The Glovemaker by Ann Weisgarber


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The Glovemaker

The Glovemaker by Ann Weisgarber
English | 2019 | Historical Fiction | ePUB | 1.5 Mb

The Glovemaker : In the inhospitable lands of the Utah Territory, during the winter of 1888, thirty-seven-year-old Deborah Tyler waits for her husband, Samuel, to return home from his travels as a wheelwright. It is now the depths of winter, Samuel is weeks overdue, and Deborah is getting worried.

Deborah lives in Junction, a tiny town of seven Mormon families scattered along the floor of a canyon, and she earns her living by tending orchards and making work gloves. Isolated by the red-rock cliffs that surround the town, she and her neighbors live apart from the outside world, even regarded with suspicion by the Mormon faithful who question the depth of their belief.

When a desperate stranger who is pursued by a Federal Marshal shows up on her doorstep seeking refuge, it sets in motion a chain of events that will turn her life upside down. The man, a devout Mormon, is on the run from the US government, which has ruled the practice of polygamy to be a felony. Although Deborah is not devout and doesn’t subscribe to polygamy, she is distrustful of non-Mormons with their long tradition of persecuting believers of her wider faith.

But all is not what it seems, and when the Marshal is critically injured, Deborah and her husband’s best friend, Nels Anderson, are faced with life and death decisions that question their faith, humanity, and both of their futures.

“We were three days out from Junction when we rounded a bend. We held up our horses quick. Up ahead, a rockslide had taken out the trail.

The slide was at a tight spot on the side of a cliff. Carson and I sat on our horses and looked at the mound of broken rocks. A boulder the size of a barn teetered on the edge of the mound. A spill of rocks, dirt, and spindly trees went over the side and into the ravine far below. Above us, three ravens, their black wings spread wide, dipped and soared on streams of air.

The rockslide gave me a bad feeling. They always did. I took them as a reminder from God that everything, even boulders, could find themselves in places they hadn’t expected.

Looking at the rockslide, Carson said, “Bet it made a ruckus when it all came down.”

“Likely,” I said. “A man would hear it a good ways off.”

“There’s snow between some of the broken rocks. But the sky’s been clear the past week.”

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