The ground shook as the towering white oak fell on the path. Samuel Jordan exhaled. He dipped his bandana into a bucket of cool water from the Pine River and placed it on the crown of his head. He smiled as ribbons of invigorating droplets bathed his body and his soul in pure joy. In the back of his mind, he knew what this moment foreordained. He was ready. God gave him a plan.

He spent the remaining days that week chopping limbs from the trunk and dragging them to a brush pile to burn. His faithful axe was showing signs of wear. Repeated sharpenings on the grinding wheel had narrowed the edges, making it more difficult to cut than it did when he first arrived a decade before. His axe became his partner. Clearing the fields, busting stumps and shaping the lumber that helped transform this secluded portion of forest into a idyllic town filled with hope and promise for the future. But, like Samuel, the axe had seen better days.

*****

“Get that dog out of my store!”, Lillian said to Lloyd Caple in the most emphatic, yet kind manner of a soul not accustomed to harshness.

“Yes, ma’am.”. Lloyd whistled to his dog. Jasper’s ears perked and his head snapped away from the pickle barrel he had been sniffing. Jasper, like Lloyd, was not a dog of cultured ways. Both were simple in mind and spirit, traits that often found them in situations such as this: blissfully unaware of their surroundings and the impact they had upon others.

Lillian followed Lloyd and Jasper to the door, which she left open as part of her daily ritual at the store. Her husband, David, didn’t particularly approve of this practice, but Lillian had a way of coaxing customers off the sidewalk and into the store. She had the voice of an angel and loved to sing.

David, at first, was annoyed at this quirk. He had learned to tune it out at home. But at the store he could not avoid it. David was a man of bulk. His family owned a farm on the edge of Jordan’s Bend. He had grown up tending the fields, milking the cows, butchering the beef and filling the barn loft with hay. In all those chores that lasted from dawn to dusk, nary a single note parted his lips. Work was hard. Singing was not. The two didn’t go together.

But one morning when they opened the store, Lillian placed a bag of flour on the floor, pinning the door back against a wood box filled with straw brooms. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning, dear!”, she said to him. “The air is so crisp, the birds are filling the trees and serenading in the most beautiful tones.” She began to hum. David didn’t recognize the melody, but that didn’t seem to matter. He watched her move from aisle to aisle, straightening bolts of fabric, rearranging the display of coffee pots and scrub brushes, all the while moving as if on air. She had a glow about her.

He noticed people outside. They had stopped at the doorway, their heads tilted with ears turned. They were smiling. They stepped inside as if drawn by the sirens song. They lingered inside for a while, cast within Lillian’s spell.

“Lillian, we have customers.”, he said. She had made her way to the back of the store by then. She broke from her trance, turned around, smiled, and walked toward them. The sound of her dress rustling across the wood floor followed her as she wiped her hands on her apron and pushed a few stray hairs back up to the bun on her head.

“How may I help you?”, she asked. “How would you like a piece of candy?”, she would say to the children. One by one each of them filed out of the store carrying an item or two. David watched in amazement. From that point forward, the door would stay open and Lillian’s singing never bothered him again.

*****

Samuel was nearing the end of his vision. He had done everything he could alone, but the final piece would require asking for help, something he felt was the crutch of a weak man. He prayed for guidance toward a path for this journey. And, as usual, his prayers were answered. He hitched his horse, Jenny, to his wagon and headed for town.

*****

“Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! Oh what a foretaste of Glory Divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, born in his spirit, washed in his blood.”

Samuel sang boldly as he drove. Lillian raised her head from dusting the small pieces of furniture in the store. The sound was faint, but she recognized the hymn. It was one of her favorites. She stepped outside, lifted her hands and face to the blue sky above and joined the chorus.

“This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long! This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior, all the day long.”

The folks in town stopped in mid-conversation wherever they were. They looked toward windows doors, acknowledging what they were hearing. A collective smile bathed the square. Lillian was signing.

Dust blew up behind Samuel and Jenny as they made their way along the street downtown. As summer was turning to fall, the area had been imprisoned in a dry spell longer than most could recall. Samuel knew this had been sent by God. His final task could not be completed had the Pine River been at normal depths.

Samuel tipped his hat at Lillian as he passed the general store on his way to see Doc Gilbert.

“There’s nothing else I can do.” Doc Gilbert was a man of few words.

“I can barely walk. My bones ache. I just need a little more time to finish the job. Don’t you have some sort of potion or poultice we ain’t tried?”, Samuel implored.

“Nope. You’ve worn yourself to a nub.”. Doc’s face was as firm as Abraham Lincoln’s on the bust behind his desk. “You’ve just got to live with it.”

Samuel knew Doc was right. The years he spent building his town and vision for it were filled with sacrifice, but the end was near. He would “just live with it”, as suggested.

He thanked Doc Gilbert for his time and left.

He stood on the porch outside, pushed his hair back and placed his worn and dirty hat on his head. He was a man of meager means. Most of the things he needed he acquired by barter. One more bargain was needed. He climbed up on his wagon, gave the reins a snap on Jenny’s rump and turned toward the general store.

*****

Samuel noticed the bag of flour against the open door. He stopped and glanced around at the different types of items available. When the store first opened, the selection was limited to what David and Lillian grew and raised on their farm. Bacon, corn and various hand-made items such as brooms and feather dusters were available for purchase. Early on, Samuel had realized an opportunity was there for him. He was skilled at woodworking. He made his own bowls, spoons, forks and pitchfork. As such, he forged a deal with David that allowed him to choose items equal to the amount made from the sale of Samuel’s handiwork. Today would be different. One last deal to close the books.

“Hey, Samuel. Good to see you! We heard you coming!”. David was the first to see Samuel. Lillian smiled and walked toward him. “How are you? It’s been a while since you’ve been in town. Is everything ok?”, she asked.

“As well as can be expected.” Samuel nodded his head at Lillian and turned to David. “I’ve got a proposition for you. I know a couple of big trees have fallen on your ranch. I’d be happy to haul them off for you in return of you letting me borrow three of your strong horses to pull a boulder out of the river.” Samuel stood, hat in hand, reading David’s face.

“Well, I do need ’em gone.”, said David. “What do you want a boulder for?”

“I promise to take good care of the horses, just like they’d be my own. One day should be all I need to do both.” Samuel waited in silence.

Rubbing his chin and looking aside, David considered the proposition. Then he stuck his hand out to Samuel. “Deal”. He decided it wasn’t any of his business why Samuel needed a boulder. He would wait and see for himself later.

“Thank you. I’ll be out in the morning to get them trees gone.” Samuel shook David’s hand, turned his head to the right. With a nod he said, “Miss Lillian”, and walked out the door.

Lillian sensed a heaviness in Samuel. He would stay and talk in times past. But not today.

*****

The next morning, Samuel made quick work of dragging off the trees from Wagner’s property. It was time to focus on the Pine River.

The drought had dropped the river level significantly, revealing boulders that were normally covered. Samuel sat on the bank while the three Wagner horses and his Jenny cooled from the morning’s work and drank from the river. He brought an old burlap potato sack with him. Inside were a few apples for the horses, a canteen for water and some jerky. He thought about the task before him. This section of the river was where baptisms were performed in the early days. A nice, gently sloping path to the river’s edge was a perfect ramp for the stone to follow outward. He had spotted a particular boulder and had his eye on it as the water receded with the summer heat. He called it “Baptismal Rock”.

After sitting in prayer for strength and guidance for about twenty minutes, Samuel dragged heavy chains out into the river. Fighting the current, he wrapped them around Baptismal Rock. He hitched the horses together, each with both ends of a chain, and pulled their reins tight in both hands. Taking a deep breath, he flung his arms up and down, yelling “Go!”.

The four horses strained. Samuel smacked the reins. They raised up on hind legs. Chains clanked as they crashed into the other. “Go Jenny!”, Samuel yelled. Baptismal Rock moved, sending a clunking sound through the forest as the weight of the boulder rattle against others.

Water splashed on Samuel as he continued to hit the reins from behind the horses. They snorted and their hoofs clicked against the rocks as the boulder began to move. It slid along the slime on the bank as the horses pulled hard on the chains. Once it reached the clearing on the bank, Samuel yelled “Whoa!” and the rush of the moment broke into quiet silence. He unchained the horses and let them rest, drinking the cool water from the river. He patted each one, but spoke only to Jenny. “Good girl.”, he said as he held an apple to her mouth. “We’re almost done.”

It was another half mile to the site where Samuel had plans for Baptismal Rock. The horses had reached a rhythm dragging the boulder along a path that he had prepared the week prior. Just before sunset, they reached their destination.

Samuel’s vision for the boulder had been given to him about a month ago. He started by digging a pit and filling it with stones and rocks to form a flat platform. He guided the horses until the boulder was positioned at the exact angle he needed it to rest.

He was tired. It had been a long day and his body was in pain beyond what he had ever experienced. After putting the horses in the barn for the night, he returned to his cabin and was asleep in minutes.

*****

It had been a week since he moved Baptismal Rock. He had returned the horses to David and thanked him. The final phase was nearing an end.

Samuel paid attention to every little detail as he carved four crosses from the wood of the white oak he fell weeks before. Two of the crosses were cut to eight feet tall and four inches square. The other two were ten feet tall with a width of eight inches and a depth of four. His plan was to bind the two large crosses together as one using pitch from pine trees along the perimeter. At the foot and the end of the two extensions, he would use his hand auger to drill holes for pegs he would hammer into place to add additional strength. Around the top of the cross, he would place a band of metal with small spikes he had found over the years to represent the crown of thorns worn by Jesus. This was his vision.

Three days passed. The crosses were finished. Samuel had eaten little. He felt the drain on his body, but knew one last push was all he needed.

Rock pick in hand, he began pounding the Baptismal Rock, and singing.

“Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee. Let the water and the blood, from thy wounded side which flowed; be of sin the double cure; save from wrath and make me pure.”

He had measured the spot on the boulder for the three holes. He finished the first and moved to the second.

“Not the labors of my hands, can fulfill thy law’s demands. Could my zeal no respite know, could my fears forever flow, all for sin could not atone. Thou must save, and thou alone.”

One last hole. The most important hole. The center hole.

“Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to the cross I cling. Naked, come to the for dress; helpless look to the for grace. Foul, I to the fountain fly; wash me, Savior, or I die.”

Samuel hitched Jenny to the rope he had that ran through a pulley attached to a scaffold he built over Baptismal Rock. One by one, Jenny raised each cross while Samuel guided them into their resting place. He was done, in more ways than one.

The next day Samuel went to town. One last task as he entered the general store. “David, I want to thank you for being kind to me all these years. I’ve tried to return the kindness in turn, but I have not been faithful to that.” David shook his hand, not sure what to say. “Lillian’s not here. You just missed her.”

“I know.”, Samuel said. “I carved something for her as an expression of my…gratitude.” He opened his burlap bag and pulled out a carving he made from remnants of the white oak. He walked over to the door, pushed the old bag of flour to the side with his foot and carefully positioned the replacement.

David smiled. “Lillian will love that.”, he said. “You know she likes angels.”

“Yes. I do.”. Samuel said. He reached into the burlap bag again and handed David an envelope. “Would you please give this to her?”

“Um, sure.”, he responded. “I expect her back any minute. She took little Jennifer to see Doc Gilbert. Some sort of sore throat.”

Samuel nodded his head, got back on his wagon and headed up the trail back home.

“While I draw this fleeting breath, when mine eyes shall close in death,”

Lillian stepped out of Doc Gilbert’s house and walked toward the store, little Jennifer holding her hand.

“When I soar to worlds unknown,”

She heard Samuel singing.

“See thee on thy judgement throne,”

She walked through the store doorway. “Samuel was just here.”, said David. “He left that carving and this note for you.” Lillian looked down and saw the carving of a little girl sitting on a rock, an angel wrapping her wings around her from behind.

“Rock of ages, cleft for me,”

She walked outside and looked toward the mountains where Samuel lived. His voice grew fainter.

“Let me hide myself in thee.”

Silence. No birds chirping. No dogs barking. Just silence.

Lillian stood there, mouth open, unsure of what just happened. “Are you coming back in, dear?”, David asked. Lillian responded, “In a minute.” She began to walk. She passed Bitterman Bank & Trust, The Herald and Mayor Anderson’s office. She sat on the bench under a huge shade tree and opened the envelope from Samuel. Inside was a note with the words, “Dearest Lillian. I cannot put into words my appreciation and love for you. Please accept this carving as a reminder of me. You will not see me again. Take care of Jennifer. Sam.”

(To be continued.)