Lewis nodded. It was clear that the boy had made up his mind and would probably go whether he gave his approval or not, but he appreciated the fact that Moses wanted to discuss it with him first. Just for a moment he had a glimpse of himself as his sons must see him: a father who was seldom home but was given to strong pronouncements when he was; a man who had embraced what amounted to a life of poverty in order to grapple with something that was elusive and intangible; a husband who had sacrificed the comfort of his wife and family to take a stand on principle. He blew into their lives after weeks of absence and blew back out again like a winter wind, leaving them once more to stop up the gaps on their own. Moses had paid a price for his father’s convictions — they all had. The boy could have been forgiven had he simply set off westward without a by-your-leave, but he hadn’t. There was none of the defiance he had seen in Will. Moses wanted Lewis to understand his reasoning and give his blessing.
He cleared his throat. “What can I do to help you?” He knew there wouldn’t be much; this boy had always been the most independent of his sons, and his own ability to be of much assistance was severely limited.
He could see the relief in Moses’s face, and gratitude that his father was putting up no argument. “There are a couple of things. First of all, I don’t intend to go alone. I’ve talked it over with Nancy and we’d like to do this together.”
Nancy was the girl he had been courting for the last two years. Lewis had been surprised that they hadn’t married long since, but Moses seldom rushed into anything without giving it a great deal of thought. Homesteading was a hard task for a man by himself, but it sounded like the girl was willing to do it with him, and that would increase his chances of making it a success.
“We’d kind of like you to do the wedding.”
Lewis was delighted to agree.
“So, what’s the second thing?”
“We’d like to take Luke with us. It’s the same here for him as for me; he’ll always be working for someone else if he stays. He could help us out at first, and then if he likes farming well enough he could branch off on his own and we’d help him.”
Lewis wasn’t sure how he felt about this, or what Betsy would say. Luke was their youngest, and if he went with Moses he would be in a faraway place where they would almost never get to see him. In fact, all of their children would be far away, and it would be unlikely they would have much contact beyond a letter or two now and then. It would be hard for their mother, not seeing them or their babies. But then they had Martha to brighten their old age, he supposed. And there was no question that it would be better for Luke.
“What does Luke say?”
“He wants to go. He was excited as soon as I mentioned it. He just didn’t know what you would think, and I won’t take him unless you agree to it.” Bless this boy, Lewis thought, for letting me know I’m not such a terrible father after all.
He had been unsure about what Luke would want to do anyway, and the more he thought about Moses’s proposal, the more it had to recommend it. Luke would be going off on his own sooner or later — better with his brother than alone. He would find some way to make Betsy see this.
“So,” he said, “when do you want to have this wedding?”
V
In the middle of all the proposals and propositions, Lewis had completely lost track of where Simms might be. Everywhere he went, he inquired whether or not anyone had seen the peddler, but no one had.
“I wish he’d come around, all right,” said one woman in the northern part of his circuit. “The bottom of my big black pot has burnt right through, and I like his better than the ones the store has.”
No one had remarked him for a month or more, and Lewis wondered uneasily what he was doing and where he was doing it. He found his answer with, of all people, Morgan Spicer, who continued to ride the settlements, spreading his version of the Word.
He had seen little of Spicer, either. The boy had developed an almost magical ability to dodge the regular itinerants. He knew that sooner or later his ministrations would be called into question, but if he could avoid a confrontation, he could delay the day of reckoning. That was Lewis’s theory anyway, for he never seemed able to catch up with the self-appointed preacher. He had always just been there, or was expected at any moment, but seldom did they occupy the same place and time.
He was just leaving a most satisfactory meeting in Percy’s Mills where there had been many new faces present, and several who had embraced the faith with fervour. He had christened three babies and for once had been paid in cash. He was not an avaricious man — he would never have gone preaching if that was the case — but he reflected that there was something very reassuring about having a few coins to jangle in one’s pocket. It was a beautiful, bright spring day, with the warm sun reflecting off the shiny green of the newly leafed trees that lined the road, and the sense of new life pushing up through the moist, fertile soil was nearly palpable. There was a smell of promise in the breeze and for a time he forgot about his nagging worries and simply let himself enjoy it, lulled by sunshine and the steady clip-clop of his horse’s hooves.
He had just rounded a pronounced bend in the road when he came face to face with another horseman. It was Spicer.
“Mr. Lewis,” Spicer greeted him. He was always cordial when they met, as if Lewis somehow didn’t qualify as an authority and any challenges to Spicer’s right to preach could be safely ignored.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you, Morgan,” Lewis said. “You know you can’t keep doing this.”
Spicer turned red in the face and was about to protest when Lewis went on. “Don’t worry. You know I won’t turn in a complaint. I don’t think that would serve any purpose at all. But you’re not qualified, you’re not appointed, and you shouldn’t be preaching. I’d like to try to help change that.”
The statement took Spicer by surprise. He had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly as he tried to absorb this information.
“What I’m suggesting is that you ride with me,” Lewis said. “I could use an assistant, and along the way I’ll try to teach you how to read and steer you toward what you need to know and understand in order to successfully apply for an appointment of your own.”
If it hadn’t been so sad, he might have laughed at the look on Spicer’s face. It was clear that few offers of help had ever come his way, and he obviously wasn’t sure how to respond to it.
“I know you haven’t had much schooling,” Lewis continued, “and that’s a handicap. But I was a schoolteacher for a time, and I expect you’d be quick enough to learn. What do you say?”
“Why?”
It sounded rude the way it came out, but Lewis understood what he was asking. Why him? Why now? Why bother with it at all?
“Life is a struggle, Morgan. It’s been a struggle for you. It’s a constant struggle for me. We all have to strive to keep to the way and the truth, and all too often we fall by the side of the road in spite of our best intentions. I have done you a disservice by not recognizing the sincerity of your zeal, and for that I apologize. Please, set my conscience to rest by letting me help you.”
“All right,” he said, and Lewis privately made a note to work on Spicer’s eloquence as well as his literacy.
The serenity had quite skittered away from the afternoon and there was a strained silence as they rode along, but Lewis reflected that, at the very least, he had stopped Spicer from spreading his garbled version of the gospel. Whether he could ever get him educated enough to be appointed was anyone’s guess, but Lewis would make good on his offer to try. And in the meantime, at least Spicer would have the benefit of acquiring some experience and Lewis would have an extra