A Whisper of Peace by Kim Vogel Sawyer

learn the Athabascan way of cooking a spring hare. You’ll see if she is as good a learner as she is a teacher.”

Chapter Nine
    C lay grinned at Vivian’s red-streaked cheeks. Lizzie’s praise pleased her—and him, too. He’d worried whether Vivian would be more hindrance than help in Alaska, but she was obviously impacting this Gwich’in woman. With a relationship established, it would be an easy transition for Vivian to tell Lizzie about God’s love.
    Jealousy struck so hard his knees almost buckled—he’d wanted to be the one to tell Lizzie about Christ. Reeling, he turned to Lizzie. “I . . . I can’t stay.” Real disappointment swept over him, but he gave himself a mental kick—for what purpose had he come to Alaska? Vivian was making progress in reaching Lizzie. He had an entire village waiting for his preaching. “I have work to do. You teach Vivian, and she’ll be able to serve rabbit for me another time.”
    He drew Vivian to the edge of the clearing and lowered his voice. “As soon as you’ve finished preparing the rabbit, come straight back. I may need your help getting the stovepipe up. And we’ll need—”
    She pinched his arm, bringing his rush of words to a halt. “What is your hurry? You could take a little time, stay for a bit, and get to know Lizzie better. She invited you—doesn’t that mean we’re building her trust? But if you run off . . .” Her brows rose, allowing her expression to complete her thought.
    Clay glanced toward Lizzie. She’d crossed the yard to the dog pen. He watched her scratch the ears of one dog, then the ruff of another, seeming to give a portion of attention to each. His heart caught at the sight. Were the dogs her only friends? The desire to remain—to truly reach out to Lizzie and to get better acquainted—welled up in him again. But God’s work called.
    Reluctantly, he turned back to Vivian. “After I get everything finished at the mission school, I’ll be able to take time for visits. But I have to complete the school first.”
    A feeling akin to panic filled his chest. He’d already spent a month on the building, and he still needed to chink the walls, build a door, order windows, portion off sleeping areas for each of them, and more. So much to do before he could open the doors of the mission for classes and services. Each day of delay could mean a lost opportunity to win a soul. He took another step toward the woods.
    “Viv, enjoy your time with Lizzie.” He tipped forward and delivered a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “Save me a piece of fried rabbit. I’ll see you later.” Before she could voice another excuse to hold him, he whirled on his heel and strode into the woods.
    His mind raced ahead to the waiting tasks. Had it taken his father so long to get the mission school on the reservation running? When Clay was twelve, not quite a year after Pa remarried, Pa had moved him and Vivian’s mother to the Kiowa reservation in Oklahoma Territory to minister to the people displaced by government mandates. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall lengthy delays. It seemed Pa had begun his ministry immediately. And effectively.
    Clay kicked at the decaying leaves under his feet, wishing he could scatter the unpleasant feelings of incompetence that arose when he compared himself to his father. For as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to be like Pa—strong, confident, capable. Judson Selby had been mother and father all through Clay’s growing up, and somehow he’d filled both roles so well Clay never missed a mother’s presence.
    As an itinerant preacher, Pa had carted Clay all over Minnesota and the Dakotas, and Clay had grown up listening to his father’s booming voice deliver messages of faith and inspiration. Pa had enough faith—and muscle strength—to move mountains. As a boy, Clay had believed there was nothing his pa couldn’t do. As an adult, he still believed it. And Clay wanted to be just like him.
    But first he had