Read Online Prairie Storm by Catherine Palmer - Free Book Online

out a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said. “I have no idea.”
    With a sympathetic smile from the old lady to bolster him, Eli strode to the front of the church where he’d left his Bible. Before the baby entered his life, he had spent hours searching the Scripture for God’s messages to the people. Eli loved to pray, silent and listening, in the early hours just after dawn. He pondered his own life and the lives of so many other sinners for subjects on which he could expound.
    And when he finally delivered his sermons, God’s Word seemed to pour through him. Women wept. Men fell to their knees in repentance. And the Holy Spirit went to work changing the hearts of sinners and renewing the vows of believers. Eli had never been so sure of anything as his call to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ.
    And then he’d found that baby.
    â€œMornin’, Preacher,” someone greeted him as folks began filing into the new church building. Each family carried in a bench or two, and some hauled in chairs and stools. Eli recognized Ben and Eva Hanks from dinner the night before. And here came Jack Cornwall with the pretty red-haired Caitrin Murphy he intended to marry. Seth Hunter stepped inside, his round-bellied Rosie on one arm, their son on the other.
    Next came a family of freckle-faced, green-eyed folks with more carrot-topped children than a body could count. Following them, a big, tall man with shaggy blond hair gave the preacher an awkward bow before sitting on a chair that looked like it might splinter under his weight. There were others, too, so many Eli lost track as he thumbed through his Bible for an appropriate passage.
    â€œWho vill lead singing today?” the shaggy blond man asked in a thick German accent. “Ve got new preacher, goot church, happy day. Who can sing?”
    â€œCasimir Laski usually leads us,” someone called. “But he’s gone to Manhattan for supplies.”
    â€œAll right, then, I’ll do it.” A skinny, bandy-legged fellow with bright red hair got to his feet. When he spoke again, his words danced with a light Irish lilt. “I’m Jimmy O’Toole, so I am, and I’ll have you know I’ve not set foot inside a church for fifteen years. Sure, I thought the whole lot of you were Crawthumpers who didn’t have a grain of sense in your heads. I wouldn’t allow the church to be built on my land, and I resisted the very notion of a preacher movin’ into town.”
    â€œAye, Jimmy,” his plump wife said, “so you did.”
    â€œBut as everyone knows, now I’m a changed man. Once I was walkin’ so far from heaven that I nearly got myself burned up. Now I have the grace of forgiveness, and I’m a thankful man to set myself before you.”
    â€œAnd to Jack Cornwall we owe our gratitude,” his wife added.
    â€œWe’ll sing the first hymn to the tune of ‘Llanfyllin,’” Jimmy went on. “’Tis a Welsh air, but we’ll forgive it that.”
    At that comment, his wife gave him a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. Unfazed, the skinny man lifted his voice in a hauntingly beautiful song, which the others joined him in singing.
    â€œSometimes a light surprises
    The Christian while he sings;
    It is the Lord who rises
    With healing in his wings.
    When comforts are declining
    He grants the soul again
    A season of clear shining,
    To cheer it after rain.”
    Eli gulped as the song ended and the chorus of voices died down. He didn’t have a season of clear shining. In fact, the waters of his future looked muddier than ever. He’d given away all his China mission money, Lily Nolan had run off, he didn’t know what to do with his wailing baby, and now he was stuck for a sermon topic. Lord, help me!
    Standing before the congregation, he turned to the middle of his Bible and prayed that a good psalm would jump right off the page. He read the first words