on the faces of the few remaining members of his congregation had drained his enthusiasm for his message, and for the first time he doubted his mentor’s teachings.
Were these people really hard-hearted and unwilling to hear the Bible preached? If so, why were several families still meeting at the Johnson farm on Sunday mornings to read scripture and sing hymns? Even Tucker, Anthony had heard, was beginning to attend the home group. His congregation was split in half, and Anthony felt the weight of responsibility for the division heavily upon his shoulders.
In preparation for today’s sermon, he had prayed and studied the apostles’ letters to the churches. Every one of them. But he hadn’t received a clear answer. Services would begin in four hours, and he still had nothing to feed his sheep.
Frustrated, he pushed away the heavy quilt covering him and sat up on the edge of his bed. He swiped a hand through his hair and looked up as though the answers might be inscribed on the ceiling.
With his arms bent at the elbows, he held his hands palms up. “What is it, Lord? What am I doing wrong? If I am truly speaking Your message, then why have people stopped attending services?” In the early church, God had added souls daily. Even amid opposition to the apostles’ teachings. So why was his church getting smaller and smaller?
With a resigned sigh, he dressed, grabbed his Bible from the table beside his bed, and tiptoed through the house. He snatched an apple from the kitchen table, shoved it into his coat pocket, then quietly exited the house, leaving the morning chores to his brothers.
He entered the schoolhouse in the darkness. After building a fire in the woodstove, he sank onto one of the wooden benches behind a desk. Weary from lack of sleep and spent tears, he leaned his elbows on the desk and stared into the darkness, wondering what he would say to his congregation when they arrived expecting a sermon.
“I guess I could give them an object lesson.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “The children sure loved it.” As a matter of fact, his lesson to Tarah’s class had garnered the only favorable response he’d received for his preaching since he’d moved back to Harper.
As light from the east filtered in through the window, slowly pushing the inky blackness from the room, so, too, did the fog begin to lift from Anthony’s mind.
For the last few weeks, he had been preaching salvation to the saved. Redemption to the already redeemed. The time had come for a new approach.
Concern sifted over Tarah as Anthony walked to the pulpit, the
usual spring in his step noticeably absent. Dark smudges appeared under his eyes, and his face was a full shade paler than normal. Clearing his throat, he paused and stared out over the congregation.
When his gaze met hers, he gave her a crooked grin, as though reassuring her. Tarah felt herself flush and quickly averted her gaze.
Though she had been furious with him for taking Louisa Thomas to the picnic, she’d found herself unable to hold a grudge—not after the way he’d defended, then gone after, Laney.
If he preferred Louisa, so be it. Though Tarah’s heart couldn’t help beating a staccato in his presence, she had resigned herself to his friendship.
“Let’s begin with prayer,” Anthony said, as he did each Sunday morning.
Tarah held her breath and nearly mouthed the words “Our most gracious heavenly Father” along with him.
“May Your words pour like honey on the ears of the listeners today. And may the truth penetrate each heart and mind. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Tarah lifted her head and opened her eyes, observing him with the same quiet surprise she was sure was reflected in each face present. Something was different.
Slowly Anthony reached inside his pocket and produced an apple. Then he pulled out a small knife as well.
Feeling a hand on her arm, Tarah glanced down into Laney’s questioning eyes. “How’s he gonna preach if he’s eatin’?” she whispered. “Yer ma says it ain’t polite to talk with yer mouth full.”
“It’s not polite to talk during service either,” Tarah whispered back, placing a finger to the little girl’s lips.
She couldn’t imagine what Anthony was thinking, and she wondered if his pale countenance and the dark rings under his eyes were indications of an illness. Twisting around, she caught Dr. Simpson’s gaze. He shrugged and sent her a reassuring smile, then glanced back up at Anthony, concern written on his leathery face.
Slowly Anthony sliced through the apple, then held up one half in each hand.
Shuffling noises could be heard throughout the room, and Tarah knew the bewildered congregation wondered if their preacher had suddenly gone daft.
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