By the middle of her first week in the parsonage at Tyler, Nanci was feeling as if she’d started settling in. The house now felt a little like her space – not a lot as there was a strangeness that went beyond the fact that it was fitted out with a dead woman’s furniture and that those furnishings had been borrowed from the bank.

It didn’t take Nanci long to figure out what the strangeness was – in spite of the way the house had been filled, it seemed empty because there were no people in it other than her. That was something she hadn’t experienced much in her life.

Only on rare occasions had she been by herself for more than a few hours. For the last two years she had been living in Mrs. Keller’s Place, a boardinghouse at Hickory Run, and there were always people around the building if not always in the same room with her. Before then, when she’d been going to Black Mesa College in Phoenix, she had been living with her brother and sister-in-law and their two kids while school was in session, and it had sometimes been hard to be alone to study.

In the summers for the last six years when she was on a raft in the Grand Canyon, there had always been customers and other boatmen around, and of course she had to be friendly and upbeat with them. It was often hard for her to get time to herself for her daily devotions on river trips, but somehow she managed it even if it was after everyone else had gone to sleep. In the worst days of her life before she became a Christian, there had always been people around even if much of the time they weren’t people she cared to be with.

So it was a little unnerving to get up in the morning and know that she was the only one in the house. She had very much become a “people person” in the last few years, and to not have other people around was clearly going to take some getting used to.

Back when she was a teenager, Nanci had very much been a “late to bed, late to rise” person, but six seasons on the Colorado River had brought an end to that. As a boatman she had to be up at first light, if not before, and that meant that she was ready to hit her sleeping bag not long after full darkness. It had proved useful to her off the river, as well; she learned that the early morning hours were usually free of interruptions, leaving her time to study and pray. It was her private time, and she planned on taking full advantage of it.

Nanci realized very quickly that she was going to fall into the trap of not going out into the community if she took full advantage of the peace and quiet of the parsonage. The way to fix that right from the beginning was to make it a habit to head for the Prairie Dawn for breakfast and coffee. Coffee had been frowned on at Hickory Run, or at least at Mrs. Keller’s place, and while she was used to river-strong coffee the way they made it in the Grand Canyon, the coffee at the little café was perfectly acceptable to her. Besides, there were usually some members of the Tyler church there, and occasionally someone from Conestoga, so breakfast was a good way to make social contacts, as well as alleviate some of the loneliness of the parsonage.

When she went into the Prairie Dawn that morning, she found Edith and Bernice sitting at a table for six near the window, so of course she went to join them. “So what’s happening this morning?” she asked as the waitress brought her cup of coffee.

“Busy day for me,” Edith said. “There was enough happening that I decided to get a newsletter out.”

“Newsletter?” Nanci asked.

“Yes,” Edith smiled. “We haven’t had a newspaper here for years and years, not even a weekly, so a few years ago I decided I ought to do something about it.” She reached into a cloth bag sitting on an empty chair and pulled out a single sheet of white paper. “It’s not much but it is something,” she went on as she handed the sheet to Nanci.

The newsletter wasn’t much; it had the line “Walke County News” across the top, and there were several short stories on the page. The one that caught Nanci’s eye was the first one:

New Pastor at Tyler, Conestoga Methodist Churches

The Tyler and Conestoga Methodist Churches held a potluck Sunday to welcome Rev. Nanci Chladek to be the new pastor, following the resignation of Rev. Darius Anders. Rev. Chladek is a graduate of Black Mesa College, Phoenix, and Hickory Run Seminary in Kentucky. She was previously Associate Pastor of Hillside Methodist in Flagstaff, AZ and served other churches on a temporary basis. She worked her way through her schooling by running rafts down the Grand Canyon.

“I see my arrival here constitutes big news in Walke County,” Nanci grinned.

“Let’s face it, there isn’t much that happens here,” Edith shrugged. “I don’t put out a newsletter every week, just when there’s enough to fill the page.”

“Do you take subscriptions or what?”

“Oh, no. It would cost too much to mail. I just leave a few around here and a few other places in the county, and folks who are interested can pick one up. I’m doing this on a shoestring, Reverend Chadek. It costs me a couple of cartons of paper a year, and a cartridge for my laser printer once in a while. I get a donation every now and then that helps me pay for it, and I think it at least tells people what’s happening in the county. Supposedly the paper down in Carondelet covers the county, but it’s rare to see an item in their paper about anything here.”

Nanci glanced on down the page. The next item was:

Elmer Pepper

Elmer Pepper, 87, a rancher from rural Lexington, died suddenly last Sunday. He was a veteran of WWII. He was preceded by his wife, Gladys, and by two sons. A grandson in Kansas City survives him. Arrangements are pending at the Mound-Burton Funeral Home in Tyler.

“Bernice, this Pepper,” Nanci asked. It seemed somehow sad that a man’s life could be summed up so briefly, no matter that Edith didn’t have much space to work with in the newsletter. “He wasn’t one of ours, was he?”

“Not Tyler for sure, and I don’t think he was in the Conestoga church either. Art Gamble would know better than I do.”

“I didn’t even know we had a funeral home here.”

“We don’t, not really,” Bernice said. “Mound-Burton has a house here they use for services, but it’ll only seat about twenty-five or thirty. They do the actual embalming down in Carondelet. If they have a funeral that will be larger, and they don’t have many, they often rent the church fellowship hall for the service. If it’s a church member, we use the church, of course.”

“Makes sense,” Nanci nodded. “I wonder how many funerals they have here.”

“Not many,” Edith replied. “I had nineteen obituaries for people from Walke County last year and I don’t think I missed anyone. We’re running way behind that this year. Without looking it up, I think Pepper was number five.” She got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment, then went on, “Yes, I’m sure he makes five.”

Either number was less than Nanci would have expected, even considering the small population of the county. She made a mental note to give Art a call about Pepper when she got back to the parsonage just to be sure, then looked down the rest of the page. The county commission had approved repairs to a dump truck; there was a lost dog and a found dog – not the same dog, either. On Monday the Tyler Terrier boys had lost both sides of a baseball double-header to Fort Francis High School; the girls’ softball team had split their double-header. The Fair Board had held a meeting to make plans for the fall fair and rodeo, which was to be in September. There was not much else. “It must have been a slow news week,” she commented.

“Actually, a fairly busy one,” Edith smiled. “Like I said, I don’t put out a newsletter unless there’s enough to fill it, and sometimes it’ll go two or three weeks. Not much happens here Reverend, and maybe that’s just as well.”

Nanci wound up sitting around the Prairie Dawn just talking with Edith, Bernice, and a couple of other Tyler church members who joined them partway through their breakfast. Finally, she decided that other things should also get done, so took her leave and started walking back toward the parsonage. Tyler was small enough that she could get at least some of the exercise she felt she needed by walking, rather than driving her Toyota around the tiny town. As she walked, she thought about what she wanted to do for a sermon on Sunday, and decided she wanted to come up with something fresh. The one she’d given the previous week was more or less the same as one she’d also given at Colt Creek Methodist back in Kentucky a couple of weeks before. Colt Creek didn’t have a regular pastor and hadn’t had one for a while, so some of the students at Hickory Run Seminary had taken turns giving the service there.

After thinking about it a little, she realized that she needed to get out to Conestoga and make her presence known to the congregation there. She could see the pitfall of throwing most of her attention to Tyler, even though it was the bigger church. The problem was that there was no natural gathering place out there besides the church itself, so the best thing she could think of doing was to visit some of the members at their homes. She’d already had several invitations to drop by out there, but she knew that the ranchers out there often had chores, scheduled and not, they had to do so to drop by unannounced was not a good idea.

But then, she knew that Shirley Gamble and Cathy Westbrook were putting together a barbecue for the church members on Saturday, so that would give her a chance to be a little more social with the Conestoga people. Perhaps she could set up an appointment or two while that went on. So when she got back to the parsonage she decided to give Art or Shirley Gamble a call.

Shirley proved to be at home; Nanci wouldn’t have wanted to bet on it. “So how are things out around Conestoga today?” she asked.

“Pretty quiet, like usual,” the older woman said. “We have times it gets pretty busy out here, but today doesn’t look like it’s going to be one of them. What can I do for you today, Reverend?”

“You can start by calling me Nanci, at least once in a while. I’ve been working toward being a pastor for several years, but I’m still a pretty normal person, and I’d like to think I’m talking to a friend.”

“You’re not very formal, are you?” Shirley laughed. “That really is a change from Reverend Anders.”

“Maybe that’s the point I’m trying to make. From what I’ve heard, he took his position pretty seriously and expected to be treated formally. I like to think I’m just another person.”

“I doubt you are just another person, and I don’t think you’ve ever been one,” Shirley laughed again. “But it’s a refreshing change. So do you have something on your mind today?”

“Actually, I do. I was just down at the Prairie Dawn and saw in the Walke County News that a man named Elmer Pepper died out there. Bernice didn’t know if he was one of the Conestoga Church members or what.”

“No, he wasn’t a member. Back when his wife Gladys was alive they used to go down to Lexington, and not every Sunday at that, but I doubt if he’s been there since. But he was a neighbor, and he’s been going through a tough time. You mean you hadn’t heard about what happened?”

“All I know is what it said in Edith’s newsletter, that he died suddenly.”

“Well, he did,” Shirley sighed. “Nanci, Elmer had cancer, and he had it bad. It had gotten all through his body and he was in pain all the time. Art took him down to the doctor or the hospital in Carondelet several times over the past few months, and I did a couple of times myself, but they couldn’t do much for him. But I guess the cancer got to be too much for him, so apparently Sunday he decided to cure it with his twelve-gauge. Cathy and I found him on our way back from the work bee at the parsonage on Monday.”

“Oh, dear,” Nanci said, shaking her head even though she knew Shirley couldn’t see it. “I hadn’t heard anything about that. Are you and Cathy all right?”

“More or less. It wasn’t a very pretty sight and I wish it had been someone else who found him. At least it wasn’t some little kid who did. We came here and called the sheriff, and then Art went back out to meet the sheriff when he showed up.”

“Look, Shirley. If you or Cathy want to talk about it or anything, well, that’s what I’m here for. I can drive out there if I need to, and I’m just sorry as heck that I didn’t hear about it sooner.”

“That’s all right,” Shirley sighed. “It happens, Reverend. It can get pretty lonely out here, and things like that happen. It’s not the first time I’ve seen something like that, although I have to admit this time it was a little closer than I’ve had it happen to me in the past.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking it well. I’ve had, well …” Nanci paused for a moment as memories of a very bad time in her life flooded back over her. She took a deep breath and went on, “I’ve had some experience along that line myself, and I know it can be very hard to find someone like that.”

“I didn’t say it was easy, but you learn to deal with things,” Shirley counseled. “Art didn’t want me going back out there, which is why he and Trent went to meet the sheriff. I’m just as glad he did.”

“Like I said, if you need me to come out there, I can be there in half an hour or less,” Nanci replied. She decided to change the subject to one a little less sensitive, mostly because the memory of the time when she’d found Allie’s body was swimming in front of her eyes. Even though it had been the pivot point that had changed her life, it had been very traumatic. She still prayed for Allie just about every time she was alone with her Lord. “Is there family or anyone else I should talk to?”

“Not that I know of,” Shirley replied. Nanci got the idea that Shirley was just as glad to be off the topic herself. “He had a grandson, Gerald. I think he is in Kansas City if I remember correctly. I do know that Elmer hadn’t seen Gerald in years and years, not since Elmer’s son Wayne died, and that’s at least twenty years ago. Elmer left a note on the kitchen table that said that as far as he knew Gerald was his only heir. Art said the sheriff was going to take care of contacting him.”

“That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? I mean, no relatives around locally.”

“It happens out here,” Shirley sighed. “I don’t know how much you know about this area, but we’ve been losing population steadily. I’ll bet there aren’t half the people around that there were when I was a little girl. People move away, Nanci. They have to so they can find work, and it’s happened to a lot of us. Art and I have three children, and none of them live around here and haven’t for years. The land is valuable and it’s provided a living for Art and me, but I have a granddaughter who works in a fast food place in Denver, and her take-home pay was more than ours last year. Art and I don’t want to sell out, not just yet, but we’re getting older and we’re less and less able to keep going with every year that passes, so it’s just a matter of time before we have to sell out. I just hope there’s someone to sell out to when the time comes.”

That was more or less confirmation of what Larry Reed had said back on Sunday, when he explained how things were in Walke County, but his description hadn’t gotten into the personal effects it would have on families like the Gambles – or on Elmer Pepper. “It’s got to be hard to die sick and alone like Mr. Pepper. It had to have been hard to get along like that.”

“It is, but it happens. The thing of it is that Art and I like the life that we’ve lived out here and it would be very hard to leave. Elmer could have left and moved into town or gone into a nursing home or hospital or something. He probably should have years ago. He couldn’t take care of his animals any longer, and he finally sold them off. Even his old dog died a couple years ago. But he liked living out here and he didn’t want to give it up, so he didn’t until he had to. Moving into Tyler or Carondelet or something would have killed him almost as quickly as his shotgun. It just wouldn’t have been as messy.”

“I think I can understand that,” Nanci replied. “The life you’ve lived becomes the life you love, and it’s hard to turn away. I can see I still have a lot to learn about the people who live out here.”

“At least you’re willing to learn it, so that’s something,” Shirley said, then changed the topic again. “Have you heard when Elmer’s funeral is going to be? Or if they’re even going to have one at all?”

“I don’t know. All I know is what I got from Edith, and that is that the funeral arrangements are pending. I would think the decision will have to be made by his grandson, if the sheriff can get hold of him.”

“That might take a while if he’s in Kansas City,” Shirley commented. “I was just wondering if you were going to wind up doing the service, and if it’s going to interfere with the barbecue on Saturday.”

“I don’t know a thing about it, and I haven’t been contacted.”

“Well, it probably won’t be a large funeral, anyway. It’ll probably just be a few friends and neighbors, and it might be a while before it happens. Let me know if and when you find out, would you?”

“I may not hear anything, but I’ll let you know. Do you think I ought to say something at the service on Sunday?”

“It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. Elmer has been a fixture out here all my life, and I think most of the people in the church must have known him. We’ll be looking forward to seeing you on Saturday over at the Westbrooks.”

“Would you like me to bring anything?”

“You don’t have to do that, Nanci. I’m sure it will be like last Sunday, more than enough food for everyone.”

“I just feel like I ought to contribute something.”

“If you insist, you might as well bring something. Maybe something for dessert.”

“I ought to be able to come up with something,” Nanci replied, glad to be on a less distressing topic. “I am not the world’s greatest cook, but I know all the meals we used on the river. We never seemed to get any complaints about any of them.”

Nanci and Shirley talked for another few minutes. Nanci had spent time talking with Shirley before this call, and she was now probably the person from Conestoga she knew the best. She was really looking forward to the barbecue on Saturday, since it should be a good opportunity to make more friends out of the people at the tiny church.

But still, Nanci felt sad when she hung the phone up. It must have been hard for Mr. Pepper to drive him to take his own life. She knew very well what it must have been like, since she’d once been close to taking her own life after she’d found Allie’s body – alone, desperate, with nowhere to turn and no way out. It was a shame that someone had to feel that alone and hopeless. She at least had been lucky and discovered an unexpected way out that had offered a smidgen of hope, and when that opportunity arose she had been only minutes away from slitting her wrists. It had indeed proved to be a way out, and it had led her to where she was today. It was a life she could never have conceived of just a little over six years before, a life so different that it was sometimes hard to believe that she had been the same person.

One of the things Nanci had learned in that six years was what to do in these circumstances: pray. She had learned that the power of prayer was strong in her, and she now did a lot of praying. Every now and then she felt the need for a serious one-on-one time with the Lord, and this was one of those times. She had no reluctance to getting down on her knees and passing her concerns along to God.

In the years since Nanci had first fallen to her knees and asked Jesus to come into her heart at a place far different than this parsonage in a lonely prairie town, she’d prayed a lot, and more often than she would have dreamed. A dozen times a day, two dozen, or more, she asked God to watch over her and help her with this decision or task, to the point where it had become nearly as automatic as breathing to her. Then there were the public prayers, such as she did in church, and she was used to that, as well.

But there was also her private prayer, her own special time with her Savior. It was something she did nearly every day, though she might miss a session now and then. Sometimes she didn’t feel truly open to God’s Will, and she knew better than to go before Him with that attitude; He wouldn’t appreciate it, and she wouldn’t either.

But this was different, and she really needed to feel close to him at the moment. She got down on her knees, and assumed the special position she almost always took in her private prayers – head down, hands on her knees, palms open and up. It was the only holdover left from the worst days of her life, and at least in her mind it signified to God that she was coming before Him with the intent of hiding nothing from Him. Only a handful of people had ever seen her praying like that, and no one had ever questioned why she did it that way. It was something very personal to her, and she felt it was not anyone’s business but God’s and her own.

She knelt like that for a while, until she truly felt His presence. “Master,” she said softly. “As always, I ask You to take Allie into Your arms, to hold her tight and give her the love she was denied on Earth. I ask You to take Mr. Pepper into Your arms as well, to let him know that the pain of his life is gone and the cares of the world are gone with it. I don’t know what he needs, but whatever it is, it is within Your powers.”

Her words stopped after that, stopped for a very long time. She often was not very verbal in her prayers, preferring to just open her soul to God so He could understand her real meaning; she figured that He did not need to be distracted by her babble. It was enough to feel His presence within her, to know He understood and cared for her. She was there silently on her knees just trying to keep her mind clear in order to feel His presence. After a while she felt confident that God had heard her prayer and was equally confident that He was aware of her concerns. “Thank you, Master,” she murmured so softly that only He could hear it. “Thy will be done.”

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