CHAPTER 76
080
21 October, 1973
Haven Ridge, Utah
 
‘William, I’m glad we have this chance to talk alone.’ The old man spoke with a frail voice. ‘You know . . . I can see the burning light in you.’
‘Grandfather?’
The old man smiled. ‘You remind me of my own grandfather, ’ he added.
‘What do you mean, the burning light?’
‘The passion, William . . . the passion, the faith, that zeal. The knowledge that you’re special, that God has marked you out for great things.’
William looked out of the window of his grandfather’s study. ‘I do feel a calling,’ he admitted.
‘Yes, I see that in you. You have a talent for communicating the word of God. I’m sorry to say I never had that kind of strength of purpose or faith, and nor does your father. We’ve both been good businessmen, hard workers, and we’ve made plenty of money in Portland and here . . . but there’s something in you that I know will take you so much further.’
William felt it too, in a way.
‘I have something I wish to share with you,’ his grandfather uttered quietly, ‘something I never shared with your father.’
‘What is it?’
The old man turned to look at his grandson - a handsome young man, whose recent devotion to the faith, speaking publicly with such passion that he was becoming a regular attraction at the local temple, made him proud. And . . . it made him feel guilty for merely paying lip service to the church throughout his life.
‘I have a secret.’
William stirred uneasily.
‘It’s to do with our past, our family.’
William knew a little of the family history from his father. ‘You know that my grandfather,’ said the old man, ‘travelled west during the migrations? That his group, under an elder called William Preston, ran into trouble in the mountains?’
William nodded. ‘They got snowed in, didn’t they?’ ‘That’s right, they did. And many people died.’
The old man sat back in his winged chair. It creaked. ‘The only one of them who did manage to make it out of the mountains was my grandfather. He was young and fit . . . otherwise he would have died, I’m sure.’
‘Dad told me the story. He emerged starving and in rags, didn’t he?’
Grandfather nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘Yes, that’s right. I do believe it was his faith alone that saw him through that nightmare.’
‘Faith in God can get you through anything,’ William replied earnestly.
‘Well, see lad, there’s a little more to that tale than you know.’
William sat forward, his curiosity piqued.
‘Preston led his followers out into the wilderness for a reason. He had with him some very special things.’
‘What things?’
His grandfather’s eyes narrowed. ‘Sacred things.’
October Skies
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