The Calling of Emily Evans

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Authors: Janette Oke
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broken bits of board and poles back to where the fence had stood.
    A flush washed over Emily’s face.
    “I am terribly sorry,” she apologized.“I’ll see to it that your fence is fixed.”
    Even as she said the words, she wondered just how she might do that. She had no money with which to purchase fencing materials, and no idea about how to make the repairs even if she had.
    The big man straightened and looked sharply at Emily. Neither his voice nor his eyes softened.“An’ how ya plannin’ on doin’ thet?”
    Emily backed off another step and fidgeted with the rope in her hands.“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She’d made a mess of everything.
    “Perhaps—perhaps I can send for my father—”
    “Jest like younguns,” grumped the man, and he spat again.“Git theirselves in a fix an’ yell fer their pa.” He leaned over to grab another armload of broken fencing.
    With nothing more to say, Emily led Shadow toward the barn.
    All she wanted to do was get away from those angry eyes as quickly as possible.
    The man suddenly quit tossing broken rails. Emily, without turning to look, could feel his eyes on her retreating back.
    “Jest a minute,” he thundered; “we ain’t done talkin’ yet!”
    Emily turned to face him, pulse racing, her face red.
    “You still ain’t explained what yer doin’ here. You runnin’ from home or somethin’?”
    His words brought the fire back into Emily. Her head came up, her chin thrust out.“I am not a runaway child,” she said with all the dignity she could muster.“I am the new deaconess for the area.”
    He stared at her in silence for a long minute, then blurted out, “The what?”
    “The deaconess. I’ve been sent here by my church to start a mission work.”
    “Well, I never—” sputtered the man and he spat again.
    Emily eyed him as calmly as she could, willing herself to get better control. After all, she was sent to the area to minister, not to enrage.
    “An’ who told yer church, whatever it is, thet we in this here area need to be ‘missioned’?” asked the man, straightening to his full height until Emily felt as if she were looking at a giant.
    Emily wasn’t sure how her denomination had arrived at their decision to establish a mission in this community, so she held her tongue.
    “Well—?” he thundered.
    “Well, I’m not sure exactly,” she began.“Perhaps—perhaps they were invited.” She knew that was the case in many communities.
    “ I shore didn’t invite’em,” the man declared, his eyes boring through Emily.
    “No,” she responded evenly, her eyes unwavering.“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”
    They stood there, their gazes locked, some kind of challenge passing from one to the other. It was the big man who moved first.
    “So how’d ya get here? I didn’t see no wagon.”
    “No,” replied Emily, shifting uneasily.“I have a buggy.”
    “Where?” The question was curt, short.
    “In the—in the barn there.” She motioned with her hand.
    “So ya used my barn too?”
    “I’m—I’m sorry. I thought the place was vacant. I didn’t know anyone lived here. I—”
    “The place is vacant. I don’t need ta live here to own it, do I? It’s being’ vacant gave ya license to walk right in and make yerself to home, did it?”
    “No. Of course not. But when the storm struck—”
    “Ya had to take shelter from thet storm? What’s the matter? Ya made of sugar? Ya’d melt in a storm?”
    “Of course not,” answered Emily, trying hard to keep from responding angrily.“But I had supplies in the buggy that would have spoiled if they had gotten wet. I—”
    “Supplies. An’ ya didn’t have’em covered?”
    Emily shook her head, feeling young and foolish all over again. She wouldn’t bother explaining that her father had loaned his only canvas to a neighbor. The man would think her too young and irresponsible to care for herself, regardless.
    He strode forward as if in a hurry to get the strange and

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