Caleb decided to spend the night at Mrs. Olson’s house. It was too late to visit the general store and see about a bed, and it was too late to hire a wagon to move his trunks to the new building, and besides, he might be running low on funds, but he didn’t want to short her of anything that was her due. She wouldn’t be taking in boarders if she didn’t need the money, after all.
He found his hostess sitting in the parlor knitting by lamplight, and he paused on his way to his room to speak with her. “I found a building to rent, and I’ll be moving there tomorrow,” he said. “Tonight’s my last night, and I appreciate your hospitality.”
She gave him a nod. “I’m glad you were comfortable here, Mr. Baker.”
“I have been. And . . .” He pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to leave her feeling unsafe in any way . . . “I owe you an apology.”
“You do? Whatever for?”
“I . . . realized that I must have dreamed the intruder in my room. I was so very tired when I got here, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m sorry to have put you through all the fright.”
She looked at him with wide eyes, and then she started to laugh. “Oh, dear,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You dreamed it all?”
“I must have drifted off while I was unpacking,” he said lamely. Could he get in trouble with angels for lying about them, even if it was for a good cause? “I’ll let the deputy know as well. I feel so foolish for wasting everyone’s time.”
“Oh, goodness, Mr. Baker. That’s the best laugh I’ve had in quite some time, and I thank you for it. I haven’t had a lot to laugh about these days.” She wiped her eyes again, smiling. “And Patty will be so relieved. I believe she took one of the kitchen knives to bed with her tonight—I’d best go tell her so she can get a good night’s sleep.” She rose from her chair, sitting her yarn and needles off to the side. “We’ll make sure you have a hot breakfast before you leave tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Caleb climbed the stairs to his room, feeling sheepish. What a mess he was in—and now he was lying in order to cover the fact that he’d been talking to angels. Perhaps he should just pack up and go back to Cheyenne. What he really wanted was to go back home to Chicago, but the family home had been sold when his parents passed away, and there was nowhere for him to go.
He was surprised, and yet not surprised, to find Adolphus Waverly sitting on the chair in his room when he opened the door.
“So, you’ve spoken to Mr. Thurgood, and he vouched for my veracity,” the angel said, crossing one gray-suited leg over the other.
Caleb closed his door, sure that neither of the ladies would be able to hear Mr. Waverly, but that they would be able to hear Caleb. That would be very difficult to explain. “Yes, I did speak to him.” He crossed the floor and sat on the bed, quite unsure what to say to this . . . angel. “So . . . what now?”
“What now? What do you mean, what now?”
“Mr. Thurgood said you’d have more information for me about what I’m supposed to be doing.” Caleb paused. “Like, my quest here or something.”
Mr. Waverly tilted his head to the side. “You’ve decided to accept your assignment, have you?”
“Well, I figured, if you were going to take the time to come here and talk to me, I’d be foolish not to listen, and I’ve already been foolish many times over today.”
“And so you are taking your foolishness and turning it into wisdom. That’s simply splendid. I wish everyone would do that.” Mr. Waverly contemplated him. “May I use you as an example in future?”
Caleb blinked. “I . . . suppose so?”
“Splendid,” Mr. Waverly said again. “And now that we’re both working toward the same objectives, let’s discuss just what those objectives should be.”
“I’m ready to listen.”
“Good. As I indicated earlier, your task is to use your gifts to bless the lives of others.” He sat back and studied Caleb as though he’d just told him everything he needed to know.
“I’m not sure what that means,” Caleb said after waiting for a moment to see if the man would say more.
“It means that as you develop your craft, you’ll find ways to uplift and encourage. You must use every opportunity to share a kind word or a kind deed.”
Caleb thought about that. He’d always considered himself a generally thoughtful person, but he’d never gone about purposely looking for people to help. “How will I know if someone needs a kind word or a deed? I suppose sometimes that’s obvious, but other times, people can be hurting and we don’t know it.”
Mr. Waverly beamed. “My boy, you’ve grown more in the last day than I ever would have hoped or dreamed! My goodness—I do believe you’re going to be my star pupil.”
“I am?”
“You are! Look at how deftly you honed in on the problem—yes, indeed, many people are hurting without our knowledge. Perhaps a loved one is ill. Perhaps they are concerned about their finances. Perhaps they are lonely. Our task, then, is to look into their eyes and determine what they are really feeling—and you, my boy, are uniquely talented in that way.”
“At looking into people’s eyes?”
“And finding the emotion within.” Mr. Waverly reached out and tapped the lid of Caleb’s trunk. “Photography, boy! When you take a portrait, what are you doing?”
“Looking into their eyes,” Caleb said, beginning to understand.
“Precisely. You’ve been exercising this gift for years—now it’s a matter of practicing it in a different medium. You can hardly go around taking everyone’s pictures, but you can use a different lens—the lens of your own eyes—to study them.”
Caleb sat back and pondered that. “I’ve never considered that,” he said at length.
“Which is why I was sent,” Mr. Waverly pointed out. “But as you do this, as you seek to know what a person is feeling and then you find ways to uplift them, not only will you be blessing their lives, but your own as well. You already got off to a nice start with the waitress this evening.” He leaned forward and looked at Caleb earnestly. “Right now, what the world needs more than anything are those who are willing to love one another regardless of personal inconvenience.”
“I . . . I’ll try,” Caleb said. He felt the truth of the angel’s words settle into his heart as he spoke. “I’ll do it,” he amended, this time with more conviction.
“I’m very pleased.” Mr. Waverly stood up. “I’ll be on my way, then. Oh, and no, you’re not in trouble for telling Mrs. Olson that you dreamed me up. I think that’s a clever way to apologize for the fact that you called the marshal’s office on me.” His mouth twitched as though trying to hide a smile.
“About that . . . I really am sorry,” Caleb said. “Under the circumstances . . .”
“Yes, those pesky circumstances. Thank you for trying to set it right, and we’ll leave it at that.” Mr. Waverly gave a nod, and then disappeared. He didn’t fade out or walk away—he was just gone, like blinking an eye.
Caleb sat there for a long minute, trying to absorb everything he’d just been told. Then he slowly nodded. He could do that. He could be one of those who simply loved.
***
The next morning, when Caleb headed down the stairs, he found a bountiful breakfast waiting on the table, and Patty bustling around the kitchen humming a tune. “Mr. Baker, I must say how relieved I was to hear about your confession last night,” she said as she poured him some coffee. “It took a lot of courage to admit that you were wrong, but it was the right thing to do. I didn’t think I’d ever sleep again believing there was a strange man lurking around our house.”
Caleb smiled. Her words brought back those feelings of foolishness he’d experienced the day before, but he was prepared to live them down. “Thank you for your patience and understanding, Patty.” He paused for a moment, contemplating her. “And thank you for preparing me this lovely breakfast. I can tell that you went out of your way.”
She blushed. “Why, thank you, Mr. Baker. I wanted you to have a little something nice, being our first boarder and all.”
“It’s very nice indeed.” He ate until he was full, and then ate just a little more because it was so delicious. Then he thanked her again, grabbed his coat and hat, and headed outside, ready to start the next phase of his adventure.
He located a wagon to rent at the livery stable in town, where a man named Otto gave him a fair deal. Then he headed over to the general store. A kindly woman greeted him as he entered, introducing herself as Toria Jackson.
“Mrs. Jackson, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Caleb Baker, and I’m in great need of a bed.”
She helped him select a tick, told him where to arrange for straw, and promised that when he was ready, she’d help him order in a bed frame—or introduce him to someone who could build one out of wood. She answered all his questions graciously, but still, she seemed a bit anxious. Caleb thanked her, then paused.
“Mrs. Jackson, is there anything I can do for you? You’ve been so generous with your time—how can I repay the favor?”
She seemed taken aback. “I actually could use some help,” she said. “My husband and his son are both gone today, and there’s a very heavy barrel in the center of the storeroom—it was delivered and just set there with no thought, and I’ve been edging around it all day. It’s most inconvenient.”
“I’m more than happy to help. Point me in the right direction.”
It took Caleb less than five minutes to maneuver the barrel over to the side of the storeroom where it would no longer be in the way, and Mrs. Jackson thanked him, a wide smile on her face. “I know it seems silly that it would bother me so much, but we’ve had a busy day and I’ve had to go back into that storeroom a dozen times, and it was just adding to my frustration.”
“Sometimes those little things are the most irritating of all.” He told her he’d be back in a little while to pick up the tick, and then he was on his way to his next errand, the one he dreaded the most—talking to the deputy.