Hosea rode up the mountain on Patches with the boy James clinging to his backside. The sun bathed the red boulders with a fiery hue and the morning mist dissolved in front of them, as the heavens opened a path for them to the cemetery on a ridge.

Half the men in town were buried on the ridge when the mine exploded. But for James, it was a much bigger blow. His own mother couldn't accept the death of his father. She'd thrown herself off a cliff nearby. Talk in town was, her restless spirit wandered among the graves looking for her husband. Hosea was determined to put the boy's mind at ease. The preacher's heart was about to burst at the seams. He'd rescue the boy from Purgatory, even if his life depended on it.

Near halfway, Hosea turned his horse broadside where he and James looked down at the town of Purgatory. It gave them a bird's eyes view of the church bell hoisted by a series of ropes to the top of the church building.


Lydia, the baker's daughter had found some God-fearing souls camped along Silver Creek who were impressed by the mercy shown to the orphan boy by the preacher, they decided the gold-digging could wait for a spell. It turned out there was a remnant of souls who could be found.

Hosea craned his neck around and spoke to James. "I will let you pull the cord on the bell come this Sunday."

James cracked a smile. "They look like ants."

Hosea sighed and breathed in the crisp morning air. "The higher you go, boy, the less big and important it all seems."

"You suppose it is how God sees things?"

Hosea squeezed one eye. "Well now. I can tell you're a thinker. But it's more than God having a bird's eye view. It's all about what he sees inside of us. It's him who knows and sees the end from the beginning."

Hosea kicked the side of Patches and turned the horse up the trail and over one of the mountain brooks until the cemetery was in view. Yards away was an old miner's shack with holes for windows where the young boy had made his home.

Hosea slipped off his horse where he took James into his arms. The horse found some patches of grass between smooth rocks and seemed to be contented.

The boy took Hosea by the hand through unmarked graves until he came to a place where James had fashioned two sticks together with an old shoelace to make a cross. Near some mossy ground, the boy found some blooming flowers. He plucked them and made a hasty bouquet.

Among the hastily made graves with barely enough dirt to cover bones, James knelt down where his parents had been buried together as one. James had carved his last name, Miller. He gently laid the dandelions on the mound of earth and bowed prostrate as if to plead to an unknown God.

Hosea's shadow with a wide-brimmed hat shielded the boy from the sun. He placed his gloved hands on the boy's shoulders. "I don't know if your folks can look down from heaven, but I know they'd be right proud of you."

The boy craned his neck and looked at Hosea where a tear stung his eye and trickled down his pale face. He turned back as if his folks were somehow stuck there beneath the dirt and dust.

Hosea rested both hands on the boy and squeezed. Tears pressed against his eyes. "You need to know this is your memory place, to honor and pay respect, but that they are yonder. Their spirits are at peace."

As Hosea squeezed his shoulders again, a kind of liquid love, a spiritual baptism coursed through him until It seemed to send shivers through the boy, who shuddered a bit.

James stood on wobbly knees. "Ma and Pa. I aim to make you proud. I promise to do my best to stay out of trouble. I'm in good hands now. Preacher says I need to live my purpose."

With those words, the preacher fell back to his knees, as if struck by lightning. He clutched his chest and erupted with a wave of emotions. The boy's words brought back to life the moment he'd stuck his hands in the fire of his home back in Chicago. His hands were burned when he passed out. But he was unable to save his wife and daughters.

It scared the boy. He must have feared Hosea was having a heart attack. He rallied toward him, as Hosea writhed on the ground. "Reverend don't die on me too! Don't you dare leave me! Tell me what to do!"

For a moment Hosea couldn't speak, overwhelmed with the thoughts of his own despair from the past. He looked up at James and saw his desperation. He saw unconditional love. The boy didn't care who he was in the past and his failures that could have been read like a scroll. He reached upward and clutched his collar. James helped him up.

"I'm all right. This town needs us. We have to warn them. Someday you will understand. From here on out, we walk by faith and not by sight."

**
James thought he spoke in riddles. Afterall from the plateau they had a crisp, sunny view of the whole town and beyond where men mined for gold along Silver Creek. He couldn't imagine closing his eyes and surviving the trail down the mountain.