The Shepherd's Voice

Robin Lee
HATCHER

THE SHEPHERD’S VOICE

To the Good Shepherd,

My Lord and King,

Who took me from where I was,

brought me to where I am,

and, praise the Lord, isn’t finished with me yet.

May the stories I write please You, Jesus,

for if they don’t, they are without merit of any kind.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Come Home

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

EPILOGUE

A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR

Praise

A
LSO BY
R
OBIN
L
EE
H
ATCHER

Copyright

About the Publisher

Share Your Thoughts

Come Home

Wandering child,

I am here.

I am near.

I speak.

Do you listen?

Arms open wide,

I wait.

I call.

I woo.

I weep.

No matter how far you run,

How high you climb,

How low you sink,

I do not change,

Nor does My love for you.

Return today.

Heed the Shepherd’s voice.

Come home, My child.

Come home.

R.L.H.

ONE

J
ULY
1934

Gabe Talmadge felt the backside of his navel rubbing against his spine. An interesting sensation, he thought before losing consciousness.

He ran from the darkness. He always ran
,
and it always followed. There was no escaping it. There never would be. The darkness would always be with him
,
hovering nearby
,
waiting to encompass him
,
enfold him
,
devour him. It would be easy to let it overtake him
,
to allow it to …

“Are you hurt?”

The soft, feminine voice came from a great distance.

“Mister?”

A hand slipped beneath his head. A small hand, with a touch as gentle as the voice.

“Can you hear me?”

Gabe opened his eyes. A shadowy form leaned forward, the bright light of midday glaring behind the woman, blinding him.

“Here. Take a drink.”

His head was lifted slightly, and something cool touched his
lips. Water trickled down his chin. Covering the woman’s hand with his own, Gabe steadied the canteen, then drank deeply.

“Easy. Not too fast.”

His thirst momentarily slaked, he closed his eyes. “Thanks.”

“We should get you into the shade. It’s powerful hot today. Can you stand?”

“Yes,” he answered, although he wasn’t as confident as he tried to sound.

Holding his arm, she helped him sit up. “Don’t hurry. Take your time.”

He thought he could feel the earth turning on its axis, and he gritted his teeth against the sensation.

“Ready?” his angel of mercy asked.

He opened his eyes a second time. “Ready.” As he rose to his feet, the woman slipped beneath his arm, close against his side, taking his weight upon herself. It was humiliating to be this weak. His mind raged against it, as it had raged against countless degradations in the past, but rage changed nothing, then or now.

He glanced down. He could see little besides a floppy-brimmed straw hat above a narrow set of shoulders.

“We’re going over there.” She pointed with her free arm toward a good-sized birch tree. “Careful. We’ll go slow. Take your time. Not too fast.”

He could have told her not to worry—he was unable to do anything fast.

Except fall to the ground in a dead faint …

Which he promptly did.

Well, Lord. What do I do with him now?

Akira Macauley rolled the stranger onto his back. It was difficult
to judge his age, given the shaggy black beard covering gaunt cheeks. There were holes in the bottoms of his boots, and the knees of his trousers were threadbare. Both he and his clothes needed a good washing, but Akira guessed cleanliness didn’t mean much when one was going hungry.

I hope this hobo’s not the one You sent
,
Lord. He’s nothing but a rack of bones. I could make better use of a man who knows sheep
,
if that wouldn’t be too much to ask.

With a shake of her head, she said aloud, “He’ll be even less use if he dies.”

She stood, grabbed hold of both his wrists, then walked backward, dragging him toward the shade. Despite his rawboned appearance, he weighed enough to make the going hard. Sweat rolled down her spine.

The stranger groaned.

“We’re nearly there,” she said.

Reaching the cool shadows beneath a leafy green tree, Akira lowered his arms with a sigh of relief.

He groaned again as his eyelids fluttered and eventually opened.

She dropped to her knees beside him and leaned forward, waiting for his vision to clear. When she thought he could see her, she said, “Give yourself a moment. You’re weaker than a newborn lamb.” She glanced over her shoulder and pointed at the canteen where she’d left it. “Cam, fetch.”

Her collie, who’d patiently observed all the goings-on from a short distance, jumped up and raced to obey her mistress’s command.

Akira returned her attention to the stranger. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Days?”

He nodded.

How’d he get so lost
,
Lord? He’s a long way from the rails. And any man who could get that turned around would serve me no purpose. I’d spend all my time looking for him in the hills. You must see I’m right about that. Surely You’ve got a better way of answering my prayers than sending a shepherd who can’t find his way.

Cam delivered the canteen, and Akira offered it to the stranger.

“Thanks.”

With her help, he sat up, then opened the canteen and lifted it to his mouth. He took small gulps this time, washing the water around inside his mouth before swallowing. Finally he lowered the canteen and met her watchful gaze.

Something twisted in her belly, a reaction to the stark emptiness in his brown eyes. She didn’t think she’d seen anything so sad in all her born days.

Dear Jesus
,
he’s lost in more ways than one
,
isn’t he?

“How far am I from Ransom?” His voice sounded utterly hopeless.

Still reeling from what she’d seen in his eyes, she couldn’t think clearly enough to answer him.

“I’m on the right road, aren’t I? For Ransom?”

She swallowed. “Yes. You’re on the right road. Ransom’s a bit more than fifteen miles to the north.” She frowned. “But if you’re looking for work at the lumbermill you needn’t bother. There’s no work to be had.”

He turned his head, judging the short distance to the tree, then slowly inched himself closer to it, stopping when he could rest his back against the trunk. He closed his eyes again.

“No work at the mill,” he whispered.

“No.”

“But it’s still there?”

“The mill? Yes, it’s still there.”

Silence fell between them. He kept his eyes closed, and she kept hers trained on him.

There’s no work for him in these parts. He’ll turn around and go back the way he came. As well he should. Look at him.

Yea, look at him.

But
,
Lord …

For I was hungry, and ye gave Me to eat; I was thirsty, and ye gave Me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took Me in.

“What’s your name?” he asked, breaking into her silent conversation with the Lord.

“Akira. Akira Macauley.”

He opened one eye. “Akira?”

“It’s Scottish. Means anchor. My grandfather wanted me to have a strong name so I wouldn’t be afraid of life, so I’d have a reminder of where to find my Anchor. He placed great store in the meaning of names, my grandfather.”

“Mmm.” The stranger’s eyelid closed.

“And your name?”

“You can call me Gabe.”

“Gabe. Short for Gabriel?” She smiled. “Gabriel—a strong man of God.”

Eyes wide open now, he gave her a look that was anything but friendly.

“That’s the meaning of your name,” she explained.

“You’re mistaken, Miss Macauley. That’s the last thing my name could mean.”

She knew she wasn’t mistaken, but something in his dark countenance warned her not to argue.

“I’ll fetch my horse and take you to my place. Get you
something to eat.” She stood, brushing the grass and dirt from the knees of her overalls.

“You don’t have to bother. I’ve troubled you enough. I can get to Ransom on my own.”

Lord, I have a feeling the trouble’s yet to begin. Why is that?

She turned toward the road. “Mister, you couldn’t make it fifteen yards, let alone fifteen miles.”

With a shake of her head, she strode away, away from the stranger whose brown eyes were filled with indescribable pain, away from the man who denied the meaning of his name.