Amethyst (27 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Now that the winter’s broken, we—I mean the folks around here—would be pleased if you would lead the service on Sunday.” Charlie looked up from the hat brim he’d been mangling.

I’ve done two funerals and a wedding, so I guess the secret that I’m a pastor is pretty much out of the bag
. It would be churlish to refuse his request.
But how can I lead the service when…how can I not?
Jacob did his best to keep his face neutral.
Lord God, is this from you, or am I running ahead again or behind?

In order to serve here, would he have to tell them everything? True, he’d told Rand about his less than perfect past, but that was some different than confessing to an entire group of people.

But I’ve been forgiven! So why do I feel like a pile left by one of the cows?
He thought to the Scripture he’d read after another night of nightmare attacks. If he’d had more self control, if he’d loved enough to wait, if he’d not run.
You know better than to be assailed and defeated by
if
s
. He tried to talk sternly to himself, but he could chalk up another in the failure column.
The verse. Hang on to the verse. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.”
He repeated it to himself again. If there is no condemnation to those in Christ, why did he feel so condemned? Some days he rose above it, and others, like now…

He sighed. “I don’t have time to prepare a sermon.” What a flimsy excuse. “But I could use one written from before…I mean, from a long time ago.”

“Jacob, we are so hungry for the Word of God to be taught and preached…” Charlie paused. “You know I been leading the services. We sort of take turns reading the Scripture and singing and praying, but other than reading aloud, I got nothin’ to offer. We need a pastor here, especially now when everyone is so dunked in despair after this winter.”

Including me. I need to write to Melody’s folks…. All the letters I wrote up at the line shack, I didn’t include one to them. They deserve to know that Joel is doing great out here. And about the aunt who came to get him
.

“Look, Charlie, I’ll lead this service, and then we need to call a meeting to officially form a congregation and see if everyone would like me to become their pastor.”

“We got no money to pay you.”

“Did I say anything about pay?”
I owe some people here such a debt, I’ll never get it paid off
.

“No, but thought I should make that clear.” Charlie nodded. “All right, I’ll head on out and let everyone know. Church at ten…” He paused again and looked Jacob in the eye. “If that’s all right with you.”

“Whatever you’ve done in the past is all right with me.”

“Good. Ten it is. After church everyone will most likely be invited to Heglands’—they’ve got the biggest house—for coffee and dinner. Everybody brings what they have and we share. Then if you felt like giving a lesson, we’d most appreciate it. Something encouraging would be real good.”

He’d said that word again. If people were really feeling down because of the horrible winter, they seemed to have handled it fairly well.
Or, like you, they wear good masks when out in public.

I’ll get to see Opal
. The thought flashed across his mind like a meteor in the night sky. His heart picked up and then thumped again.
Lord, give me strength to stay away from her
.

“I’ll make sure the fire is started to warm the place up some. Usually the singers get together before the service and practice a bit, so we have some special music.”

“I see.”

“Miz Hegland plays the piano. It’s thanks to her pa that we have a piano at the schoolhouse. Rand plays the guitar, Opal has the voice of an angel, and Daisy and Cimarron do harmony. The whole group sings real fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His mind, which refused to be controlled today, thought back to his church in Pennsylvania, a congregation some fifty years old. How different his life had been there compared to here in the badlands. His biggest problem had been staying ahead of the matchmaking mammas. Talk about life changing in an instant.

“Well, I better get on my high horse. Thanks, Jacob…er, Pastor Chandler.” Charlie stuck out his hand.

“Just Jacob.” He watched as Charlie swung aboard his horse and headed for the house. Now he could go back to returning the wagon box to the summer wheels and refitting the rims. Hard to believe the wooden wheels shrank over the winter, cold and wet as it had been. What he’d give for a good blacksmith.

Once the children returned from school, he’d have them bring more wood to the circle, where they’d heat the rim, set it back on the wood wheel, and dunk the whole thing in the cow trough. Good thing Mr. Robertson had the basic metal-working tools set up in the shed by the barn. Talk about a man of all trades.

After doing as much prep work on the wagon as possible, Jacob went to work on the woodpile. Splitting wood gave one plenty of thinking time. Which sermon to use? He’d not brought many with him. What had happened to the things he’d left behind? Perhaps he’d ask Mr. Dumfarthing to inquire into that the next time he wrote.

And what about Joel? Other than the funeral, this would be his first time preaching in front of his son.

Encouragement. Charlie said everyone needed encouragement. What was more encouraging than knowing that God loved them, that He would never change that love, and that He loved no matter what? Not like man’s love, putting conditions on, loving someone if they felt like it.

You say you love Opal. Is that love unconditional?
What if she never loved him back?
Slam
and
crack
—he swung so hard, the ax head buried itself in the chopping block. The two split pieces leaped apart and did flips before hitting the ground. That was the question of course. What if she truly loved Atticus? And Atticus came back for her?

He set another chunk on the block and slammed the ax home. What if Opal was not the woman God had in mind for him? He’d been so certain she was when he talked with Rand early in December and he’d agreed not to say anything to her until after her sixteenth birthday, a year from next month. Then he’d been a ranch hand; now he might be a preacher again. Would Opal want to be a preacher’s wife?

“Goodness, Mr. Chandler, you trying to chop enough for next winter too?” Cora Robertson stopped on the back porch.

Jacob wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Hello, Mrs. Robertson. Do you need something?”

“Not at the moment. You just looked like you were fighting a battle or something.”

“I started out planning a sermon and got carried away, I guess.”

“Well, if you were thinking hellfire and brimstone, I wouldn’t be surprised. Coffee will be hot in a minute or two. You want a break?”

“Thanks.” He glanced around at the split wood. They’d need to haul in dry trees pretty soon, and from what he’d seen, there wouldn’t be a lack of firewood this year. He’d better sharpen up the crosscut saws, and his ax needed a new edge too.

Sunday morning dawned with enough butterflies flitting in Jacob’s middle to lift him off the ground. He bypassed breakfast and headed out to walk to the schoolhouse, leaving the horses for the others. Though the ground was drying out now, the wagon would still sink up to the hubs if they tried to use it. He buttoned his black wool coat up to the neck until walking fast warmed him enough to unwind his scarf.

“I have good news for you.” He shouted his opening line to the crows flapping and cawing overhead. If anyone heard him, they’d think him nuts. He toned his voice down so that he could hear the meadowlarks trilling in the sun. How the music of spring contrasted with the howling of winter. Frost still shimmered in the shade, retreating from the beaming sun. “O Lord, let our hearts be open like the budding flowers, let us be free from the sorrows of the winter, and let us sing like the birds. Give me the words you want spoken so that we can praise you and draw closer always to your mighty heart.”

“Good morning, Charlie.” Jacob stopped at the doorway of the schoolhouse.

“Morning to you. Fire took the chill off the room, but I’m thinking on a glorious day like today we won’t need it.”

“I think you’re right. Perhaps we could rearrange the room a bit, move the teacher’s desk back against the wall?”

“Of course.”

“What do people sit on?”

“Children sit on the floor. Folks use the desks, and we got some benches out in the shed. I’ll bring them in. We make do.”

While the musicians warmed up inside, Jacob mingled with the folks who arrived by foot and horseback, welcoming them all and meeting some for the first time. He heard laments of the dead cattle, despair at the losses, and talk of moving on. With the abattoir not reopening since there were no cattle to slaughter, building had halted, and there would be no jobs.

“Boom or bust. Ain’t that the way.”

“But the land is still here….”

Charlie rang the school bell right at ten o’clock, and folks filed inside. He waited until they’d settled, then raised his hands for quiet. “Welcome, everyone. Today we will be led in worship by Jacob Chandler, a real pastor for a change.” He beckoned Jacob to the center. “Thank you for sharing with us.”

“You are welcome to our Father’s house.” Jacob smiled at those gathered. “Our first hymn for this morning is ‘Holy, Holy, Holy.”’

Pearl played the introduction, and the service commenced. When the choir—if five people could be called a choir—rose, Jacob glanced over to see that Opal remained sitting beside Ruby. Was she sick? One look at her face told him something was definitely wrong. Was she still struggling with all the death and destruction?

Trying to put Opal out of his mind was about as effective as telling the blizzard to stop.

Jacob stood before the gathering and bowed his head. “Let us pray.” When the rustling ceased, he began. “Father in heaven, we come before thee a broken and frightened people. We need to know that thou dost love us…and deeply. We need thy comfort and sustaining might. I thank thee that thou art right here in our midst and thou knowest our hearts and minds. Hold us in thy mighty right hand. Amen.”

Jacob held up his worn Bible. “Do you believe this is the Word of God?” Several nodded; others looked confused. “The reason I ask is because I want to read you some passages that tell us how much our Father loves us, but if you don’t believe this book is His Word, then the words may sound nice, but they will mean nothing. So let me ask again. Do you believe this book is the Word of God?” He waited for a heartbeat before several people said, “Yes,” others nodded, and someone said, “Of course,” with a snort.

“Then listen to what God is telling you, for this book is His love letter to us, and these are His words to us. John 3:16. ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ And in First John we read, ‘That which we have seen and heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. And these things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.”’

Jacob closed his Bible. “He loves us so much that He sent His Son to die for us. ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ Jesus did that for us. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’ He is right here, walking with us through the carnage of this horrible winter where, though your cattle died, He kept us safe. He has brought us out on the other side, and He will bless us. Know that our heavenly Father loves you, and next to that, nothing else matters.” He stared deep into the eyes of the people in front of him, some filled with tears, others that looked away. But one pair of eyes glared at him. “Prove it” was written all over her face.
Lord God, help Opal
. “Amen.”