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Beads of sweat rolled down Josiah’s spine one after another as the midday sun bore down. Straightening his stiffened back, he pulled the red handkerchief from his dusty pants and swiped it across his face. Taking a moment, he watched a weather-beaten barge glide down the Mississippi River. He thought how lucky he was to still see the mighty river beyond his acres of cotton fields. Not many people in Prosperity could say that anymore—most of them had sold their plots to the ritzy casinos that now dotted the delta and forever changed the landscape of this once sleepy town. Those folks then turned their dividends into mini-marts, restaurants and antique shops so as to cater to the influx of tourist with nothing more than money to burn. They also couldn’t believe why Josiah was bound and determined to hang onto to a prime piece of land that bordered both the new highway and the river. Everyone kept telling him how he could retire a wealthy man if he’d sell out. The men in the expensive suits from the casinos even told him he could live like a king, buy a new house, drive a fancy car, and travel the world—all he had to do was sign a piece of paper. He just smiled and told them how his house was all he needed, and his old truck got him to all the places necessary; those things just didn’t interest him. So, the men decided to convince him that he would enjoy the luxuries of life, and to prove this, they gave him a free night in one of the local resorts, as well as a dinner show and breakfast on them, plus a hundred dollars in tokens to wager. Josiah agreed to see what all the fuss was over. Disappointment filled his heart as soon as he walked into the door. The flashing lights and constant noise of the casino compounded with the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke disgusted him. He shook his head in sadness and thought how wasteful to wager hard-earned money on long shots and pipe dreams. The amount of money most people lost here in one night could pay his bank note for months. He pondered this as he rode the elevator to his suite. Once there, he surveyed the plush surroundings, and then lay down on the bed. Flopping from one side to the other, he couldn’t get comfortable. The familiar squeaks from his own bed were absent, as well as the photograph of his sweet Martha on his nightstand. Again, the ache of her loss pierced his soul as he thought how she would have been tickled to be allowed to spend the night in such posh surroundings. This wasn’t him, though, and he immediately checked out of the hotel and went back to his own home. When the townspeople found out he had declined yet another offer, they were furious. They insisted the money could be used to improve schools and build new roads, and the casinos would bring jobs and new families to the area. Josiah would just smile at them. Bending down and raking his hands through the red clay ground, and crumbling a hard, dry, chunk into dust, he understood their anger; he was all for better schools, but after what he had seen that night in the casino, he didn’t want any new roads or new families invading his part of paradise. Watching the dust fly in the breeze, he again gazed out over the wide river as he thought how prosperous this land had been for him. Not only had he raised mounds of cotton, he had also raised a school teacher, engineer, newspaper columnist, and a preacher’s wife. For him, Prosperity was more than a small town on the Mississippi River; rather, it was what he had made of the life God had given him, and from his point of view, that was worth more than any of those casinos could ever profit.
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