Sunday, October 23, 1910
Tommy waited on the steps of the church building for Sam Hines to arrive. A frosty wind and heavy snow was blanketing the valley. Sam pulled up in his car.
"Morning Tommy. Have you been out here long?"
"Five minutes or so." 
"Wonderful! I told Mrs. Hall that I wanted you here at 7 am and you're on time! Punctuality is one of the most important things a young man can learn."
Sam unlocked the front door. "We've got a lot of work to do until Showtime."
"Showtime?"
"It's an inside joke with my wife Crystal. Showtime is when I preach. By Sunday morning, she's heard me rehearse the sermon a million times, so it's always a relief for me to recite it before a less critical audience."
Tommy chuckled, "I understand."
A large clump of snow slipped off the roof.
Sam shivered. "Want some coffee?"
"Can I have cocoa instead?" 
Sam opened the door for him. "For you my friend, anything."
They turned on the lights in the foyer, hallway and auditorium. They made their way downstairs to the fellowship hall.
Tommy said, "It is freezing in here."
Sam nodded and pointed to a big closet which held a furnace.
"Your first job."
Tommy made a shivering motion and nodded. "Absolutely!"
As Sam walked to the kitchen, Tommy checked out the furnace.
He grabbed a wheelbarrow and went behind the church building to fill it with coal.
Sam grabbed a shovel and helped him.
As Tommy shoveled he said, "I have a confession to make. I've been coming here my whole life and I have never thought about how the church building stays warm on cold days."
Sam replied, "Most folks think that a preacher works for one hour, one day a week. Son, if you only knew the truth... actually, let me rephrase that, you're going to learn the truth this week; especially."
Sam turned to the kitchen. "Your cocoa's probably ready by now."
He went back into the kitchen and returned with a warm a mug of cocoa.
Tommy gladly drank it in three swallows.
With the wheelbarrow loaded, the men went back inside. Tommy began loading the furnace with coal.
"Preacher Sam, what did you mean by 'you're going to learn the truth this week; especially'?"
"Because this week you're going to be doing my job while Crystal and I are out of town."
Tommy's eyes bulged.
Sam counted on his fingers. "Take care of the building, handle any emergencies which come up, make visits and when Sunday rolls around, preach. We leave tomorrow afternoon- we'll be home Sunday evening."
Tommy was unsure of himself.
Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "You preached last year when the teen class hosted a Sunday morning."
Tommy held his head down.
"You've got the talent, son, and more importantly you have the leadership presence required to proclaim the Gospel with eloquence and confidence. When you say something, people can believe it."
Tommy was still unsure.
"What is it?"
He mumbled, "I don't belong up there."
"Is there something you care to discuss?"
Tommy bit his lower lip.
Sam spoke softly, "So, am I to conclude that it's something you would not care to discuss?"
Tommy shook his head.
"Tommy, God's been making sixteen-year-old boys for a long time. He knows what you're going through and more importantly, he knows more about you than you'll ever know. God can see more than your present circumstances, He can see your future.
I, on the other hand, can't see your future but I can make a reasonable guess about it. You are intelligent, friendly, spiritual, encouraging but more than that you have a conscience. The fact that something is bothering you demonstrates to me that you are trying to have a right relationship with God. He's working on your heart; cleaning out spiders' webs and putting out fires. I can see that clear as day.
Think about this, I've been a preacher for twenty-four years. Don't you think I know a little something about temptation and personal failure? You see me today as an old minister, one step below the angels, but son, believe me, I've walked in your shoes. With prayer I got through it and so will you.
I could have asked Michael Conrad to preach, but I didn't. I could have asked Larry Hall or Rufus Mock to look after things this week but I didn't because I am convinced that you can handle it. This world does not need perfect men as preachers it needs strong, capable men as preachers and you meet those qualifications."
Tommy wore half-a-smile. "Thank you, Preacher Sam."
"Thank you, in advance for the first class job you'll do this week. Now then," he pointed at the furnace. "Feed the fire, walk in faith and quit second guessing yourself."
Tommy returned to shoveling the coal.
"Crystal and I are going see our new grandson, Samuel Jackson Hines, in Casper. Edwin and Mary Kate have been begging us for a visit." He sighed. "Additionally, we're going to visit our daughter, Pamela."
Tommy asked, "Your last visit didn't go so good?"
"She had no idea who we were. My brother Thaddeus says she never asks about us or expresses any emotion beyond momentary likes and dislikes. Last time we were there, Crystal brought out a little carved wooden horse she played with as a child. 'Horsey? Horsey? Pamela? Remember?'"
He shook his head. "That meant absolutely nothing to her. As I've said before, Pamela's in her own little world and we're not invited. You can't imagine what that's like."
Tommy shifted his eyes; said to himself: "Or maybe I can."
"What was that?"
"Nothing Preacher Sam."
"I'll be up in my office looking over sermon notes
Sam went upstairs to his office.
Ten minutes later, Tommy went to the auditorium. Sam was behind the pulpit rehearsing his sermon.
"That fire is warm already. Nice work, my boy."
"Thank you, sir."
"I want you to check on the bathrooms to make sure they got enough toilet paper and soap."
A stranger walked in to the foyer. "Hello? Hello? Anybody here?"
Tommy walked in from the auditorium.
"Can I help you?"
The man was wearing sunglasses and used a cane.
"Sir, you gotta help me. I'm hungry and in need. Can I speak to the Pastor?"
Tommy took the man by the hand and led him through the auditorium towards Sam office.
"Preacher Sam, I have someone who needs to speak with you. He's a blind man."
Sam nodded and began writing something on a note pad.
"Bring him up to the front row, Tommy."
As Tommy and the stranger walked down the aisle, Sam folded the note and cupped it in his right hand.
The man spoke in a pleading voice, "I hear that your church helps people. That's true?"
"That's true," said Sam said as he patted the man's back. "We are here to minister to those in need."
Tommy could tell that Sam was subtly signaling him.
He took the note and read it. Although he did not understand the reasoning behind the instructions, he trusted Sam enough to follow them to the letter.
Sam and the blind man sat on the front row.
As Sam and the blind man began speaking, Tommy ran towards the classrooms. He exited out the door to the fellowship hall. He went back in to the building through the side hallway door, near Sam's office.
Tommy walked briskly down the hall to the auditorium.
The man spoke in a shaking voice, "These shabby clothes don't come close to keeping me warm. With all of this wandering around from place to place I am exhausted. I haven't eaten a morsel in three days."
Tommy stopped about twelve feet in front of the blind man.
He clapped. Sam and the blind man moved their heads in the direction of the noise.
Tommy hurled a basketball.
The blind man caught it.
The blind man took off his glasses. "Dang it!" He growled, "How'd ya know?"
"There are three churches in town. I am friends with Ronny Litchfield from the Methodist Church and Joe Gil from the Baptist Church. We get together once in awhile to talk shop. We swap stories, jokes, maybe share an insight.
Last Monday, Ronny told me how he helped a blind man. Joe said that he helped too. Both times you used the same story. We made some phone calls, asked around and discovered the truth.
Barton Reed, you are blind but your eyes work just fine."
Sam put a hand on Mr. Reed's shoulder.
"How much did you lose this time to the horses?"
He said gravely, "All of it. I even sold a picture frame that had a photo of my mother." He made a fist and hit his knees. "It was a sure thing this time! I knew that horse would win. I just knew it, so I," he broke down. "I've tried to quit before, honest, but I can never seem to do it."
Sam rubbed the man's back. He turned to Tommy.
"Tommy, your father has a dorm for ranch hands?"
Tommy nodded. "We have ten bunks. The men come and go as they like."
Sam nodded. "Any openings?"
Tommy said, "Maybe. I'd have to ask my dad."
Sam said, "Barton, you grew up on a ranch, didn't you?"
He gulped. "I did."
"Tommy Grossman's father, Augustus, owns a ranch. When he comes in this morning, I'd be willing to talk to him on your behalf and I can arrange for you to have a place to live and three square meals a day, however, you will not be paid by the Grossman's until the end of the month."
Mr. Reed kept his head down.
Sam continued, "Because if you get a few dollars at the end of the week, you'll steal one of Augustus' horses and head for the race track in River City."
Mr. Reed nodded. "I would."
"Did you have anything to eat yesterday?"
He shook his head, no.
"Will Clementine is going to be here in a little over an hour. He'll bring bagels and croissants and donuts. If you will let me talk to you in my office, when he arrives, I'll let you have some of that food."
Mr. Reed wiped away a tear. "Can't you just give me some money like the other preachers?"
Sam whispered, "Absolutely not."
Mr. Reed slowly stood up. He looked warily at Tommy and Sam.
"I'm gonna go... to... um... Quincy." He began walking down the aisle.
Tommy was confused. "Quincy? Mr. Reed, it's freezing cold outside! Quincy's seven miles from here!"
The pitiful man continued walking towards the door.
Tommy didn't know what to do. "Mr. Reed? Mr. Reed? Don't leave! We can help you!"
He kept walking.
"Mr. Reed, stop! Please! Please don't go away! Look, I have fifty cents in my pocket...."
Sam grabbed a hold of Tommy's elbow. "Tommy, stay where you are!"
Tommy jerked his arm away. "Mr. Reed? Won't you...?"
Mr. Reed made it through the door. The wind slammed it shut.
Tommy was bewildered he spun around to Preacher Sam. "What's wrong with you? Are you just going to let him walk away?"
Sam collapsed his shoulders and sighed.
Tommy ran out the door. "Mr. Reed! Mr. Reed, wait!"
Mr. Reed kept walking away from town.
Sam walked to the door. He put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Let him go."
Tommy snapped, "He's going to freeze to death!"
Sam said solemnly, "Probably so."
Tommy scrambled down the steps and tripped in the snow.
"Mr. Reed! Mr. Reed!"
The man continued walking. He disappeared in the sheets of falling snow.
Tommy slammed his fists into the ground and wailed in pain. "Mr. Reed? Mr. Reed? Come back!"
He took a moment to compose himself. He got to his feet and brushed off the snow from his face, shirt and jeans. He glared at Sam at the top of the steps.
"You are a man of God!"
Sam did not reply.
Tommy ran up the steps.
"You could have helped him!"
Sam shook his head. "No, I couldn't."
"How dare you? How dare you? You stand there and blab about helping thy neighbor and then you...."
Sam whispered, "I think you need a moment alone."
He shut the door.
Tommy angrily banged on the door.
Tommy huffed and kicked snow off the porch. He desperately tried to keep from swearing.
A minute later, Sam opened the door and handed him a snow-shovel. "The steps are icy this morning."
Tommy yanked the snow-shovel out of his hand.
Sam went back inside.
Tommy cleared the steps and sidewalk. He put the snow-shovel in a broom closet.
He marched into the auditorium. "This isn't over you fraud! You let that man die! And you...."
Tommy stopped. Sam was on his knees leaning up against the front pew. Tears were running down his face.
Tommy shook his head.
He whispered, "Preacher Sam... I'm... I'm...."
Sam looked to him with much tenderness. "There's room for two."
Tommy nodded. He knelt down next to Sam; they prayed for Mr. Reed and themselves.
Tommy helped Mr. Clementine set up the tables for the pastries he served before Sunday school began.
Many members thanked Mr. Clementine. They noticed that the building was warm but no one inquired how it got that way.
No one asked Sam how his week had been. They would just shake hands, say, "Mornin' Preacher Sam," and then go into a diatribe about their own woes or perhaps ask a question.
Tommy liked Bear Claws but for some reason, the sweet bread seemed bland and unappetizing.
The bell rang to indicate classes were about to begin, everyone headed to the foyer. A couple of the stalwarts volunteered to clean up the mess.
In the foyer, girls fixed their hair in the big mirror.
A couple of boys got into a shoving match.
Tommy didn't say much to his friends who joined him in the high school class that morning. Pete's tale about hunting a wild boar yesterday didn't seem to be relevant. Mr. Hall taught a good lesson to the children, they listened to some degree.
Tommy kept thinking of Mr. Reed. He could see him trudging through the thick snow in a futile attempt to walk the seven miles to Quincy.
The bell rang. Class was dismissed.
No one thanked Mr. Hall for teaching them.
Tommy sat by himself in the auditorium. He imagined what school would be like the next morning.
"Did you hear? Officer Walsdorf found a dead body on the road to Quincy! Some hobo froze to death."
That would make for a mildly interesting scandal for a couple of minutes and then they'd move on.
He tuned out the call to worship.
Mr. Conrad lead singing: Tommy just mouthed the words.
He didn't acknowledge the prayer that was offered.
He simply closed his eyes and wondered why his request for insight had gone unanswered.
Why didn't Sam do anything?
Why didn't God do anything?
They let him die.
Before Sam got up behind the pulpit, Tommy noticed how he winked to his wife Crystal.
She winked back and whispered, "Showtime."
Tommy had heard the passage Sam read from Isaiah a thousand times or more, but only at this moment, did it seem to have any real weight.
"He is despised and rejected of men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:
and we hid as it were our faces from him;
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows:
yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
he was bruised for our iniquities:
the chastisement of our peace was upon him;
and with his stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned every one to his own way;
and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all."
