The fence line ran crooked along the north pasture, sagging in places where last winter’s ice had done its quiet damage. Jake Harmon and Eli Turner rode side by side, the early sun just high enough to take the bite out of the morning air. The horses stepped slow and steady, used to this kind of work.
Jake studied Eli for a moment before speaking. “You’ve been a little down in the mouth lately,” he said gently. “You doin’ okay?”
Eli shifted in his saddle. “Yeah… better than I was,” he said after a pause. “That talk we had, you and Mary, and the praying. It helped. More than I expected. But I need something more than mercy and forgiveness.”
Jake nodded, as if he’d known he would.
They dismounted and began working along the fence, replacing a cracked post and tightening wire that had come loose. For a while, the only sounds were the creak of leather and the dull thud of wood meeting earth.
After a few minutes, Eli spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“I’ve noticed something about you and Mary,” Eli said. “You’re steady. Hopeful. Even when the work’s hard and the weather’s bad. I keep thinkin’ I ought to feel that way too—but I don’t know how.”
Jake leaned on his post driver and smiled faintly. “Well,” he said, “I keep my canteen full. Drink from it often.”
Eli let out a short laugh. “I do that too. Always have water with me. Drink when I’m thirsty, refill it with cold river water when it’s empty. That can’t be it.”
Jake chuckled. “I figured you’d say that.”
He reached for his canteen, took a long drink, then capped it and rested it against his saddle. “I wasn’t really talkin’ about this kind of water,” he said. “I was talkin’ about what keeps a man upright on the inside, spiritual water, what Jesus called ‘living water’ when He was at a water well.”
Eli frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I think of the Bible as my spiritual canteen,” Jake said. “I drink from it every day, through prayer and readin’. It’s full of the truth I need to stay steady. Keeps me from dryin’ out when things get rough.”
Eli considered that as he pulled wire tight. “I’ve never read the Bible,” he admitted.
Jake didn’t look surprised. “That’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to start knowin’ everything. Just have to start and keep goin’.”
He swung his saddle forward and reached into the bag. “Matter of fact, I’ve got a spiritual canteen here for you.”
Eli’s eyebrows rose. “You carry extra Bibles around?”
Jake grinned as he pulled one free. “This one’s my GAB.”
“Your what?”
“My Give Away Bible,” Jake said. “Whenever I gab with someone who doesn’t have one, and he seems interested, I give it to them.”
Eli shook his head, half-smiling. “And you just keep them in your saddlebag?”
“Yep. I read it every day, and when it’s time, I pass it on. I’ve got my own Bible back in the bunkhouse that I read too. When on the trail, I read my GAB.”
He handed it to Eli, who took it carefully, like something fragile.
Jake went on. “Truth is, there’s all kinds of voices in the world, pullin’ a man this way and that. Some of ’em sound clever. Some of ’em sound kind. But not all of ’em are true. If you don’t know what’s solid, you’ll get knocked around by every new idea that comes blowin’ through. Jesus said the Spirit moves like the wind, unseen but real. That same Spirit helps a man understand what he reads.”
Eli looked out across the pasture, where the fence now stood straight and firm. “That’s kind of how I’ve felt,” he said quietly. “Like I’ve been gettin’ pushed around or blown around by I don’t know what.”
Jake nodded. “A man who drinks deep from the truth doesn’t tip over so easy. He learns what holds and what doesn’t.”
They finished the last section of fence and mounted up again. Eli slipped the Bible into his coat pocket, patting it once as if to make sure it was real.
“Thanks, Jake,” he said. “I reckon I’ll start drinkin’ from this canteen.”
Jake smiled as they turned back toward the ranch. “Take it slow,” he said. “Just keep it close, and keep comin’ back to it. A full canteen makes a long day a whole lot easier. If you have any questions, ask me. When you’re ready, you can ride with Colt, Mary, and me to church on the buckboard. Most of the hands like to ride their own horses to church.”
The horses walked on, the fence behind them standing firm, quiet proof that steady work and solid truth could hold against more than one kind of storm.
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