Lightning and Lace by DiAnn Mills Read Free Book Online

where to find them.”
    After breakfast and prayer, with his shoulders erect, Travis walked into town, his frayed Bible tucked under his arm. His hat, worn thin around the brim, fit his bushy hair, but the slightly large pants would have fallen to his ankles if not for his suspenders. With a quick brush of his hand, he wiped his dirt-covered boots and wondered at the picture he must be presenting.
    Call me Jeremiah, he inwardly chuckled, or John the Baptist. I’ve come from the wilderness with a word from the Lord.
    He visited various businesses and stopped by homes to introduce himself. Wherever he went, Travis carried a small notepad. When he met a new face, he jotted down the name and something that would help him remember that person. Most of the townspeople were polite, but a few acted apprehensive—wanting to know where he’d come from, if he had a family, did he believe in the Bible, and countless other questions.
    He called upon the banker, Lester Hillman, a dandy-looking man who dressed more like he owned a bank in New York or Boston instead of small town in Texas. The two men stood in the lobby of the bank. “Come back at another time. One day next week,” he said. “I enjoy giving to those in need, and I’m asking you to keep me informed about situations in which I can help. Did the reverend tell you I’m the largest contributor?”
    No, he didn’t, but do you know Jesus? “The reverend and I haven’t had an opportunity to discuss all the members.”
    Travis stopped by the telegraph office and made conversation with a spindly, toothless old man, Jake Weathers, who openly stated no preacher would ever be as good as John Rainer.
    “Probably not,” Travis said. “I just hope ya’ll have patience with me while I learn from him.”
    “Won’t take nary a bit of patience.” The old man frowned. “Either you have it or ya don’t.”
    “Well, with God’s help, I’ll do my best.” Travis tipped his hat. “Thank you for your time. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday morning.”
    The man who owned the livery ran him off. He told Travis he didn’t need God. Religion never gave him a thing but trouble. Picking up a pitchfork, the owner indicated he wasn’t a bit afraid of the devil, either. Travis still invited him to church.
    The barber, also the undertaker, proved to be friendly and offered a free haircut and shave. Travis politely declined but inwardly found the offer amusing. He knew exactly how badly he needed to be groomed.
    Midmorning he stopped by the lumberyard. The reverend had suggested he visit the owner, Frank Kahler, who was in charge of fixing up Travis’s soon-to-be home. The man was also Bonnie Kahler’s brother-in-law.
    The front door stood open, inviting in the light breezes of the September day. Travis inhaled the sweet smell of sawdust, and the hearty sound of “Mornin’” instantly put him at ease.
    “I’m looking for Frank Kahler,” Travis said to a huge, square-looking fellow wearing overalls and hosting a wide grin. “Is he around?”
    “That would be me. What can I do for you?”
    “I’m Brother Travis Whitworth. Reverend Rainer suggested I stop by and introduce myself.” He stuck out his hand and received a vigorous shake.
    “Pleased to meet you. Follow me on out here.” Frank walked outside to where logs were being loaded onto a wagon, and Travis followed. “Has the reverend told you about the new parsonage?”
    “He said you were in charge of fixin’ it up.”
    “Yes, sir, I am.” He laid the last log on the wagon bed. “That’ll do it,” Frank said to the mule driver. He turned his attention to Travis. “Do you want to take a look at the house? My wife is there sanding woodwork, and I know she’d really like to meet you.”
    Travis agreed, and Frank drove a wagon through Kahlerville and past the town’s businesses. They soon discovered a common love of carpentry, and their conversation turned to types of wood and methods of