The Price - Part 4

If you haven't already read the first parts, you can read them here.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

The Price

Part 4

    Across town Widow Stirling sat in her rocking chair, her Bible in her lap, and looked about the room. Now and then she wiped away a tear. Her husband had built their home when they had first come west. It was the only home Jenny and Sam knew. Must they give it up? Where would they go? How would they survive the winter without a roof over their head? They couldn’t afford to go to the hotel. At last she rose, laid aside her Bible, and knelt beside her chair to pray.

    “Heavenly Father, I don’t know what to do. I don’t have money to pay the mortgage right now, and I don’t have money to rent a room somewhere. Please help us. Help me trust You this Christmas time. And please soften Mr. King’s heart. . . .”

*

    The next day brought a knock on Mr. King’s door.

    “Mr. King,” Rancher Pickett began without any preliminaries, “Travis an’ I’ve been talkin’ over your offer. We figured we ought to sell you the horse. You still want her?”

    “Of course I do!” Mr. King pulled out his money and the sale was made.

    Travis handed the reins of the horse to Mr. King’s hired hand and said, “Take good care of her, Mr. King.” Together the rancher and his hand strode off without a backward glance.

    Mr. King rubbed his hands together gleefully after his hired hand had led the horse away to his new stable.

    Another knock came. It was Farmer Hill.

    “Well, Mr. King, I’ve been doin’ some deep thinkin’,” Mr. Hill began slowly. “An’ I reckon I’ll sell Gertrude to you for seventy dollars. You’re right. I won’t get a better price than that.”

    Eagerly Mr. King counted out his money, and Mr. Hill put it in his pocket.

    Stooping, he patted his pig and said, “Be good now, Gertrude.” Then with a slight sigh, Farmer Hill turned and walked away as Mr. King’s man carried the pig off to the barn.

    When the door shut, Mr. King almost danced a jig in his excitement. His dreams were coming true! He had found their price! Another knock on the door made him reach for his bag of gold before he flung the door wide open.

    “You want the watch?” It was Mr. Butler.

    “Yes!”

    “You got the gold?”

    “Right here.”

    Mr. King handed over his gold, and Mr. Butler, after weighing it in his hand, pulled out his watch and passed it into the greedy hands of Mr. King. Then, with a nod, he turned and walked away.

    This time Mr. King could contain his excitement no longer.

    “Merry Christmas to me!” he shouted, scarcely waiting to shut his front door. “I’ll get Mrs. Stirling’s house in six days and then . . . I’ll have it all.” He smoothed his jacket and straightened his tie before the mirror. “Jeffery Reginald King, you’ll be on top of the world.”

*

    Across town some time later, a knock came on Mrs. Stirling’s door, causing Mrs. Stirling to exchange worried looks with Jenny before answering.

    Pulling the door open, Mrs. Stirling placed a hand over her heart. “Oh!” she gasped. “You startled us. Won’t you come in, gentlemen?”

    Mr. Hill, Mr. Pickett, Travis, and Mr. Butler crowded inside the small but cozy room, taking off their hats as they did so.

    “Ma’am,” Rancher Pickett began, pulling out some money and holding it out to the widow, “we heard you were havin’ some difficulty with your mortgage holder, and we want to help you out.”

    “You helped us many times, ma’am,” Farmer Hill said, offering a stack of bills too.

    “Yep,” and Mr. Butler held out a bag of gold.

    Travis too offered some money. “So take it.”

    With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Stirling accepted the offered gifts. “Dear neighbors, your generosity overwhelms me. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. The Lord has used you to answer our prayers.”

*

    The Sunday before Christmas found the small church in Buffalo Wallow well filled with folks from both the town and the surrounding area. In the back near the door stood Mr. King, his arms folded and a smirk on his face.