“I’m sorry. How . . .” Monahan broke off as Webb gave him a quick negative signal. “We’ll say a prayer for him tonight at meetin’. You are goin’ to stay and conduct meetin’ for us, ain’t you, Preacher? I’ll send the boys out with word to the neighbors.”

Rusty suspected Webb had anticipated Monahan’s request. In any case he appeared pleased by it. Webb said, “Sure enough. I’ve always got time to share the Word.”

Wherever he went, people expected him to conduct prayer meetings. Many who lived far from sizable settlements rarely had an opportunity to attend church. For them, circuit-riding ministers met a deeply felt spiritual need.

The other fence builder finished wedging a branch tightly into place and joined his father in greeting the visitors. He was a strapping youth near Rusty’s own age. Monahan introduced him as his oldest son, James. “You all tie your horses and go on up to the house. Clemmie’ll have dinner ready directly. Been awhile since we’ve had a real soul-cleansin’ around here, so she’ll be damned tickled to see you, Preacher.”

Rusty sensed that the welcome was genuine, not put on for appearance’s sake. He found it easy to like Monahan. The sunburned James seemed cut from the same cloth. Rough hands and muscular shoulders bore the stamp of hard work.

James asked Rusty, “You like to hunt?”

“When I’ve got time.”

“Maybe after supper we’ll go up the river a ways and see what we can find.”

Lon Monahan said, “Not tonight. We’re goin’ to have meetin’. Maybe Rusty can stay around a few days.”

“Can’t. I’m supposed to report to the ranger camp up north of here.”

James shrugged. “Rangers don’t range all the time. Maybe when you get a little time off.”

Walking toward the house, Webb said to Rusty, “I baptized all the Monahan children. I baptized you too, remember?”

“I remember. I thought you were fixin’ to drown me.”

“Just tried to wash away all your sins.”

“I was maybe six years old. How many sins could I have had?”

“The Lord and me looked to the future. I think we headed the sins off pretty well, up to now.”

“And now?”

“You’re a grown man. From here on it’s up to you.”

Rusty doubted that Clemmie Monahan weighed ninety pounds. When she first stepped out onto the porch he took her for a half-grown girl. Closer, he saw her lined face, her graying hair, her work-hardened hands. Building this farm had left the marks of wear and worry on both her and her husband. Her face lighted up as she recognized Webb.

“Preacher!” she shouted. “Come on in this house.”

Quietly, so only Rusty could hear, Webb said, “Now, lad, there is a handsome woman.”

“Handsome? Maybe she was once.”