Grace and the Preacher

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  The jealousy whisked away and sympathy replaced it. Theo knew how it felt to be alone. “That’s sad.”

  The doctor nodded. “Yes, but I think knowing his folks were already gone made his own passing easier. He said several times during the night, ‘I will soon be with Mother and Father again.’ His faith comforted him even in his great pain.”

  Mrs. Wollard crossed behind the doctor and placed her hands on his shoulders. He cupped one of  her hands, smiling up at her. “His biggest concern was the church in Fairland and its people. Mostly especially the woman named Grace who had written him so many letters.”

  Theo’s scalp tingled as if a lightning bolt had come through the ceiling and struck him. “Did you say…Grace?”

  “Yes. Grace…Grace…” He scowled at his wife. “What was her last name again?”

  “I don’t recall. But her letters are in one of  his bags. I’ll go get them.” She hurried out of the room.

  Theo licked his lips. How many times had the sick man called out for grace? Maybe he’d been yelling for the woman, not for divine assistance.

  “He was worried this Grace and the other people in town would think he’d changed his mind about coming.”

  Mrs. Wollard breezed in. She placed a stack of envelopes all tied together with a rumpled pink ribbon on the table. “Here they are, all from Grace Cristler. That’s her name—Grace Cristler.”

  The doctor fiddled with the drooping bow. “Yes, Grace Cristler. Whenever he spoke her name, something in his expression changed. You saw it, too, didn’t you, Nettie?”

  “Indeed I did.” The woman finally sat, sagging into the chair as if  her legs had given out. “I could cry thinking about it now. He’d hoped for a life with that young woman. I just know it.”

  Dr. Wollard patted his wife’s hand. “ ‘The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away.’ God had other plans for Mr. Dille, so He must have other plans for Grace Cristler, too.” The two of them gazed at each other for long seconds.

  Theo cleared his throat and waited until they looked at him. “I’m not meaning to be contrary, but I don’t understand why I need to know all this. I already told you, Mr. Dille wasn’t a friend of mine, just somebody I happened to find…and tried to help.” He fingered the middle button on his new shirt front. “It was nice of  him to repay me by letting me have these clothes, but—”

  “Not just those clothes.” Dr. Wollard aimed a serious look across the table at Theo. “He wanted you to have all his belongings. He said you needed them. He said to give his ‘travel companion’—that’s what he called you—his clothes, his horses, his wagon, and everything in it. He said you’d know what to do with them.”

  “Me?” Theo stood so fast he bumped the table. The coffee in the doctor’s mug sloshed, and a few drops sprayed over the edge. Theo took two backward steps and collided with the dry sink. He froze in place. “What’m I supposed to do with that stuff ?” The wagon bed was full of sacks and crates, probably all of Reverend Rufus Dille’s earthly belongings. The horses were a fine pair, but how would he get to Iowa fast if  he had to take the wagon instead of riding on Rosie’s back? Even fine horses couldn’t pull a wagon as fast as a single horse could carry a rider.

  He shook his head. “No, sir. You keep it all. I don’t want his things. I don’t need ’em. I hafta—”

  His brows forming a deep V, the doctor rose, too. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  Mrs. Wollard clung to her husband’s arm two-handed, worry widening her eyes.

  He was scaring these folks. He had to calm himself. Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slow and easy. He fixed his gaze on the doctor. “I have someplace to go. Someplace I need to be. I’ve gotta travel light.”

  “Is someone waiting for you at the other end of the journey?”

  Theo wanted to give a different answer, but Granny Iva had taught him to be honest. “Nobody’s waiting. Not this time.”

  “Did Mr. Dille know that?”

  “I don’t know how he could’ve. We didn’t talk. He was hurtin’ and cryin’ out.” For Grace. “I might’ve said some things to him, maybe reassuring things. But nothing that really mattered. I don’t know why he’d want me to take his wagon and all the stuff  in it.” Of course, his cousins wouldn’t think about following wagon tracks. They’d be looking for horseshoe marks on the ground instead. Maybe taking the wagon wasn’t a bad idea after all.

  The doctor sat and gestured to the chair across the table. “Sit for a minute. Let me tell you the rest.”

  Theo wasn’t sure he could take much more, but after being treated so kindly, he couldn’t refuse. Holding back a sigh, he perched on the edge of the chair. “What else?”

  “Mr. Dille asked us to send a message to Fairland about his passing. I told him yes, of course Nettie and I would go into town and send a telegram. But he told us Fairland was too small. It didn’t have a telegrapher. So we said we’d send a letter. And he shook his head. Almost violently. He said he couldn’t send a letter. Grace would see it first, and he didn’t want her to find out that way—so impersonally.”

  “Oh, yes, he cared about that woman. It was so evident.” Tears winked in Nettie Wollard’s eyes.

  The doctor took her hand. “Based on what Mr. Dille said, a fellow can reach Fairland by following the Missouri River to the Kansas border. The town is about twenty miles west of the border. All together from Lexington, roughly sixty miles. So…a six-day journey.”

  So that was why the doc wanted him to know all about Mr. Dille. He wanted Theo to deliver the message. Theo frowned. “Why can’t you go tell the town about their new preacher passing on to glory?”

  Dr. Wollard frowned, too, but he seemed more puzzled than angry. “It’d take me away for two weeks. Folks in this area depend on me to be there for them when they’re ill or suffer an accident. I’m needed here.”

  “But—”

  “You told Nettie and me that no one was waiting for you. Would it make any difference if you got to wherever you’re going a little bit later?”

  To Theo’s way of thinking, it wouldn’t be just a little bit later. Six days’ travel to Fairland, then angling back up toward Bird’s Nest. No doubt that angling would add another three, maybe even four, days to his journey. That gave his cousins plenty of time to close in on him. Fear rolled through his belly. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do it.”

  Mrs. Wollard’s moist eyes widened. “You’d deny a dying man his last wish?”

  He wished she hadn’t phrased it that way. Fear gave way to a load of guilt. He hung his head. “It isn’t that I want to deny him. But I…He…”

  “He put all his earthly goods into your keeping. Isn’t that payment enough for one small favor?”

  It wasn’t a small favor. It could put his life in danger. But he couldn’t say so. He stared at an embroidered flower on the crisp white tablecloth and didn’t answer.

  “You know…”—the doctor’s tone turned thoughtful—“you haven’t told us your name.”

  Theo squirmed.

  “Are you hiding from something? Or someone?”

  He started to shake his head, but Granny Iva’s teaching intruded again. Theo forced a response from his dry throat. “Yes, sir.”

  “You told me you aren’t an outlaw, so you must not be trying to stay ahead of a posse or a band of marshals. So who’s after you?”

  How’d he get himself  into this mess? He should’ve left last night instead of staying around. He could be another ten miles closer to the Missouri border by now. He muttered, “Just some fellas who think I did ’em wrong and want revenge.”

  “Are they right? Did you do ’em wrong?”

  Theo finally raised his head. “Depends on who you ask.”

  “You’re very evasive.” A grin twitched briefly at the corners of the doctor’s mouth and then disappeared. “Let me ask you something else. Do these fellows who think you did them wrong know where you’re heading?”

/>   “I reckon they’ve reasoned it out.” Theo inwardly kicked himself. How could he have been so stupid? It didn’t matter how quick he got to Bird’s Nest. His cousins’d show up sometime, too. No matter what, he’d have to face them down. Unless he changed course and avoided the place where Granny Iva, Pappaw Burl, and his mama were buried.

  He bowed his head again and released a low groan.

  “Listen to me.”

  The gentle authority in the man’s tone invited Theo to look full into the doctor’s kindly face.

  “My wife and I know without a doubt Mr. Dille was a believer in Jesus. Are you?”

  Theo carefully considered the question. Granny Iva had taken him to church services every Sunday, read the Bible to him every morning and night, and prayed with him more times than he could count. She taught him how much Jesus loved him, and he’d vowed to her to live in a way that wouldn’t grieve God. Since moving to Missouri, he hadn’t spent much time praying, and Uncle Smithers had taunted him when he read Granny Iva’s Bible, so he’d quit. But somewhere deep down inside himself  he still carried a fair amount of the lessons Granny Iva had taught him. He offered a hesitant nod.

  “Well, then, you have to know that God takes care of  His own. Maybe Mr. Dille’s gift is God’s way of  helping you settle someplace. Someplace new, a safe place where those fellows you mentioned won’t be able to find you and exact their revenge.”

  Theo scowled. “You really think God would do that?”

  The doctor shrugged. “Who am I to know for sure what God would or wouldn’t do? But vengeance is supposed to be in God’s hands, not man’s, so it isn’t far-fetched to think He’d put things in place to protect you from undeserved retribution.”

  Theo gnawed his lip. Someplace safe—safe from his cousins, safe from Uncle Smithers’s contempt, safe from the feelings of  failure that always seemed to taunt him—sounded good. If  he set off  in a different direction, would God lead him to the place that was meant to be his new home?

  He pulled in a breath and blew it out in a loud whoosh. “Fairland, Kansas, you say?”

  Dr. Wollard pushed the packet of  letters across the table. “Deliver Mr. Dille’s message to Grace Cristler in Fairland, and then find your safe place.”

  Theo reached for the stack.

  The doctor placed his hand over Theo’s wrist. “Thank you for doing this deed for Mr. Dille. God will reward you for your kindness.”

  Theo nodded.

  The corners of the doctor’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “And know that Nettie and I will be praying for you.”

  West Central Missouri

  Earl

  Earl kicked at the remains of a days-old campfire and smiled. He was on the right trail. He’d found three circles of charred wood so far, each near a stream and shelter of scrub trees but a fair distance from the road, each surrounded by the same set of  boot prints. Did Theophil know his right boot had a bent nail embedded in the heel’s sole? Probably not, but it sure made a distinct pattern in the dirt. Yep, Theophil had been here, and just as Earl suspected, he was taking a path toward Iowa.

  Earl gathered small fallen branches and broke them into pieces short enough to fit in the circle of rocks his cousin had left behind. Two smallmouth bass snagged from the creek lay on the grass, the dark-green scales along their spines glittering like emeralds in the fading sunlight. If  he and his brothers had succeeded in the gold heist, he could be wearing a big emerald tiepin like he’d seen on a cardsharp who drifted through town when Earl was still in knee pants. ’Course, he’d also need a nice suit and a silk tie to go with it, but that gold would’ve made it easy to buy anything he wanted.

  Snapping another branch over his knee, he grunted. No gold. No emerald tiepin. None of the other things he’d intended to buy, either. But as soon as he got a fire built, he’d enjoy a good supper, similar to the one Theophil ate, based on the fish bones half  hidden in the remaining ashes of the previous fire. Then Earl would bed down and watch the stars come out. And in the morning he’d quit scouring the ground for signs of  Theophil’s passing. Why bother? Theophil was headed for Iowa, so Earl would head for Iowa.

  It wouldn’t be long before he and Theophil would be face-to-face. He smiled. What a good day that would be.

  Fairland, Kansas

  Bess

  The way people were sniffling all across the church, Bess would have thought they were hosting a funeral. But no, it was just the last Sunday for Reverend Cristler to stand in the pulpit and share from God’s Word. She dabbed her eyes and set her teeth together to keep her chin from wobbling. Easter Sunday should be a day of celebrating the resurrection of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, not blubbering over a man’s decision to let somebody else take his place.

  As he always did, Reverend Cristler spoke with eloquence, his voice sometimes soft and persuasive, sometimes full of  fervor and commanding attention. Did the folks in the little town of  Fairland realize how fortunate they’d been to listen to such a gifted orator? Reverend Cristler didn’t preach at them—he taught them, sharing his vast knowledge of  Scripture in ways that moved hearts and impacted souls. Even more than that, the preacher had guided and cared for and prayed over the members of the congregation.

  Sam used to teasingly call Reverend Cristler “Shepherd Cristler,” and Bess agreed. She would miss him, and she’d told him so in the note she’d written for his remembrance book. The new minister, Reverend Dille, had some big shoes to fill. She hoped the young man was up to the challenge. And she hoped the folks in church would give him a little time to grow into those shoes. Give us patience, Lord.

  Her gaze shifted to the preacher’s niece, who sat in her regular spot in the first pew on the right, next to the center aisle, almost in front of the pulpit. Bess smiled. Would Grace continue using that spot when the new preacher stood to deliver a sermon, or would she choose a seat in the back? Somehow Bess doubted Grace would change her routine. And the new preacher would surely enjoy looking out at her now that she’d taken to adorning her dress with one of the lace collars from Opal Perry’s millinery shop. The delicate flutter of  lace was quite appealing. Especially when acting as a foundation for the beguiling strands of  hair falling softly along the girl’s neck. It would be a real shame if the new preacher didn’t take an instant shine to Grace. The girl had changed so much in these last several days.

  It would be a big change for Bess, too, having a young man living under her roof. All her other boarders were musty folks, Sam’s pet name for anyone over the age of sixty. How that man did love to tease. Sam never got the chance to be musty himself, having been stolen from her far earlier than she wanted, but at least she had plenty of company in her big, old house and a wonderful church family to call her own. She couldn’t complain. She hoped the young minister wouldn’t feel out of place with the musty folks.

  “And now, in celebration of our Lord coming forth from the grave, let us rise and sing, ‘All Hail, Thou Resurrection!’ ”

  Bess stood with everyone else and joined her voice in song. “ ‘Thy Church, O Christ, now greets Thee…’ ” The glorious words brought another prick of happy tears. How joyfully the disciples must have greeted Jesus that resurrection morn. How joyfully she anticipated meeting Him face-to-face someday and reuniting with her dear Sam and so many other saints who’d gone on before. And soon she would meet the new shepherd for the flock at the Fairland Gospel Church. So many reasons to celebrate.

  She raised her voice as they sang the final line. “ ‘Shall all Thy saints adore Thee, midst wonder, love and fear!’ ”

  Reverend Cristler dismissed them with a prayer, and even though it was Easter Sunday—a day for families to gather—most of the congregation lingered. They crowded the aisle, reaching to shake the preacher’s hand or say a few words to him. The ham she’d tucked into her oven that morning was probably already cooked through, and her boarders would be eager for her to serve it, but Bess waited her turn, finding it a
s difficult as everyone else to say farewell to their longtime pastor and friend.

  After a few minutes Reverend Cristler laughingly waved his arms in the air. “All of you are making this musty old man—”

  Bess gave a start. She’d never heard anyone else use Sam’s description.

  “—very happy, but it’s time to go home and eat. Thank you all for your kind words, but we’ll have plenty of time to visit at the fine picnic our wonderful social committee ladies have planned.” His gaze met hers, his eyebrows high in silent query. He seemed to be asking for her help in clearing the room.

  Bess wouldn’t leave her minister stranded. She cupped her hands beside her mouth and bellowed in a very unladylike but very necessary manner, “Reverend Cristler is right. The picnic is coming on Saturday, and we will all have an opportunity to tell him how much he means to us. But for now, let’s allow him to go home and eat.”

  With laughter and chatter, everyone shifted and swarmed toward the door until only Bess, Reverend Cristler, and Grace remained. As the last of the folks departed, silence fell. An odd yet not uncomfortable silence. Grace heaved a delicate sigh, and her uncle mimicked her, his gaze roving the simple chapel as if memorizing every corner. While watching his careful examination, sorrow descended. Bess either had to say something or escape. If she didn’t, she would burst into tears.

  She extended her glove-covered hand toward the preacher. “You preached a fine sermon, as usual, Reverend. I was thinking while you were reading to us from the book of  Luke—the part about the stone being rolled away—how fortunate we’ve been to have a preacher who has such a fine way of vocalizing. Why, you bring the Scriptures to life for us. I could almost picture the confusion and heartache on the women’s faces when they realized Jesus was no longer in the tomb.”