Webb stood up, carefully stretching his back as if it ached. That would not be surprising, considering the long miles he rode to carry the gospel’s light to every dark corner he could reach. Rusty gripped the minister’s hand so tightly that Webb winced.

“Careful, Rusty. These old bones are turnin’ brittle.” The knuckles were swollen with arthritis.

Rusty was taken aback to see that wrinkles had bitten deeply into the minister’s face. The war had aged everyone more than its four years should justify. “Looks to me like you’re still tryin’ to carry the weight of the world.”

“The Word is never too heavy for these arms to bear, even if one of them is crippled.”

Webb’s left arm had been broken in an Indian fight long ago. It had given him trouble ever since. He was thinner than when Rusty had seen him last. His hair seemed grayer and his eyes careworn in spite of what he said about the joy of carrying the Word.

Rusty sobered. “I just came from Isaac York’s. You’re needed real bad over there.”

Webb’s smile died. “For doctorin’, or to preach a funeral?”

“I’m afraid that depends on how long it takes you. When I left, it didn’t look like Isaac had much time left.”

“I’ve expected this, sort of.” Webb turned. “Clemmie, I’d meant to stay longer.”

Clemmie clutched his arm. Regret colored her voice. “Next time.”

He patted her hand, then set off toward the barn. Rusty had to lengthen his stride to keep up.

Webb said, “I took a look at Captain Whitfield’s wound. It seems to be healin’ right well. He’s anxious to go on home.”

Rusty had been with Whitfield so long that seeing him leave would almost be like watching a good friend die. Distances being what they were and the farm likely to tie him down, he might not see the captain again for a long time, if ever.

Len Tanner would probably go when Whitfield and Pickett did. Rusty dreaded parting with him, for they had ridden together a long time. However, given Tanner’s little run-in with Josie, it might be just as well. Staying here, being constantly reminded of his humiliation, would be for Tanner like an itch he could not scratch.

Saddling his horse, Webb asked, “How did you know about Isaac?”

“I went with Tom Blessing to witness Isaac’s will.”

“He’s never talked to me about havin’ any kin.”

“He’s leavin’ everything to Shanty.”

Webb reacted much as Tom Blessing had. He seemed troubled. “Isaac may have burdened Shanty with a load of grief too heavy for his old shoulders.”

“I don’t know who would bother him. These are God-fearin’ people around here . . . or used to be.”

“Some who call themselves God’s children have notions they didn’t learn in church.”