Faith (7 page)

A young father got up, a severe black suit hanging on his
lanky frame. "Times are hard, Reverend. No one is trying
to duck responsibility, but I got five kids to feed and clothe.
There just ain't anything left over at the end of the month."
He sat down, frowning at his wife when she patted his knee
in silent support.

"And well I know that, Jim. If the steeple weren't a hazard, I wouldn't be asking that it be replaced. I'm confident
we'll all pull together and do what we can."

Faith made herself as small as possible, wondering why
Nicholas didn't speak up. The Shepherds could help with
the steeple and never miss it. Instead he sat straight as a
statue, eyes fixed on the podium, showing not a sign of
emotion other than a muscle working tightly in his left jaw.

"The subject isn't appropriate," Liza declared. "Now if
you don't mind, I have a roast in the oven. Kindly get on with the sermon." She crossed her arms, then uncrossed
them in search of her fanning hanky.

Vera bounded to her feet, knocking over a sheaf of organ
music. Righteous indignation flared beneath her bright
orange hat. A young boy darted from his pew to retrieve
the fallen sheets. "Liza Shepherd, whatever has gotten into
you! Why, Abe would've given the shirt off his back-"

"Sit down, Vera!" Liza's razor-sharp rebuke interrupted
Vera. Drawing a deep breath, Liza said more calmly, "Abe
is no longer with us. I handle the Shepherd money, and I
say the steeple needn't concern us. It does not need to be
replaced. Repaired, I grant you, but not replaced."

Vera gave a loud hrummph, reached for the sheet music,
and sat down.

Defeat settled in the Reverend's eyes as he quietly opened
the Bible and instructed in a crisp voice, "This morning's
sermon will be taken from Philippians chapter 1, verse 6."

Faith breathed a sigh, relieved the exchange was over.
Opening her Bible to Philippians, she read, "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good
work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ."

AITH opened her eyes Monday morning long
before the rooster crowed. Nicholas had spoken with Reverend Hicks after the service, and Reverend said he could
marry them Monday afternoon at two. Faith could hardly
sleep for excitement. By the end of the day she would be
married!

When finally it was time to get up, she jumped out of bed
and ran to the open window to look out. As far as the eye
could see, it promised to be a perfect day. The sun was
shining, the sky a brilliant blue. Not a cloud in sight, and
a subtle breeze rustled the lace curtains.

The stains on her Irish linen wedding dress were barely
visible this morning. A generous-sized bar of lye soap and a
scrub board had done the trick. She smoothed her dress and
took one last look in the beveled mirror above the bureau. She'd never thought much about primping, but today was
special. She wanted to look especially nice for Nicholas on
their wedding day.

Brushing her hair until it shone, she then pulled it to the
sides and secured it with pearl combs. It fell to her waist in
gentle waves. She considered wearing it in a neat bun. The
style would have been more to her liking, and much cooler,
but the thought of Mother Shepherd and her taut braids
changed her mind.

Pinching one cheek, then the other, she added a touch
of color to her face. She'd watched Hope use the trick on
many occasions. The feminine ritual had always seemed silly
to Faith. Now she knew it was downright ludicrous. It hurt
almost as much as the pointy shoes she was wearing. She
longed to wear her comfortable brown leather boots that
were hidden away at the bottom of her valise.

Turning, she opened the bedroom door. The musty smell
from the parlor hung heavy in the air.

Mother Shepherd was sitting in her rocker by the kitchen
stove, bent over her sewing. She was wearing a cotton frock
just as drab and ordinary as the one she'd chosen for the
wedding three days earlier. Once again that awful black
shawl rested around her shoulders. No wonder she was so
hot all the time.

"Wondered if you were going to sleep all day."

Faith glanced at the clock. It was barely six o'clock. "The
wedding isn't until two this afternoon."

"Been changed. Reverend sent word he'd have to do it
this morning. Got sick folks to attend this afternoon."

"Sorry," she murmured, resisting the urge to ask why she
hadn't been told. Like the Good Book said, "Be slow to
anger and sin not." She wanted Nicholas's mother to like
her. Their marriage would never be harmonious if his
mother disapproved of her. Liza would be her children's
grandmother-. She quickly shook the thought aside. First
things first. She needed to build a strong foundation with
Liza, although it was clear the older woman didn't share the
challenge.

"I see you're wearing the white dress." Liza eyed the still
visible, but faint, spots. "You think it's appropriate?"

Hold your tongue, Faith. Be kind.

"Are the spots noticeable, Mother Shepherd?"

Liza bit off a piece of thread, switching subjects. "There's
ham and biscuits on the stove. Your eggs got cold. I threw
them out with the gravy."

So. The first shot sounded.

Faith eyed the cold biscuits. How would Jesus handle this?
With kindness and tolerance. Her sister June would seek to
win Liza over with a winning smile. Faith's inclination was
to sass, which always brought swift restitution from Papa.

"I'm not hungry, thank you." Faith set her jaw. She
would just be so nice Liza could do nothing but love her.

"What's wrong with your face?" Liza held the needle up
to the light to thread it. "Looks like you've been pinching
yourself."

Faith blushed. Drats. Liza wasn't making things easy. OK,
tomorrow morning she would come down those stairs
looking like death warmed over.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Whatever you've been up there
doing, best get a move on. Nicholas can't surrender another
day's work on account of your lollygagging." Liza got up
and disappeared into the parlor.

Faith eyed Liza sorely. She bet Liza pinched her cheeks
too. She jerked her bodice in place, aware her cheeks no
longer needed the additional color.

Faith hurried to keep up with Liza as much as the uncomfortable pointy shoes would permit. She glanced down at
the shiny black leather, tightly laced to her ankles. The
pointed heel made a woman's life miserable. A body could
snap an ankle wearing such things.

Grabbing her white hat, she hurriedly pinned it atop her
head as she went out the back door. It didn't matter that it
set a tad too far to the left. No one in this house was going
to notice.

Pausing on the porch, Faith took a moment to catch her
breath. Nicholas emerged from the barn, smiling as he
tipped his brown suede Stetson at her. He was wearing
work clothes, though this morning they appeared to be
clean.

Faith sighed.

No breakfast. Not a single mention of the extra attention
she'd given to her appearance. Both Shepherds looked as if
they were about to cut hay, not be major participants in a
wedding.

She sighed again, then wadded the folds of her dress,
expelled another weary breath, and stepped off the porch to
join her future family.

Mother Shepherd was already in the buckboard, sitting in
the middle of the bench. Faith wondered if she intended to
make that her permanent position.

Without a word, Nicholas helped Faith into the wagon
and they drove off. Faith thought it would have been nice
to ride to the Reverend's house in a real buggy instead of a
supply wagon. And she'd have preferred to have a church
ceremony, not some indifferent recital in the Reverend's
parlor. She studied the bluebonnets growing along the roadside and thought how they'd sure make a pretty bridal bouquet.

She might as well wish for the moon. She wasn't going to
have a real buggy, a church service, or a pretty bridal bouquet. This buckboard was as good as it was going to get.

Nicholas suddenly strained forward on the seat, his eyes
trained beyond a small rise. In the distance a thick cloud of
ominous black smoke boiled upward. Faith saw him stiffen
as his eyes scanned the smoke. Even she knew from the
direction the wind was blowing, it wouldn't take long for
the smallest ember to reach the town settlement.

Snapping the reins, Nicholas urged the team to a full
gallop.

Faith gripped the side of the buckboard, holding on to the
white hat. The pins flew from her hair, and the dark mass
whipped freely in the wind.

"Nicholas-slow down! You're going to kill us!" Liza
exclaimed. "What in heaven's name are you-" She fell
silent when she spotted the deadly smoke.

Nicholas cracked the reins harder, racing the horses, the buckboard bouncing over potholes and ruts. With each rut,
Liza landed hard on the bench, her rigid posture unaffected.

Faith's heart pounded as the wagon sped closer to the
flames. Thick smoke teared her eyes now. Each breath
produced a sharp stinging in her lungs.

Angry flames lashed upwards, waist high to a grown man.
The fire was spreading across the grassland as fast as butter
melting on a hot biscuit.

Men from Deliverance were already battling the scorching
blaze. In the distance, more could be seen hurrying to join
in the fight. Nicholas slowed the horse, tossing the reins to
Liza before the wagon came to a complete stop.

Bounding down, he ran to the back of the wagon and
took out a handful of empty burlap feed sacks, then raced in
the direction of the licking blaze.

"Over there!" Dan Walters shouted, pointing to a waiting
buckboard. Two large wooden barrels sat on the wagon,
brimming full of water. "Wet your sacks!"

Liza held the team steady, clutching her handkerchief to
her nose.

Faith's eyes scanned the unbelievable inferno. Never in
her life had she seen anything so powerful. Tossing her hat
aside, she jerked the pearl combs free, then wadded her hair
into a bun and secured it. Snatching the handkerchief from
Liza, she bunched up the layers of her wedding dress and
jumped to the ground.

The look on Liza's face would have been comical under
other circumstances. Faith refrained from laughing, knowing full well the repercussions of what she was about to do. But she couldn't just sit in some old wagon when a fire like
this was going on!

Liza shot to her feet, yelling, "Young lady-you get back
in this wagon and stay out of the way!"

Liza's voice was little more than an echo as Faith ran to
help battle the blaze. She stopped long enough to scoop up
a burlap sack Nicholas had dropped, then raced headlong to
the water wagon. The once-clear water was now blackened
with soot. Faith dipped the handkerchief into the barrel,
quickly tying it across her nose and mouth. Murky water
dripped down the front of her white dress, but already the
smothering air was easier to breathe. She submerged the
burlap sack, hoisting it up soaking wet and dashed to help
the men.

Swatting flames with the devil's fury, Faith worked side
by side with the men. Cinders and ashes flew. A spark
caught the hem of her dress and she quickly doused it, but
not before it had burned a good-sized hole. Drats. She
glanced down at Mother Shepherd's smoke-blackened
handkerchief and frowned. Double drats. For over thirty
minutes Faith fought unnoticed alongside Nicholas before
her luck ran out. Nicholas was so engrossed in the fire, he
hadn't noticed her presence, or most certainly, hadn't
expected it.

Passing him on the way to the water barrel, she made the
mistake of speaking.

"Terrible fire-wonder how it started?"

He stopped in his tracks, staring at her in total disbelief.
"What are you doing out here!"

"Putting out a fire!"

"Get back in the wagon-you're in the way!"

"No, I'm not! Nobody's complained so far!" She doused
the sack in the water and brought it up, dripping.

"I'm complaining now!"

"Just a few more sacks." She'd fought the fire for over a
half hour. That counted for a respectable amount of experience. Just because he'd just noticed her-well, that
didn't mean she hadn't helped.

Nicholas's tanned face blotched with impatience. "Go
back to the wagon, Miss Kallahan."

"You need all the hands you can get," Faith argued.

"You're in the way. Get back in the wagon!"

"Let me just take one more sack." She glanced at Mother
Shepherd, who was now standing up in the buckboard,
watching the exchange. Oh, Papa would blanch at her sass,
but Nicholas wasn't being fair!

"Get back in the wagon!"

"The town will be lost!"

"Deliverance was here long before you came! It's up to
the men to see that it stays that way!"

Faith stiffened her resolve. He had no right to tell her
what she could and could not do! "An extra hand never
hurts, Mr. Shepherd."