The Vicar Takes a Wife

by Victoria Kovacs

  “Soiled dove? I’m not familiar with that term.”

  “I’ll explain it to you later. Now get along. I don’t want to catch any of your fleas.”

  Hosea was enjoying a long soak in a steaming copper-lined wooden tub (as were his infested clothes) when Susanna saw Edna carrying a tray of food into a room.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Getting breakfast for a feller with a funny accent who’s gonna stay here,” Edna said.

  Susanna frowned. “Where is he?”

  “I shooed him along to the bathhouse. He was full of fleas from sleeping in a stable. He’s mine, so hands off—”

  Edna hadn’t finished her sentence before Susanna was flying down the stairs. Judson, the saloon owner, grabbed her arm at the door. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  Susanna tried to shake him off. “I have business to take care of.”

  He squeezed her arm. “Your business is upstairs. You’re behind on what you owe.”

  Susanna glared. “Like you need more money.”

  Judson raised his arm to backhand her but refrained. Whores who were roughed up didn’t pull in as much business as the unblemished ones. Susanna knew this, which was why she didn’t cower. She wrested herself free.

  “Get back here before the hour’s up. Don’t make me come looking for you,” Judson warned.

  Hosea was reaching over the edge of the tub for a towel when Susanna whipped aside the privacy curtain. He yelped and dropped the towel into the water.

  “Why are you staying at the Spoke?” she demanded.

  “Miss Gomer, you find me at a disadvantage,” he said, draping the towel over as much of him as possible.

  “I’ve seen worse. Why are you staying at the Spoke?”

  Hosea tried to submerge himself, an impossible feat because he was so tall. “Miss Edna persuaded me to stay there and I’ve taken up her suggestion as an amenable substitute for the stable. Besides, I’ve rid myself of the fleas acquired there and have no intention of returning for more.”

  Susanna was surprised by his sudden obstinacy. “You’ll catch more than fleas at the Spoke. Our deal still stands. I showed you a decent place to sleep in return for your two cents. You aren’t getting anything more.”

  Hosea bristled, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. “Not that I would ever disagree with a lady, but the stable wasn’t decent. As there is nowhere else to stay at present, I shall avail myself of the hospitality of the ladies’ boarding house.”

  “Female boarding house,” she corrected, “and you did disagree with me.”

  “I did not. I was merely pointing out the disadvantages of the stable.”

  “Yes, you did,” Susanna put her hands on her hips.

  “I did no such thing,” Hosea said.

  “Liar.”

  “I say!” He’d never been the recipient of such a bold accusation, let alone from a woman. The sensation was altogether unpleasant.

  “Yes,” her brown eyes snapping, “you’ve said quite enough.”

  She left Hosea to wring out his towel and decipher her behavior. He didn’t understand women and the interview did nothing to clarify his confusion.

  He was still scratching his head—from puzzlement, not fleas—when he walked back to the Golden Spoke. Susanna, tending bar and sipping whiskey, ignored him.

  Edna was all smiles as she drew her arm through his. “Right this way, mister. You never told me your name.”

  “Hosea Honeywell.”

  She giggled. “What a sweet name, but you always did talk sweet. I took a tray of food to your room, Mr. Honeywell.”

  Hosea felt vindicated by Edna’s preferential treatment of him in front of Susanna, whose own treatment of him was decidedly lacking in graciousness. “How very thoughtful of you, Miss Edna—the angel of mercy,” he added.

  Susanna rolled her eyes while Edna laughed. “I wish all my customers was like you.”

  “Customers? You’re a purveyor of goods, like Miss Gomer?” he asked.

  Edna laughed louder. “There you go again, being clever. What are you, anyway?”

  “I’m a vicar,” said Hosea.

  “A what?”

  “He means a preacher,” said Susanna.

  Edna’s eyes grew wide. “I ain’t never had a preacher before. Hope God don’t strike me dead.”

  “Strike you dead? No, indeed,” said Hosea. “For whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward.”

  “I didn’t give you water,” Edna said. “It tastes bad around these parts. You look like the cider type, so I got you a mug.”

  As they climbed the stairs, Hosea looked around the saloon. It was a narrow building with the bar stretching across one wall with a long mirror behind it. Opposite it was the staircase, with several tables in between. In the back was a piano. Animal heads were mounted on the walls, along with a few paintings and photographs.

  “I suppose you must meet a lot of cowboys and Indians since this is Texas?” he inquired, thinking of Lady Godfrey’s penny dreadfuls.

  “Lordy, no. I don’t like entertaining cowboys, them being so dirty from the trail and all, and those Comanches had best stay on their side of the Red River where they belong. The regulars are mostly Germans. There’s a whole bunch of ’em in town, but I can’t understand a word they say, what with all those goots and yaws they’re always yaking on about.”

  “Entertaining? Are you a performer in the theater?” Hosea asked.

  Susanna choked on her whiskey.

  “Performer, angel, whatever name you like best.”

  Hosea felt at ease with her jovial manner. It made it easy to talk to her. He felt he could even wax eloquent. “Don’t forget I said sacred dove to describe your attentive ministrations.”

  Edna hooted. “Mr. Honeywell, you are the darndest man I’ve ever did meet. You make me feel right proud to be a bawd.”

  Hosea stopped. “A what?”

  “A bawd,” she repeated. “Like you said, performer, angel, sacred dove.”

  With a revelation no less stupendous than that which struck the apostle Paul on the road to Damascus, Hosea began to calculate a problem in his head. He added the phrase female boarding house to Edna’s rather provocative attire, plus Susanna’s claim to one of the world’s oldest professions. The sum made his blood run cold.

  “Do you mean you cater to clientele who wish to—that this is a habitation for—that this establishment is a—” He could hardly bring himself to speak the truth.

  “Brothel,” Susanna finished his question. “Bawdy house. Den of iniquity.”

  Edna gave a low whistle. “Mister, I ain’t never heard anyone say so many long words before. You must be real smart. Maybe you can help me learn my letters. I always did want to learn my letters, and so do some of the other gals. Maybe you can be our schoolmarm, except you’re not a marm because you’re a man. See? If I knew my letters, I’d know what to call you.”

  Swallowing the lump in his throat as well as his pride, Hosea looked at Susanna. She had tried to warn him. She was right to take him to the stable. She, too, was an angel of mercy whose efforts to save him from error were in vain. Oh, if only he had obeyed the Lord in London, he wouldn’t be in Texas or in such an unseemly predicament. He was a foolish, foolish man.

  All this was written on his face as Susanna saluted him with her whiskey. “The stable’s looking more decent now, isn’t it, Mr. Vicar?” she murmured.

  Chapter 3: Road to Damascus

  HOSEA spent his first day at the Golden Spoke locked in his room in fervent prayer for deliverance. He started at every raised voice, every clink of glass, and other noises that made him block his ears. Each time Edna knocked on his door, he opened it just a crack (to be polite) to answer her inquiries of whether he needed food, drink, or “anything else.”

  By nightfall she no longer pestered him, as there wer
e plenty of potential customers downstairs. Sounds of piano music and laughter floated through the floorboards of his room, competing with the sound of his growling stomach. Compelled by hunger, Hosea finally plucked up enough courage to venture downstairs in search of a meal.

  The saloon was full of men smoking, drinking, and playing cards. Susanna played the piano while Edna sang on a tiny platform that served as a stage. Her voice was decent, despite a tendency to end each stanza off-pitch. Three other ladies, employees of the saloon by their attire, flirted with patrons.

  Trying his best to be inconspicuous, which was hard for someone who stood at six-foot-two and at whom Edna waved a long feather, Hosea wound his way through the tables toward Susanna. He waited for the song to end so he could speak to her, but she transitioned to the next song without stopping.

  Feeling awkward, he leaned down. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She glanced at him, annoyed. “For what?”

  “For accusing you of not holding up your end of the deal and saying I would never disagree with a lady when I did.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Hosea hung his head. “It has taught me a lesson on the evils of pride. You are more righteous than I, just as Tamar was more righteous than Judah.”

  Susanna fumbled a chord. “That’s your apology? Comparing me to a woman who pretended she was a harlot so she could get pregnant by her father-in-law?”

  Hosea’s eyes widened in horror. “No, that’s not what I meant. I merely wish to point out your honorableness in the matter. You were right and I was wrong.”

  Susanna rolled her eyes, but Hosea didn’t slink away in shame as she wished. There was something else bothering him. “The shopkeeper wouldn’t give you credit because of your occupation.”

  “My, aren’t we the genius?” she said.

  “I’m sorry for that as well.”

  “For being a genius?”

  “No,” said Hosea. “For the shopkeeper’s reluctance to do business with you.”

  “It’s not your place to apologize for someone else.”

  “Yes, but it was wrong of her to do so.”

  “So is a vicar staying in a brothel,” she said. “Why don’t you just go away? We won’t make money off you.”

  Hosea gulped. “You want to earn money?”

  “The more money I earn, the sooner I can pay off my contract.”

  “Contract?” A new guilt crept over him. “You mean you can’t leave here until you pay a certain amount?”

  Susanna fumbled another chord. “Do you mind? I’m trying to play.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “If there’s any way I can make up the loss of income to you all, I’m happy to oblige.”

  Susanna opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted. “Get off the stage. My dog howls better than you sing,” a man called out.

  “We want to hear some good singing,” shouted another.

  A rain of insults fell upon Edna and her voice faltered. She was fond of singing but thought more of her vocal talent than she ought. Susanna stopped playing, unsure what to do. Judson scowled; angry customers didn’t buy drinks or women.

  All this happened in less than half a minute. Hosea saw Edna’s lip quiver and a tear run down her cheek. The next thing he knew, he was onstage beside her. “Show some compassion! She’s doing the best she can,” he burst.

  “Why don’t you sing?” asked the first patron, a big ginger-haired fellow with an even bigger mustache.

  This was not the outcome Hosea expected from his chivalry. “I couldn’t interrupt the lady’s performance.”

  The second patron, another mustachioed ginger, drew a pistol and stuck it in Hosea’s face. “You already did. We wanna hear you sing.”

  “One moment, please,” Hosea replied and inched over to the piano. “Do you know Love Divine, All Loves Excelling?” he whispered to Susanna.

  “This is a saloon, not a church.”

  “Yes, but I only know hymns. At any rate, the gentlemen may have imbibed too much to notice the sacred from the secular,” said Hosea.

  She shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

  Edna retreated as Hosea took his place center stage, but when Susanna played the opening chords, he froze: he didn’t recognize the tune. “One more moment, please,” he begged the audience and again moved over to her. “I said Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.”

  “I’m playing it,” Susanna said.

  “I don’t know it,” he panicked.

  “Then why’d you ask me to play it?” she rolled her eyes.

  Hosea glanced nervously at the audience. “Where I come from, we sing it to the Welsh tune Hyfrydol. It goes like this.” He hummed a few bars of the tune.

  She crossed her arms. “Where I come from, we sing it to the tune Beecher.”

  Hosea bit his lip. “I’ll sing it a cappella.” He returned to his place and took a deep breath:

  Love Divine, all loves excelling Joy of heaven to earth come down Fix in us Thy humble dwelling All Thy faithful mercies crown

  Hosea’s voice was as splendid as his face was handsome. The ladies who worked at the saloon stopped flirting with the patrons and gazed at him with the same rapt expressions as did the ladies of his parish.

  Jesus, Thou art all compassion Pure unbounded love Thou art Visit us with Thy salvation Enter every trembling heart

  As much as the women loved his performance, the men hated it. Big Nate (who first suggested Hosea sing) pointed his Peacemaker at him. “This ain’t no church meeting.”

  “All I know are hymns,” protested Hosea.

  Big Nate’s cousin, Hiram (the other patron), took a shot at his feet, making Hosea skip. “You better make up a her real quick-like.”

  Had Hosea known the cousins’ reputations as brawlers and lawbreakers, he would not have attempted to sing a hymn to them. He scrambled to remember a non-hymn, but God Save the Queen was the only one which came to mind and he rightly guessed the tune would not be to anyone’s satisfaction.

  He glanced at Susanna for help and was struck with inspiration:

  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

  The patrons began clapping in time. The ladies pulled card players away from their games and started dancing. Judson stopped scowling. By the second verse, Hosea was beginning to enjoy himself. No one ever clapped and danced when he preached, and he quite liked the response.

  By the last chorus, everyone was singing and people had come in off the street to join the fun. An encore was demanded with much cheering and discharging of weapons. Hosea obliged, liquor flowed, and everyone forgot how badly Edna had sung.

  Later that evening, Judson and the saloon ladies gathered around Hosea. “Mr. Honeywell, you were wonderful! Your voice is like an opera singer,” Fanny gushed.

  “You mean vaudeville,” Susanna said sourly.

  “We made more money tonight than we have for a long spell,” said Judson. “Stick around and keep singing and I’ll only charge you half for room and board.”

  “Thank you, but I really can’t—” Hosea started.

  “Is it true what Edna says, you’ll learn us our letters?” interrupted Claudine, the youngest.

  “Yes. I mean no. I, uh,” Hosea fumbled. “If that is your wish.” He couldn’t believe it. Why did he say it? The ladies cheered and all hugged him at the same time. It was another first-time experience, but he was getting used to them.

  Susanna dampened their joy. “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow on the train?”

  “No, you can’t,” the ladies protested. “Don’t leave us, Mr. Honeywell! Please, you gotta teach us to read.”

  He saw hope shining in their eyes. How could he disappoint them? “I may stay a few days longer and catch the next train.”

  Undeterred, Susanna pressed har
der. “Don’t you think it’s best you go somewhere respectable once a vacancy opens up?”

  Hosea chewed his lip in thought. The Golden Spoke was no place for a vicar. Once a room was available elsewhere, it would only be right to leave. To stay at the saloon was to give the appearance of evil, yet he felt unable to disappoint Edna, Claudine, Fanny, and Alice. The greater evil was to abandon them.

  “I think it’s best I stay where I’m needed most. It is my duty to help those who ask for help.” He could hardly believe what he was saying.

  “Isn’t that fine?” Susanna sneered. “You’ve let popularity go to your head.” She spun on her heel and stomped up the stairs.

  Hosea looked sheepish. “I’ve offended Miss Gomer again.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” said Fanny. “She don’t like preachers.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Her daddy was a preacher,” said Alice. “She don’t say much about him, but I think he treated her bad. They was real poor, too.”

  Hosea watched Susanna disappear at the top of the stairs. “The poor lamb.”

  Edna squeezed his arm. “I just love it when you talk that way.”

  It proved impossible for Hosea to detach his new admirers and he escaped only after Judson complained they weren’t cleaning up. He walked to his room praying aloud. “So be it, Lord. I’ll stay here to help those in need. I daresay I won’t explain it well to the bishop and I fear I make Miss Gomer uncomfortable, but you know that, Lord. You see all.

  Perhaps if I apologize to her concerning her father, it might make some amends.” He paused. “No, she’ll say it’s not my place to apologize for the failings of others. I’ll pray for her instead.”

  He entered his room and shut the door, but he couldn’t shut out Susanna’s ire. She heard him from the other side of her door and hated him. “Pray tonight, but you’ll be preaching against sin tomorrow,” she muttered. “If you won’t leave, I’ll make you regret staying.”

  When the train departed the next day, Hosea was behind the saloon writing on its weathered wood with a white rock. Edna, Fanny, Alice, and Claudine were seated around him.