Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope by Robert Whitlow Page B

today!”
    “What the—?” she asked, her mouth dropping open.
    “We’ll be leaving,” I said quickly. “We need to load the steers into the trailer.”
    Zach stood and extended his hand to Mrs. Callahan, who shook it limply without taking her eyes from her husband.
    “Have a good day,” Zach said, then turned to the older lawyer.
    “Mr. Callahan, it was an honor meeting you.”
    “God bless you both,” Mr. Callahan boomed.
    “I know the way out,” I said.
    As we made our way through the living room, I could hear Mr.
    Callahan repeating a few more “hallelujahs” accentuated with loud claps. Outside, I leaned against the front door and laughed.
    “I know that was a holy moment,” I said, “but it’s funny to think what is going on in that kitchen right now. Mr. Callahan has been under wraps for so long, he’s like a volcano about to explode. I can’t wait to tell Mama what happened.”
    “I don’t think you should.”
    “Not tell her?” I stepped away from the door and looked at him in surprise.
    “It would be more like gossip than celebration.”
    “That’s crazy,” I protested. “Our church has prayed for Mr.
    Callahan for years.”
    “Then let him be the one to break the good news.”
    I started to argue, then stopped. “Okay. God used you to bring down the glory, so I guess you have the right to decide who should proclaim it.”
    “I don’t know anything about bringing down the glory.”
    “Didn’t you feel the presence of the Lord come into the kitchen?”
    My surprise returned stronger. “I thought maybe you saw an angel standing near the corner cupboard.”
    “I didn’t see any angels. I just wanted God to touch Mr. Callahan.
    He’s a nice gentleman.”
    “You didn’t feel anything? That makes no sense to me.”
    Zach shook his head. “All I felt was a nudge to pray and had no idea if anything would happen. When it did, I watched.”
    “Well, let me know if God ever wants to touch me.”
    WE REACHED THE PEN where the steers waited. I’d left two ears of corn on the floorboards of the truck to lure them into the trailer. Zach stared at the driver’s-side door.
    “I’ll back the trailer into position,” I said. “You stick to praying, riding motorcycles, and admiralty law. Open the gate of the pen when I’m in position.”
    I pulled the truck forward, then backed into the holding pen. The tongue on the trailer was short, and I had lots of experience going in reverse. Zach walked beside the truck.
    “Stay inside,” Zach said as we passed by the gate. “It’s messy in here.”
    I stopped the truck and handed him the two ears of corn.
    “Here’s the bait. Throw them in the trailer and shoo the steers in after them.”
    I heard the door of the trailer open and the rumble of the ramp. I looked in the side mirror but couldn’t see Zach.
    “Don’t let them step on your foot,” I said. “That would be worse than getting finned by a catfish.”
    “Two amputations in one day sounds bad,” he said. “Come on, cows. Get in the trailer.”
    “Steers.”
    “Come on, hamburger,” he said. “Move it!”
    The trailer shifted as one of the steers came up the ramp. A few seconds later the second joined him.
    “Make sure the latch is secure,” I called out. “We don’t want ham-burger on the road.”
    Zach climbed into the truck.
    “The prisoners are loaded and locked behind bars. Maybe seeing God bless Mr. Callahan can help me work through the guilt I feel about helping haul this beef to market.”

8
    DRIVING HOME WITH THE WINDOWS OF THE TRUCK LOWERED and the air blowing across my face, I basked in the wonder of what had happened to Mr. Callahan. I glanced across at Zach with in-creased respect. If he ever stopped practicing law, his future might be as a healing preacher. Zach casually picked up another long blade of grass and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.
    I slowed down and turned into our driveway. The trailer bumped across the dirt ruts as I drove around