Chapter 15: The Unbroken Horizon
The evening sun began its slow descent behind the western ridges of the Scioto Valley, bathing the river meadows in a vast, luminous sea of amber, rose, and molten gold.
The water of the Scioto River flowed peacefully through the millrace, turning the great wooden waterwheel that had sawn timber for generations of honest builders.
Lucas and Clara walked hand in hand along the grassy riverbank, holding four-year-old Thomas skipping between them.
Ahead of them, the heavy white-oak timbers of the covered bridge glowed warm in the evening light, its cedar roof sheltering the crossing as local farm families walked home after a day of honest labor.
Lucas stopped at the water's edge, looking out over the bustling timber academy, the thriving organic fields, and the sturdy roofs built by hands that worked for the common good.
He looked down at his own strong, scarred hands, then looked up into the boundless, cloudless blue sky stretching over the Ohio hills.
May you like
The false debts were gone. The cellar was empty.
All that remained was the sacred ground—held by honest love, consecrated by daily service to others, and standing strong against every storm in the eternal, unbroken light of day.
