“‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understandin’. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
Jacob scowled and stared at the ceiling, trying to block out Obadiah’s soft words. If he had to listen to this crazy old man talk about God until he could make his way out of this wilderness, he might just go crazy himself.
There was a loud scratching at the door, and Jacob looked up sharply.
“Aha!” the old man exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. “Dantès has arrived!”
The trapper opened the door, and Jacob cursed in alarm as the largest dog he had ever seen bounded into the tiny cabin. Not a dog. A wolf! The beast came right up to him, and Jacob tried to scramble back in the bed, letting out a stream of curses at the pain jolting up his leg and across his side. The hound jumped up and put his massive paws on his chest. Jacob froze, not daring to breathe. The wolf’s mottled gray fur lay thick and coarse across his muscled body, forming a shaggy mane around his broad head. Large ears pricked forward, and a pair of intelligent, amber eyes locked onto Jacob’s face.
“Dantès, get down there, boy! Don’t you know he’s hurt?” The hound plopped down and went to sit at Obadiah’s feet, his mouth open in a smile, tongue lolling. Jacob let out a breath, a hand to his bruised ribs.
“Don’t mind him,” the trapper continued. “He’s just makin’ sure you’re worth all the fuss it’s been to take care of you.”
“And did I pass muster?” Jacob asked, his heart finally slowing its rapid beat.
Obadiah looked down at Dantès, then both of them looked back at Jacob. Obadiah nodded once. “We think the Lord has plans for you yet."
Chapter 33
Jacobspentthenextweeks staring at the four walls of Obadiah’s tiny cabin. His bruised ribs healed quickly enough, but his leg seared with excruciating pain anytime he tried to walk, making it impossible to escape the old man and his never-ending talk of God.
Jacob had never met a more devout man, and he had never been more perpetually annoyed. He didn’t know what was worse—being alone all day with absolutely nothing to do, suffocating under the crushing boredom and silence, or having to sit and listen to Obadiah preach and read from his Bible every evening until he could finally close his eyes and block out his voice and drift into the nothingness of sleep.
He knew he was irrationally upset with the trapper. Obadiah had rescued him, bandaged him, took care of him, and fed him, all out of the goodness of his heart, generously sharing everything he had with Jacob, though he had so little, bearing his surly attitude with a gentle positivity that bordered on the mythical. But if he let go of this anger, what would he have left? Nothing. No one. Despair, loneliness, grief, heartbreak. He didn’t want to face that. Couldn’t face that. So he kept his anger close, coiled around his heart, feeding it with all the hurt he had endured and letting it sear his insides until there was nothing left but bitter blackness.
This evening, Jacob had managed to hobble over to the chair, gingerly stretching out his broken leg. The swelling had receded and the bruises were fading, but the deep ache in his bones persisted with such an intensity it drove him nearly mad. He gritted his teeth, ignoring thepain as best he could, and set to reading the only other book Obadiah possessed besides his beloved Bible,The Count of Monte Cristo.Boy, did that Dumas like to ramble. But with nothing else to do, Jacob had made it a quest to get through the behemoth. At least he’d figured out where Dantès and Fernand got their names.
Obadiah sat on the little stool near the fire, smoking his pipe and humming to himself, a tangle of leather scraps and tools in his lap and strewn about him. He glanced up at Jacob. “You know what tomorrow is?”
Jacob stared at the page, trying to focus. “The days tend to blur together when you’re stuck in purgatory.”
“Didn’t know my company was so toilsome.”
“It’s not you, just how it is.”
“Well, maybe some Christmas cheer will bring you a little happiness.”
Christmas already? Would she be married by now?Jacob clenched his jaw. “It’d take a miraculous amount of cheer to bring me happiness right ’bout now.”
“So you’re determined to pout for the rest of your life?”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t poutin’.”
“Really? ’Cause you ain’t stopped scowlin’ since you got here.”
Jacob put down his book and crossed his arms. He wasnotpouting. “Listen, old man. You don’t know the half of what I’ve gone through. Just leave me be.”
“All right, all right, no need to get all ornery. Just thought that a little Christmas celebration could make a body happy no matter what was goin’ on.”
“There’s no point in celebratin’ when you got nothin’ and no one to share it with.”
“You got me,” Obadiah said witha crooked grin.
Jacob sighed, disarmed as usual by this kind and crazy old man. “You know what I mean, Obadiah. Listen, I appreciate all you done for me. And I’ll pay you back somehow, you have my word.”
The old man waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothin’, son. All in a day’s work as a laborer in the Lord’s vineyard.”
Jacob suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
