Chapter 34

Cleave unto the Lord your God, as ye have done unto this day.

Joshua 23:8

O n Christmas Eve day, a half-frozen farmer rode into Lincoln and climbed stiffly down from his horse in front of Freeman’s Livery. He slid back the main door of the stable and made himself at home, unsaddling his horse and rubbing him down before walking to the back of the stable and pounding on Joseph Freeman’s door. When there was no answer, Jim Callaway went in and stoked the fire in the small stove in the corner of the room. Removing his boots, he sat on a chair and stretched out his legs, wriggling his toes and waiting for his socks to dry before he pulled his boots back on and went out to break the ice in the water buckets that hung in each stall.

As Jim got to the last water bucket, a familiar voice called from the back door, “You the new stable hand?”

Jim turned around and grinned at Joseph. “Hey, Joseph. Merry Christmas.”

Joseph shivered. “Saw the smoke from the stove. Thought Asa Green done got sick of his Mama raggin’ at him and come back to work. I gave him today and tomorrow off ’cause I don’t expect much business. Things are slow in town.”

Jim picked up a pitchfork and began to muck out an empty stall. “I just came in to check on things.” He deliberately turned his back on Joseph and tried to ask nonchalantly, “Anything new in town?”

“She ain’t wrote since she left. Haven’t heard a thing, Jim. Guess that means there’s no engagement—leastways, not yet.”

The knot in Jim’s stomach relaxed a little, and he grinned at Joseph. “All right, I confess. I couldn’t stand it out at the homestead—alone—thinking—”

“Trust in the Lord, Jim, trust in the Lord.”

“I’m trying. I know the right verses to read, and I’ve been reading them too—at all hours of the night, since I’m not sleeping too well.” Jim took a deep breath and stabbed at the straw at his feet. “It’s hard to trust the Lord about some things. I can trust him fine about the crops and the animals and even about the finances for the homestead. But trusting him to bring LisBeth back to me after she’s seen all that fancy living,” Jim shook his head, “there’s not a woman alive wouldn’t want a life like that.”

“There’s not a woman alive wouldn’t want a fine man like you to share her life with, son,” Joseph reassured him. “ ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding.’”

“I’m trying, Joseph.”

Joseph smiled wisely. “You know, the Bible says that ‘the just shall live by faith.’ Look at it this way. The Lord is just giving you a chance to live by faith. He’s growing you up a little while he makes you wait.”

“Then I got some powerful growing pains. I haven’t been able to eat a decent meal since the day she left. I made a grand speech about how I wanted her to go, how I wanted her to have no regrets.”

“And now?”

“Now I wish I’d run to that train the day they left and made a fool of myself begging her to stay here.”

Joseph laughed. “You got it bad, boy.”

Jim smiled. “You got that right.”

“Well, come on back here and let’s get out the checkerboard. You can blabber on about it as much as you like—as long as you let me beat you a few times.”

The two men retreated to Joseph’s room where they played checkers until hunger rumbled in the quiet room. Joseph brought out the fixings for a supper of cold cheese sandwiches and beans. When the church bells began ringing to announce the Christmas Eve services, Jim looked up and asked, “You goin’ to church tonight, Joseph?”

“I thought about it.”

Jim asked, “Mind if I come along?”

“To my church? Why don’t you go on over to the Congregational Church with the other white folks.”

“That mean you don’t want me in your church?”

Joseph shook his head. “ ’Course not, Jim. It just ain’t usual, that’s all. Truth is, there ain’t never been a white man inside, unless you count Joe Heiner, the undertaker. He come in once to claim old Keefer Douglas—dropped cold stone dead one morning while he was takin’ the offering. Caused quite a stir.”

The two men shared a hearty laugh before Jim sobered up and said, “Well, it’s like this. It just seems like I ought to be in church tonight. And if Lizzie and Mrs. Hathaway were here, I’d be right beside them over there at the Congregational Church. But I came into town to get away from being alone.”

“Then come on, son.” Joseph slapped Jim on the back and shook his head. “Gonna be some heads turnin’ at the A.M.E. Church tonight.” Joseph chuckled. “Can’t wait to see Reverend Field’s face!”

The service at the Congregational Church that night was just as LisBeth pictured it from Philadelphia. There were candles aglow, and evergreen boughs, and Agnes Bond’s uncertain soprano voice sounding above the choir in a sincere but decidedly off-pitch descant. However, her vision of Jim sliding into the back pew didn’t come true. Jim Callaway was at the A.M.E. Church a few blocks away, standing in a pew with Joseph Freeman. The A.M.E. choir members sang familiar carols in unfamiliar rhythms. Jim watched them, fascinated. They in turn kept an eye on the white boy who stood next to Joseph, self-consciously trying to join in the service. When Reverend Field rose to give his Christmas message, he invited the congregation to rise and join him in prayer. Jim closed his eyes and began to pray for his Lizzie. All around him sounded “Yes, Lord” and “Amen.” He heard the voices praising God and, in his loneliness, was comforted.

Christmas, 1877, was especially significant for three people.

Jim Callaway realized that the fellowship of believers could reach over the artificial barriers that society created and soothe a man’s soul.

LisBeth King Baird realized that an uncut piece of turkey red cotton meant more to her than a finely tailored silk dress.

And a wild Lakota named Soaring Eagle realized that what Carrie Brown had said was true—Jesus loved him.