Luther harrumphed again. “Commendable, Reverend Stanhope. Very commendable. Run along now, Amy. I want to speak with the reverend about tomorrow’s sermon.” He gave a glance of disapproval toward the merry crowd choosing partners for the square dancing. “We’ll just step off a ways to where we can hear ourselves think.”
Dismay shot through Josh. Good grief, was this officious-acting man going to tell him what to preach and how?
Luther hooked a bony finger in his vest. “What text are you using?”
Josh didn’t like Luther’s waiting-to-pass-judgment look. “Matthew 18. The lost sheep.”
“Hmmm.” Luther’s nostrils quivered as if warding off a bad smell. “Not wise. Not wise at all. This is primarily cattle country, you know.” He sniffed. “Although a few … uh … sheepherders do come to church.”
A lesser man would have quailed at the scornful look that accompanied the criticism, but Josh kept his voice steady, although apprehension stirred within him. “That’s why I chose the story,” he said. He almost added sir, but discarded it. If he were to become pastor of Christ the Way Church, he didn’t intend to kowtow to a local dictator. Josh had dealt with them before. The only way to handle such men was to show strength.
Luther Talbot’s eyebrows threatened to shoot off the top of his head. “I beg your pardon?”
First round. Stanhope, 1. Talbot, 0. The irreverent thought exploded into a hearty laugh. “The story shows God’s boundless love for those who have wandered away. Red says the church will be packed tomorrow. Cowboys will be riding in from the ranches to ‘check out the city preacher.’ Maybe even a few extra sheepherders.” Josh’s heart bumped against his chest wall. “I pray some of them will be touched enough to want to return.”
Luther snorted. “The only reason they’ll come to church is because Dunlap’s saloon is closed on Sunday.”
Josh fought a wave of hostility for the self-righteous man but contented himself with saying, “Thank God for that.” No sense antagonizing the chairman any sooner than absolutely necessary.
Luther shrugged. “What we want in a minister is someone who will tend to the flock, not spend time consorting with range riffraff.”
Rage licked at Josh’s veins. Was this how Jesus had felt when He cleared the temple of money changers? The young minister set his jaw, longing to shake the hypocrite who dared dictate to him. Josh clenched his teeth. If this was a sample of what he’d have to endure in Madera, the best thing would be to preach in the morning as promised, then catch the first train back to San Francisco.
We need you. Bad.
Memory of Red’s cry for help echoed in Josh’s ears, followed by a vision of Ellie Sterling’s crystal blue eyes looking up at him. He felt his anger die. With it went uncertainty about the future. His heart leaped like an antelope. He would not turn tail and run. If given the chance, he’d accept the challenge of pastoring Christ the Way Church—and trust in the Lord for the wisdom to handle the battles that surely lay ahead.
In the meantime, Luther was waiting for him to respond.
Josh looked straight into his opponent’s unfriendly eyes. “Jesus tells us in Luke 5:32 that He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”
A heavy hand fell on Josh’s shoulder. “A good thing for me,” Red’s voice boomed. “I wouldn’t be here now ‘cept for that.”
Luther gave an unpleasant laugh. “That may be, but it’s the righteous who fill the offering plates with money to pay the preacher.” Head held high, Luther turned on his heel and marched off.
Second round. Talbot, 1. Stanhope, 0.
“Well, of all the …,” Red sputtered. “Don’t pay that old windbag any mind. Luther thinks God can’t get along without his help, which I say’s more like meddlin’.” A crooked grin appeared. “Talbot ain’t righteous, and he sure don’t do much plate fillin’. Makes a big show of how much he puts in, but I happen to know it’s nothing compared with what a lot of folks give. Some that can’t really spare it.”
“How do you know that?” Josh inquired.
Red guffawed. “Word gets ‘round when there’s only a few hundred people in town. Hey, looks like folks are gettin’ tuckered. Maybe we can talk Miss Ellie into singin’ for us.”
Alas for Red’s hopes and Josh’s fervent wish for the girl who had so impressed him to favor them with a song. When approached, she said, “I’ll save my voice for church. Besides, Tim’s going to do the Mexican hat dance.” Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps you gentlemen would like to join him?”
“Not me,” Red said. “I’ll leave that to the reverend.”
Josh shook his head. “Sorry. There are some here who’d think it was undignified for a minister.” He cast a pointed glance at Luther Talbot, who stood nearby, arms crossed and wearing a disapproving look.
A look of understanding crept into Ellie’s lovely eyes. How changeable they were! Josh had seen them flash with indignation, soften with concern for Caleb, and surreptitiously observe him.
A burst of music from the Spanish guitars that had replaced the fiddling filled the air. Josh experienced a multitude of sensations. Had he been unconsciously looking for a mate all the years he avoided entrapment? Had God led him to Madera to find love as well as to preach the gospel? A Bible verse Josh had used while performing weddings sang in his mind: “For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife.”
Joy became despair. If Ellie proved to be the wife Josh now realized he’d longed for, it meant further estrangement from his family. The fact she was the daughter of the richest rancher in the San Joaquin Valley wouldn’t make her worthy of a Stanhope in the eyes of San Francisco society.
Who cares? Josh fiercely asked himself. I will not allow Mother or Edward to decide whom I shall marry, only God.
Relief at having chosen his pathway for better or for worse made Josh feel pounds lighter. He smiled at Ellie. “I can hardly wait to see Tim.”
Her eyes darkened. “I just hope he doesn’t make a fool of himself. He’s only persisting in this because I teased him earlier.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Josh chortled. “I suspect your brother can do anything he sets his mind to.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Ellie’s concern proved groundless. Tim threw his silver-laden sombrero on the ground, nodded to the musicians, and began his dance. He stomped. He minced with fingers outstretched like a haughty senorita. He circled and leaped. Then amid wild applause and ear-splitting whistles, Tim snatched up the sombrero and swept it to the ground with a low bow. The performance was the funniest thing Josh had seen in years, and it signaled the end of the fiesta.
When the final shouts of, “See you at church tomorrow!” floated back from the multitude of guests, Josh climbed into the backseat of the Fallons’ carriage and put his arms around David and Jonathan.
“What hymns would you like tomorrow?” Abby asked. “I’m the organist.” By the time they finished their discussion, the boys had fallen asleep. Red and Abby talked in low tones. It gave Josh a chance to relive the hours since Red had met him at the train station and taken him to the Yosemite Hotel.
“It’s a ten-mile ride out to the Diamond S. You may wanta change clothes,” Red had advised. “A fiesta’s no place for city duds.” The suggestion proved wise. Once they reached the ranch, Josh had wondered if they’d ever get the dust brushed off.
The day’s highlights paraded through Josh’s mind, always ending with thoughts of Ellie. Did the little Sierra Songbird really have a voice to rival the western meadowlark? Or did Tim’s love for his sister color the boy’s judgment? Josh yawned. It had been a long day. Tomorrow would tell … and in all probability settle his future concerning Madera and Christ the Way Church.
eight
Even though most of Madera lay quiet and sleeping when Josh returned from the fiesta, he decided to visit the church. His first glimpse of the brown wood building sheltered by trees and topped with a steeple f
illed him with awe. Light from a full moon and countless stars streamed down like a heavenly benediction. Modest and unassuming, Christ the Way Church could never compete with Bayview Christian. Yet something about it drew Josh.
He stepped inside. Moonlight streamed through the clear glass panes. It lit some of the wooden pews and left others in shadow. He walked up the center aisle and knelt before the altar. Peace fell over him like a mantle.
After a long time, Josh rose and silently slipped out into the glorious night. A sense of Someone walking beside him grew as he began his walk back to the Yosemite Hotel. “Why does this cow town church cry out to me?” he whispered. No answer came, but the Presence remained. The faith that had led Josh to test God by coming to Madera became knowledge: This was where he belonged.
The next morning, Josh awakened to the chime of church bells summoning the faithful to worship. He sprang from bed and peered out the open window. No fog or shining bay greeted him, only smiling skies and a dusty street leading to Christ the Way Church. Josh filled his lungs with morning air. “Thank You, Lord, for bringing me to this place. Help me speak words of truth and of You.”
After a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s pleasant dining room, Josh escaped Captain Perry Mace, the talkative proprietor, and hurried to the church. To his delight, the church had lost none of its charm in daylight. The sensation of being inexorably drawn to it intensified, and the sound of music lured him inside. Dark-haired Abby Fallon sat at a small organ. She smiled, continued softly playing, and said, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Thank you, yes. I’ll just put my Bible on the pulpit and get back outside.”
Abby’s eyes twinkled. “Good idea. Folks will want to see you.”
Josh grimaced. “I know. Preacher on trial and all that.” To his amazement, Abby didn’t argue. It gave him food for thought.
Josh stepped outside and watched an assortment of conveyances roll up and disgorge their passengers. He saw townspeople, singly and in groups, hurrying up Main Street. Riders hitched their horses to a nearby rail and tried to rid their boots of clinging yellow dust. A battery of eyes turned toward Josh: friendly and welcoming except for the four men who stood with Luther Talbot, all wearing wait-and-see expressions. Josh targeted them as the church board. Luther looked like he’d been drinking vinegar. Had he already expressed doubts about the visiting minister?
“Morning, Josh.” A cheerful voice sang out.
He turned to see a grinning Tim Sterling helping Ellie out of a buggy. She looked absolutely fetching in a simple, light-blue gown and matching hat. Josh searched for something to say to keep from betraying his excitement at seeing her again. “Good morning to you both. Nice clothes, Tim. Not as flashy as what you wore for the fiesta, though.”
Tim twitched the string tie adorning his plaid shirt. “Naw. I gave them back to Juan.” He cocked his head and blurted out, “How come you’re wearing a suit?”
“Tim!” Ellie protested. “That’s rude.” Color stained her smooth cheeks.
“Why?” her brother wanted to know. “Matt said city preachers mostly wear fancy robes and turn their collars backward.”
Josh couldn’t stifle his amusement. “Not this preacher. Besides, I may be a country preacher pretty soon.”
Tim’s enthusiastic “Yippee-ki-ay” turned heads and made Josh cringe. But the light in Ellie’s eyes and her barely audible “I hope so” helped restore his equilibrium enough to change the subject.
“I forgot to ask Red how the church got its name. It’s certainly unusual.”
“A real jim-dandy,” Tim announced. “Matt and Dori’s folks helped build the church. Folks didn’t know what to call it, but William Sterling said flat out it was Christ’s church and should be named for Him. It’s been Christ the Way ever since.”
“A good name and a good story,” Josh approved.
The church bell pealed a warning note. Tim looked worried. “You better get a move on, Josh. Luther Talbot looks sour enough to curdle milk. C’mon, Ellie.” He hurried her up the steps and inside with Josh at their heels.
This is it, Lord, Josh prayed. He took his place on the raised platform. Luther settled into a chair beside him. Josh surveyed the packed church. Sunlight streamed through the clear glass windows. It reflected on steel-rimmed spectacles and Sheriff Meade’s badge and sent rainbows dancing around the room. It touched worn hymnbooks and the faces of a congregation far different from Bayview Christian. Clothing ranged from spotless but unfashionable to brand-spanking-new. Captain Perry Mace removed his ever-present top hat and gave Josh an encouraging smile.
Josh’s gaze landed on Caleb Sterling. Face still damp from a recent scrubbing, cowlick slicked down, the small boy gave Josh a gap-toothed grin.
It changed the course of the service.
Lord, everyone here needs to hear of Your great love, but none more than the children. Give me the courage to do what I feel I must.
Luther stepped forward, exuding importance. He cleared his throat. “Most of you know that as chairman of the church board, I’ve been in charge of the services since our former minister moved on to new pastures.”
Josh fought the insane desire to howl. New pastures. Bad choice of words. After today’s sermon, Luther would be more careful how he used that phrase!
Luther continued. “Reverend Joshua Stanhope is here with us today. I ask for him your kind attention. But first we will sing ‘Bringing in the Sheaves.’” He added, “Our Lord told us the harvest is white but the workers are few. This has never been more true than now.” Luther droned on and on, louder and more emphatic, until Josh wondered if there would be time for a second sermon.
Luther didn’t stop expounding until Tim gave a loud cough and muttered, “Sorry.” The chairman nodded at Abby and said, “Let’s stand for the opening song.”
Josh didn’t dare look at Tim. He concentrated on the hymn. Bayview Christian never sang it, but “Bringing in the Sheaves” had been one of Uncle Marvin’s favorite songs at the rescue mission. It brought back memories. The down-and-outers had sung it as fervently as this congregation, now on the last line of the refrain: “We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.”
God, grant that the harvest may be great, Josh prayed.
The song ended. Luther offered a long prayer before directing the congregation to be seated. He returned to his chair and Josh relaxed. Having Luther behind him was a blessing, considering what “Reverend Joshua Stanhope” was going to do.
Blood pounding in his ears until it threatened to deafen him, Josh walked to the front of the platform but didn’t step behind the pulpit. “I’m glad to be here with you.” He took a deep breath. “Will the children please come forward?”
Eyebrows rose. A gasp from Luther echoed through the church. It did not deter Josh. In all the time he’d been preaching, he’d never been more sure of himself.
At first, no one moved. Josh saw Caleb look at Matt for permission before heading toward the front of the church. Gideon followed; then a whole flock of children surged forward. Josh seated himself on the shallow steps leading up to the platform and motioned for the children to join him. “I have a story for you. Your mothers and fathers are welcome to listen, too.”
Luther’s chair tipped over with a bang. “Really, Reverend, I must protest.”
Josh turned. “Please be seated, Mr. Talbot.” Their gazes clashed and held. Then to Josh’s relief, Luther gave a loud harrumph and resumed his place.
Third round. Stanhope, 1. Talbot, 0.
Josh swallowed a chuckle and turned back to the children. “How many of you live on cattle ranches?” he inquired. Several hands shot up.
“How many of you go riding in the hills with your daddies?” Other hands raised.
Josh leaned forward and said in his most mysterious voice, “Do you know that God is a cattle rancher?” He thrilled at the interest in the children’s eyes. “God says in the Bible that he owns the cattle upon a thousand hills. I saw a lot of c
attle yesterday but not that many!” He kept his attention on the children. “Even though God owns all those cattle, His Son, Jesus, is called the Good Shepherd. That’s funny, isn’t it?”
The children nodded, but Luther mercifully kept still. Josh went on. “A long time ago Jesus told a story that shows how much God loves everyone. We call it the story of the lost sheep.” Josh glanced at the congregation. A small group sitting near the back wore broad smiles; Josh suspected they were the sheep owners. Others in the congregation scowled. Even Tim looked doubtful, but Ellie’s blue eyes sparkled.
“A certain man had a hundred sheep. One day when he counted them, one was missing. The man left the other ninety-nine and went to find the sheep that had wandered away from the flock. The story says the shepherd was really happy when he found his sheep and brought it back where it belonged.”
“I bet the sheep was happy, too,” Caleb piped up.
Josh laughed and rejoiced when the congregation joined in. “I’m sure you’re right, Caleb. You may all go back to your parents now.” He stood, waited until they scrambled back to their places, then crossed to the pulpit and opened his Bible.
“Isaiah 53:6 says, ‘All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.’” Josh closed his Bible and leaned forward. “You probably wonder why I chose to preach about sheep here in cattle country.” He waited for a murmur to die. “I don’t know much about cattle and sheep, but I know one important thing: You can herd cattle. Sometimes the ornery critters object and sometimes the herd stampedes, but cattle can still be driven.”
Josh leaned forward, aware of quickening interest in the congregation. “Sheep can’t be driven. They have to be led by someone who understands them and cares about them. Someone who is willing to give his life to save the flock.” He paused. “The biblical account of the lost sheep doesn’t list details, but the fact that the shepherd left the ninety and nine in the wilderness shows us the search couldn’t have been easy.
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