The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [53]
“Did you girls read the book of James?” Bess used her ample lap as a table to place the Bible. Until a few weeks ago, Bert had no idea what a Bible was.
One of the women responded she had, but the one with the mole said she’d been too busy. She also said this time was prayer meetin', and Bess hadn’t said a word about reading.
“You’re right about prayin'. We’ll talk about what James has to say a few verses at a time.”
“Goodness, Miss Bess. We might be here all night, and I have work to do,” said the mole woman.
“Just an hour, sweet girl. I’ll read and then we can discuss our findings.”
For the next hour, Bert actually paid attention to what Bess had to say. What she read made sense. If a person was to believe in God and all those things He said, then they needed to act like it. At least, that’s the way Miss Bess explained what Mr. James had written.
Leah acted like a real believer. So did her sons. They didn’t swear and try to hurt each other. She was used to plain mean and spiteful like her brothers and pa. Except Gideon. She sure missed him—the sparkle in his earth-colored eyes and the way his lips turned up when he smiled. The goodness in him was what killed him. If he hadn’t tried to help her, he’d be alive today.
Did she carry something inside her that brought evil to others? She wanted to believe it was another one of Simon’s lies.
“The point of what James is telling us is we need to back up our faith with good works. Like showing folks we’re believers without telling them. They should be able to tell we love Jesus just by listening and watching us.” Bess smiled, and for a moment Bert could see the young girl in her. “Think of it this way. We can’t cook on a cold stove. We fill it up with wood, drop in some kindling, light a fire, and wait for it to get hot. We don’t have to ask if the stove’s fit for cookin'; we just know it.”
Maybe if Bert’s life had been filled with people who cooked on a hot stove, she’d not be in such a fix today.
Bess finished with a prayer, and Bert did her best to pay attention. But it was hard, especially when she had to be thinking how to get away from Rocky Falls. She made her way back to the kitchen for her next job.
“Ember, I’d like for you to take John his supper.”
Looks like she’d be leaving later on tonight than what she intended.
John’s stomach had growled for most of the afternoon, and as much as he wanted supper, he fretted over who would bring it. Widow Bess suited him fine. He was becoming as fickle as a woman. Staring into Bert’s eyes would be his demise. Besides, more important matters needed his attention. For starters, where were the stolen cattle? Leon must have hid them near the cattle camp, and John could have found them if not for the bullet ripping off a piece of his arm. Leon couldn’t have stolen the livestock and driven them somewhere alone. So who’d joined up with him? The two ranch hands who’d conspired with Leon to hang Bert rode with the posse.
Tomorrow the pain in his arm would subside, and he’d be useful … but for what?
Who am I kidding? The only role he’d be playing as deputy amounted to paperwork. He’d rather ride back home and see what he could do there. Horses needed to be shod. The barn needed some loose boards nailed down—and the repairs only took one hand. He could ride out looking for strays. Yes, he had plenty to do at home. Unless Bob needed him to let ranchers know Leon had been found, and hopefully the rustled cattle would turn up.
When thinking about Mama’s reaction to his arm, he realized the importance of him telling her. Ever since Pa died, she fretted every bump, bruise, and potential bully.
John glanced out the window of his room. Darkness had set in about