The Calling of Emily Evans (8 page)

Through the whole process Emily couldn’t help but notice Star. She stood apart, head up, eyes alert and ears forward. Now and then she gave a quick snort as if to tell Shadow that life had played some cruel trick on him and she was in total sympathy.

Emily wished she could voice her own opinion about the circumstance. At last she did, speaking directly to the mare.“It’s his own stupidity that got him where he is. I don’t feel one bit sorry for him—and you needn’t, either!”

“Oh, I don’t. I don’t,” a male voice responded, and Emily whirled around, her face red with exertion. She had been so engrossed that she hadn’t heard anyone approach.

The man who stood there was big and burly and roughly dressed. His beard—not trim and well kept but bushy—seemed to be there simply because the wearer felt it too bothersome to be rid of it. His clothing hung haphazardly on his oversized frame, and his trouser legs were tucked carelessly into the tops of his boots as protection against the wetness of the morning.

As Emily’s eyes took in the appearance of her unexpected visitor, he leaned slightly to the side and spat on the ground.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” he asked gruffly. Emily realized he had not moved an inch toward helping her.

“I’m—I’m trying to get my horse,” she answered defensively, her eyes flashing as she spoke.

“Thet I can see,” the man threw back, “but what’s yer horse doin’ on my property?”

His comment sobered Emily as she quickly surveyed the damage that Shadow had done and was still doing to the fence. At once she became contrite.

“I—I’m sorry,” she began lamely.“I—certainly didn’t mean to damage your—”

But he cut in sharply.“I never suspected ya set out to tear down my fence. But ya still ain’t answered my question.”

Emily’s attention went back to Shadow, whose head was jerking up and down against the rein. Emily didn’t really blame him. He was standing in an awkward position, his legs sprawled over broken rail poles while two people who could help him continued to chatter. Emily tried once more to lead him to better ground.

Again he balked and snorted; then Emily felt herself being jostled to one side as the halter rope was grabbed out of her hand and the big man took charge.

Emily was glad to move out of the reach of both of them. She scrambled across the broken boards just as Shadow made a giant lunge and sent pieces of wood scattering as he headed for clear ground.

“Whoa-a,” called the big man. Shadow obediently whoaed.

Without a word to Emily he tossed the halter rope her way and began to throw the broken bits of board and poles back to where the fence had stood.

A flush washed over Emily’s face.

“I am terribly sorry,” she apologized.“I’ll see to it that your fence is fixed.”

Even as she said the words, she wondered just how she might do that. She had no money with which to purchase fencing materials, and no idea about how to make the repairs even if she had.

The big man straightened and looked sharply at Emily. Neither his voice nor his eyes softened.“An’ how ya plannin’ on doin’ thet?”

Emily backed off another step and fidgeted with the rope in her hands.“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She’d made a mess of everything.

“Perhaps—perhaps I can send for my father—”

“Jest like younguns,” grumped the man, and he spat again.“Git theirselves in a fix an’ yell fer their pa.” He leaned over to grab another armload of broken fencing.

With nothing more to say, Emily led Shadow toward the barn.

All she wanted to do was get away from those angry eyes as quickly as possible.

The man suddenly quit tossing broken rails. Emily, without turning to look, could feel his eyes on her retreating back.

“Jest a minute,” he thundered; “we ain’t done talkin’ yet!”

Emily turned to face him, pulse racing, her face red.

“You still ain’t explained what yer doin’ here. You runnin’ from home or somethin’?”

His words brought the fire back into Emily. Her head came up, her chin thrust out.“I am
not
a runaway child,” she said with all the dignity she could muster.“I am the new deaconess for the area.”

He stared at her in silence for a long minute, then blurted out, “The what?”

“The deaconess. I’ve been sent here by my church to start a mission work.”

“Well, I never—” sputtered the man and he spat again.

Emily eyed him as calmly as she could, willing herself to get better control. After all, she was sent to the area to minister, not to enrage.

“An’ who told yer church, whatever it is, thet we in this here area need to be ‘missioned’?” asked the man, straightening to his full height until Emily felt as if she were looking at a giant.

Emily wasn’t sure how her denomination had arrived at their decision to establish a mission in this community, so she held her tongue.

“Well—?” he thundered.

“Well, I’m not sure exactly,” she began.“Perhaps—perhaps they were invited.” She knew that was the case in many communities.

“
I
shore didn’t invite’em,” the man declared, his eyes boring through Emily.

“No,” she responded evenly, her eyes unwavering.“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”

They stood there, their gazes locked, some kind of challenge passing from one to the other. It was the big man who moved first.

“So how’d ya get here? I didn’t see no wagon.”

“No,” replied Emily, shifting uneasily.“I have a buggy.”

“Where?” The question was curt, short.

“In the—in the barn there.” She motioned with her hand.

“So ya used my barn too?”

“I’m—I’m sorry. I thought the place was vacant. I didn’t know anyone lived here. I—”

“The place
is
vacant. I don’t need ta live here to own it, do I? It’s being’ vacant gave ya license to walk right in and make yerself to home, did it?”

“No. Of course not. But when the storm struck—”

“Ya had to take shelter from thet storm? What’s the matter? Ya made of sugar? Ya’d melt in a storm?”

“Of course not,” answered Emily, trying hard to keep from responding angrily.“But I had supplies in the buggy that would have spoiled if they had gotten wet. I—”

“Supplies. An’ ya didn’t have’em covered?”

Emily shook her head, feeling young and foolish all over again. She wouldn’t bother explaining that her father had loaned his only canvas to a neighbor. The man would think her too young and irresponsible to care for herself, regardless.

He strode forward as if in a hurry to get the strange and troublesome interview over and the girl out of his yard and life.

“Well, let’s git ya hitched up and outta here,” he barked as he walked toward the barn.

“It’s—it’s not that simple,” began Emily.

He stopped and looked at her.

“The wagon tongue—the horses—Star spooked in the storm and stepped on the tongue, and it’s—it’s broken,” she finished lamely.

He just stared at her, open-mouthed and unbelieving.“You jest keep yerself an’ those horses outta my way and outta trouble,” he said tersely, and stalked off toward the sagging barn.

Emily’s hand tightened on the lead rope and she jerked up the head of the feeding Shadow, tugging him toward the fence where Star still remained tied to a post.

“C’mon,” she said to them in almost a whisper.“Let’s not get into any more trouble,” and she untied Star and led the team away from the fence, away from the barn, toward the lane.

Then she spotted the dilapidated Ford truck that stood at the entrance to the lane. For a moment her heart jumped, thinking another human was close by who might be able to rescue her from her present circumstance. And then she realized dismally that the truck likely belonged to the man who was fussing and swearing in the barn as he surveyed the broken tongue.

He was soon back outside, storming angrily as he headed for the truck at the road and rummaged in the back for some tools. When he walked back down the lane, he reminded Emily of last night’s thunder storm.

Emily stayed out of his way all the while she heard the pounding and grumbling. When at last the commotion subsided, Emily debated whether she should approach the barn.

Fighting to keep the horses’ heads up so they would not be grazing on any more grass that did not belong to them, Emily was hard put to hold them steady.

A gruff voice behind her said, “You can hook’em up now.”

Emily just stared at him.

“You can hitch a team, can’t ya?”

Emily’s face began to flush and she fought for control of her emotions. She sighed, looked at the big man, and replied, “Yes. Yes, I can.”

She gave a sharp tug on the ropes to get Shadow and Star going in the right direction.
But the buggy is still in the barn,
she thought.

Then even as the thought flitted through her mind, Emily saw that the buggy had been backed out of the barn and was standing on the grass, waiting for the approaching team.

She led the two horses into position before she realized that Shadow’s harness was still hanging on the fence. With a red face she looked around, expecting to see the big man leering at her. But he was nowhere around, and then Emily heard the chug of the engine as he started his truck.

Emily led both horses around the barn so she could keep an eye on Star while she harnessed Shadow. Emily struggled as she made one attempt after another of getting the harness over the big horse’s back. At last she got it on, and she sighed with relief. She was flushed and dirty and shaking from her exertion.

Maybe the girls who have to walk aren’t so bad off, after all,
she reasoned.

Emily led the team to the waiting buggy and hitched them for the remaining trip. She did hope that it wasn’t far.

Noticing her dirty hands, a new thought came to Emily. She really was in quite a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her dress wrinkled and covered with dirty spots. She had planned to put on her deaconess bonnet just before she entered the town. Now, she reasoned shamefully, she would not wish to disgrace the hat.

“Oh, God,” she prayed, “I’ve really made a mess of things. Could you show me a back way into town, Lord? I don’t want to shame the church or you by coming in looking like this.”

Emily clucked to the team and took her leave of the farmyard. It looked even more desolate and run-down in the light of day than it had in the darkness of the storm.

How could he make such a fuss about the broken fence?
she asked herself.
Most of the fence is falling down.

But even as Emily spoke the words to herself, she knew she had no right to wreck another’s property—no matter what its seeming worth—without taking responsibility.

“I’ll have to find some way to make things right,” she said slowly.

“But I’ve no idea how to go about it.”

Emily remembered that she did not know who the man was that owned the property. Nor did she know how to get in contact with him.

“Oh, dear,” she sighed, “that means he will have to contact me—and that makes it look like I’m trying to avoid my responsibilities.

Oh, dear. I should have asked him—”

Emily turned the team onto the road and took another quick look at her map. But she wouldn’t have needed to, for as she lifted her head she could see in the distance the small town where she was to serve. Her heart began to thud; then her mind quickly cautioned her emotions—both anxiety and excitement—to slow down.

“Surely the people won’t all be like him,” she voiced out loud. She reminded herself that though he was gruff and uncouth, he had rescued her horse from the fence, fixed the tongue of her buggy, and single-handedly, pushed her buggy out of the barn. Even though he had been in a hurry to get her off his property, perhaps he really wasn’t all bad and rude and uncouth.

Then another thought came to Emily, and it brought another flush to her cheek.

“I didn’t even thank him,” she said in a whisper.“What kind of deaconess am I?”

Chapter Nine

Beginnings

Emily could see no unobtrusive entry into the small town. As far as she could tell, there was only one road leading into it—right down the main street, between the houses and shops and the eyes of the townspeople.

Emily, her cheeks coloring, really did not wish to place the distinguishing bonnet upon her head. Nor did she wish to greet any of those who might be her new parishioners. But she did both. At the very edge of town, she reached for the carefully wrapped bonnet and lifted it out. With trembling hands she brushed her hair back from her warm face and attempted to push stray brown curls into proper place before settling the bonnet on her head. She brushed the dust from her skirts and tried vainly to brush away the wrinkles as well, and then clucked again to her team.

If she was going to minister to these people, she had to be friendly, she decided. So with that determination, Emily headed into the heart of town, ready to greet anyone she met with a warm smile and a nod of her head.

Though it damaged her pride, she kept her resolve, smiling and nodding to all she passed as though she were properly groomed and attired. She could feel their curiosity as she continued on down the street.

When she reached a large building called Wesson Creek Mercantile, Emily pulled the horses up before the building next to it. According to her map, this was to be her home and the church for her parish.

It was not an impressive looking place. The paint had long since washed from the plain board sides. The door was sagging slightly, the two front windows dirty and broken, the walk in front of it covered with clutter. Emily looked at it in dismay. It couldn’t be expected to draw people to worship.

For a moment she felt like crying, and then her sagging shoulders lifted and she forced a smile. It wasn’t the building that mattered. She was here to share the Gospel. She would do that.

She tied the horses to the front rail, hoping that it was secure enough to hold them, and set off to survey her domain.

Through the gate that swung open on squeaking hinges, along the grass-hidden, broken walkway, toward the back where she understood her living quarters to be, Emily made her way.

The door would be secured with a padlock, Emily had been told, and so it was. But ironically, right beside the padlock, the key hung on a piece of rusty wire. Emily could not help but smile.