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“Have you forgotten that? The lot sure thought I was good enough. That’s driven by the hand of the Lord. Have you forgotten that?”
    She said nothing as the tires sang their rhythmic song, weighted down with its cargo of twelve humans.
    Reuben leaned toward her again and said, “Then there’s this to think of too: I am under the church’s authority. I’ll have to talk to the bishop before we could move anyway. I would need a good word from him to be accepted in Wheat Ridge.”
    “So why have you not thought of this before? There are other important things too,” she said, her voice now strained.
    “What, like money?” he whispered, knowing her well enough. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I’m a servant of God in service of His church. That’s more important than worldly goods. Those stay here once we are gone. Nothing in this world can go with us when we go. You know that. Our spiritual values are what are of great price to God. I’m a minister of those things.”
    His tongue is loosened at last,
she thought.
He always was good with words. Too bad it can’t talk some cash loose once in awhile.
    “I’m grateful for what the Lord has given us,” she said.
    “Including me?” he asked bluntly.
    “Including you.” She turned toward him, forcing a smile.
    He nodded. Satisfied, he proceeded to slide down in his seat and lean his head back to get some sleep. “We’ll see about moving,” he said before nodding off.
    Yes,
she told herself,
we will see. That means we’re not going. After all this buildup, he will do nothing.
    “We’re not going,” Luke whispered into his mother’s ear from the backseat.
    She nodded, glad someone understood even if she could do nothing about it.
    Luke said nothing more for a few seconds, then asked, “Who was that we saw by the bridge today?”
    She shook her head and answered, “I’m not sure. I wasn’t really looking.”
    “It looked like Rebecca Keim,” he said. “They moved from Milroy a few years ago. I didn’t know the boy.”
    “Oh,” Rachel said, turning around to face him, “was she someone you liked?”
    “No.” He grinned a little. “She’s a little out of my shooting range. Always was. Even in Milroy. She was a grade behind me in school.”
    “Then they have nothing to do with us,” his mother told him, turning back around in her seat.
    “I was just curious.” He shrugged his shoulders, but she was not listening.

C HAPTER F IVE
     

     
    W alking toward the barn that afternoon at four thirty with Rebecca leading the way, John glanced down at his chore clothing. They fit, sort of, he supposed. Not that the bagginess in the legs really mattered, but he just liked things to be right.
    Seeing his glance downward, Rebecca chuckled. “Dad’s clothes are a little too big for you.”
    “Yeah,” he allowed, “wrinkled too.”
    “Don’t let it bother you.”
    “I guess I’m not used to farming.” He glanced at her. “Probably never will be. You ever want to marry a farmer?”
    She looked at him sharply and answered, “No. I never thought about marriage in those terms.”
    “Some girls do,” he offered as explanation, suddenly feeling like his question needed one.
    “Some girls do? So you have a lot of experience asking girls about marriage?” she asked, only half joking.
    “No, of course not,” he said. “I’ve never been engaged before.”
    She allowed a smile to spread slowly across her face. “Ever asked?”
    He allowed the air to come slowly out of his lungs. “Look, before you I never even dated a girl. You were the first.”
    “Oh,” she said, as she faced forward, but not before John thought he saw that look of fear flash again briefly in her eyes. Then he thought to ask, “You ever been engaged before?”
    “No,” she said, continuing to walk and not looking at him.
    “Seriously dated?”
    “A little. In Milroy. Not seriously…no.”
    “How much is a little?”
    “Don’t you think you should have asked