Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

S T. JOSEPH MISSOURI

Abraham Thomas sneered at the man in front of him, his hands fisted. Blood rushed to his face, heating his cheeks and making him dizzy. If this came to blows, he was ready for it. "I've never stolen anything in my life! How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

The old man shook his head, his stance unchanging. Arms crossed over his chest, he continued to look down on Abraham as though he were nothing better than a thief. It only made Abraham's ire rise. The old man glared at him a long moment before he finally said, "It doesn't matter. Whether you stole the tools yourself or just left them out overnight for someone else to steal, it's the same result. The tools are gone, and they were your responsibility."

Guilt pricked at Abraham's heart. He was responsible for the tools, that much he could agree with. But was it really his fault? "So, you're done with me then? Over this? You value those tools over having a loyal apprentice?"

The old man sighed, his arms finally loosening. "It's not just the tools, Abraham. You might be able to shoe the horses just fine, but you're unpredictable with the owners. Sometimes you show fits of temper toward customers that make them complain to me, and they're even avoiding coming for as long as they can before their horse needs shod again."

"I can't help it if I'd rather work with the horses than the people. I don't understand why they need to talk so much while I'm working a hoof. It makes it hard to concentrate."

"I understand that, but the horses are only here because they have work to do for the people who bring them. And besides, the people are the ones paying us the money, not the horses."

Slowly, the anger in Abraham subsided as it was replaced with sadness. "But I'll do what I can to work off the debt. I know that the tools cost money, and I'll do what I can to replace them."

"This has been coming for a while, I hate to say. Like I said, it's not just about the tools. They were just the straw that broke the camel's back. Honestly, I'm not sure if you could take over the business here in St. Joseph. If you can't get along with the current customers, it will make it easier for another blacksmith to come in and take over the town. I think I need to find another apprentice, unfortunately."

Abraham's heart fell toward his stomach. Sure, he'd been grumpy with a few customers, maybe a little impatient with them, but he wasn't even being given a chance here. "I can change," his voice cracked as he said it.

The old man shook his head again, his face growing more somber. "I've lived long enough in this life to know that people don't change for good. They might improve for a little while, but they always slip back into their old way of doing things."

Every word the old man said broke Abraham's heart just a little bit more. His gaze dropped toward the man's feet as a lump formed in his throat. The backs of his eyes stung, but he swallowed it all back, determined not to let emotions take hold of him. Sniffing, he took one step backwards, turned on his heel and stomped out of the stable.

Once out of shadows of the barn in the sun of the late spring day, he looked up toward the cloudless azure sky. Was he really going to be abandoned again? He'd been apprenticing with the old man for close to a year, right after the end of the war. The war had stolen his youth, since he joined at the beginning when he was nineteen, served in the Cavalry for four years taking care of the horses, and then when discharged, he believed he'd found the occupation that he'd do well with.

He'd thought that by shoeing horses, he could work with the animals he'd grown to love while in the army. For as far as he could remember, he'd been awkward when dealing with people. A long time ago, he learned that you couldn't trust people with much and even a man who called you his friend would be willing to betray you for his own benefit. Swiping at his eyes, he straightened himself, cleared his throat and started marching away. But where was he going? He'd been living in the loft of the barn… would he be allowed to continue doing that? Not likely.

Without any friends, without any family, what prospects for the future did he have? The whole world seemed to tilt for him. He felt a bit dizzy as he was overcome with melancholy. Still, he continued to march forward with no bearing on where he was going. Honestly, he could hardly see in front of himself, for his vision was blurred with unshed tears. Besides, his mind was elsewhere. What was he going to do now? He had no idea.

Maybe he could go to another town and find a job working with horses. But even if he worked with horses as a blacksmith in another town, how would he gain any customers if his attitude was surly. He'd have to change. But he knew the old man was right when he said that people didn't change very easily. And besides that, he didn't have any tools. He didn't own an anvil, had no means of building a coal forge, and that was neglecting the smaller tools like hammer, clincher, nippers, and more.

Frustration and despair were taking over. It was unfair that he was having to go through all of this. One of the reasons he'd joined the war effort was because his father had passed away. He'd thought that it would be helpful to his mother to send his pay from the Cavalry to her so that she could live, but little did he know that she would die that first winter of influenza. He mourned her while cleaning stalls in the army's stable.

Maybe that was something he could do. If he worked at a livery, he could keep his head down and clean stalls and do what he could to not have to talk with or deal with anyone. But the army's stable was an easier place to get that done. He just needed to follow orders there and nothing else. Swiping at his eyes, he finally cleared his vision and found he was nearly at the end of Main Street. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Cleaning stalls was something he could do, but it wasn't something he could even consider raising a family on. Was he destined to be alone for the rest of his life? What kind of life was that?

Truthfully, was he even able to get along with a woman long enough to have her agree to court with him or marry him anyway? Unlikely. Swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat, Abraham shook his head at himself. His future was uncertain. His ambitions were shattered. Weakness overcame him and his knees buckled a little so that he caught himself on the little picket fence he stood next to. With nothing left, where would he turn?

Then he heard piano music. And then the singing began, "I hear the Savior say, ‘Thy strength indeed is small; Child of weakness, watch and pray, Find in Me thine all in all.'"

Looking up, Abraham found himself looking at the open doors of the church. The choir was practicing and singing "Jesus Paid it All."

The song was right. He was a child of weakness, and his strength to save himself in this situation was truly small. There was no way that he could do anything for himself. But when was the last time he'd truly turned to God in prayer over a situation like this? Yes, he was a believer. And he eschewed sin, went to church every Sunday, but did he really live his life abiding in Jesus? Honestly, not since his mother had died almost five years ago. It wasn't that he'd turned his back on God, but there was a part of him that couldn't understand why God would take away his family like that. And because of that lack of understanding, his life in Christ had suffered. Maybe that was why he'd become so surly?

Shaking his head, he opened the gate in the fence so that he could draw nearer to the music. He couldn't blame all of his shortcomings on the Lord. The only one he could blame for all of this was himself. Once he stepped onto the porch step, he turned around and sat down upon it. He didn't want to interrupt the choir during their practice, but he just wanted to stay a while and listen and let his aching heart heal a little bit. The tears started to flow a little more freely now. Not because he was mourning what he'd lost anymore, but because now that he was spending time in the presence of the Lord, he was beginning to realize all that he'd been missing in his life. How foolishly and selfishly he'd been living. This wasn't the way it was supposed to have gone. Burying his face in his hands, he thought long and hard about what he'd been doing wrong and asked the Lord to help him to repent—to turn away from relying upon himself and to truly abide in Jesus, relying upon God to help him find his way.

He sat like that for a long time. The tears had dried on his face, making his skin feel taut. Eventually, the music stopped, and he could hear murmuring in the church as the meeting came to a close. He continued to pray, even as he felt the step he sat upon creak with the weight of the choir members leaving. A hand touched his shoulder, and he heard the prayers of others nearby, asking the Lord for help upon his behalf. It almost made him start to cry again.

The hand remained as he prayed until eventually, Abraham felt spent. Peace had overcome him, and even though the uncertainty of his life wasn't gone, it somehow didn't matter as much to him as it had before. When he looked up, he found the pastor along with three members of the choir smiling down at him. The pastor squeezed his shoulder and said, "It's good that you came tonight, Son. The Lord has need of you."

Giving the preacher a questioning glance, Abraham asked, "Of me?"

Pastor Lamb nodded and then offered him a hand so that Abraham could rise to his feet. The other three men all shook his hand and patted his shoulder, wishing him well before they left. And then the pastor gestured for Abraham to follow him. Once they entered the rectory, the pastor turned toward him again. "Stay for dinner. Stay for as long as you need to in order to gain the wisdom and direction the Lord has promised you. It won't be long, I'm certain."

"You're offering for me to stay?" Abraham blinked at the pastor.

"Yes," Pastor Lamb said with a firm nod. "Help me collect the hymnals and we'll get these chairs put away. If you'll help me keep the rectory clean, Mrs. Lamb will have hot meals for you, and we'll study the word as much as we can until we find what it is the Lord wants to tell you. Fair enough?"

Nodding, Abraham felt that same peace come over his heart. For the first time since his mother had died, had no plans for his future. But maybe that was right where the Lord had wanted him to be.