Refining Fire (5 page)

“I have heard about some of these newer pastors,” Aunt Selma said with an expression that suggested such men were out of line in their teachings. She lowered her voice to a hush. “Some of them are speaking of strange subjects indeed, and I, for one, will not allow that in my church.” She straightened and looked to Poisie. “Isn't that right?”

“Oh yes.” Poisie bobbed her head. “Some of them even excuse the theories of . . . Mr. Darwin.”

Aunt Selma shuddered. “There is no place for scientific fairy tales within the walls of the church.”

Brother Mitchell nodded with great enthusiasm. “We certainly agree with that, Sister Gibson.”

Impatient to join the conversation, Abrianna cleared her throat, but no one looked to her to offer her a chance to speak.

“We have drafted several letters to send out to a variety of respectable seminaries,” Brother Mitchell said. He produced a list and handed it over to Aunt Miriam. “As you will see, all of the most notable schools have been included.”

Aunt Selma moved closer to Aunt Miriam, prompting Poisie to do likewise. Together the three studied the list. “It looks most conclusive, Sister.” Poisie leaned back. “However, I have my misgivings about younger men. I realize that the apostle Paul said we should not look down on anyone because of their youth, and truly I am not of a mind to condemn. Even so, we should seek a mature man, not someone just out of school.”

“I agree,” Aunt Selma quickly added. “I will not have an inexperienced man of youth in the pulpit. They are too easily swayed by life's troubles. Their lack of years often precludes them from having had a chance to build a strong faith.”

“I quite agree,” Aunt Miriam replied as she handed back the list. “I would also assert that he be a family man.”

“I agree,” Abrianna declared, unable to keep silent any longer. “Married men with families seem much more settled and reliable. Goodness, if a man were to take on our church without a wife, he might well become discouraged and feel tempted to seek a mate for support. That would only serve to divide his mission.”

Having pulled in everyone's attention, Abrianna continued. “It's good to have a knowledgeable and scholarly man, but Pastor Klingle was not one who boasted a lengthy education from seminary. Instead, he took it upon himself to study God's
Word and live the example of Christ. I only say this because I don't believe we should fault a man for not having a seminary certificate.”

“And if he works outside of the church,” Aunt Selma added, “then it should be a position of respectability, such as a teacher or professor at the college.”

“However, it should not be someone who dapples in the sciences.” On this Aunt Poisie was adamant. “We cannot have his mind distracted by the nonsense found there.” She grew thoughtful. “I suppose we could have a pastor who is also a fisherman.” She looked to her sister. “It's not ever been done in our congregation, but even the Lord called fishermen.”

Selma shook her head. “Oh, but Poisie, He called a tax collector, as well, and we cannot allow for that. I believe people would be too uncomfortable with a government man in the pulpit.”

“I quite agree,” Aunt Miriam said. “God alone knows exactly who He would have come to our congregation, but I would prefer the man's thinking be solely based upon the Word of God. I suggest we hold a prayer meeting and spend some time petitioning the Lord for direction.”

“That is an excellent idea, Sister Madison.” Brother Mitchell looked to his companions. “We could arrange that for Sunday evening.”

“I believe that would be quite acceptable. We will be there.” Aunt Miriam spoke for the group.

“I think we need to avoid a Democrat, as well,” Abrianna threw out without thinking. “We shouldn't put politics in our churches, but somehow it always manages to slip in, and I fear a Democrat might send us in the wrong direction. I mean, look at what has happened just in the last few years.”

The three men seemed taken aback by this sudden declaration. Abrianna wasn't in the least bit intimidated by their
confusion. “Our congregation needs to safeguard itself against political blinding. During this last election there were many underhanded dealings, and some were promoted from the church pulpits. Not ours, of course, but there were churches where votes were bought and sold.”

“Our president-elect, Harrison, was once a Presbyterian church leader,” Aunt Selma threw out. “I believe he will guide us in a godly and reliable manner.”

“I pray it might be so.” Abrianna smiled at the men, who appeared to be stunned by this kind of talk coming from women. “However, he didn't win the popular vote, and we must remember that. There, but for the hand of God, we might have had another four years of President Cleveland and his taxes.”

“Well, that said, we should be on our way.” Brother Mitchell got to his feet and the other two followed suit.

“Will you not stay for refreshments?” Aunt Miriam asked as she rose.

“No. We must be going. We have another stop or two to make.” He glanced at his companions. “We will keep in mind everything that you shared today.”

Abrianna beamed the men a smile. “It is just as you should. Godly counsel is of the utmost importance when addressing such deep spiritual matters. We will look forward to the prayer meeting on Sunday.”

The men grunted their acknowledgment while Aunt Miriam turned to Poisie. “Sister, please show the gentlemen out.”

Aunt Poisie got to her feet and pressed her hands down the front of her woolen skirt. “Certainly.”

She led the men from the room, and Abrianna decided that would be a good time for her to exit, as well. With Aunt Miriam's thoughts otherwise occupied by church matters, perhaps she would be less inclined to berate Abrianna for her disregard of the rules.

“And where do you think you're going?” Aunt Miriam's severe tone stopped Abrianna's escape.

Abrianna cringed. It wasn't to be. Aunt Miriam would have her moment, and there was nothing to do but take her punishment. Turning with a smile, Abrianna awaited her aunt's lecture. Pity the elders couldn't have stayed for refreshment.

A
nd I want to put a large work table along the back wall by the stove,” Abrianna instructed.

For all intents and purposes, she sounded as though she were planning an affair for the governor rather than the friendless. But Militine knew better than to comment. Once her friend got a bee in her bonnet, she was hard-pressed to be convinced that anything else might need attention.

“Oh, and, Wade, I'll need you to vent the stove and get it working right away. I want to serve our first luncheon on Monday.” The instructions continued from their fearless leader.

Militine worked hard not to laugh or offer a salute as she pictured Abrianna in a captain's uniform with a ruler in hand.

Thane threw Militine a smile. It was almost as if he could read her mind, and while she found their growing friendship a comfort at times, Militine knew better than to believe it could last. Friendships were for people without pasts.

“Thane, I looked over the drawings you made for positioning the cabinets. I think they'll work perfectly. Can we get them up today?”

He straightened from where he'd been nailing together one
of those very cabinets. “I'm not sure I can have all of them built today as well as get 'em nailed in place.”

“Well, it's only Friday.” She turned her attention to her list. “I figure if we work into the evening, we can have the entire place painted and the new floor laid tonight. Tomorrow we can finish building and painting the tables and benches. Militine and I have convinced Aunt Miriam to let us have six of the old tablecloths we used to use at the school, as well as two very nice gingham curtain sets.”

“Honestly, Abrianna, we could hold off opening this place for another week. I do have work to do at the shop, as well.” Wade's exasperation was clear in his tone.

Abrianna stopped and looked at him. “I am sorry. I know I've been pressing each of you to give above and beyond all reason.” She lowered her paper. “If you need to leave and tend your other duties, I'm certain Militine and I can figure this out.”

Wade shook his head. “You know I won't leave you here alone. I suppose the sooner we complete your instructions, the sooner we can get back to our own responsibilities.”

Abrianna reached out and took hold of his arm. “It is for the poor, Wade. They haven't anything, and another week might well see the death of many a soul. I know I haven't the right to ask this of you, but it's more important to me than anything. I've prayed and prayed about it. I know that the Lord has this ministry for me, and I would be a terrible steward if I were to ignore it for my own comfort.”

Wade was no match for her. Militine had seen this time and again. He was like clay in her hands, molded and formed to Abrianna's will. Thane had seen it, too. They had even discussed it. Thane believed Wade to be in love with Abrianna, but Militine wasn't convinced. He definitely was devoted to seeing her stay out of trouble, but Militine couldn't say that it was love.

But what did she know of love? Her life had been void of
that since the death of her mother. Her father's bitterness and dependence on the bottle gave him no time for such insignificant matters, and there was no one else.

“You look troubled,” Thane whispered against her ear.

Militine jumped back, her arms extended as if to ward off blows. Thane looked at her in confusion. Thankfully Abrianna had pulled Wade off to the far side of the room to show him yet another project.

“I'm sorry.” Militine looked to the ground. How could she explain her actions without sharing the nightmares of her childhood?

“I'm the one who's sorry.” He offered her a smile. “I didn't mean to startle you, and I know it's not proper to whisper.”

“I shouldn't be daydreaming.” She turned back to stir a can of white paint. “I guess I'm ready to get this up on the walls.” She picked up one of the paintbrushes. “You're welcome to join me if you tire of building cabinets.”

He chuckled. “Abrianna would skin me if I ignored her orders. I swear that gal could do wonders in organizing the city council. If she were in charge, few problems would go unresolved.”

From somewhere outside bells began to clang in a metallic cacophony. Thane pulled off his apron. “Got to go, Abrianna. There's a fire. I'll be back as soon as I can.” He dashed for the door before any of the remaining trio could respond.

Abrianna shook her head. “I suppose when the department calls, one must respond. Bother it all, anyway.” She put her hands on her hips. “I suppose I should have hired more workers.”

“Are we getting paid?” Wade asked from where he'd started working to cut a hole in the wall for the stove flue.

“Of course you're getting paid,” Abrianna replied. “The worker is worth his due. I wouldn't call you here to work without seeing you compensated.”

Militine's eyes widened as Abrianna pulled a wad of money from her skirt pocket. “This is for you and Thane to share.” She plopped it on the makeshift worktable. “I have additional money for you, Militine. I left it back at the house.”

“You should have left it all back at the house.” Wade came to the table and shook his head. “Abrianna, do you mean to tell me you've had this on your person all this time? Don't you know how dangerous it is to walk around town with that kind of money?”

“Well, I don't have it on me any longer. Now it's your responsibility. Yours and Thane's. There's enough there to encourage you both to work all night and tomorrow. But if you like, I could probably get a couple of the old sailors to help.”

Wade put out his hand to stop her. “We will manage without their help and without your pay. I'll hang on to this until I can talk to Thane, but I'm pretty sure he'll feel the same. You should use this money to buy food. For now, however, please promise me you won't walk around with this kind of cash on hand. You never know what danger lurks just outside the door.”

Militine jumped nearly a foot when a man's voice rang out as Priam Welby entered the shack.

“My, my. What have we here?”

Militine moved further toward the back of the building. She'd never liked Priam Welby. There was something about the local businessman that served to remind her of the degenerates who regularly visited her father's trading post. Welby had purchased Mrs. Madison's downtown building and was responsible for the beautiful estate that now housed the school. Even so, the man disturbed her. He might be well dressed and groomed, but there was something almost vulgar about the man.

“I had heard there was a pretty little redhead leading the rebuilding of this shack, and I could only imagine one woman.” He doffed his hat. “I see I was right.”

“We are opening a food house for the poor,” Abrianna said, crossing the room. “Perhaps you would like to contribute to the financial needs. We have food to buy, as well as additional plates and mugs. We also need dish towels and soap.”

He laughed, and to Militine's surprise reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Of course I'll contribute. I'm known for my generosity around the city.” He handed Abrianna two dollars.

She took the money. “I'd heard you were far more generous than this.”

Welby met her gaze, and his leering smile made Militine shudder. She wanted to warn Abrianna to take nothing from the man. He looked like a wolf about to consume his victim. Abrianna, however, didn't seem to notice. She waited instead without blinking until Welby peeled off several larger bills and pressed them into her hand. He allowed his hand to linger on hers as he spoke.

“You are a determined and intelligent young woman, Miss Cunningham. I suppose that's why I've always found myself drawn to you. When I'm near you, I seem to find myself weak in the knees and light-headed. Reason quite escapes me.”

Abrianna pulled her hand away from his and stuffed the money into her pocket. “Perhaps it's the grippe,” she said, turning away. “Aunt Miriam said there's a lot of it going around.”

Wade smiled but said nothing. Militine, however, continued to stare unabashed. She worried for Abrianna. The girl seemed to have no sense or understanding where men were concerned. There was something evil about Mr. Welby. A cold and calculating evil that she'd seen only once before . . . in her father.

Saturday night Thane took a seat beside one of his fellow volunteers. The man he knew only as Gabs offered Thane
a nod before turning his attention back to the front of the room. Thane was exhausted from Abrianna's round-the-clock endeavors to put the food house in order before the Sabbath but knew his attention here was expected. He only hoped he wouldn't doze off.

Fire Chief Josiah Collins took to the podium and brought the meeting to order. “We have a great deal to address during our meeting, so if everyone would take a seat, we can proceed.” The men who'd been conversing at the back of the room found their places, and the room quieted.

“As you know, when I came into this position last May, fire stations around the town were sorely under-equipped. The city council was good to listen to my recommendation for new horses and hydrants, as well as a new hose carriage for the Belltown area and additional hose for several of our carriages elsewhere.

“I also petitioned them for a new fire alarm system, and while some of the money has been approved, we have not yet managed to obtain what is needed. That is one of our biggest needs, and we will address this in detail in a few minutes.” He took a drink of water and cleared his throat before continuing.

“For now I wish to address morale in the ranks. You will remember we were put to the test last May and failed when fire completely destroyed the home of Edward Reynolds at Fifth and Bell. The newspaper claimed we lacked organization. There were also troublemakers among our own people who suggested our volunteers were uninterested in attending to their duties due to a lack of paid positions. I do not believe you men are so petty that you would see families put out on the street because money had not exchanged hands on your behalf.

“Instead, I believe our problems lie with other issues. Perhaps organization can be made better. However, until our water mains are improved, we will continue to suffer. It is absolute
nonsense to talk about fire protection until we have water available all over the city.”

Murmurs of approval rose from the volunteer firemen in the audience, as well as others who had joined to keep apprised of the city's plans. A newspaper reporter from the
Post-
Intelligencer
stood to one side of the audience quietly taking notes. Perhaps he'd been the one who'd written the harsh article about the fire department the previous summer.

Fire Chief Collins continued. “The present resources of the Spring Hill Water Company are overtaxed for all the areas requiring its water. I believe the remedy is for the city to own and control its own water supply and construct a system of new water mains and hydrants with fire protection in mind.”

The audience erupted in applause, but the fire chief waved his hands to quiet them once again. “Our volunteer numbers have fallen dramatically, due to the negative articles written by the press. I am hopeful that this demoralization will cease. Otherwise I fear for our city. We are reliant upon our volunteer firemen to pull our fire engines, since we have only six horses in our possession. We rely upon them to answer every fire call, which is quite tiresome, given there is no way of knowing for sure where the fire is or whether other stations have already responded to the alarm. If we could pay the volunteers what they were worth, there would not be enough gold in all of the continent.”

Again applause broke out, but this time Collins didn't attempt to stop it. He smiled and nodded his approval. When the audience once again settled down, he addressed the matter of the fire alarm system.

“Our system is barely a system at all. The bells from the various fire stations are indistinguishable from one another. The steam whistles that most generally join in offer no indication of location or intensity. None of the alarms currently
used can offer the fireman any idea of whether it's his station's responsibility or another's. Men come running at breakneck speed and gather their equipment to face what they hope and pray will not be a major conflagration. Often this is to the detriment of all involved, as various engines converge on one area for perhaps nothing more than a trash fire that got out of control, while across town a house burns to the ground for lack of an available crew.