“How wonderful. Perhaps I can talk my father into donating.” She heard his gruff voice barking out orders and knew he was most likely headed back to retrieve her. “We live on Seventeenth.”
“I know well where your house is situated,” Melody replied. “Our place is close by, next to a private school for boys that my husband and I run. One of our students lives across the street from your house.”
Marybeth nodded. “It’s hard not to know where everyone is situated. The town isn’t that big just yet. We live on theeast side as well. I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other and be dear friends.”
Her father joined them just then, and Laura turned to introduce them. “Father, this is Mrs. Vogel and Mrs. Decker. Ladies, this is my father, Granite Evans.”
“Ladies, I’m charmed. I hope you’re enjoying all that the store has to offer.”
“Oh, we are,” Melody replied. “It isn’t our first visit here. You have a wonderful place, Mr. Evans.”
“Thank you. It is my desire to afford the ladies of Cheyenne with the same services and selections as any of the larger cities. If you don’t see what you need, we can always order it.”
“Father, these ladies have invited me to attend the Methodist services with them on Sunday evenings. They have even offered to give me a ride with their families. Wasn’t that gracious?”
“Very. I can’t thank you enough for warmly welcoming my daughter to Cheyenne.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I will let my clerks know that you’re to have five percent off anything you purchase today.” He straightened and smiled. “Now, I must continue to introduce my daughter to the staff. If you’ll excuse us.”
“Of course,” the women said in unison.
“And thank you for your generous discount,” Melody added.
Laura took hold of her father’s arm. She was so pleased at his kindness. “You are quite the man, Father. It’s no wonder you’ve made good in Cheyenne. People know you for your kindness and generosity.”
He patted her arm. “I find such attitude and actions to always be beneficial.”
Wilson Porter sanded the table edge and ran his hand along it to make certain there were no rough places. He’d been in Cheyenne since the spring, waiting for the government to finally approve his appointment to minister on the Indian reservation. One delay after another had made it necessary to seek work, and since he was good at making furniture, Mr. Bradley of Bradley’s Furniture Store had hired him on.
He didn’t exactly hate the work, but it left him feeling a lack of fulfillment. He’d come west at the encouragement of his church and father, who headed up that congregation. His father was an eighth-generation man of the cloth, able to trace back his religious roots in America to a ship called theBrethren, which had brought his relations to the new land from Europe. His father and grandfather were quite proud of the family heritage, as was Will.
Preaching to the native peoples was something of a tradition, although his father had given that up to move his family to Salem, Ohio, where he founded their church. Despite that change, Will had felt called to continue the tradition, and once he’d graduated seminary, he had done what he could to involve himself in helping spread the Gospel to the Indians.
The War between the States had delayed him. He felt it his duty to serve and help free the slaves from the oppression of the South. During his experience on the battlefield, Will had found many opportunities to pray with his fellow soldiers and offer encouragement during times of great fear. The men started calling him Preacher, some with more affection than others. Once the war concluded, Will was able to finish seminary and complete the requirements of ordination. Andthrough seeking to work with the native peoples, Will found himself looking ever westward.
Last spring, he had been encouraged by the Office of Indian Affairs to relocate to Cheyenne while they concluded the terms for the treaties with the area Shoshone and Bannock tribes. The newly formed Fort Hall Indian Reservation would be divided into five districts, and Wilson was sure to be appointed to one of them.
But it was nearly the new year, and there was still no word from Washington. The local Indian agent, Mr. Blevins, had tried to be encouraging, telling him it was just a matter of time, but that hadn’t really helped. Especially when word came in July that Will’s father had passed away suddenly. Will hadn’t even had the opportunity to reach home in time for the funeral.
He could still remember the tears his mother and sister had cried when he’d left for Cheyenne. They understood his calling but wanted him to remain in Ohio. Instead, Will returned to Cheyenne and began to pray fervently for an answer as to how he could both take care of his mother and sister and answer God’s call on his life. Just before the weather had turned cold, an idea had come to him: Mother and Sally could move to Cheyenne. It would put them much closer to the reservation, and perhaps in time they could even join him. With them in Cheyenne, he would have a better chance to help them. He might even find a way to be assigned to one of the other tribal reservations closest to Cheyenne.
At least, that would be his goal if he could talk them into moving west. Thankfully, his mother had money left to her from her parents. Her funds had often supported them in years when his father’s earnings through the church had beenlean. It had been a source of some argument as to whether it was biblical for a man of God to rely on his wife’s inheritance, but in the long run, Will’s father had called it God’s blessing for a ministry that He had known would need extra support. Now his mother and sister could live without fear of the future. It gave Will a great sense of relief to know they were provided for since he wouldn’t earn a lot of money as a missionary.
He finished his work and straightened. This table had been ordered a couple of weeks ago and was to be finished by the first of the year. Thankfully, everything was on schedule, and he could quit for the day with a clear conscience that all was well.
Will stretched and reached up to knead the muscles in his neck. He’d been invited to share supper with the Decker family this evening and had been looking forward to it all day. He enjoyed conversing with Charlie Decker, and his wife, Melody, was a very good cook. Not that his boardinghouse owner, Mrs. Cooper, was a poor one. Both women were talented in their abilities. He smiled and dusted off his clothes. He was a blessed man, and if his mother and sister would come to Cheyenne, and if he could obtain a missional assignment, he’d have no complaints at all.
If.
“That table is looking good, Will,” Mr. Bradley said as Will put away his tools.
“Thanks. Shouldn’t have any trouble getting it stained and finished in plenty of time.”
With everything taken care of, Will hurried home to the boardinghouse to clean up. He had barely stepped foot in the door, however, when Mrs. Cooper came up to him.
“You’ve had some news, Will. I know you’ll be wantingto see these before you head out again.” She handed him two letters.
Will glanced at the envelopes. One was from his mother and the other from the Indian office. “Thanks!” He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
He hurried to his room and, once inside, ripped open his mother’s letter first. A smile lined his lips. They were coming. His mother had spent most of the last few months with her sister in Mississippi, but she and Sally were finally on their way for an extended visit. They hoped to join him sometime after the new year and stay until summer. She would send another letter or telegram when she had an exact date of arrival.
