Tom Cain was an angry man. Actually, the word “anger” didn’t do justice to what Tom felt. He felt betrayed. Day after day, Tom replayed what Good Shepherd had done for Charity. Good Shepherd had interfered with his plan to steal Charity’s farm. “How could this happen?” Tom growled. Greed and Deception had promised him. Charity’s land, but now she was sitting pretty with all the do-gooders providing for her and helping her manage her farm. Tom decided that he’d had enough of Greed and Deception. It was time for him to go straight to Silver-Tongue; that was the name most humans called Enemy.
Tom paced back and forth in his rundown, leaky, moss-covered cabin. He could easily afford to do the repairs or even buy a new home, but Tom Cain was a greedy man. As a young man, Tom had invited Greed into his life. Greed had come in, and now Tom and Greed were indistinguishable. He liked knowing that he had more than everyone he knew. And he wanted to keep that knowledge to himself. He relished his wealth. That was why he’d never married. The thought of sharing anything with anybody was unthinkable for him.
Tom’s pacing continued all day and into the darkness of night, his grimy hands clenching and unclenching as if they had a life of their own. His fingernails were chewed to their quick and stained by the tobacco he chewed. It was time for action. Tom wanted to plead with Silver-Tongue to crush Charity’s provision and make her impoverished. That’s what Tom wanted, but he was afraid of Silver-Tongue. Did he dare approach him? Maybe there was another way, Tom mused, but no, if Greed and Deception had failed, there was little hope that Tom himself could thwart Good Shepherd’s provision for Charity.
Then, when dawn was quite near, Tom threw himself upon the filthy floor of his cabin and cried out, “Silver-Tongue, come and destroy what Good Shepherd has done. I will pay whatever price you demand; I will do your bidding.” Detecting a whiff of sulfur, Tom knew that there was no going back now.
Silver-Tongue was not like Father, Good Shepherd, or Gentle Breeze. He could not be everywhere at the same time. But he had spies everywhere, listening and watching. News of Tom’s petition would quickly be relayed back to Enemy. Tom knew that he had set a fearful chain of events in motion. Silver-Tongue always imposed a high cost for his help. The price was not in money but in obedience to his wicked demands.
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That very morning, Charity awoke quite early. She was always an early riser and a diligent worker, yet she felt a heaviness in her heart that day. She couldn’t think of any reason for her to feel that way. She knew feelings often lied to people, even followers of Good Shepherd. So, instead of putting her housecoat on and going to her kitchen table to begin her day with Father, Good Shepherd, and Gentle Breeze, Charity knelt beside her bed and prayed, “O Father, you are my joy. You saved me from destruction, overflowed your love upon me, and in You I have no reason to fear anyone or anything but You. Whatever has fallen upon my heart, I give it to You. I shall not worry or be dismayed by what lies before me, for You are more than all I shall ever need, no matter how much is taken from me.”
Rising from her prayer, Charity cinched her housecoat tighter around her to ward off the morning chill and padded into her kitchen., While listening to the “coo-ah, coo, coo, coo” of some mourning doves that had made their home beside Charity’s cabin. She enjoyed their company.
Putting a brass saucepan, handed down to her from her grandmother, on her wood-burning stove, Charity stoked the embers she had banked the night before. Adding tender and then split wood, she quickly had marvelous orange and blue flames dancing in her stove.
Soon Charity would have a warm kitchen and hot coffee. Turning her attention to the coffee, she scooped ground coffee into the saucepan’s boiling water. The brew boiled for two minutes and then Charity sat the saucepan off of the stove and let it quietly finish its brewing for four minutes. Then, carefully, she used a small ladle to extract the coffee while leaving the coffee ground in the bottom of the pan. Later, she would spread the cooled coffee ground around her blueberries, carrots, and radishes; these plants loved the acidity that coffee provided.
With a hot mug of coffee, the aroma from lilac scones she had prepared the day before, and her early morning prayer time, the time she spent in her kitchen with Father, Good Shepherd, and Gentle Breeze was rich, warm, and comforting. Still, she could sense that the burden on her heart was not a “feeling,” rather, it was Gentle Breeze speaking to her to prepare herself for battle.
Charity appeared old and spent to people that didn’t know her, but to those that did, they saw a warrior; a woman with a railroad spike for a spine. Sensing the inevitable battle, Charity put on all the armor Good Shepherd had given her so that she would be able to stand in the evil day and, having done all, to stand firm. With that, Charity set her face like flint and walked down the ancient path from her home to the dusty road. She needed to let the good people of her community know that a battle was coming soon.