Chapter Nine

Simon’s massive frame darkened the office doorway Monday morning. “You wanted to see me, boss?”

Parker motioned for his clerk to sit down.

The chair squeaked under Simon’s considerable bulk. “Got a problem?”

A problem? Yes, there was a problem. His name was Isaac Inman. “Something’s been bothering me.”

Simon’s brows knotted with concern. “You comin’ down with something?”

Parker shook his head. “I wish the solution were that simple.”

Simon leaned back, scissoring his arms behind his head. “You’re thinking about those kids, aren’t you?”

Parker turned to the window to look out. Simon could read him like an open book. “What are we going to do about that situation?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been praying about it for some time now. It’s a pitiful situation out there.”

“It’s despicable the way the kids are forced to do without basic necessities. Things we take for granted—food, shelter, clothing—warm clothing that hasn’t been worn threadbare by others first. A decent-fitting pair of shoes—shoes that don’t rub their feet raw by the end of the day.”

“They deserve better,” Simon agreed. “They need proper schooling, a chance to learn to read, write, and do arithmetic. Maybe study history.”

A muscle tightened in Parker’s jaw. “Children need a penny’s worth of candy every once in a while. Jawbreakers, licorice whips, jelly beans, or peppermint sticks. I’ve watched the orphans at the mercantile. They stand back, pretending not to care, when you know they do.”

Simon shook his head. “There sure should be something we can do. The men are concerned about the situation, but Inman’s got them all fired up about building that tabernacle. Then June caught their eye. They’re partial to ‘God’s little emissary.’ Their spare coins go to her.”

Parker stared out the window, racking his brain. The loggers were a generous lot, but Simon was right. Their minds were on the tabernacle.

“I know Angeline would appreciate any help she could get.” Simon paused for a long moment. “I noticed a lot of things yesterday that needed fixing, but when it comes down to it, money is what they need most.”

“Yes, money would solve a lot of problems.”

Simon absently scanned a work order. “Those children haven’t had the proper food for years.”

Dropping into his chair, Parker propped his boots on the desk. “Or anything else they need.”

“True. Well, I’m willing to pitch in a month’s pay. If we explain the kids’ needs to the men, they’ll chip in all they can.”

“I have a better idea.”

Simon met Parker’s steady gaze. “What’s that?”

“Inman could help out here.”

“Reverend Inman?” Simon frowned. “You can’t be serious.”

Parker felt his blood pressure rise. “Yes, I’m serious. Why not? He needs to think of the community’s needs first, for a change.”

“There you go again, boss—you’re bullheaded, you know that? You judge every evangelist by your uncle Walt’s shortcomings. You know the reverend feels he’s been called by God to build that tabernacle. That doesn’t make him crooked.”

“We’re not talking about my uncle Walt,” Parker snapped. “We’re talking about the orphanage. Isaac should see the need without having to point it out to him. After all, it’s his community.”

“And we’re all God’s children.” Simon shook his head. “Isaac’s a good man, whether you want to believe it or not. I’ve talked to his people. They say he’s the salt of the earth, will do anything in his power to serve the Lord. But he’s fixed on erecting that tabernacle in his wife’s memory. No doubt he sees the orphanage’s need, undoubtedly sympathizes with them, but he won’t stand for a penny of the contributions to go toward the orphanage—you know that.”

“And that’s Christianity?”

“Well, Christianity walks a fine line. In one man’s mind, what Isaac’s doing is the height of servitude; in another’s, it’s heresy. Men like Isaac confront needs every day—dire, unimaginable needs. Inman’s not a miracle worker, Parker; he’s one man, a man with a mission—a worthy mission, whether you like it or not. The tabernacle will serve thousands, the orphanage only a handful of children.”

“Only a handful of children.” Parker found that a bit ironic. “Wonder if that’s how God sees it—only a handful of his children?”

Simon got up to pour a cup of coffee. “We could argue all day about what’s needed where, and the most, and never come up with a solution. It’s up to you and me to find a way to help these particular children.” He warmed Parker’s cup, then set the pot back on the stove.

Parker sat for a long moment without speaking. The church served the community. The community’s future lay with its children. Isaac was obsessed with building the tabernacle, blinded by intent. Couldn’t anyone else see that?

“I’m going to have a talk with Isaac.”

“You? Talk to Isaac? That would be a first. Thought you didn’t approve of him or the tabernacle.”

“I don’t, but he serves the community’s spiritual needs, and the orphans are part of the community. For too long he’s turned his back on them. Someone needs to point that out to him.”

Simon stirred sugar into his coffee. “The tabernacle’s blinded Isaac to a lot of needs.”

Parker pushed away from the desk, stretching. “I’ll talk to him. If he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem. Meantime, we’re going to have to do more. Have the men take up an offering and send it over to the orphanage—or have Miss Kallahan deliver it.”

Simon grinned, and Parker gave him a sour look. “Something funny?”

“Yeah, you and Miss Kallahan. You cross swords more than Sioux warriors. What’s wrong with you? She’s a pretty woman—available now that Eli’s gone. You’re single. Why do you want to argue with her?”

“Let’s just say I don’t like pushy women.”

Simon grinned, then quickly recovered when Parker shot him a dark look. He watched his boss drain his cup and set it on the desk, then shrug into his coat.

“Think I’ll have that talk with Isaac while it’s on my mind. Can you take care of things here while I’m gone?”

“I’ll give it a try. If you see Sam, tell her I said hello.”

Parker paused at the door. “Seems to me you’re getting mighty interested in Sam Harris all of a sudden.”

Simon took a sip of coffee, grinning. “Seems that way to me, too.”

“Sam’s worried about your shyness—thinks the cat gets your tongue.”

Simon scowled. “Who told you that?”

“I overheard June and Mary discussing it the other day.”

“Women!” Simon shuffled the work orders. “You know talking to women don’t come easy for me—except talking to Sam. I feel comfortable around her, even if I don’t talk her leg off.”

Parker frowned. “If it’s talking you’re worried about, you should have Miss Kallahan help you with that. She talks enough for two people.”

“Isaac, I want to talk to you.”

Isaac glanced up, and upon seeing Parker standing in the doorway, returned to the papers he was reading. “That’s surprising, since you haven’t been so inclined now for several years.”

Parker ignored the rebuke. He wasn’t here for scones and a tea party. “I want to discuss the orphanage.”

Isaac frowned. “The orphanage. Is that all that’s on people’s minds these days? The orphanage has been here for years. Why all the sudden concern? The children are healthy, aren’t they? They have a roof over their head, and food on the table.”

“Healthy, maybe; food, occasionally. The roof’s a laugh. Something has to be done about their situation.”

“I have no argument with that, but you must realize there are so many—”

Parker’s deadly tone stopped him. “Cut it out, Isaac. It’s me—Parker. Remember? Of course there are many needs, but the orphans are our particular problem. I want your ministry to help them.”

Removing his glasses, Isaac polished them, refusing to look up. “How can I help?”

“Give the orphans at least one Sunday night offering a month. That’s an insignificant amount compared to the overall picture. The kids will have proper food and clothing, and the community can rest in the knowledge they are taking care of their own.”

Isaac stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, his features tight. “I’ll have the elders prepare more food baskets and deliver them—”

“The children need more than food baskets. They need a steady income. The old woman is sick. She isn’t able to drum up donations like she used to. Provide those kids funding, Isaac. If the tabernacle is God’s plan, he will see it built.”

Isaac’s eyes centered on the window, where outside a gray drizzle fell. “My heart goes out to those children—to needy children throughout the world. If I could, I would see to it that not one single child would go to bed hungry tonight. But it isn’t within my power. I’m only one man, Parker. You must know a minister’s task is overwhelming. As much as I want to help, I cannot take money from the crusade and give it for another cause, no matter how worthy that cause might be. Donations received from this ministry must go to build the tabernacle.”

A suffocating tightness squeezed Parker’s chest. Remember, you’re here for the orphans, not to chastise Isaac, he reminded himself.

“You’re wrong, Isaac. You know that. My men do all they can, but they’re following you, and forgetting their responsibilities toward those less fortunate.”

Parker saw the way the loggers gave outside the saloon, but all collected funds were channeled toward the tabernacle. The orphans were getting trampled in the shuffle.

Isaac stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Parker’s eyes. “I wish I could help, but I stand firm in my conviction—my knowledge of what I have been called to do.”

They were getting nowhere. “Those children need your help. Read your Bible.”

“I am aware of their needs, and I read my Bible daily, thank you. I am concerned about the orphans, but God has called me for a different purpose. God has called me to build a tabernacle. I will abide in his Word and see my mission accomplished. I must keep my eyes focused on the tabernacle. A place of worship that will feed the spiritual needs of thousands, not just the everyday needs of a few.”

“Okay.” Parker realized he couldn’t argue with a fence post. Isaac’s mind was made up. If the children were to eat properly, he’d have to find another avenue. “I hope you can sleep warm tonight, Isaac, and aren’t kept awake by the knowledge there are babies down the road who can’t.”

Isaac never raised his eyes. Parker walked out.