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The old pastor was just leaving the church. He saw her on horseback and stared, surprised. Then he chuckled low and waved her over.
What choice did she have?
The last thing she wanted to do was talk to anyone, and yet the path had brought her here, into the center of town. She dismounted, caught the reins, and walked his way. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It was a start, for sure,” the old man laughed. “I haven’t seen anyone ride a horse into town in years, and then it was scarce enough. There are hitching posts right over there. You see ’em?”
She turned and noticed the trio of posts up the road apiece. “An odd place for them, isn’t it?”
“Not odd, considering the post office and general store used to stand right there. The Middletons have pictures of it, nothing all that grand, but solid like they used to build them. And Western-looking with a wide porch, all covered so the lady shoppers would be all right while the farmer husbands had to load grain from the back in the rain, snow and sun. They did right by the ladies, wantin’ to take care of them first in those days. It’s a cowboy way, and a good one.”
He held a set of boxes in his hands. She tied Honey’s Money to the hitching post and put out her hands. “May I help you, Reverend?”
“I won’t say no,” he told her. “I’m heading back to my place.” He motioned north. “Standin’ in one place bothers my hip. Once it’s in motion, it’s right enough, but standin’ still makes it act up.”
“I don’t mind a walk.”
They walked side by side, toward the far end of town. “You said last week that you’re retiring again, which means you retired before. Correct?”
“Twice.” The admission seemed to amuse him. “I can’t seem to stay still, and I hoped coming here would make a difference. To the town, to the people. It’s been on a downward trend for a while, losing folks to other places, towns with jobs. I kept thinking that if we could just start the ball rolling the other way, and gather momentum, we could catch the remaining pieces before it all falls apart.”
“But it didn’t work out that way,” she observed, and he turned her way quickly, surprising her.
“But it did!” he exclaimed, smiling. “Not in the manner I expected, but then that’s the way of things, isn’t it? The good Lord sees beyond the bends in the road while we humans see the straight and narrow.
“So it’s working fine, don’t you think?” he asked her and when she looked surprised, he angled his chin toward her, then the town. “You’re here. You’ve got other family heading this way. You got Heath to meet up with the other ranchers in town, now there’s a solid group of stubborn men determined to go their own ways. And I haven’t seen attendance at church or a memorial service like we had this weekend, so something’s working, young lady. Something filled with faith and hope, and I think part of that is you. And Miss Corrie that came along with you. When I heard that Eric Carrington took some time away from his fancy horses and cattle to talk with regular folks, that was a big step in the right direction from where I’m standing. Oh, there’s change brewing, Miss Lizzie Fitzgerald. And you’re in the thick of it. Now if we can have folks learn to forgive and forget. To move on and not hold grudges.” He swept the faltering town a long, slow look. “Well, that’s my prayer right there.”
They paused outside the square, worn rectory, the last building at the north end of town.
“For a long time folks in the Crossing have been going their own way, not sharing words or the Word. God’s word, that is, about loving and caring and sacrifice and forgiving. But you and the boy, going house to house, inviting folks in, well…”
A winsome smile deepened the crinkles edging his eyes. “You got it started, and I’m only sorry I won’t be here to see it all change, but that will take time and a man my age doesn’t take time lightly.” He winked, still smiling. “My daughter’s due to pick me up tomorrow, but I’m glad I got a chance to thank you for that nice service today. And for being here. It makes me see how there is a season for everything, like the Good Book says. Your season is upon us.”
He shook her hand, and for a quick moment, she didn’t want to let go because the old fellow’s wisdom struck a chord within her. Loving. Forgiving. God’s word.
She’d never considered that her messages hadn’t reached Heath. Messages always got through, eventually. Didn’t they?
Reverend Sparks moved to the house, just as the church bells chimed the six o’clock hour.
