Free A Vote of Confidence by Robin Lee Hatcher Page B

beside him.
    “I don’t know when it happened. When everyone’s workin’, it makes for a racket. All the hammerin’ and such. Still, ’tis hard
     to believe we never heard a thing.”
    “Heard what?”
    Just as Morgan asked that question, they reached one of the larger storage sheds — the one holding the window glass that had
     arrived by freight wagon two weeks earlier. Fagan yanked open the door. Morgan stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, he felt his stomach sink. Shattered
     glass lay everywhere.
    “Not a whole pane left amongst ’em,” Fagan said.
    Morgan stepped deeper into the shed. Glass crunched under his shoes.
    Who did this? Is it related to what happened up at the dam?
    As if reading his mind, Fagan said, “Young boys up to a bit of mischief, I’m thinkin’. The shed door wasn’t locked, though
     I promise it will be from here on in.”
    Morgan drew a deep breath as he turned to face his friend. “I’ll order more windows as soon as I’m back to town.” He stepped
     outside into the sunlight. “In the meantime, we’d better hire some guards with dogs to help patrol the site.”
    “Aye .”
    It wasn’t the cost of replacing the glass that bothered Morgan nearly as much as the time it would cost them. Each delay piled
     on top of another. Sometimes it felt to him as if the resort would never be completed.
    The two men headed back toward the lodge.
    “Did I make a mistake, Fagan?”
    “What mistake would that be?”
    Morgan rubbed his forehead. “Believing I should build this resort in Idaho where I don’t know anyone. Right now it seems like
     the whole world is working against us.”
    “ ‘Fagan,’ me blessed mother used to say, ‘don’t be bangin’ your shin against a stool that isn’t there.’ ” He raised an eyebrow.
     “God almighty has spoken to your heart, Morgan McKinley. So you’ve told me and so I believe. Quit doubtin’ yourself. ’Tis
     not like you.”
    His friend was right. It wasn’t like him. Morgan usually had an abundance of confidence. Maybe the frustrations of the past few weeks had cracked his self-assurance. Or maybe he just
     needed a few good nights of sleep. He hadn’t slept well since moving to town.
    The two men completed a survey of the lodge, the bathhouse, and the pools. Morgan made some notes to himself, including one
     about another visit to the municipal building to inquire again about land-use permits, variances, and options to buy.
    An hour later, his business finished, he mounted his horse and rode toward Bethlehem Springs. He let the gelding have its
     head while his thoughts continued to churn and tumble, while he worried and fretted about construction delays and vandalism
     and manpower and mounting costs.
    But eventually the calm of the forest that surrounded him seeped into his consciousness. He reined in, bringing the horse
     to a standstill, and stared at the towering pines that swayed and whispered in a gentle breeze.
    Then shall the trees of the wood sing out at the presence of the Lord
,
because he cometh to judge the earth. O give thanks unto the L ORD
;
for he is good
;
for his mercy endures forever.
    He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, the tension going with it. “Your mercy endures forever.”
    A Steller’s jay swooped across the road only a few feet in front of him, causing the horse to sidestep and toss his head.
     The bird landed on a branch of a nearby ponderosa pine. A moment later, it was joined by another, their dark-blue feathers
     in striking contrast to the yellow-green of the pine tree’s needles.
    Then shall the trees of the wood sing out at the presence of the Lord!
    Morgan nudged the gelding’s sides with his heels and started down the road once again.
    The delays in construction were irritating but not critical. Replacing the window glass would take both time and money, but
     not an insurmountable sum of either. He needed to relax and trust God. Keep