trusting. Where’s the victory? Glancing over his shoulder, he saw several members of the church listening to Beldon. Some darted quick looks in his direction, and as quickly looked away. Normally he enjoyed lingering after the morning’s service to visit with townsfolk, but today he wished they’d all hurry home so he could leave.
Ruby appeared at Ellie’s side. “Come with me for a moment, child. I want you to meet Mr. Forsythe.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows questioningly at Matthew.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Arthur stood behind Jimmy and Johnny, warming his backside at the stove. A frown creased his normally placid expression.
When he caught Matthew looking at him, he shrugged. “Can’t tell that woman anything. This seamstress thing is a passing fancy.”
Matthew shook his head. “Having Ruby involved is an embarrassment— opposing something my wife’s aunt has jumped into whole hog.” Ben’s warning echoed in his mind. If you preach against a Shakespeare play, you’ll sound like a fool.
Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Don’t worry over it. The whole thing will be over soon.”
11
At breakfast Monday, Matthew glanced out the window, startled to see Ben drawing his buggy to a halt near the back porch. Behind him, fence posts steamed as they dried out from the previous day’s soaking. Their neighbor jumped over several puddles on his way to the steps.
“Did Ben say anything to you about coming by this morning?” Matthew asked Ellie.
She shook her head. “He’ll be late opening the store. It must be important.”
He pushed back from the table and met his friend at the door. “Come on in—coffee’s still hot.”
“No thanks. I stopped by to walk your fields with you to see how much of your crop you’ve got left.” Pointing at his mud-caked boots, he continued, “Just finished with my own. Don’t look too bad, Lord be thanked.”
Matthew stepped onto the porch, shoved his feet into his boots, and paused to tighten the laces.
Ben waited at the top of the steps. “Nice morning.”
“Yup.” Matthew led the way around the fence and out to his fields. Their footsteps squished over the sodden ground as they walked between muddy furrows of newly planted seed. “Looks like everything stayed put. I’d just as soon not walk the whole place. We’ll do more harm than good, wet as it is.”
“Aye-yuh, I think you’re right.”
The two men backtracked to the fence and leaned on the top rail. “Why are you really here? You’ve never dropped by to check my crops before.”
Ben studied the toes of his boots for a long moment. Then he turned and met Matthew’s eyes. “Something’s happening in town that you should know about. Wish it wasn’t me had to tell you.”
Splinters of alarm pricked Matthew’s skin. “I’m listening.”
Ben pulled off his hat. The Macassar oil on his hair glistened in the sunlight. First he fiddled with his hat brim, then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Folks are getting stirred up against you. I heard some of them talking about you in my store.”
“Stirred up? Because of that play?” Matthew slapped his leg. “Good. They should be. Proves I’m doing my job.”
“It’s not the play, though maybe that’s some of it.” Ben kicked at a clump of grass.
“It’s not like you to beat around the bush. Spit it out.”
Ben stepped away from the fence. “They’re saying Julia’s death, and the other children before her, are a judgment from God. That you’re not fit to preach his word.”
Matthew’s stomach rolled and he gulped hard to keep his breakfast down. He clutched Ben’s shoulder. “Who? Who’s saying that?”
“I’ve heard it from several people. Not to my face, of course, because folks know we’re friends.” His hazel eyes filled with anger. “I’m going to find out who’s
Ruby appeared at Ellie’s side. “Come with me for a moment, child. I want you to meet Mr. Forsythe.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows questioningly at Matthew.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Arthur stood behind Jimmy and Johnny, warming his backside at the stove. A frown creased his normally placid expression.
When he caught Matthew looking at him, he shrugged. “Can’t tell that woman anything. This seamstress thing is a passing fancy.”
Matthew shook his head. “Having Ruby involved is an embarrassment— opposing something my wife’s aunt has jumped into whole hog.” Ben’s warning echoed in his mind. If you preach against a Shakespeare play, you’ll sound like a fool.
Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Don’t worry over it. The whole thing will be over soon.”
11
At breakfast Monday, Matthew glanced out the window, startled to see Ben drawing his buggy to a halt near the back porch. Behind him, fence posts steamed as they dried out from the previous day’s soaking. Their neighbor jumped over several puddles on his way to the steps.
“Did Ben say anything to you about coming by this morning?” Matthew asked Ellie.
She shook her head. “He’ll be late opening the store. It must be important.”
He pushed back from the table and met his friend at the door. “Come on in—coffee’s still hot.”
“No thanks. I stopped by to walk your fields with you to see how much of your crop you’ve got left.” Pointing at his mud-caked boots, he continued, “Just finished with my own. Don’t look too bad, Lord be thanked.”
Matthew stepped onto the porch, shoved his feet into his boots, and paused to tighten the laces.
Ben waited at the top of the steps. “Nice morning.”
“Yup.” Matthew led the way around the fence and out to his fields. Their footsteps squished over the sodden ground as they walked between muddy furrows of newly planted seed. “Looks like everything stayed put. I’d just as soon not walk the whole place. We’ll do more harm than good, wet as it is.”
“Aye-yuh, I think you’re right.”
The two men backtracked to the fence and leaned on the top rail. “Why are you really here? You’ve never dropped by to check my crops before.”
Ben studied the toes of his boots for a long moment. Then he turned and met Matthew’s eyes. “Something’s happening in town that you should know about. Wish it wasn’t me had to tell you.”
Splinters of alarm pricked Matthew’s skin. “I’m listening.”
Ben pulled off his hat. The Macassar oil on his hair glistened in the sunlight. First he fiddled with his hat brim, then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Folks are getting stirred up against you. I heard some of them talking about you in my store.”
“Stirred up? Because of that play?” Matthew slapped his leg. “Good. They should be. Proves I’m doing my job.”
“It’s not the play, though maybe that’s some of it.” Ben kicked at a clump of grass.
“It’s not like you to beat around the bush. Spit it out.”
Ben stepped away from the fence. “They’re saying Julia’s death, and the other children before her, are a judgment from God. That you’re not fit to preach his word.”
Matthew’s stomach rolled and he gulped hard to keep his breakfast down. He clutched Ben’s shoulder. “Who? Who’s saying that?”
“I’ve heard it from several people. Not to my face, of course, because folks know we’re friends.” His hazel eyes filled with anger. “I’m going to find out who’s
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