Heart of a Shepherd (14 page)

“I'm Pastor Dale,” the older man says, “from up around Cheney, Washington. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. When we heard about your troubles, ma'am, well, I just couldn't keep my congregation away.”

“Pastor Warren, out of Lincoln, Nebraska, ma'am,” the second man says. “Your husband was a mentor to me from my first year of seminary training. That man was a spiritual giant! Whenever I was in need of encouragement or wise counsel, a letter would come from this holy place and Mr. Alderman would be right there, helping me find my way.”

He reaches out to shake Grandma's hand. She hugs him like he's one of the family and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Now, ma'am,” Pastor Warren says, “I've brought a bunch of dairymen with me. We may never know the Scriptures like Mr. Alderman, but we do know a few things about raising a barn. I've got fifteen, and Pastor Dale brought twenty-three. We won't be able to finish
a barn in two days, but we'll get up a frame and a roof. Now, that's a promise, ma'am.”

Men start piling out of the bus, and women, too— sturdy folks with work gloves on and carpenter belts bristling with tools. It's like an army of angels, and right away Dad knows how to command them. He goes down the row, shaking hands. He gets Frank to fire up the coffeepots, and Pete starts filling the trough with water for the new calves. In a few minutes, everyone is standing in a big circle. Dad welcomes them and sets out the work schedule—what can be done in the seven hours before the funeral service, and then what we can finish up the next day. He's got a good voice for command—steady, clear, and organized. I see people around the circle thinking over his plan, nodding to buy in, and trusting it will turn out like he says. Dad was made to lead people. I can see it in the faces that look at him, and even more, I can feel it. It's just as much a part of him as this land and these animals. I'm never going to like it that he goes; maybe I don't have to. But command is a part of him, just like fire is a part of the land around here.

We are about to break up and get started when Pastor Dale calls out, “Who will lead us in prayer?”

I bow my head like everyone else. Only silence follows. I look up, and Dad is looking straight at me. A week ago, I would have been too nervous to pray out loud in front of strangers, but it is today, and I know the man I'm supposed to become. I close my eyes and lift up my hands to the hills around me in their black coat of ashes, still mighty, even though they've been through the worst thing that can happen to land. I bless this day, and the workers who have come from far away to build us up, and those soldiers who are still so far from home. I bless the man who carries the weight of commanding them and the memory of the man who prayed for peace. I bless this land, this ranch—always changing, and always home.