Orchard of Hope by Ann H. Gabhart Page A

I’m not saying we weren’t a little surprised when me and Sally first saw them, but Ben’s a good judge of character. And even if I had been put out with Ben, I wouldn’t have been able to hold on to any of the ill feelings because of the way Sally and Myra hit it off from the first time they laid eyes on one another. Sally says she can’t explain it, but that she has to believe the Lord is behind it. Like maybe the Lord knew she needed some young ones to love like family.” Mr. Harvey twisted the blade of grass around his fingers and then threw it away. “Me, I never really missed having a family, but Sally, she did. She don’t talk about it, but I know Sally. I’ve been watching out for her ever since she was born when I was four. Hoping for a brother, but blessed by a sister.”
    “The two of you have certainly been a blessing to me at Mt. Pleasant,” David said.
    “Well, that’s kind of you to say, Brother David. I guess we all need blessings. Take Myra back there.” Mr. Harvey jerked his head back toward the house. “She tries to act all sure of herself like she knows everything, but the truth is, she needs something too. Some rock-solid base maybe. Somebody that never has the first doubt that the Lord is in control. Somebody like Sally.”
    They went through another gate and David spotted a red tractor at the far end of the field. “What about Alex Hearndon?” David asked. “Anything I should know before we walk over there and start talking?”
    Mr. Harvey stopped walking, took off his hat, and fanned his face for a moment. “He’s a man. Shoulders like you might imagine Samson having in the Bible. Keeps his nose to the grindstone. I might have seen him smile once. But nobody ever said you had to smile to be a good man.”
    “But some say the eyes are the window to one’s soul.”
    “His eyes are fine.”
    “He’s not going to be happy to see us, is he?” David looked across the field at the man picking up rocks and piling them on the wagon behind the tractor.
    “I don’t know, Brother David.” Mr. Harvey gave David a considering look before he went on. “Me maybe, but probably not you. Says he don’t have much truck with religion the way it’s practiced this day and age.”
    David smiled. “It’s okay, Mr. Harvey. I’ve been plenty of places I wasn’t very welcome, and Mrs. Hearndon promised to hide the shotgun.”
    A worried look chased across Mr. Harvey’s face. “I hope they don’t have a shotgun or any kind of gun to hide.”
    “Why not?” David was surprised. “It seems to me a shotgun is about as much a tool on the farms around here as a grubbing hoe and a shovel. You know, for varmints and such.”
    “Some varmints just get madder when you shoot at them, and it’s better to just let them do their growling and leave.”
    “You’re not talking about normal varmints.”
    “No, I’m not.” Mr. Harvey looked straight at David. His face was uneasy. “I maybe shouldn’t talk about it. All I’m hearing are rumors and idle talk, but somebody told me the Klan was making noises.”
    “The Klan? The Ku Klux Klan?” Just saying the words seemed to bring a shadow over Mr. Harvey and David as they walked on across the long open field.
    “Nothing but tale carrying as far as I know,” Mr. Harvey said quickly. “Trying to put a scare into us. They’re mostly just a bunch of cowards hiding under sheets anyhow. They probably wouldn’t really do anything, but I’d just as soon not see guns get involved if they did.”
    “No, I suppose not,” David said. “But I haven’t heard anything about the Klan around here since before I went into the service.”
    “Sometimes we don’t want to know things about the people around us,” Mr. Harvey said. “And there hasn’t been any reason for the Klan to be showing up in Holly County since we’ve pretty much been keeping the races separate. But now here the schools are desegregating this year, and then I up and sell a colored