“Come spring, that’s my route outta these here mountains. Gotta get to Fort Laramie somehow, and it’s the shortest way. Maybe you shouldstop by, talk to her for a spell, make amends. If you still plan on comin’ with me, that is.”
Jacob’s heart clenched at the thought of seeing her again, and he fought against the pain, wanting to lash out at something and vent his misery on the closest subject. He took a calming breath. The trapper didn’t deserve his anger. Jacob responded in a tight voice: “I don’t see how makin’ amends is gonna help any. In fact, I can say for near certain it’ll hurt upside down and sideways.”
“It might smart a bit, but it’d be good for you.”
“I think I’ll leave well enough alone. I wish her and Andrew all the happiness in the world,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Sure sounds like it,” Obadiah noted sarcastically.
“Are you gonna start readin’ or what?”
“Fine, fine. Hand me the Book.”
Jacob stalked to the mantle—or as well as he could with his gimpy leg—relieved the trapper had allowed the change of topic. “Which one?”
“The important one.”
Jacob sighed and grabbed the Bible.
Obadiah had read aloud every evening as Jacob had slowly gone about doing all the necessary chores to keep them both alive through the cold winter nights. Jacob had to work hard at keeping his annoyance in check. The trapper chose the Bible more times than not.
Taking another sip of tea and clearing his throat, Obadiah began to read. “Mark chapter four: ‘And he began again to teach by the sea side: and there was gathered unto him a great multitude, so that he entered into a ship, and sat in the sea; and the whole multitude was by the sea on the land. And he taught them many things by parables, and said unto them in his doctrine, “Hearken; Behold, there went out a sower to sow.”’”
He continued to read. Jacob hunched his shoulders, trying to tune him out. He wasn’t successful, as usual. Obadiah’s voice was almosthypnotic. He was born to be an orator, despite the rasp and occasional coughing fit. Jacob couldn’t help but be drawn into the stories. His head was bent over his work, but his mind was on the man who sowed.
The sower went out to the fields to sow his wheat. Some fell by the wayside, and birds swooped in and ate it. Some fell on the stony ground, and it immediately sprang up, but it was scorched by the sun and withered because it had no roots. Other seed fell among the thorns and was choked out, bearing no harvest, and yet others fell on the good ground and grew healthy and strong and yielded up to a hundredfold.
Obadiah’s sonorous voice continued. “‘The sower soweth the word. And these are they by the way side, where the word is sown; but when they have heard, Satan cometh immediately, and taketh away the word that was sown in their hearts. And these are they likewise which are sown on stony ground; who, when they have heard the word, immediately receive it with gladness; and have no root in themselves, and so endure but for a time: afterward, when affliction or persecution ariseth for the word's sake, immediately they are offended.’” He paused for another sip of tea and glanced over at Jacob. He continued. “‘And these are they which are sown among thorns; such as hear the word, and the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things enterin’ in, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful. And these are they which are sown on good ground; such as hear the word, and receive it, and bring forth fruit, some thirtyfold, some sixty, and some an hundred.’”
Silence fell in the little cabin. Jacob’s hands were still. Obadiah studied him with his bright blue eyes. He asked quietly: “Which one are you?”
Jacob didn’t look at him. “What do you mean?”
“The truth of Jesus has been sowed in you, Jacob. By your mother, by Kate, by this crazy old coot who knows nothin’ about anythin’. What does the soil of your heart look like?”
“I’m a good person,” Jacob said stiffly.
“I ain’t sayin’ you aren’t. But that’s not the question, is it?” He paused. “The day will come when your strength will run out. You won’t be able to carry the world on your shoulders anymore. Where will you turn when you’re at the end of your rope and you ain’t got nothin’ left?”
The question rang in Jacob’s ears like the tolling of a bell. And try as he might, he didn’t have an answer.
Chapter 35
“Thatshoulddoit,”Jacob called out as he tightened the last of the straps. Obadiah’s mule, Fernand, flicked his long ears and sidestepped in annoyance. His back was laden with bales of furs, and they had loaded Kip’s back with all their possessions, scant though they were. It would be a relief to replenish their supplies at Fort Laramie. They had run out of soap weeks ago. Jacob itched all over.
Obadiah emerged from within the dark cabin out into the warm April sunshine carrying his most prized possessions. He cradled the books in one arm and slowly closed the latch on the rough door. Placing a gnarled hand on the rough wood, he bowed his gray head, his long beard stretching down over his chest.
Jacob waited patiently, holding Kip’s reins and the mule’s lead, Dantès sitting at his feet. He shifted his stance to ease the slight ache that remained in his leg, fiddling with his new hat. Well, new to him. Obadiah had given him this floppy old thing to wear, claiming he liked his coonskin better anyway, but Jacob suspected he just took pity on him. A man out in the wilderness without a hat might as well be naked.
At last Obadiah lifted his head, took up his polished walking stick from where it leaned against the wall next to the door, and walked slowly over to where Jacob stood with the animals. Jacob’s brow crinkled. There was a stoop to the old trapper’s shoulders and a shuffle to his walk that hadn’t been there when Jacob had first come to this little cabin in the middle of the mountains. Obadiah’s chest still rattled with every breath,and his coughing fits had been the accompaniment of their nights for months. Jacob had done most of the work preparing for their journey.
Obadiah gingerly packed the books, wrapping them in supple deerskin and placing them securely in the top of Kip’s pack, and then he stepped over to take the mule’s lead. His bright blue eyes glistened as he gazed over at the snug little log house squatting under the protection of the dark pines.
“You all right?” Jacob asked softly.
Obadiah sniffed. “I got a feelin’ it’s the last time I’ll see this place.”
Jacob put a hand on his bony shoulder. “Maybe it’ll be good to start fresh somewheres else.”
