Preparing the Guest Cabins

The morning whistles had scarcely faded when Jacob Yoder gathered the carpenters, plumbers, masons, and glassworkers outside the row of twelve visitor cabins.

The buildings already stood complete.

Now came the careful work.

Jacob removed his broad-brimmed hat and looked slowly from one cabin to the next.

"Anyone can build a cabin," he said.

"Our job today is to make our guests feel welcome."

The men nodded.

No one reached for a hammer until Jacob continued.

"Walk through every room."

"If something catches your eye..."

"...fix it."

The crews spread out.

One team mixed mortar while another carried neatly fired bricks from the brickworks.

Jacob knelt beside the first cabin doorway.

"The dirt will wash away."

"The mud won't."

One by one, brick steps were carefully laid before every entrance, each tread leveled and checked until the wagons could unload passengers without stepping into wet ground after a rain.

Nearby, another crew climbed ladders to the gravity-fed water tanks mounted behind the cabins.

Each tank was tested.

Every valve opened and closed.

Water flowed through the shower pipes exactly as planned.

Mike Wilson smiled as the first shower filled the room with a steady stream of clear artesian water.

"And if someone prefers a warm bath," he said, patting the small firebox beneath the storage tank, "a few sticks of firewood will heat enough water for everyone."

Rebecca stepped inside the first cabin carrying a bundle wrapped in white cloth.

The women followed behind her.

Each room received fresh towels folded neatly upon the washstand.

Soft pillows were placed at the head of every bed.

Two warm blankets were spread across each mattress before being folded with care.

"No traveler ever complained about having an extra blanket," Rebecca said with a smile.

In every bathroom a large porcelain wash basin rested upon a sturdy wooden stand.

Beside each toilet stood a covered wooden bucket filled with powdered lime.

Rebecca placed a small wooden scoop on top.

"A scoop after each use," she explained.

"It keeps the room fresh for the next guest."

The women nodded in agreement.

Across the lane, Jake and the glassworkers inspected every window.

One by one they washed each pane until it sparkled beneath the gentle light of the Glove.

Then Jake dipped a cloth into a small container of soft soap.

Instead of cleaning the glass, he rubbed a thin film along the wooden window channels.

One window after another slid smoothly upward.

"There," Jake said with satisfaction.

"A good window should never argue with the person opening it."

Outside, the carpenters slowly moved from cabin to cabin.

Hands slid along every railing.

Across every windowsill.

Along every door frame.

Whenever a rough edge caught a sleeve or scratched a fingertip, a plane or sanding block quickly followed.

Tiny curls of wood drifted to the floor.

"Visitors shouldn't leave here with splinters," one carpenter remarked.

"They should leave with good memories."

Edward Harris checked every chair.

Every table.

Every bedframe.

Nothing rocked.

Nothing squeaked.

Nothing wobbled.

If a leg stood uneven upon the floor, it was corrected before anyone noticed.

By midafternoon the twelve cabins stood ready.

Samuel, Rebecca, Buck Rogers, Galileo Maestro, and Nord quietly walked through each one.

They said very little.

Samuel paused inside the final cabin and slowly looked around the room.

Simple furniture.

Fresh bedding.

Clear windows.

Clean water.

Warm showers.

Brick steps.

Everything a traveler might need.

Nothing a traveler did not.

Rebecca smiled.

"I think I'd be happy staying here."

Buck laughed.

"Then we've done something right."

Galileo rested his hand upon the window frame.

"We've built more than cabins."

Samuel nodded.

"We've built the first welcome Earth has ever offered the stars."

Outside, the evening bell echoed across the valley.

The workers quietly gathered their tools.

Tomorrow would bring another day of building.

But tonight twelve little cabins stood waiting.

Not for kings.

Not for ambassadors.

Not for conquerors.

They waited for guests.

And on The Good Earth, guests were treated like neighbors long before they became friends.