Long Road Home, The by Lori Wick Read Free Book Online Page B

Please do not watch for me. It’s going to be a long time, if ever, before my road leads home again. Paul.”
    Paul had no way of knowing that his grandmother held that letter in her hand every day and prayed for him, and that many nights as the moon flooded through the window in her bedroom, she would fall asleep looking at it on her bedside table.
    In the back of Paul’s mind he was quite sure God would grow weary of his willful behavior. When this happened, he assumed God would end his life upon the earth. As hard as his heart was, the thought was a sobering one. But Paul, in his own strength, could not bring himself to deal with the seriousness of his sin, and he refused to call on God for help.
    Paul, in his sureness of how God would deal with him, was totally unprepared for the severe blow about to be dealt him that very day.
    Sweat ran freely from every pore of Paul’s body several hours later as he and his partner worked in perfect rhythm on either end of a crosscut saw.
    Paul’s partner slowed near the end of the cut and, as the men moved away from the falling tree, Paul rounded on him in a burst of angry impatience.
    “Were you taking a nap over there? I’m sick of doing all the work. If you’re going to cut logs with me, then you...”
    One instant Paul was shouting and the next he was being pitched through the air as the top of the tree they just felled lashed back and caught him below the knees.
    He awoke not many minutes later to shouts and agony. Both legs were broken and his arm was twisted beneath him at an odd angle. He was lying facedown a good ten feet from where he had been standing. Even through the pain, he knew he wasn’t going to die.
    It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to die—not get hurt and crippled. God’s plans had been different than his own. Paul told himself he had been betrayed again.
    “Nooooo.” Paul’s scream of agony was directed at God.
    Getting ready to lift him onto a horse for the ride back to camp, the men ignored him. When a man was busted up, the pain could make him crazy. They all breathed a sigh of relief when five men dropped him facedown over the horse’s back and he passed out.

13

     
    Abigail stood on the train station platform and surveyed what she could see of Hayward. It looked to be a small but busy town. The dirt streets were alive with activity, and Abby was a bit disheartened to see so many men. She had half expected as much when she found out she was headed into the heart of logging country. Well, she told herself, she had a job to do and God was with her. Nothing was going to keep her from her task.
    Abby held her small bag a little closer as she thought of the letters within. There were two of them. One to a Mr. Sam Beckett and the other from Mr. Sam Beckett. He was the man who had written to Amy’s father. Amy had written on behalf of her father in case Abby arrived before his letter did. Silas had suggested she bring the original letter as a way of introducing herself to Mr. Beckett.
    It was at that moment that Abby was distracted from her reflections to realize she was attracting attention. Disheveled and dusty as she was, she was still drawing quite a few looks—or rather, her hair was. Too late she realized her bonnet was hanging down her back.
    Once the strings were tied and everything back in place, Abby felt safe. But one bold young man—Abby guessed him to be about 16 or 17—sauntered over and stopped directly in front of her.
    He bent slightly to peek beneath the brim and spoke. “I don’t suppose you’d care to take your hat back off, would ya?”
    Abby did not even disdain to answer him, but leveled him with a disapproving look. She would have liked to box his ears for accosting a decent woman in broad daylight. But her look did not phase him. He pinned on his most winning smile and spoke again.
    “Now ma’am, I can see you’re suspicious of my request, but the truth is, your hair is the color of my own