Black Noon

by Andrew J. Fenady

  “Reverend, you’ve got to get some rest.”

  “And what about you, General? You’ve ridden all the way from Beaver Dam. You look like you could use some rest yourself.”

  “Maybe, but what about Keyes? And you? They tell me you’ve been up three days and nights and after finishing with the other wounded, you’ve been here with Jon all night, soothing his brow and speaking words of encouragement even though he can’t hear them.”

  “I hear his words, General—and yours.”

  “That was the first time I spoke since I fell off that horse.”

  “Well Reverend, it seems like the sleeping beauty is no longer sleeping.”

  “So it seems, General, and it looks like Dr. Clemmins got enough of that cartridge out of his head to make a difference.”

  “General . . .”

  “What’s on your mind, Captain?”

  “What’re you doing here? I thought our next strike is at Beaver Dam?”

  “We’ve already struck. I just rode back to . . .”

  “He rode back to see for himself how you’re doing and write a letter to your fiancée . . .”

  “And a letter to the War Department about a medal for a certain captain at Yellow Tavern.”

  “Those are the voices I heard, Lorna . . . and not in a dream. Now listen to my voice . . . listen to what I’m going to say. I was out there a few minutes ago and I believe you. With all my heart and mind, I believe what you say you heard and saw did happen. I don’t know how—or why it happened. Yes, in a way you, too, were wounded—by that desert—but I believe, like me, you came out of your haze. Last night you were yourself again and helped me when I needed help. So I want you to know that’s why I went down there, and since I did, I’m more convinced that you weren’t sleepwalking—that, as Caleb said, ‘there is an easy explanation.’ I saw traces of wax from candles and feathers that could have come from that owl—but most of all, I believe it because you say it’s so—and the day, no the hour, the minute you feel strong enough we’re going to make for Saguaro.”

  “Jonathon, what you’ve just said is the best possible medicine any doctor could have given me.”

  But now Deliverance was in her shed, working with a wax figure, while her cat watched and purred.

  CHAPTER 34

  From the bedroom window Keyes had seen Deliverance walking toward, then into the shed carrying the cat.

  “Lorna, do you mind if I go out and get a little fresh air?”

  “Of course not, Jon. There’s no reason why you should stay cooped up all the time because I have to stay here a little longer . . . and I mean just a little longer. I feel much better since that ‘medicine’ Doctor Keyes gave me this morning. I’ll be ready to pack up and leave just as soon as that wagon of ours is ready.”

  “So will ‘Doctor Keyes,’” he smiled, “good and ready.”

  As Keyes was leaving the Hobbses’ house he saw Caleb sitting on the porch puffing on his ubiquitous pipe.

  “Hello again, Jon.”

  “Hello, Caleb. For a time I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

  “How’s that?”

  “This is the second time I’ve seen you without Joseph at your side.”

  “Oh, he and some of the other men are at the mine. They’re going to seal it up. We wouldn’t want another accident out there now that the vein’s run out, would we?”

  “No, of course not. I see that Deliverance is in her workshop. Did she get the wax and other supplies from the Bryants’ store?”

  “Oh, yes. And she’s back at work with her candles again.”

  “Do you think she’d mind if I interrupted for a minute or two?”

  “I think she’d be very pleased to see you, and m’boy, you will do all you can to help her with her affliction, won’t you?”

  “I’ll do anything I can, Caleb, while I’m here.”

  As she heard the knock on the door of the shed, Deliverance carefully covered the two wax figures on the workbench with the damp cloth, rose, and walked toward the entrance. The cat leaped from the workbench and followed.

  Deliverance opened the door and smiled at Keyes.

  “Deliverance, is it all right if I come in?”

  She nodded and with an invitational motion pointed inside.

  “I see you got the wax and what you needed from Mr. Bryant.”

  Again she nodded and smiled even more.

  Keyes looked at the workbench and the wet cloth.

  “What is it you’re working on now? More candles?”

  Her lips formed a yes.

  “I’d like to see them when you’re finished.”

  Without hesitation she nodded.

  “All these hours out here, day and night, with only your cat, you must get . . . lonely.”

  A slight shrug and an enigmatic look in her eyes.

  “Among the congregation, isn’t there some young fellow . . . ?”

  Deliverance shook her head and her hair bobbed loosely over her shoulders. Her fingers went to her crimson lips.

  “The fact that you can’t speak? I shouldn’t think that would be any deterrent.”

  As she had before, she pointed to him and then to her mouth.

  “You’re asking if I can help you.”

  She answered with an eager look in her eyes.

  “I just told Caleb I’d do whatever I could. But, Deliverance, it might help if I asked you about last night.”

  There was the hint of disappointment in her aspect, but she did her best not to show it.

  “The night was so quiet, not even a trace of wind, and you’re so perceptive . . . didn’t you hear, or through the window see anything out of the ordinary? Didn’t you see Lorna?”

  She shook her head deliberately, then pointed to the workbench.

  “You’re saying that you were concentrating on your work?”

  Once more her lips formed a yes.

  “Then the first time you were aware of anything or anyone outside was when you heard Lorna’s scream?”

  Deliverance nodded.

  “I can understand that. Sometimes when I’m working on a sermon, I’m oblivious to anything or anyone else . . . I only wish that my sermons were as good as the work you do with wax . . . and speaking of that, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll let you get back to your candles, but don’t work too hard and too long.”

  He started toward the door, but turned back and pointed to the wet cloth.

  “And I would like to see what you’re working on when you’re finished.”

  After he left, Deliverance, just as carefully, removed the wet cloth that covered the wax figures of Jonathon and Lorna Keyes.

  The cat leaped back onto the workbench.

  Keyes stopped by the stable to check on Hawkins’s progress with the wagon repairs, but the stable doors were just slightly ajar, and there was no response when he stepped inside and called out Sam Hawkins’s name. Keyes noticed that the fire pit had not been used recently.

  As he proceeded toward the Hobbses’ house he was greeted by a number of townsfolk . . . all women, except for a few of the older men and young boys and girls.

  In front of the Bryants’ store Ethan and three of his young friends were playing a game of what might have been hopscotch.

  “Hello, gentlemen.”

  “Hello, Reverend,” Ethan replied and so did his friends.

  “Good day, Reverend,” William Bryant said as he came out of the store. “See you’re out for a stroll.”

  “Yes, I stopped by Sam Hawkins’s stable to see about the wagon, but he was out.”

  “Oh, yes,” Bryant smiled, “he and most of the other men are out at the mine.”

  “Right,” Keyes nodded, “Caleb told me about sealing it up.”

  “Wouldn’t want these kids going back in there to play after what happened. I told Ethan he could take a break from work so he and his friends could play out here.”

  Keyes watched as the youngsters were back at their g
ame.

  “Mr. Bryant, how has Ethan been sleeping since the accident? Any trouble? Any dreams about what happened out there?”

  “Not at all. After supper, just says his prayers and sleeps the whole night through . . . thanks to you, sir.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, sometimes . . . well, I’m glad to hear that. Good day, Mr. Bryant.”

  It seemed that everything was back to normal in San Melas . . . except for the prospect of Moon’s promise to return.

  CHAPTER 35

  Lorna sat up in bed addressing a letter.

  Reverend James Mason

  Saguaro

  As Keyes entered the room she put the envelope aside.

  “Well, Jonathon,” she smiled, “did you get a good stretch of the legs?”

  “I did.” He looked at the letter on the bed. “To Reverend Mason?”

  She nodded.

  “You know, Jonathon, it’s strange, I’m writing a letter to a man I’ve never met, but somehow I feel close to him from what you said about him . . . what he did for you and the other patients in the hospital . . .”

  “And on the battlefields at the risk of his own life. He’s the reason we’re going to Saguaro . . . but there’s one thing that happened I’ve never told you about . . .”

  “Tell me now, Jonathon. I want to know as much about him as you can tell me. He seems to have done so much for you.”

  “He did.”

  “Then tell me.”

  A look of solemn remembrance came across Keyes’s face as he recalled.

  “It was at the hospital as I was still recovering and still thinking of what he had already done for me and all the other patients, Union and Confederate . . .

  “One morning while Dr. Clemmins was making his rounds after all night in the operating room . . . he was so exhausted he could barely stand on his feet . . . suddenly we heard a rebel yell and the breaking of a bottle . . . and all of us who were able turned toward the direction of the yell and broken glass.

  “There was a Confederate soldier, named Jed Rawlins, a musician in civilian life, whose left hand had been amputated at the wrist—he held Dr. Clemmins from behind, held him fast, with the stump of his forearm, and in his right hand he held the jagged edge of a medicine bottle at the doctor’s throat.

  “Rawlins’s eyes were twin torches of flaming fury.

  “‘I want you all to watch,’ he screeched, ‘This butcher who cut off my hand because I’m a Southerner . . . so instead of tending to it . . . it was easier to cut it off . . . and now I’m going to do some cutting on him . . . I’m going to cut his throat from Yankee ear to Yankee ear.’

  “Rawlins jerked the sharp edge of the bottle closer to the doctor’s face.

  “Reverend James Mason took a step forward with the Bible in his hand.

  “‘Jed, you know me . . . ’

  “‘Sure I do . . . you’re that Bible-thumper. Well, don’t waste your time with any holy-blown words . . . my mind’s set and if you try to stop me I’ll kill you, too—maybe first . . . I swear to God!’

  “‘God?! Who’s God, Jed?’

  “‘The God who said, ‘an eye for an eye.’ He didn’t say ‘turn the other hand.’ Did you ever hear of a one-armed pianist?!’

  “The reverend looked for just a second at the closed Bible in his hand.

  “‘No, but I did hear God’s command: “turn your swords into plowshares . . .” “vengeance is mine; saith the Lord” and you’re no Lord . . . and what vengeance are you talking about? Jed, gangrene had set in. Dr. Clemmins saved your life . . . stop and think a minute . . . and how many other lives can he still save if you kill him? Union and Confederate? Look around you . . . There are as many Confederates, your comrades, in this room as there are Union soldiers . . . ’

  “‘Words! Words! Words!’

  “‘That’s right, and listen to these words . . . I know you have a wife, Jed . . . do you think she’ll think any different toward you if you come home from the war having lost a hand fighting for the cause? And how will she feel if you kill the doctor who saved your life so you could come home? . . . The War Between the States will soon be over . . . but will yours? . . . your wife and the South will need you even with one good hand . . . you’re a musician . . . there’s a lot you can do besides killing the man who saved your life . . . and that of most of the people in this room . . . if it weren’t for Dr. Clemmins you’d be in a battlefield grave instead of this hospital . . . you’re a musician . . . you can’t play music, but you can still write it, compose it, and teach it . . . not use it to take his life, and your own, because if you kill him you’ll never get out of here alive . . . Jed, there is no good war, except what we can learn from it . . . and we don’t learn by killing.

  “‘I’m coming to you, Jed, and you will have to kill me first. You’re a brave Southerner . . . act like one. Put that bottle down. Son, it’s your last chance to end your own war . . . and win it.’

  “Rawlins trembled as if feeling the pain in the hand that was no longer on his body. With a barely perceptible nod, and softened eyes, his shoulders slumped. He lowered his right hand and the bottle dropped onto the floor. The stump of his left arm loosened from Dr. Clemmins’s chest, and Reverend Mason moved to help the doctor step away, as a couple patients who were able, were at the doctor’s side.

  “Rawlins stood frozen for just a couple of seconds, then slumped, first to one knee, then to the other, on the side of the bed, his head buried in both arms.

  “Reverend Mason moved close behind him and gently placed a hand on Rawlins’s shoulder.”

  Lorna looked at her husband, took a deep breath, and managed to smile.

  “Jonathon, I’m glad that you told me. I feel as if I know Reverend Mason much better now.”

  “He is as brave as any soldier I ever met. I’d be proud to take his place anywhere, even though I know I couldn’t come close.”

  “You will take his place in Saguaro, Jonathon . . . and I’m sure he’ll be proud of you . . . as I am.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Keyes walked out of the house onto the porch. Joseph’s rocking chair was empty and so were the other chairs.

  Caleb Hobbs was not in the house, nor on the porch. As he looked around Bethia stepped out through the doorway.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, Reverend?”

  “No, thank you, Bethia, but I was just wondering about Caleb. I don’t see him around here. Did he decide to go out to the mine?”

  “No, sir. He’s just up the street at the burned-out church site. He goes there sometimes . . . when he’s feeling . . . melancholy.”

  “I understand.”

  “Sir, if you don’t mind my saying, I think it might be of comfort to him if you went over there. He does feel much better when you’re with him . . . after all you’ve done.”

  “Well, thank you for letting me know, Bethia. I’ll go over and visit with him.”

  “Very good, Reverend, and I’ll go up and see if there’s anything I can do to help the missus.”

  “Thank you,” Keyes smiled. “We appreciate all you’ve done, Bethia.”

  Caleb sat on a large stone in front of the charred church gazing at the skeletal ruins.

  The pipe still in his mouth was smokeless, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care, as he looked straight ahead.

  And he didn’t notice Keyes’s approach until Keyes spoke.

  “Hello, Caleb.”

  “Oh, hello, Reverend,” there was a melancholy look in his eyes as he turned.

  “I’m sure it was a fine-looking church, Caleb.”

  “It was an exact replica of the one we left behind in Connecticut. Small, but well suited to our needs, and it helped keep us together, and now it’s gone, and so is the mine . . .”

  “But you’re all still here . . . and together.”

  “For how long? What happens when Moon comes back? Will we still be together? Or will he want to take something . . . or someone else?”

 
; “You’re thinking about Deliverance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Couldn’t she leave? Go someplace else?”

  “Where, Jonathon? In her condition, where could she settle? Here she can be understood, by me at least, and she’s content with her work. But anyplace else she’d just be a muted stranger, looked upon almost like . . . a freak.”

  “Not a beautiful girl like Deliverance.”

  “You’re right about one thing, she is beautiful . . . and Moon’s noticed that, too.”

  “Moon! Moon!” Keyes said. “It always comes down to Moon.”

  “So it seems, m’boy,” Caleb looked back at the remnants of the church. “But maybe the Lord will show us the way. He’s done it before. He sent you here, didn’t He? We must have faith.”

  “Well, as I said before, I wouldn’t count on the Lord to strike down Moon with a bolt of lightning before he comes back.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Reverend,” Caleb smiled, “as Joseph would say ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways.’”

  “Not that mysterious,” Keyes smiled back, “otherwise there’d be a lot less evil in this world.”

  “Then what do you think brought you here?”

  “Who knows what to call it? Fate? Destiny? Chance?”

  “You call it what you will,” Hobbs nodded toward the church site, “but I think His hand is upon us, otherwise you wouldn’t be in San Melas.”

  “Right now it seems you’re more the minister than I am. Maybe you should be up there on that pulpit when you do rebuild the church.”

  “Jon, I don’t have your gift . . . I could never have done what you did for Ethan . . . at the service . . . and at the mine, and for Deliverance on that runaway horse. You have the calling.”