As Dixon left, the cold wind from outside swept across Joab’s body, sending him into spasms.
The door slammed shut, and Joab’s back jolted. Hot pain streaked down his spine. “Aggh!” He coughed and grasped the edge of the blanket. “God’s terrorizing me, though I am innocent.”
For a fleeting moment the agony of Dixon’s face rose before him. The man looked to be in pain, not physical but a soul sickness. Joab let out a slow breath. Dixon ought not to have heard Nathaniel’s words. He bared his teeth. “If you knew my grief.” He coughed. “If you knew Dixon’s grief …”
Nathaniel stiffened. Good.
“Can’t you see my disaster? My life is a wreck.” Joab glanced at the door. “And none of us know Dixon’s past.”
A cold sweat broke over him. Nathaniel rummaged through the chest, banging its sides as though it were his enemy.
Dixon shared little except that he lost his mother in the Riel Rebellion, but there must have been more. That look. It revealed a bitterness, and a sorrow so deep—well, Joab understood that.
A wave of nausea came, and he leaned to the side of the mat and heaved. He rolled back and refrained from wiping his mouth. The sores about it already stung. “I wish God would let me die.”
Nathaniel laid another blanket on him while Barty shuffled his feet then moved to clean up the vomit. Joab looked away.
“I have no strength. Why should I go on living? Your words … no pity. You should fear God. You’re deceived.” Joab closed his eyes as the pain silenced him.
The wind howled outside. Where did Dixon go? Did he desert him? Oh God, how could You do this?
Opening his eyes, he stared at his friends’ pale faces. Why did these men come? They offered no comfort. He grimaced as he shifted his leg to a more comfortable position. But then, they had never seen such destruction. He must be more compassionate. “You fear.”
Nathaniel and Barty both looked at him. Both wrapped their arms around their midsections.
Joab took another breath that rattled in his ribcage. He met Nathaniel’s gaze. If only his friend had kind words. It would ease his pain. But look, the man’s neck was flushed and his lips were pursed. He obviously despised Joab.
Nathaniel’s gaze left Joab’s and jerked about the soddy. Did Nathaniel come in his hatred so as to inflict more pain?
Joab turned from Nathaniel and studied Barty. This man gnawed on a splinter and eyed Joab like a cougar eyes his prey.
Joab sighed. “My skin is broken in horrid sores, I am loathsome.” How could he expect these men to understand? Yet rage pushed against his reason. “God, can You not see my pain?” He closed his eyes again, attempting to settle his spirit.
A fire exploded. It engulfed his house, his son. He screamed in terror. His eyes burst open. “God, You have done this! Why?”
“How long will ya blame God?” Barty’s angry voice crashed through Joab’s dream. “Does God pervert judgment?”
Feet padded in a steady rhythm on the hard dirt floor. Someone paced with a beat that conjured ill will.
“If you would seek God instead of blaming Him …” Barty spoke through clenched teeth.
Joab moaned. His throat hurt. Everything hurt.
“If you were as pure and upright as ya make yerself to be, God would make you rich. He’d make what riches you had in the past look like a pittance.” Barty’s lip curled into a snarl. “You are a hypocrite.”
Joab took several quick breaths. Tears welled in his eyes. Why such cruel words? He had lived his faith out the best he could, so that he wouldn’t be a hypocrite.
“God doesn’t cast off perfect men.” Barty leaned over Joab’s face. Tobacco hung on his breath. “Neither does he help evildoers.” He pulled away and punched the wall.
Tears burned the pussy sores on Joab’s face and his chest collapsed under the weight of Barty’s words. What answer could he give? Barty had already condemned him. If only God would show mercy and take him now.