“Comin’ through,” a voice drawled. Hosea jumped back to avoid being run over by a wagon driven by a Negro. It was heading in the same direction as the train.
“Pardon me, sir,” Hosea called, jogging after the wagon.
“Whoa,” the man stopped his mule team. “Yessuh?”
“Are you going to Black Creek?”
“Yessuh.”
“Is it far?”
The man shrugged. “’Bout twelve mile. You need a ride?”
Hosea nodded. “I can pay you fare.”
“That’s not necessary. Climb on up here.” He patted the wagon seat.
“You’re very kind.” Hosea started to offer a silent prayer of thanks but remembered he wasn’t speaking to God.
“Gee-up,” the man clicked his mules. “The name’s Moses.”
“Ah, Moses the prophet. I’m Hosea Honeywell, a very minor one. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he stuck out his hand.
Moses shook it with a laugh. “You’re not from around here.”
“No. I hail from a tiny village in England called West Eastleigh. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?”
“Nope,” said Moses.
“I suppose not. It’s only known for an unusual stained-glass window in the church.” He regretted mentioning it, for it reminded him why he was not there.
“What you doin’ so far from home?” Moses asked.
Hosea opened his mouth, but no words came out. How could he explain his situation without sounding like an utter fool?
“That bad, eh? Usually is,” Moses said.
Hosea knew he was a fool. Of course he would sound like one. “I suppose I’ve been named after the wrong minor prophet, because I’m running away from the Lord and what he told me to do, just like Jonah.”
“Lot of folk be doing that, I reckon.”
“Really?” said Hosea. “It never turns out well, does it?”
Moses grinned. “You ain’t the first man done run away from the Lord and you won’t be the last. Thing is, the Lord always gets his way in the end, don’t matter how far you run.”
Hosea sighed. “Denison was to be my last stop and still leave me enough money to go back home, if I dare to.”
“It’s usually the best place to go when you’re not right with God. Go back to the beginning where you done messed up.”
“But what if to go back is to be shamed and disgraced?”
Moses’s bright teeth contrasted with his dark face. “The Lord done despised the shame of the cross and look where it got him. I reckon he’ll help you out. You gots to trust him.”
“Quite so,” Hosea mused. “But—”
“Ain’t no buts about it,” said Moses.
Hosea was quiet for a long time. Should he return to West Eastleigh and obey the Lord? It would be as great a miracle to stand before his congregation with a—he could hardly bear to think of the word!—as a wife as any sign and wonder performed by the prophets and apostles. But did he not believe in miracles? At any rate, the decision must be made soon. His money and his sabbatical were running out.
He was engrossed in this internal debate for quite some time when he suddenly realized that he must seem rude for not speaking to his companion. “It’s a fine day for traveling, is it not?” he struck up a mundane conversation, one safe from his ignominious state of affairs.
“Yessuh, sure is,” Moses agreed. He disliked mundane conversations, so he struck up a song in baritone:
I came from Alabama with my banjo on my knee
I’m going to Louisiana my true love for to see
It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry
The sun so hot I froze to death, Susanna, don’t you cry
Oh! Susanna, Oh don’t you cry for me
I’ve come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee
“Come on now, don’t make me sing by myself,” said Moses.
“I don’t know the words,” said Hosea.
“Just repeat after me: I jumped aboard the telegraph and traveled down the river.”
“I jumped aboard the telegraph and traveled down the river,” Hosea repeated in tenor.
“You gots a fine voice for singing,” said Moses. “The lectric fluid magnified and killed five hundred nigger.”
Hosea nearly lost his seat. “Isn’t there another term we may use to make the song more edifying, especially at the tragic demise of so many people?”
Moses’s eyebrows rose. “You for sure ain’t from around here. What you do for a livin’?”
Hosea’s face burned. “I’m a vicar.”
Moses nodded. “We have more in common than being named after prophets. I’m pastor of Beulahland Baptist.”
“You don’t say. How extraordinary.” Hosea did not believe in coincidences. Was this a sign the Lord was still on speaking terms with him, even though he was not on speaking terms with the Lord?
“I do say,” said Moses and continued singing. “The lectric fluid magnified and killed five hundred darkies.”
Hosea bit his lip. “Perhaps we may find a less descriptive appellation, one that doesn’t signify the color of any man’s skin.”
Moses laughed. “You’re a determined feller, ain’t you?”
The lectric fluid magnified and killed five hundred fellas
The bullgine bust, the horse ran off, I really thought I’d die
I shut my eyes to hold my breath, Susanna, don’t you cry
Oh! Susanna, Oh don’t you cry for me
I’ve come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee
Still singing, Hosea and Moses pulled up to the Black Creek train depot late in the afternoon. The sight of a white man and a black man singing together occasioned many a curious glance.
Hosea climbed down. “Thank you for the ride and the songs . . . and the advice.”
Moses grinned. “You need anything else, you come find me, you hear, Vicar?”
“I do indeed. God bless you.”
Moses slapped the reins and his mules slowly pulled the wagon down the street. Hosea stepped inside the train depot and retrieved his satchel. Knowing the next train to Denison wasn’t due for another three days, he set out to find the hotel the stationmaster recommended.
Black Creek was a small town. The railroad coming through recently was a boon to commerce, but it was still a sleepy place. Besides the train depot, there was a post office, bank, blacksmith, hotel, saloon, and dry goods store set up around a tiny town square, a sorry patch of grass with a community well bordered by hitching posts. The stables, bathhouse, and jail were one street off the square.
“Stubborn fool,” Hosea muttered as he walked down the street. After much soul-baring and soul-searching in Moses’ wagon, he had decided to return to England face the consequences of obeying God. “That’s what I am, running halfway around the world to escape God’s will. Not that I could escape his will. Foolish, foolish man! Well, Lord,” he felt it was all right to talk to God now that he was ready to obey, “for what it’s worth, thank you for not dealing with me as you dealt with Jonah. Being cast into the sea and swallowed by a large fish cannot be agreeable.”
A scream from above interrupted his prayer. He looked up to see a woman rolling off a porch roof and flung out his arms to catch her. The impact knocked him off balance and they tumbled backward into a water trough.
“Let me go!” she struggled to disentangle herself.
Hosea went under as she pushed herself off him. He surfaced, sputtering and coughing, to see who he had rescued. She was taller than most women and had a slender figure. Her long, brown hair was falling out of its braid. Over a dingy white chemise she wore a stained corset and a voluminous skirt.
“Look what you did,” she growled, her eyes dark with rage. “Don’t you know wool shrinks when it gets wet?”
Hosea climbed out of the trough and stood dripping. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to fall into the water, whether your skirt was wool or not.”
“I ain’t
paying you a dime!” a voice shouted. A man with a grizzled beard leaned out a window. Above him was a sign that read Golden Spoke Saloon.
“That’s because a dumb old coot like you can’t count any higher,” she shouted back.
“What did you say?” he yelled.
“You heard me. Nobody throws me out a window and gets away with it!” She stomped over to a horse tied to a railing. “This your horse?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
She untied the horse and slapped its rump. “Hiya! Get out of here!”
“Hey, that’s my horse!”
“You told me already.”
“I’m gonna kill you!” the man howled.
“Gotta catch me first!”
Hosea stared in amazement at this woman who seemed equal parts beauty and anger. “May I be of assistance?”
She wrung out her skirt. “Do I look like I need assistance?”
“Madam, the gentleman appears to be extremely agitated.”
She laughed harshly. “Did you notice that?”
“Allow me to make amends for this accident.”
“You mean dumping me in a water trough?”
Hosea was taken aback. “It was unintentional, I assure you. I’m not in the habit of dumping ladies into water troughs. It’s the first time I’ve ever been inside one.” It was also the first time he held a lady in his arms. He wasn’t sure which caused him more perturbation.
“Do you always talk so much?” she asked.
“Yes, but only on Sundays. I mean, no. I’m quiet under normal circumstances—” He didn’t finish his sentence because the woman turned and ran. “How very peculiar,” he marveled. He had never before encountered such a rude woman.
With a sigh of relief at her departure, Hosea set his hat on his head. A split second later a bullet knocked it off. The shot was followed by the bearded man bursting through the saloon’s doors and pointing his gun in Hosea’s face.
“Which way did she go? Y’all in cahoots to rob me? I’ll blast your head off if ya are.”
“N-no, I don’t even kn-now her,” Hosea stammered. He never before had a gun in his face. It was a day of firsts for the humble village vicar. “She went that way,” he pointed.
The man ran after her, leaving Hosea badly shaken. “I suppose that was my large fish. So be it, Lord. I’ll hurry my return to London to find a wife.”
Hosea hurried first to the hotel before any more ladies fell out of windows onto him. “We’re full,” the manager informed him.
“Is there anywhere else I may find accommodation?” Hosea asked.
“There’s a boarding house halfway to Denison, but I hear it’s full, too.”
“Are there no boarding houses in town?”
“You can try the female boarding house,” the manager winked, “if you can make do with the noise.”
“A female boarding house?” Hosea said. “I daresay it’s an unsuitable place for a gentleman.”
The manager chuckled. “Never stopped a man before.”
“Do you recommend it?” Hosea asked.
“I recommend you leave here.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The manager pointed to the floor. “You’re dripping on the carpet.”
Hosea beat a hasty retreat. He found a sunny spot behind a row of buildings and spent an hour drying out and wondering at the townfolk’s aversion to water before continuing his search. He had quite given up when he glanced through the window of the dry goods store and saw the woman who had fallen on him, dry and appropriately dressed. “I must apologize again,” he decided. “She was greatly distressed by my interference.”
“It’s just two cents,” Hosea heard her say as he entered the shop. “I can pay you the rest tomorrow.”
The woman shopkeeper’s lips pinched. “I don’t extend credit to your kind.”
The other woman seemed as angry as before. “You mean the kind who works hard to survive? We both sell something. What gives you the right to judge me?”
The shopkeeper leaned over the counter. “You can’t have it unless you pay in full and that’s final.”
Though his encounter with the first woman left him in no doubt of her want of a few lessons in etiquette, he felt it his duty as a man and a vicar to help any lady in need. “May I be of assistance?” he asked, too late remembering her reaction the last time he posed the question.
When she turned and saw him, surprise and anger flashed across her face. In the next instance the surprise was on his face, along with the sting of her slap. “Thanks for telling that crazy hick where to find me,” she snapped. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw you pointing at me.”
Being slapped by a woman was the fourth new experience for Hosea that day. “Madam, I apologize, but I’m not in the habit of lying. I believe in always telling the truth.” Not only did he not know how to talk to women, but he was uneducated in the prudence of avoiding their fury.
“Your truth almost got me killed,” she spat, “but as long as your conscience is clear, then by all means, tell a raving lunatic with a loaded weapon my whereabouts.”
The shopkeeper frowned. “Will you please leave? You’re keeping away decent, paying customers.”
Hosea’s nemesis turned on her. “You want decent, paying customers? So do I. That makes us equals and I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”
“You’re two cents short. I’m not selling you it,” the shopkeeper fumed.
Seeing his opportunity, Hosea reached in his pocket and held out two pennies. “Allow me.”
The woman glared. “I don’t want your money.”
“It’s nothing. Please allow me to compensate you for the distress I’ve caused. It’s the least I can do.”
She hesitated. “I can’t pay you back until tomorrow.”
“I don’t want it back.”
He dropped the pennies into her hand as she eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t want anything in return?”
He had an idea. “You could help me in one small matter. I need a place to spend the night.”
The woman thrust the money at him. “That’s not how I do business. I’ll pay back what I owe and nothing more.”
“But I—”
“You’ll get your two cents and nothing else.”
Hosea was confused. “Keep the money. All I meant was that I hoped you could help me procure accommodation for the next two nights. The hotel and boarding house have no vacancies and the next train isn’t due for two days.”
Her eyes narrowed. “All you want me to do is help you find somewhere to sleep?”
He nodded. “That’s all.”
She jingled the change. “No strings attached?”
“Nothing more.”
With a not very nice smile, she slapped the change on the counter. “You got yourself a deal, mister.” She snatched her purchase away from the shopkeeper and yanked Hosea’s arm. “Come on.”
Hosea fell into step beside her. “We’ve not been properly introduced. My name is Hosea Honeywell.”
“Charmed, I’m sure. What brings you to Black Creek?”
He cleared his throat. “A sabbatical. I’m a vicar. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Susanna Gomer. I have a biblical job, too.”
Hosea was surprised. “I’m pleased to hear it. What job would that be? Midwife? Prophetess? Merchant?”
She tossed her head. “You could say that. I’m a purveyor of goods and services.”
“A seamstress?” Hosea guessed.
“It’s one of the oldest professions in the world.”
“Gardener?” He held open the shop door.
“I do deal with dirt.”
Susanna didn’t answer Hosea’s continuing questions as she led him between two buildings. “I don’t understand,” Hosea said when they stopped at a stable.
“You want somewhere to sleep and this is the only place you’re going to find,” Susanna gestured. “
Jesus was born in a stable. Are you better than him?”
“No,” he replied disappointedly.
“That settles it. I held up my end of the deal. Goodbye, Mr. Vicar,” she said.
“Mr. Honeywell,” he corrected, but she was gone.
Hosea spent a miserable night in the hay loft, a bed he shared with what felt like a thousand fleas feasting on his flesh. Eager to escape being their breakfast, he hurried to the hotel the next morning in hopes of finding an available room but was disappointed. He walked the streets, dejected and scratching, wondering if he should ask Moses for a ride or walk back to Denison to board there and wait for the train.
“Hey there, sugar. You look like you didn’t get any sleep,” a buxom woman wrapped in a gaudy, fringed shawl called out from the doorway of the saloon.
Hosea stopped and scratched. “‘It’s rather hard to sleep in a stable.”
“A stable? What’d you sleep there for?” she asked.
“The hotel is full and I’m told the ladies’ boarding house is noisy, so my choices were limited,” he replied.
She giggled. “Noisy? It’s not that bad. This is it right here.”
Hosea looked at the sign, confused. “I beg your pardon, madam. I don’t mean to insinuate you’re noisy.”
She giggled again. “Only sometimes, but don’t you worry your handsome little head about it. Come on inside. By the way, my name’s Edna. I’ll get you settled in straightaway. Say, do you have fleas?”
Hosea squirmed. “It seems I obtained a few little friends in the hay.”
Edna whooped as if she’d never heard anything so funny in her life. “I’ve caught worse things in the hay. Now get along to the bathhouse and wash yourself up real good. I’ll have you a room and some food ready by the time you get back. Go around that corner and you’ll see it.”
“Bless you, Miss Edna. I’m eternally grateful,” Hosea sighed. “You are an angel.” It was the first time he’d ever said something flattering to a woman, even if it was accidental.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart? I ain’t no angel.”
Hosea nodded. “Indeed, it’s true. It’s not my habit to lie, though some would condemn me for it. You are a ministering angel sent from above.”
Edna turned so red from laughing Hosea feared she would faint from the exertion. “I thought I had wings because I’m a soiled dove. Hurry back now and you can talk to me like that for the rest of the day.”
The Vicar Takes a Wife Page 3