Mrs. Albright smiled sweetly. “You have never done anything to regret.”
“How do you find the religious climate out here compared to the city?” Hosea asked.
The reverend shrugged. “The pockets aren’t as deep, unless you’re lucky enough to get a banker or rancher in your congregation.”
“Was there no church here before you came?”
Reverend Albright chuckled. “Not a proper one. I feel our church brings dignity to the town. We provide a balance of spiritual and social nourishment.”
“The ladies were delighted when I started the Tea & Temperance Society,” said Mrs. Albright.
“How good of you. What of the poor and sick?” asked Hosea.
She looked puzzled. “I doubt they would enjoy the Tea & Temperance Society.”
“I mean is there visitation of the sick or plans to establish a hospital? Are there orphans who might benefit from an orphanage?”
Reverend Albright slapped the table. “What excellent ideas! I’ll look into them when I have the time.”
“Do, dear. We shall call it The Albright Hospital,” said Mrs. Albright.
“Yes, and the orphanage we’ll call The Albright Home for the Young &—no, The Albright Home for Youth & Advancement, for we must teach them a trade. What good is it to feed and clothe orphans if they don’t contribute to society? We can’t throw them out on the streets to fend for themselves. Think of what evil they would fall into.”
“The girls would not be fit to join the Tea & Temperance Society, and that cannot be pleasant,” Mrs. Albright shook her head sadly.
Hosea grew excited. “Exactly. We must train boys and girls in a proper trade so they may have a chance at a decent life.”
Reverend Albright slapped the table again. “Mr. Honeywell, you’re positively stirring things up and that’s just what this town needs: stirring up to do good and help others.”
“I only wish I could stir up my own poor village back home, but one town at a time is enough,” said Hosea. “In fact, a plan comes to mind even now that will benefit the town.”
“Out with it,” said the reverend. “Look at me: I’m almost shaking with anticipation. Do you see my hands, dear? I’m almost shaking!”
Hosea took a deep breath. “Since I’ve come to Black Creek, I’ve become acquainted with the women at the saloon. They’re all very sweet, but unfortunate circumstances have led to their present occupation. What if they were trained in more respectable trades so they might disengage themselves from their career of vice?”
The smile froze on Reverend Albright’s face. “You’re acquainted with the women who work at the saloon?”
“Yes,” said Hosea. “You might say they are my lady friends.”
Mrs. Albright gasped.
“They took me in because there was nowhere else to stay at the time and we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. I teach them how to read and help with their chores and they look after me.”
“They what?” asked Reverend Albright.
In his excitement, Hosea failed to notice the sudden chill in the room. “My plan is this: what if the Tea & Temperance Society teaches them sewing, cooking, and childcare? They’ll be able to hire on as dressmakers or as cooks or even be a governess or nanny. I’ve seen the work Alice is capable of. It’s simply astounding what she can do.”
“Mr. Honeywell!” Mrs. Albright exclaimed.
“Miss Gomer plays the piano and I noticed the church has one but no one played it. She could give lessons to young ladies in your congregation and gain references for future employment.”
“Enough!” Reverend Albright barked.
Hosea blushed. “Forgive me. I’m quite carried away by my own enthusiasm. When shall we start?”
The reverend peered at Hosea. “Are you the one they call the Duke of Piccadilly?”
“Yes,” Hosea’s blush deepened. “I fear Mr. Judson told people I was a duke in order to encourage business.”
Reverend Albright dropped his fork. “You dare come into my church and my home after having spent night after night in the saloon indulging in unspeakable acts of debauchery and masquerading as a nobleman? You, sir, are disgrace; a disgrace to your high calling. You are no real minister, let alone a true Christian!”
“Debauchery? No, there have been no unspeakable acts of debauchery. I only teach them how to read, and in return—”
“We can well imagine the returns. Have you no shame to speak of such things?”
Mrs. Albright sufficiently recovered from her shock to speak. “Are you suggesting the good mothers of this town stoop to associate with those women?”
Hosea was puzzled by their reaction. “You said it was a good idea to teach boys and girls a decent trade so they should not fall into evil. What difference is there but a few years between the women at the saloon and a girl? They’re practically girls themselves, parted too soon from their mothers and without education or the wherewithal to care for themselves in better circumstances.”
“Their mothers were probably harlots,” the reverend huffed.
“Dear! Please refrain from such language at the table, especially when my lace tablecloth is on it,” Mrs. Albright chided.
Hosea was dismayed. “Will you not help them?”
Mrs. Albright placed her hand over her heart. “Help them? Whoever heard of such a thing?”
“No member of our church would attempt it,” Reverend Albright said smugly.
Hosea stood and threw down his napkin. “So much for rescue the perishing, care for the dying. What about Rahab?”
Reverend Albright’s forehead wrinkled. “What about her?”
Hosea fumed. “Look at what a good person she was to help the spies escape Jericho and, in return, she and her family were spared. She was the ancestress of King David and our Lord and Savior. God thought she was worth something despite her occupation. Speaking of which, it has come to my attention some of the ladies at the saloon wish to attend Sunday services but aren’t welcome in the house of the Lord. Why, when they might hear the Word of God and benefit from wholesome fellowship?”
“Allow prostitutes into the church? What kind of church does that?” asked Reverend Albright.
In two strides, Hosea was at the dining room door and flung it open. “One that does its job!” He marched out of the house, slamming the front door so hard the windows rattled.
“Thank goodness he’s gone,” Mrs. Albright exhaled. “I thought he was going to suggest they join the Tea & Temperance Society.”
Hosea stumbled down the road. “Such hypocrisy, Lord. It sickens me. I sicken me, for I’m just as hypocritical. All I had to do was marry a prostitute and return to my duties. Now I’m living in a brothel halfway around the world and offending the very kind of people I feared to offend in the first place. Well, what’s done is done, but if I continue in disobedience, something worse may happen. Lord, help me earn the money I need to return home to start over and do things right this time.”
He determined to walk out his agitation, which is how he ended up in an area of town he hadn’t visited before. It was across the railroad tracks, a ramshackle collection of older houses. Under the shade of several ancient oak trees was a larger building with a cross nailed to the edge of the roof. His first reaction was to pass by; he’d had enough of ministers for one day. But a song floated on the air from inside, an intriguing melody he hadn’t heard before:
Gonna lay down my burden
Down by the riverside
Down by the riverside
Down by the riverside
It was sung with such powerful, rich emotion that he had to immerse himself in the music. He was feeling rather emotional himself.
Inside the church, he found a Negro congregation. He sat on the back bench next to two young men whose brows rose to their hairlines when they saw him. The people on the bench across the aisle stopped singing and stared.
The man nearest Hosea cleared his throat. “I think you done took a wron
g turn. The white folks’ church is ’cross the tracks on the other side of the square.”
The people on the row in front of them overheard this information and turned around, causing Hosea to feel awkward. “I’m not welcome there.” Row by row, the congregation stopped singing to stare at the unusual visitor. “It looks as if I’m not welcome here, either.” He stood up to leave.
“Vicar!” It was Moses, smiling from the front row. “Brothers and sisters, this is the fellow we been praying for. Vicar, come on up here.”
The congregation broke out in smiles and greetings as Hosea made his way up the aisle to shake hands with his old acquaintance. “You done running from the Lord, Vicar?” Moses slapped him on the back.
“I am,” said Hosea, “though now I need a miracle to return home.”
“God’s in the business of miracles.” He looked at Hosea. “You look like you gots the world on your shoulders.”
“Not the world. Just a little bit of Texas,” Hosea admitted.
Moses laughed. “You gots to lay it down, Vicar.” He sang:
I ain’t gonna study war no more
Study war no more
Study war no more
Hosea was as uplifted by Moses’s sermon on perseverance as he was surprised by the congregation’s wont to call out, “Amen,” and “Preach it, brother.” No one at St. Mary’s ever expressed encouragement during his sermons, and the only time they said “Amen” was in unison after prayer. So emboldened was he by this liberty in worship that he ventured to say “Hallelujah,” but just once and under his breath.
After church was dismissed, Hosea laid down his burden to Moses as they sat on the banks of the creek from which the town derived its name.
“You would have thought I proposed the Albrights engage in prostitution instead of help those caught in its clutches,” Hoses confided. “I’ve done my best to help those in need, but the reverend and his wife think I’m a terrible person. If they react in such a manner, what will my parish do if word gets back to them that I stayed at a brothel?”
Moses puffed on his pipe. “I reckon if the Lord can take care of all them Israelites in the desert and part the Red Sea with ol’ Pharaoh coming after them, he can handle your parish.”
“But what if they discover what the future Mrs. Honeywell is?”
Moses scratched his beard. “Tell the truth. Can’t never go wrong with the truth.”
Hosea bit his lip. “I’ll be stripped of my collar. My family will never speak of me unless in hushed tones because of the shame.”
“You gots to leave it in the Lord’s hands,” Moses pointed his pipe at him. “There ain’t no denying it: you making the lives of those five women better, and that ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. They might be soiled doves, but you teaching them how to fly.” He winked. “Dreams don’t always turn out like we think they will, but just you wait. The Lord ain’t finished with you yet.”
Hosea was lost in thought as he walked back to the Golden Spoke. Moses made it seem so clear that the Lord’s hand was in everything that had happened since he fled London. He had assumed anything good that occurred during his flight had happened in spite of his disobedience.
Though still uneasy about the future, at least now he had hope that it might turn out well when all was said and done.
When he stepped through the saloon’s swinging doors, Edna grabbed his hand. “Vicar, come quick!”
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Her eyes were wide with fear. “It’s Susanna. She’s gone crazy!”
Chapter 6: Red Sea
“CRAZY? What do you mean?” Hosea asked.
Edna dragged him across the floor. “She’s been playing cards all afternoon, trying to win enough money to pay off her contract, but she keeps losing.”
Fanny rushed to them. “Edna, Vicar, hurry!”
“What’s wrong now?” cried Edna.
“Susanna bet herself!”
“What?” they exclaimed.
“She don’t got no more money, so she bet herself. She’s in a desperate way, Vicar. You gotta do something!”
Hosea felt queasy. “What do you mean, ‘bet herself’?”
Fanny explained as the trio moved toward the back of the saloon. “She put herself in the jackpot. If somebody else wins, they gotta pay off her contract, but they’ll own her.”
“Why would she choose to belong to someone when she’s so desperate to not be under contract with Mr. Judson?” Hosea asked.
Fanny stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “She plans on running away from the feller. If there ain’t no contract with him, ain’t no lawman can make her stay.”
“I see,” said Hosea.
Then he saw more. At the table where Susanna gambled sat a smooth-skinned young man. He had an airy confidence, boasting in a thick, New England accent about his recent inheritance. The other person in the game was a middle-aged man with expensive taste in clothing and well-oiled hair and mustache. Hosea felt more provoked toward them than he ever felt toward Hiram or any other patron who paid attention to Susanna. The thought of her belonging to either of them, of them laying hands on her, kindled a fire in him he’d never known before.
Edna and Fanny looked at him expectantly. With his history of offending Susanna at the forefront of his mind, he leaned down to her. “Miss Gomer, I must insist you come away.”
“Hey, no cheating,” the young man said.
Susanna’s mouth tightened. “He’s not. He was just leaving.”
Hosea swallowed. “Miss Gomer, it has come to my attention you have made a rash decision.”
“I’m in the middle of a game, Vicar. Get out of here,” she said without looking at him.
The older gentleman twisted one end of his moustache with his fingers. “Want a piece of the action? The winnings are quite extraordinary.”
“Indeed, I do not want a piece of the action. Miss Gomer, I must protest.”
She bared her teeth. “Listen: I’m going to win my way out of here, so take your fancy new hat and your self- righteous airs and go away.”
The young man, whose name was Walter, laughed. “A man who doesn’t want a piece of the action isn’t much of a man. Isn’t that right, Clark?”
Edna pushed her way forward. “Don’t you say that about our vicar. He’s the manliest man we know.”
“He learns us our letters and helps with laundry,” Fanny added.
“That is right manly,” Mr. Clark said mockingly. “So manly he wouldn’t like what’s up for grabs anyway.”
Susanna scowled. “Will everyone stop bothering us so we can finish the game?”
“The lady’s right,” said Walter. “One of you gals fetch me another bourbon. I’m about to celebrate my biggest win.”
“Get your own bourbon,” said Fanny.
Hosea felt helpless. “Miss Gomer, you mustn’t do this. These men aren’t respectable.”
Clark reached down by his side and pulled out a gun. He laid it on the table, pointing it at Hosea. “Are you in or out?”
Hosea looked at him, then at the gun, and then at Susanna. Susanna’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you even think about it,” she warned.
Hosea pulled out a chair and sat down. “In.”
Fanny and Edna cheered and patted him on the back. Hosea wished he shared their enthusiasm. He had no idea what he was doing.
Clark looked at him as if waiting for something. “Your contribution to the pot?”
Hosea patted his pockets. “I seem to have left my wallet in my room.”
“I’ll get it,” Fanny volunteered and hurried upstairs.
Susanna grabbed his coat. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
Hosea folded his hands. “I’m gambling. For the first time, actually. What are we playing?”
“It’s five-card draw, and do you always have to poke your nose into my business? Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“You’ve been left alone before and look where i
t’s gotten you,” Hosea replied.
“I can take care of myself,” she glowered. “Why do you always interfere?”
The answer hit him like a single raindrop, cool and unexpected. He interfered because he was in love with her. Despite her fury, her insults, her quarrelsome nature, and with none of the gentler qualities of the feminine sex to recommend herself besides her astonishing beauty, he loved her. It was why he cared so much to win her good opinion. Yet a declaration of love wasn’t something he could give her, not here, not now. Maybe never. The bravest thing he could do, knowing he couldn’t disguise his feelings, was to look her in the eye. “Because I will do whatever I can to prevent you from becoming another man’s slave.”
“Thank you, O Great Emancipator,” Susanna sneered, “but I’m not going to end up some man’s slave. I’m going to win.”
“How? By the same method you’ve used to gamble away your body? What next? Shall you gamble away your soul?”
Susanna turned white with rage but was prevented from lashing out by Fanny’s appearance. “Here’s your wallet, Vicar.”
Hosea took it. “Thank you, Miss Fanny. How much do I put in?”
Before Hosea could open it, Susanna grabbed it and threw it on the table. “Deal,” she ordered Walter. “And put away that gun before someone gets hurt.”
With a nasty smile, Clark put the gun back in its holster. Walter dealt the cards sulkily, disappointed by Hosea’s addition to the game. Hosea picked up the cards and looked at them without knowing what he was looking for. He glanced at each of the players, but they were absorbed in their own cards.
Edna reached over his shoulder and rearranged his cards. “You want to get a straight flush, a four of a kind, or a full house, but if you can’t, a flush or a straight or a three of a kind, or even two pair or a pair might win.”
Clark frowned. “Who’s playing the game, him or you?”
“Hush,” Edna told him. “He don’t know how to play so I can help him. Ain’t no rules say I can’t.”
“My pistol says you can’t,” he reached for his gun.
Susanna grabbed Edna’s arm. “Edna, so help me, stay out of this or I’ll shoot you myself.”
The Vicar Takes a Wife Page 8