The Travels of Increase Joseph: A Historical Novel about a Pioneer Preacher

26. Increase Joseph Recovers

.. Chapter 26 Increase Joseph Recovers April 1872 I ncrease Joseph did not recover quickly from Peshtigo fire injuries. Upon his return to Link Lake he took to his bed. Even with daily selfprescribed doses of the Restorative Tonic and Elwina's loving care, by mid-April he was not yet able to preach to the Standalone Fellowship on Sunday afternoons. As was the policy of the Standalones, anyone had the right and indeed was encouraged to stand before the Fellowship and speak. Almost every Sunday someone filled the breach, with only a few exceptions. Even when no one stood to speak, the Fellowship felt the presence of God all around them in the silence of the round church as they sat for most of an hour, thinking and reflecting, each in his own way. To the surprise of some, Henrietta Bakken, the tall, blue-eyed daughter of the newspaper editor, with hair the color of wheat straw, stood and offered words that she later printed in the family newspaper. One Sunday she spoke for nearly an hour on The Travels of Increase Joseph 225 the simple phrase: "When the road is smooth and the way is clear, hold tight to the reins." She spoke with a strong confident voice, and although not everyone captured the meaning of her message in the depth she had intended, many members came to her and told her how much they appreciated her thoughts. Some members, who never expected a woman to address them, especially one so young, were most surprised with the depth of her wisdom. Two weeks later Henrietta spoke again. With a strong but pleasing voice, she began: "The land is a place to celebrate and a place to mourn. '~ place to laugh and a place to weep. '~ place to work and a place to play. "It is forever the same, yet always changing. "It reminds us ofyesterday, helps us celebrate today and points us toward tomorrow. " There were more laudatory comments. How had this young beauty become so insightful and so poetic? The words she spoke were the thoughts of Increase Joseph, but spoken in a new way, with a careful woman's touch. Little Joe never before heard Henrietta speak before a crowd. He enjoyed her writings in the Link Lake Gazette, but he was even more impressed when she delivered them in person. Little Joe, perhaps more than anyone else in the Fellowship , suddenly noticed how she looked up with her deep blue eyes for emphasis, how she used her graceful hands to make a point subtly, yet forcefully. How she allowed her sometimes melodious voice to rise and then fall, like the waves that lapped the shores of Link Lake. He began to 226 Apps see her in a new way, not just the little girl he teased as a child. After her second talk, he went to thank her and tell her how much he enjoyed what she said, and especially the way she said it. But when her blue eyes looked into his, he couldn't think of a word to say, not one. He stood dumbstruck, and she just smiled before she took one of his hands in hers and said "Thank you for being here, Little Joe." The touch of her warm hand on his sent a shiver through him that he had never before known. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. "I need some advice," she said. "Would you meet me by the lake in a little while? I want you to read something that I wrote for the newspaper." "Sure, sure ..." Little Joe stammered. Later the two were seen walking along the shores of Link Lake as the warm spring sun was setting across the water. It appeared that Henrietta was doing all the talking. Another Sunday, Jacob Ornsby, who twenty years earlier stood up and proclaimed his dislike for mosquitoes, took the opportunity to return to the theme that apparently was still on his mind. "I wish to once more take this opportunity to talk about God's big mistake. Creating the blood sucking, sleep preventing, skin stinging mosquito. I know deep in his bosom, God must know that creating mosquitoes was a blunder. But why, after all these years, why hasn't he done something about them? Rid the country of them! Send them into oblivion, or at least move them to Willow River...