1634: Turn Your Radio On Read Online Free PDF

functioning windows. Thank God, the barns have no need of windows! I told you. I want real windows that swing open and closed like proper windows."
    "That decision was made by your superiors long before we started the contract to build your barracks. Listen, I can't pull a man off of the job we have here, but at the end of the day, I'll send someone over to close them back up. Give them two weeks to cure in place, and if you and your men still don't like them, I'll swap them out for some 'proper' windows." Pete offered his hand to the forceful young lieutenant, and asked, "Fair enough?"
    Clearly Ivaarson had expected to come out away from this exchange with nothing short of victory, but since his superior officers had made the decision to install those god-awful, American, double hung, sliding windows, he had no choice but to accept the contractor's counteroffer. "Fair enough. However, this time it is two weeks. And two weeks consist of fourteen days, Enriquez. Two weeks! Did they train you up-time contractors to say 'two weeks' when you meant 'later sometime' or 'when I feel like it'?"
    With that, Ivaarson spun about and marched out.
    Slater had lost track of the conversation going on below, even though the anger in the officer's voice kept echoing somewhere in the back of his skull. He was astonished and engrossed by the sounds coming out of the mouth of Fischer, who was still gripping Slater's injured hand and arm with what felt like a vise.
    Slater forgot about his hand as he watched the change in Fischer's face. My God! This man is speaking in tongues! Fischer's eyes snapped back up to his at that moment, however they still had a far off focus.
    Just as Ivarsson walked out of the building, Fischer seemed to relax and let loose of Slater's hand. The steely eyes returned to a glowing, caring blue once again. Slater felt the blood rush back into his hand. Only then did he remember the ugly state his fingers had been in only moments before. Slater held the hand up to his face and turned and flexed it. "God be praised, Preacher, you healed it. You healed my hand!"
    Fischer blinked, looking tired and confused, then nodded as he sat down on the nearest crossbeam.
    "Pete! Get up here! Reverend Fischer has performed a miracle! He's healed my hand!" Slater shouted, all the while flexing and turning his hand before him as if he'd never seen it before.
    Slater wasn't a simple man, nor was he highly educated, but he was faithful. Phyllis made sure of that, too, and here he'd witnessed a man speak in tongues and heal him. Had anyone else told him the story, he would have dismissed it. He flexed his hand again. He'd still lose a few nails, but his fingers weren't even swollen and didn't throb anymore. "I'll be . . . " He'd been touched by God through this man and saved again.
    The telling couldn't wait till the next meeting. "Pete! Pete!"
    ****
    John Chalker secured the flap of his church tent after his visitors left and made his way to the small tent that someone in his congregation set up for him to use as a private space to pray, study and sleep. He hoped the new church could be finished before winter set in.
    He stoked the coals in the new iron fireplace he'd recently received, and sat down in his rocking chair. He then turned up the kerosene lantern for some light and laid his Bible on his lap over his knitted blanket. For some time he just sat rocking and thinking. As far as he could see, the future of the entire Pentecostal movement in this new time depended on his next decision.
    He had heard the testimony of Slater Dobbs and examined the hand that had been crushed in the accident yet miraculously cured leaving no evidence of any harm. He'd listened attentively to Pete Enriquez as he told of the condition in which he had found Brother Fischer when Pete had climbed up into the rafters after hearing Slater yell.
    He'd spent so much time with Fischer over the last few months that he had come to feel like he knew the man had a