Grace and the Preacher

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Theophil Garrison,” Chubb announced.

  The people in the booths muttered, but they shook their heads.

  Chubb turned a sorry look on Earl. “Nobody’s heard of  him. You sure he was comin’ this way?”

  Had the bridge man lied? It was possible. Then he remembered something the bridge man had said. “He’s a preacher.”

  Chubb’s face lit. “Well, then, there’s somebody who just might be able to help you. We got a new preacher in town about a month ago.”

  Excited tremors attacked. The timing of the new preacher’s arrival was right. “Where can I find him?”

  A woman called from the booth on the right. “Hank, if  he’s looking for the new preacher, Reverend’s likely over at the Gospel Church. There’s a double wedding on Saturday, and Mrs. Perry said the brides and grooms were meeting at the church tonight to practice the ceremony.”

  Chubb smiled at Earl. “There ya go, mister. Gospel Church is on the corner of  Main and Poplar.”

  The woman’s eyes flew wide. “You can’t send him off to interrupt a wedding practice. It’d be bad luck for the couples.”

  Chubb leaned down so his mouth was close to Earl’s ear. “Tell you what. So we don’t get Mrs. Gibbons over there all in a dither, why not sit. Lemme get you some coffee an’ maybe a piece o’ pie—my treat. We don’t get many strangers around here, an’ I can tell you’ve been travelin’ long.” He put his arm across Earl’s shoulders and steered him toward a booth.

  Earl stiffened. He’d never cared for strangers touching him, and he wanted to duck loose and leave the café. But then he glimpsed a glass case of pies in the corner, and his resolve wavered. The preacher at the Gospel Church would be there a while most likely. He had time to eat a piece of pie.

  He plopped into the booth. “I’m partial to apple.”

  Theo

  Somehow Theo’s legs held him upright. He stood beside Grace at the edge of the dais and faced Reverend Cristler, who patiently recited—again—the order of the ceremony that would bind him with Grace. He sensed her hazel-eyed gaze on him, but he didn’t turn his head to find out for sure. Instead, he focused on the former minister. Tried to listen. To memorize. But the words wouldn’t stick.

  He hadn’t been this nervous when he preached his first sermon. His hands shook even inside the pockets of  his jacket. His knees quivered, too. His ears rang, a shrill ring that made him want to pull at his hair and bellow for relief. Sweat dribbled from his temples, and it wasn’t even hot in the church thanks to the evening breeze coursing from front to back through the doors they’d left open.

  “After I’ve read the passage from Ephesians five addressed to husbands and wives, you will face each other…” Reverend Cristler looked at them expectantly.

  Grace turned, her skirts swishing softly with the movement. Theo gulped and jerked his body to face her. But he kept his gaze low, aimed at the toes of her black shoes peeping from the hem of  her dark-green dress, the one she’d been wearing the first time he laid eyes on her. Green. The same color as the big stone in the ring he bought. The ring he’d put on her finger come Saturday. Sweat dripped into his left eye. It stung something fierce, but he didn’t try to blink it away.

  “At this point in the ceremony, I’ll lead you in reciting your vows. When you’re finished with the vows, you will exchange rings, and then”—he deepened his voice, making it as formal as a judge rendering a verdict—“by the power vested in me by the state of  Kansas and the ordination of this congregation, I will pronounce you husband and wife.”

  “By the power vested in me by the state of Kansas…” The ringing in Theo’s ears increased. He gulped. He had no power to join anyone in matrimony. Even if  he spoke the words, they’d be fake. Just like him. Reverend Cristler and Aunt Bess wouldn’t really be married. Then they’d head off to the reservation, thinking they were married, but—

  The older man smiled and put his hand on Theo’s shoulder. “All right. Let’s trade places now.”

  Theo jerked free. “I can’t.”

  Aunt Bess got up from the pew where she’d been watching the practice and hurried to Theo’s side. She pressed a handkerchief  in his hand. “Wipe your forehead. You’re nearly raining perspiration.” She shook her head, her face crinkled in concern. “I hope you aren’t getting sick.”

  Theo wadded the linen square in his fist. “I’m not sick. But I can’t do what you want me to. I can’t…perform…your wedding.”

  Reverend Cristler stepped down from the dais and caught Theo’s upper arm. “I understand you’re nervous. I was, too, the first time I officiated a wedding ceremony. But everything is written down. You don’t have to know it by heart. You can read it. It will be fine.”

  Theo closed his eyes and groaned. “No, it won’t be fine. None of  it will be. I…I…” He opened his eyes and drifted his gaze over the trio of concerned faces. He ended with Grace, whose innocent confusion pierced him worse than anything he’d ever felt. “I’m not qualified. I’m not a preacher.”

  There. He’d said it. A weight seemed to tumble from him, taking him with it. His shoulders slumped and his head drooped.

  Reverend Cristler chuckled. He patted Theo’s arm. “Now, son, no need to be so hard on yourself. Confidence will come in time.”

  Theo shook his head. Why couldn’t they understand? It was torment, trying to confess. He straightened and looked fully in Grace’s face. “Confidence won’t fix it. I’m…not…a preacher.”

  Grace tipped her head. “Rufus?” Countless questions hovered behind the simple one-word query.

  He pulled in a breath, gathered his courage, and opened his mouth.

  The heavy thud of  footsteps came from the front entry. Now what? Theo turned to glare at the intruder, and his blood turned icy in his veins.

  His cousin Earl stopped halfway up the aisle. A rifle hung from a rope across his shoulder, and a fat saddlebag—was there a pistol in the bag?—draped over his bent arm. He pushed his hair off  his forehead, tucked his thumb in his britches pocket, and aimed a lazy grin at Theo. “Hey, Theophil.”

  Theo’s knees gave way. He would have collapsed completely if  Reverend Cristler hadn’t kept a grip on his elbow. The older man led him to the front pew, and Theo slumped into the seat. Grace sat beside him, perched on the edge of the pew, her slender hands reaching and then pulling back, her face set in a look of  fear and uncertainty.

  Theo took her hand. “Grace, I—”

  The steady thump, thump, thump of  boot heels warned him of  Earl’s approach. There was no time to talk. Earl wanted blood, and he wouldn’t wait. But if there was going to be bloodshed, Theo couldn’t allow it in the church. Not in front of  Grace and Aunt Bess.

  Protectiveness propelled him from the bench. “Reverend Cristler, keep the ladies in here. I’m going outside.”

  Grace reached for him. “Stay with me, please. I’m frightened.”

  Theo wished he had time to comfort her. He prayed he’d have the chance to comfort her after he’d faced Earl. But if  Earl didn’t kill him, and if  he told her who he really was, she wouldn’t want his comfort.

  He touched her cheek with his fingers, selfishly needing to embrace her silky skin just once, and whispered, “Don’t worry.” He turned to Earl and pointed to the back door. “Let’s go.”

  Earl sauntered out ahead of  Theo, his boot heels dragging on the floor. For a moment Theo was tempted to lock the door behind him and run for cover. But it would only prolong things. If  Earl came all the way from Cooperville to track him down, he wouldn’t rest until he’d satisfied his thirst for revenge. Better to get things done.

  Theo closed the door and then pressed his back to the sturdy surface. He looked at the gun slung across Earl’s chest. Fear wiggled through his belly, but a bullet couldn’t hurt any more than the realization of  how much his choices would disappoint the people he’d come to love when they understood the full truth. “You found me. Go ahead an
d shoot.”

  Earl

  Earl tossed his saddlebag aside and drew the rifle over his head. “I ain’t gonna shoot you.”

  With a heavy sigh Theophil stepped from the stoop and crossed the grass until he stood a few feet from his cousin. “No, I reckon not. Shootin’ would be too quick. You’ll likely want me to suffer.”

  Earl squinted at Theophil and leaned the rifle against a tree. “You got that right. I want you to suffer the same way me an’ my brothers did all those years locked up behind bars.”

  Theophil didn’t even blink. “Then do what you came to do. I won’t run. I won’t even fight back. Just…do it.”

  They stood halfway between the church building and the church’s graveyard. In the evening shadows the rows of stone markers in the cemetery looked like a small army of witnesses to his revenge. Earl licked his lips. Revenge would be sweeter than the apple pie now sitting in his belly. Earl chortled. “I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp.”

  Theophil flinched but he didn’t flee. Didn’t lift an arm to defend himself. Just stood there. Already defeated. Resigned.

  Earl paused, scowling. There’d be no satisfaction in pummeling a willing target. He’d have to goad his cousin into fighting back. He poked Theophil in the chest with his finger. “Whatsamatter, you lily-livered runt? Ain’t you got enough gumption to stand up for yourself ?” His muscles twitched while he waited to see the fear and trembling he’d dreamed about bloom over Theophil’s face.

  Nothing changed. Theophil’s chest expanded with a sucked-in breath and then went flat. He nodded, his gaze boring into Earl’s. “I got gumption. Enough to stand up for myself ten years ago. It was gumption—an’ rememberin’ my granny’s teaching about taking things that weren’t mine—that kept me from gettin’ those horses for you.”

  Earl curled his lip. “That wasn’t gumption. That was a coward runnin’ scared.”

  “Uh-uh. That was me decidin’ to stand alone an’ do right in the face of wrong.” For the first time since they stepped outside, he hung his head. “The same thing I gotta do today no matter what it costs me.”

  Now he wasn’t making sense. And he was stealing Earl’s pleasure. He jammed his palm against Theophil’s shoulder, nearly pushing him on his seat. “Fight back, you coward. Fight me!”

  Theophil regained his balance and shook his head, staring directly into Earl’s face again. “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “No.”

  Earl growled, “All right, you yellow belly, I promised myself  I’d give you your just due when I found you, an’ I’m gonna keep that promise no matter what you do or don’t.” He made a fist, drew back his arm like the string on a bow, and took aim at his cousin’s chin. But before he let loose, he remembered something. Something that hadn’t made sense at the time but now burst with clarity in his mind.

  His body went stiff, and then it seemed to go weak. He dropped his fist to his side and gaped at Theophil. “You were standin’ alone…”

  Theophil frowned. “What?”

  Earl staggered to the tree and propped himself against it with one arm, too shaky to stand without support. Why’d he have to remember that now? Now, when he finally had the chance to batter Theophil into the ground?

  Theophil scuffed across the grass toward Earl, slow yet steady. “You all right?”

  Earl barked a laugh. “I come all this way, an’ now…” He aimed a squint-eyed glare at his cousin. “Why’d you hafta go an’ say ‘stand alone’?”

  Theo flicked a look left and right. “Huh?”

  The words—not said by Theophil, but by somebody else a half-dozen years ago—tormented his mind. His tongue started spewing the story almost against his will. “Had me a friend in the jail, a teacher who shouldn’t ought to ’ve even been there, but he was in long enough to teach me how to read an’ write. An’ he tried teachin’ me some other things, too. One o’ the things he said again an’ again was how it takes courage to stand alone.”

  Earl bobbed his head, realization dawning and a hint of admiration growing with it. “That’s what you done that night, Theophil. You stood alone. Everyone in Cooperville did exactly what we Boyds said to do ’cause they was scared of us. You was scared, too. Just like you are now, even though you’re tryin’ not to show it. But scared or not, you stood alone.”

  He recalled the schoolteacher standing alone against the bullies in prison, even against the guards who taunted him for his comedown. The man had done nothing to get himself  locked up, and he could’ve been spiteful, but he hadn’t been. He’d shown Earl what it meant to—Earl gulped—be an honorable man.

  On the trail he’d encountered other honorable men, like Russ Hooker and the fellows at the church in Bird’s Nest. The people there had treated him with respect. Respect not born out of  fear but out of affection. The warmth of  his time with the Hookers eased through him again and made him long to be the good, good man they’d expected him to be.

  He circled the tree, his head low, unable to keep his thoughts inside. “Won’t be easy. It’ll mean standin’ up against Claight an’ Wilton. Been the three of us standin’ together for our whole lives. They ain’t gonna like me steppin’ away from ’em. But if that schoolteacher could stand alone against the bullies in prison, an’ if  Theophil could stand alone against me an’ my brothers in Cooperville, then can’t I do it, too?”

  Something caught hold of  his shoulder. Earl gave a start and realized he’d been stopped by Theophil. His cousin stood there, shoulders back and head high, his hand clamped on Earl’s thick shoulder. Earl stared at him, and for some reason he couldn’t even understand, he had no desire to shrug away from the firm grip.

  The branches swaying above their heads blocked the moonlight and covered the two of them in heavy shadows, but Earl still saw compassion in his cousin’s eyes. “You can do it, Earl. You can change. It’ll mean givin’ yourself over to God’s control instead of your own, but if a fella like Saul of  Tarsus, who went around murderin’ an’ tormentin’ the believers of  Jesus, could start preaching about that very same Jesus, then you an’ me have a good chance of  bein’ better, too.”

  Theophil lowered his arm from Earl’s shoulder and stepped back. Earl expected him to turn tail and run, but instead he stretched out his hand.

  A lump filled Earl’s throat. He swallowed, but it stayed there, keeping him from drawing a full breath. He dropped his gaze to the waiting hand. A war waged under his skin. Could he do it? Could he give up his plans for revenge and make peace with Theophil instead?

  He stared at that steady, waiting, welcoming hand, and in his mind paraded memories of every mean prank he’d pulled, every hurtful word he’d hurled. Theophil had reasons to want revenge, too.

  “It takes courage to stand alone…”

  Earl raised his chin. His brothers would laugh and call him all kinds of names for letting Theophil escape a beating, but for once in his life he wanted to do better. Even if  it meant being alone for the rest of  his life. He took a forward step and gripped Theophil’s hand.

  They didn’t shake hands the way gentlemen did but clasped hands like brothers, their grips strong and sure. And something deep inside of  Earl seemed to melt and fall away. He felt lighter than he’d felt in years. A chuckle built in his chest and broke loose. He tried to rein it in, but another one rolled. Then Theophil grinned, and the two of them threw their arms over each other’s shoulders and hooted together like a pair of  fools.

  Earl pounded Theophil on the back. “Got somethin’ here that belongs to you. Figure if you’re a preacher now”—he scooped up his saddlebag and flopped it open—“you’ll prob’ly need it.” He pulled the black Bible from the bag and laid it in Theophil’s hands.

  Theophil stared at the Bible’s curled cover. He touched the spot where the leather was worn smooth, probably where his granny’s fingers had held it during hours of prayer. “Wh-where’d you get it?”

  Earl had to swallow another lump before
he could speak. “Found it in a peddler’s wagon near Lexington. The fella who stole it from you is sittin’ in a jail cell in Independence. He’s gonna be tried for robbery an’ murder.”

  Theophil jerked his head up and gaped at Earl. “Murder?”

  “Yep. Only reason he didn’t do you in is ’cause he saw your preacher suits in a bag. Couldn’t bring himself to clunk a preachin’ man over the head.”

  “Then those suits saved my life…” He crossed to the rock slab serving as a stoop and sat. He laid the Bible on his knee and kept staring at it, his mouth hanging open.

  Earl ambled over and sat, too. He nudged Theo with his shoulder. “Guess it’s a good thing you decided to become a preacher, huh?” He frowned. “How’d that happen, anyway?”

  Theophil pulled in a slow breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I’m not a preacher, Earl. Truth is, I’ve been hidin’ in these preacher clothes. Knew better, an’ I did it anyway. But now it’s time to do right.” He pushed to his feet, tucked Granny Iva’s Bible under his arm, and aimed a grim look at his cousin. “I got some talkin’ to do to those folks waitin’ inside the church, an’ I’ll want you to hear it, too. But first, if you don’t mind, I need a few minutes to get some things straight with my Maker.”

  Grace

  Uncle Philemon and Aunt Bess sat on a front pew, their heads together, quietly talking and sometimes praying, but Grace paced back and forth, back and forth, too restless to sit. The back doorknob squeaked, and she raced to the door, her breath caught in her throat.

  Rufus stepped in. She released a gasp and fell into his arms. “Oh, Rufus, thank the Lord you’re all right. Who was that—” The stranger entered, too. The rifle was still draped over his shoulder, a threatening presence. She gripped Rufus more tightly, fear making her mouth go dry.

  He patted her arms and gently set her aside. “Grace, I’d like you to meet my cousin. This’s Earl Boyd from Cooperville, Missouri.”

  Uncle Philemon and Aunt Bess crossed to Rufus. Uncle Philemon said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Boyd.”