Friday, March 1, 2013

A Slip on the Ice - Part 3

Lovely Morning Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
Did you all get snow? We did! And it wasn't ice this time! We still have snow on the ground right now though it is quickly melting and we're ready for a bit of sunshine. :) Of course we didn't get nearly as much snow as those farther north of us got. We ended up with about 3-4 inches. It's been in the 30's most of the week, but it's supposed to warm up over the weekend.

This past week was rather strange.
My grandparents left after lunch on Friday and that evening S & I went to babysit the kiddos. We played "school." Something they love! We put the kids to bed this time as Brother and Sis-i-l weren't expected home until 10:30.
On Saturday, S & I headed over to some friends' to watch their kids. We had fun and everyone enjoyed playing the "new" game we brought over. It was one J, S and I had grown up playing and loving. The game is called "Made for Trade."
Sunday was a welcome day of rest. Princess wasn't there, but Sweetheart was. I got to sit on the floor and talk with Sweetheart's mommy for a while. :)
On Monday evening we were supposed to have Goofball's 5th birthday party here, then go roller-skating with church families and then go out for ice cream. Well, since the weather was supposed to get bad they postponed the skating until next week. We did go over to Goofball's house to have a small party though.
Tuesday we got snow! Went for a lovely hour long walk with best friends.
Wednesday more snow in the morning, but otherwise a normal day.
Yesterday I had writing classes since we couldn't have them on Tuesday.
So, today we clean house and try to think it is Friday.

Writing: As you may have guessed, I didn't get much writing done this week. I had a headache on Tuesday evening so didn't write then. I got some TCR written last night. Now I need some help. As I'm sure most of you know, all cattle ranches had brands for their cattle. Well, I'm looking for a brand for Triple Creek Ranch. Create your own brand and send me a picture of it either to whatever e-mail address you normally use or to readanotherpage(at)gmail(dot)com and let me see what you have created. The chosen brand will be featured in the book of TCR. So, have fun and let me see your brands.

Oh, if you would like to see the new book, just go over to Rebekah's Books page and you can see the cover for it. It is still being proofed, but I'll let you know as soon as it's available for ordering.

And now for part 3 of

A Slip on the Ice

Last week . . .
    It was those words that came from the heart of his friend which brought the tears of healing to the mourning son, and the strong, manly frame shook with silent sobs. The arm about his shoulders tightened and Tim could feel his friend’s wordless love.

    It was several days afterwards as the two friends were strolling across the fields where they had played so often in the years gone by that Trent brought up the subject that had been often in his mind since the accident which had claimed the life of Reverend Thomas. “Tim, you are coming back to college, aren’t you?”
    Silently Tim shook his head.
    “But you can’t just quit. You’re at the head of every class and it’s only one more year. Father said he’d lend you the money if you needed any. Come Tim, don’t say no!” Tim coaxed pleadingly.
    Heaving a sigh, Tim replied, “I can’t, Trent. As much as I’d like to finish college, I just can’t do it right now. I have Mother and the girls to think about. Besides we’re . . . we’re moving.”
    Halting in his tracks, Trent turned incredulous eyes upon his friend. “You’re what? Moving? Where to? You can’t!”
    “We decided last night, Trent. It was a hard decision, but Mother and I have prayed about it ever since, well—” his voice broke and he paused until he could speak again. “Father had been wanting to go to America, but he was waiting until he heard from my uncle. The letter came the day after the funeral and Uncle had sent money for tickets. I know Father would have gone.”
    “But what about your studies?”
    “I would have stayed here to finish and then gone to them, but now . . . Surely you can see it is the right thing to do, Trent?” There was pleading in the young man’s voice as he turned to face his friend. “I couldn’t send Mother and the girls off on such a journey alone!”
    For several minutes Trenton remained silent, scuffing his shoes in the leaves, his hands shoved in his pockets. At last he replied. “Since it is you, Tim, I know it has to be the right thing, but I wish you would stay. How am I supposed to stay right without you? I’ll go to the dogs without you around.”
    “Trent, you don’t need me. You need Jesus Christ. Why won’t you give yourself to Him? You know the way, you know what He did for you. Why do you put it off?”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    Tim sighed. “That’s all you ever say. Just remember that thinking isn’t enough.”
    “Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow.”
    “Trent, you might not have tomorrow! Remember my father. Oh, Trent, if you would only do it today, now, I could bid you good bye with peace knowing that whatever happened we would meet again.” The young man’s tones were pleading and at last, Trenton Ashwell yielded and together the two friends knelt in the shelter of an old tree.

* * * *

    A sharp ring of a bell shattered the friendly silence around the supper table in the kitchen. Hurriedly Felix shoved back his chair and dashed for the stairs. Arriving only slightly out of breath in Mr. Ashwell’s room, he saw by the dim light that individual sitting up in bed looking stern.
    “You rang, sir?”
    “Yes, I did, Harrington,” growled the master of the house. “Where is that boy?”
    “Downstairs eating his supper.”
    “Send him up to me.”
    “I’m sorry sir,” Felix replied quietly, “but Dr. Taylor gave instructions that you weren’t to see him tonight.”
    “Oh he did, did he?”
    “Yes sir. And if I were to disregard those orders, he’d have my head.”
    “He’d have mine first,” muttered Mr. Ashwell, sinking back onto his pillows. “Oh very well.” He turned to stare out the window at the still falling snow. “Where is he staying tonight?” The question came quite suddenly and with surprising sharpness as Harrington was about to leave the room.
    “In the room next to mine, sir.”
    “Good, and whatever you do, don’t lose him!”
    “No sir. He’ll be here to see you first thing in the morning. Now why don’t you rest again, Mr. Ashwell. The doctor said he’d come by later.”
    “Come by later indeed,” grumbled the old man to himself. “He’s just trying to make his bill larger.” Listening to the gusts of wind, Mr. Ashwell stared at the opposite wall. “Trenton Thomas Jr.” He muttered thoughtfully.

* * * *

    A steady rain fell and the wind blew rattling the windows. It would be a terrible night to be out and Trent was glad of the roaring fire in the fireplace. He was home for spring vacation and lounged in an easy chair before the bright blaze, an open letter in his hand.
    “Dear Trent,” it read.
    “Winter is about gone and spring is right around the corner. I’m looking forward to plowing and planting the fields of our small farm here in Missouri. Uncle is no farmer and can’t advise me, but there is another farm nearby where I can get help if needed. Mr. and Mrs. Miller are very friendly and their family of seven have become wonderful friends.
    The girls are enjoying school and perhaps in a few years I can take the time to finish my last year of college.
    How are your studies coming along? I know you will graduate with honors, for I am certain that no Ashwell could do less. How is you father these days? The girls and Mother have asked about him more than once.
    It has been difficult adjusting to this new life, but Christ has never failed me. I know He has a plan for my life as He does for yours. Are you walking with Him each day? Oh, Trent, never go through a day without him! . . .”
    Trent let the letter fall into his lap. He had read it through several times. “Tim,” he thought sadly, “if only you had been here to keep me out of that last scrape. That and many others. It’s no good being a Christian without you around.” He stared moodily into the fire for several minutes.
    “I should write to you, old fellow.” Carefully he folded up the letter and replaced it in the envelope. “But not tonight. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll do it. America, perhaps I’ll go there someday too. Wouldn’t that be a lark, to surprise Tim.” And he fell to dreaming until it was quite late.

Will you be back?
Any questions or comments?
Don't forget to create a brand for TCR.


Anott Amos Kowerd said...

It's making sense now; I'm looking forward to the rest of it.
Spell Check: How is YOU father these days?

Rebekah said...

Thanks for the correction. :) I'll go mark it on my paper copy.

Grace Mae said...

What kind of brand? I will see what I can come up with. I liked this part of the story though.

Rebekah said...

A brand for the cattle of TCR.