June (8 page)

Now she was hundreds of miles from home, separated from family, close friends, and the only life she'd ever known. Everything that once felt safe and familiar suddenly seemed to have existed eons ago.

Even with her efforts to raise funds, she found it difficult to fill the hours in the day. She spent late afternoons and early evenings in front of The Gilded Hen, but days like these, when the skies poured down heavy rains, prevented her from going at all.

She clung to the belief that God had sent her to help with Reverend Inman's ministry. With Eli gone, God surely must mean for her to carry out the important work Eli had started.

One minute she was certain, or at least practically certain, that she was destined to remain in Washington.

The next minute she definitely knew, or at least was pretty sure, that she should return to Michigan.

Maybe if she talked to Reverend Inman about her jumbled feelings, he could help with the many questions that burdened her heart.

Above all, she desperately wanted to do the right thing. If only the Lord would speak to her spirit and grant her guidance and wisdom, she would gladly follow wherever he led.

Full of determination to do better, she headed for Reverend Inman's room late Monday morning. When she arrived, however, he was gone.

"If you're lookin' for the reverend, he's ... he's not here," a childish voice informed her.

Startled, June looked around to see who was speaking.

Ben Wilson, a crusade usher, was sweeping the hallway with a large broom. Ben, a thin, big-boned man, towered over the heads of other men who worked with the crusade.

Fellow workers good-naturedly teased Ben that he was as slow as molasses. Rudy Silas, Ben's best friend, quickly spoke up and said that whatever Ben lacked upstairs he made up for with his unshakable willingness to do God's work.

June had silently agreed, wishing that she'd had the courage to speak in Ben's defense. Ben was a little odd at times, but he was a kind man. She recognized his total devotion to the Lord and felt a kindred spirit with Ben Wilson from the moment she met him.

"Hello, Ben." June smiled and smoothed her dark blue wool skirt in place.

"Hey, Miss June." Ben shuffled his big boots against the floor.

"Do you know where I might find Reverend Inman?"

"Yes."

A moment of silence passed without Ben's saying.

"Can you tell me?" June prompted.

"Yes," Ben said, raking a calloused hand through his thick gray hair.

"Where, then, is Reverend Inman?"

"The reverend went to Sea-Sea-Sea-" Ben's face throbbed a bright red as he struggled to pronounce the words.

"Seattle?"

"Yes, Miss June. That's where he went." Ben grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.

"Did he say how long he'd be gone?"

"Yes."

"How long will he be gone, Ben?" June asked patiently.

"Said he'd be gone 'til dark." Ben's eyes glowed with pride. Sometimes Ben forgot things. June could see his self-esteem elevate, if only briefly, from having remembered the reverend's promise.

"Hey, Ben!" A man stuck his head around the corridor doorway. "Buddy, we need your help outside."

"I'm their buddy," Ben said. His smile widened. "They need me."

"Thank you for your help, Ben." June smiled as Ben put on his hat.

"You're welcome, Miss June." The big man headed toward the door, reminding himself with pride, "They need you. You have to go, Ben. They need you."

June watched out the window as Ben pitched in to help erect a large pole. He was eager to work, doing anything, from the dirtiest, heaviest tasks to running the simplest errands. All anyone had to do was tell Ben where he was needed.

Sighing, she focused on the large crusade tent. What should she do with all her time? The crusade had all the services it needed. People came from far and wide to hear Reverend Inman preach.

June admired the landscape lining the crusade ground. Trees, tall and majestic. As far as the eye could see, trees.

Trees ...

Lumber ...

Lumber camps ...

Lumberjacks ...

Families of lumberjacks ...

Parker said men had to wait until spring breakup to see their families, but surely there were a few women and children privileged to live with their men.

Services.

"That's it!" June shouted. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard her. Ettie was nowhere to be seen. The building was deserted this morning.

Her direction was now clear to her. How could she have missed the obvious? Gathering the folds of her wool skirt, she hurried toward the area where Ben was working. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. Big, rowdy lumberjacks rarely came to the crusade meetings. Some promised to attend services, telling her they would do so for "God's little emissary." Five actually came one night, but she was still waiting for the others.

The way she figured it, their wives and children would enjoy informal services if the services were brought to them.

Her hope spiraled downward.

The plan would obligate her to deal with Parker Sentell. He ran the largest camp around and oversaw four others. She wouldn't be able to go into those camps without his knowledge. She sat for a moment and thought about the problem. Resolve stiffened her shoulders. God's work was more important than her rocky relationship with Parker Sentell.

Enthused by her plan, she hurried to find Ben. He was busy helping a fellow worker pick up leaflets in the crusade tent. She drew him aside so they could speak privately.

"I need your help."

Ben's face lit from ear to ear. "Miss June needs my help?"

In no time at all, the man with the intelligence of a tenyear-old had the buggy hitched and waiting. He carefully helped June climb aboard the driver's seat.

"Thank you, Ben." June reached for his hand and squeezed it. "You're a true gentleman."

"Miss June is welcome." Ben grinned, his eyes brightening. "I am a gentle man."

"That you are." June picked up the reins. "Ben, please tell Reverend Inman I'll be back before dark."

He nodded and returned to his earlier task. June heard him reciting, "Back before dark. Back before dark."

She drove directly to Pine Ridge. She wasn't sure how to approach Parker about holding services in the camp, but with a hefty measure of the Lord's help, she would think of something.

She'd never seen such spectacular beauty. The deepest green pines, the bluest sky, the most vivid browns dotted the meadows. As she traveled deeper into the piney forest, she noticed the path narrowed to bumpy ruts. The route must be one of many logging roads cut through the heart of the woods. The ground beneath the towering trees was blanketed with a cushion of ferns. She smiled, recalling the briars she had endured as a child, racing through Cold Water's brambly groves.

A bend appeared in the road, and June spotted the sign proclaiming Pine Ridge Logging Camp. Reining the horse to a stop, she sat for a moment, collecting her thoughts. God as yet hadn't given her the insight about how to approach Parker. Well, maybe at this point she wasn't supposed to know. Perhaps this was a time when the Lord wanted her to travel by faith, not by her instincts, which more often than not proved to be troublesome.

If only she had started off on better footing with the obstinate logger, she wouldn't be facing this uphill battle. There must be something good about the man; she just had to find it.

Five minutes later June stopped the buggy in front of a small log building. Pine Ridge Company Store, she read.

The sound of razor-sharp axes biting into wood echoed through camp. The rhythmical grind of crosscut saws, or, as Papa had called them, misery whips, filled the air. In the distance a logging road ran parallel to the forest. Teams of mules labored to drag heavy loads of logs chained to a skid. Somewhere deep within the woods, a man shouted a warning. The next thing June knew, the ground beneath her shook from the weight of a felled tree. The jolt spooked the horse.

Holding tightly to the reins, she struggled to control the animal, yet it was obvious that it was only a matter of time before the frightened horse overcame her weakening grip. Her arms burned as she wrestled with the reins.

In the midst of the frenzy, she glimpsed Parker darting from the camp office. His long legs effortlessly covered the ground as he raced toward the swaying buggy. The horse whinnied and reared on its hind legs, threatening to overturn the small conveyance.

Parker's hand snaked out and grasped the bridle, putting him dangerously close to the animal's powerful hooves. Gripping the leather, he calmed the wild beast.

"Whoa, girl. Easy, there."

The animal pranced wide eyed and gradually responded to his soothing tone.

June was shaking. Meeting Parker's stern gaze, she smiled weakly.

"Are you OK?" Parker walked around the horse, giving the animal a gentle pat. It took a moment for June to compose herself.

"Yes ... thank you-I didn't realize the horse would spook so easily." She touched her hand to her hair. Well, she'd certainly made a fool of herself! "I don't like to think what might have happened if you hadn't come to my rescue.

Parker crossed his arms and stared at her. "That's what I'm here for."

She was relieved that he seemed to be in a better mood than at their previous meeting. She tried to move, but couldn't. "I think I'm paralyzed."

Before she realized it, he had lifted her down from the buggy. The strength in his arms amazed her.

Their gaze touched briefly, and he set her gently on her feet. She quickly looked away. "Your camp ... it's very nice. I forgot to mention that on my last visit."

Parker studied the long, neat row of bunkhouses as if seeing them for the first time. "The men work long hours; they deserve a decent place to live."

"You should be congratulated." Other logging camps she'd seen in the area weren't as nice. Most looked as if they'd been thrown together with spit and baling wire. Parker took her arm and steered her toward the office. "I don't suppose you came all the way out here to comment on the condition of my camp."

Color flooded June's face. "No, I didn't."

"Then to what exactly do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Well, first of all, I'd like for us to be friends." There. She'd said it. Bold as brass. He could either recognize her attempt to reconcile their differences, or they could continue at sword's point. She'd much prefer the former. "I think we've gotten off to a bad start, and I want to apologize if it's my fault."

He simply stared at her, weighing the offer. After a moment he said, "All right. Apology accepted. I guess I owe you one too." He extended his hand, his smile almost pleasant. "I have nothing against you, Miss Kallahan. I don't approve of the tabernacle or your part in it. But, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

She smiled, tremendously relieved. They shook on it. His grip was firm and confident.

"Now, Miss Kallahan. What's on your mind this afternoon?"

Drawing a deep breath, she said quietly, "I have a proposition for you."

His eyes narrowed. "A what?"

"A proposition. Interested in hearing it?"

"Should I be?"

"Yes. I think so." He smiled, and she suddenly felt flushed. The sun was warmer than expected. She needed to remove her cloak.

"Why am I almost certain I don't want to hear this proposition?"

"You may not, but I'm going to present it anyway."

Recrossing his arms, his guarded blue eyes studied her. "I'm listening."

June quickly tried to choose the best approach to argue her request. She needed to be tactful. She didn't want to scare him off her idea. "I understand you oversee many of the logging camps in the area?"

He conceded with a nod. "A few."

"The work must be very arduous."

"Most work is."

"Long days-the men are worn by the end of the weekmuch too weary to travel much farther than the bunkhouse."

"You looking for work?"

He wasn't making her job any easier, but she didn't discourage easily. "No, but I've noticed that not many loggers attend revival services."

He shook his head, shifting his stance. "Not many."

"Well-I've been thinking that perhaps the men's wives and children would like services-maybe even some of the men would, if services were brought to them."

He stared down at her with his arms folded across his chest in a fighter's stance. "That's what you think."

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "That's what I think-and I'm also thinking there's no reason they should be deprived of services when I am quite willing to provide them."

It seemed to take a moment for her implication to sink in. When it did, his eyes narrowed. "Are you asking to set up a tent revival here? In camp?"

"Oh, no," June assured him. "Nothing like that. Just an informal Sunday service-"

"No."

Her jaw dropped. "But you haven't heard-"

"I've heard all I need to hear." He shifted positions, and June could see a stubborn set forming along his jawline. "We've gotten along fine without outside services; there's no reason to start one now."

"Mr. Sentell-"

"I didn't say we don't have services; I said we don't have outside services."

She eyed him skeptically. "You have services?"

"Hoss Barlow reads a couple of Scriptures before breakfast Sunday mornings."

"A couple of Scriptures? You call that services?"

"The amount of Scripture isn't a problem with God; why should it be a problem for you?"

June's confidence was shaken, but not her spirit. "Every man, woman, and child should keep the Sabbath holy. The men, especially, need to hear more than `a couple of Scriptures.' I'm sure-"

"You haven't been here long enough to be sure of any thing." He straightened, his arms dropping back to his sides. "But I have, and I want no part of Isaac Inman's Evangelistic Crusades or his tabernacle. I thought I made that clear."

June opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her.

"What Isaac does on crusade ground is his business. Pine Ridge is my business. We don't need you coming in here, stirring up trouble under the guise of Sunday services."