by Chuck Buda
Sarah’s eyes watered. She held her hand before her mouth to stifle her joy. “We are grateful for your hospitality, Preacher. How would we be able to repay you?” Her cheeks reddened and he sensed there was more of an offer behind her words than she cared to reveal.
Preached clapped his hands together. “Well, we have lots of work to do. I just happen to need a teacher of sorts, someone to impart the knowledge of the Good Book to the congregation.” He looked at Eleanor and held her hands.
“I can teach. Oh boy, can I teach.” She bent her knees in excitement.
“Are you familiar with scriptures?”
“My daddy used to read passages to me before bed each night. I’m very familiar with them.”
Preacher beamed. “Excellent. Consider yourself my new schoolmaster then.” Eleanor hugged him once again.
He turned his attention to Sarah. “So, what skills do you offer this humble Preacher?”
Sarah looked down at the floor, hesitating before answering his question. He sensed shame or something in her posture. “I can do anything, Preacher.” She replied without looking in his eyes.
“That’s a broad statement. What did you do back in Wichita?”
“I was a...madam.” Sarah glanced at him and he saw tears in her eyes. It dawned on him how difficult it must have been for her to confess her profession to a holy man. He figured it could be used as another hook down the road.
“Sarah, there is nothing to be ashamed of. The Lord provides us with many talents and He loves all of us the same, regardless.” He grasped Sarah’s hands in his own. Preacher wanted to win her over so he twisted her shame in a way that allowed her to save face. “Madams are great ambassadors and managers, are they not?” He raised his cherry red eyebrows to plead his point.
Sarah nodded slowly without a word.
“Good. Then you shall be my new church administrator. I am too busy preparing sermons and preaching to the heathens to maintain a proper congregation. Perhaps your skills could bring in new members and keep them interested in the word of the Lord?”
Sarah clutched Preacher in her arms. He felt her tremble and heard her sob into his neck. Preacher smiled at Eleanor over Sarah’s shoulder. Eleanor probably thought it was a genuine smile. But it was borne of his satisfaction at turning the screw tighter. He felt like he had won them both over.
Chapter 13
Carson exited the outhouse. He strained to see his belt buckle as he tightened it through his dungarees. His tongue stretched out of his mouth as he pulled tight to ensure the correct notch was secured. He raised his head and found that he was not alone.
Preacher stood between him and the ministry.
Carson gulped. He was afraid the swallowing action was too loud and Preacher would understand his fear.
Preacher just smiled with arms folded in front of his chest.
“How’s it going, Carson?”
Carson looked left and right. He wanted to find an escape route so he could avoid talking to Preacher. Nothing was available as high scrub brush blocked him on one side and a stem and post fence line blocked the other. He wondered how quickly he could run and vault over the fence to safety. But he realized it would be no use. Preacher would just wait for him inside the ministry. Carson was trapped. His stomach fluttered as the nervousness grew.
Preacher approached Carson. He hoped the man just had to use the outhouse and was only waiting for his turn. Carson wanted to giggle because the Preacher would walk into a wall of stink. But he gulped the thought down as the man neared.
“There’s no need to be afraid of me, Carson. I don’t bite.” The words sounded normal. The grin on the man’s face made Carson feel differently about the message.
“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I mean, we were buddies before you saw things in my room. Or thought you saw things in my room.” The eyes looked black in the early evening darkness.
Carson glanced beyond Preacher in hopes of James or someone coming outside to interrupt the encounter. Nobody stirred.
“I want to explain what you saw. Er, what you think you saw in my window.” Preacher stared at Carson. He felt the black eyes burning through his own. It made his eyes water but he felt locked into the Preacher’s gaze.
“Evil is all around us. Every day. Sometimes when I encounter evil, I have to fight it with all my might. Does that make sense?”
Carson nodded.
“You see, evil doesn’t like to be challenged. It fights back. Like boys in the school yard.”
Carson stared at Preacher. He wanted to scream for help but his throat felt constricted, like a huge fist clutched it shut.
“And sometimes these fights...linger. They pop up out of nowhere. And I have to fight them again. Do you understand?”
Carson shook his head. He had no idea what Preacher was talking about. He didn’t really care either. He just wanted to run.
Preacher stepped closer to Carson and squatted down on his haunches. His blackened eyes locked on Carson’s. He thought he noticed the sounds of the crickets and other creatures of the night vanish. The air around them was still. Silent. Gooseflesh ran across his limbs. Carson suddenly felt cold.
“What you saw...it was just demons...coming back to haunt me for casting them out a long time ago.”
“You were on fire.” Carson croaked the words in almost a hushed whisper.
“Those flames weren’t real. They were...an illusion of the battle. I didn’t get hurt. You can see for yourself I am not burned, right?”
Carson nodded.
“I don’t want you to fear me. I am here to help. Haven’t I given your family a place to live? Food to eat?” The black eyes search Carson’s face. “If I were so evil, don’t you think I would have done something bad by now?”
Carson realized the Preacher had a point. They had been treated well by the man. He didn’t feel comfortable around Preacher. And what he saw through the window absolutely terrified him. But the man hadn’t harmed them. He felt his breath come back.
“Actually, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask you for help.”
Carson scratched his sandy hair. How could a Preacher man need MY help?
“I sense something inside the church. Something that scares me. I know you are a special fella. You sense these things too. Am I right?”
Carson nodded again. He did feel an uneasiness around the church. He had thought it was Preacher all this time. Maybe it wasn’t him if he sensed the same thing. And he asked for Carson’s help with it.
“Good. I knew you were talented. The Lord told me you were special. That’s why I needed to speak to you alone. This has to stay a secret between us. Okay?”
Carson nodded. “Okay.”
Preacher placed his palms on Carson’s shoulders. “Good. You and me. We’re going to fight this evil. Together. Like a team.”
Carson got excited. He couldn’t believe somebody wanted him to help fight bad guys. James had always dreamed out loud with Carson about adventures and taking out bad men. But James left him behind. Now somebody was bringing him along. A new adventure.
“Oh, boy.” Carson jumped in his boots. The excitement coursed through his legs and he couldn’t control himself.
“Oh boy, what?”
Preacher and Carson startled at the voice that erupted behind them. James stood in the doorway to the ministry. He used his hand to shade the light from the room so he could see the darkened yard.
Preacher stood up. “Carson and I were just discussing how he was going to help me with the church.” He grinned.
“Oh, yeah. How is Carson going to help you with the church?” James stepped further into the yard.
“It’s a secret.” Carson shouted and ran past James into the ministry.
Preacher and James stood opposite each other. Silence between them for several moments.
“I had to use the “secret” tact to get him to talk to me. You know. After he had that misunderstanding about me. I just wante
d to break the ice. Clear the air, if you will.” Preacher walked toward James.
“Whatever you said, it must have worked. He seems pretty happy again.”
Preacher patted James on the shoulder. “Boys will be boys. You remember how your mind played tricks on you as a youngster. Don’t you?” Preacher brushed past James and went around the side of the building. James watched Preacher disappear into the darkness. Then he followed Carson’s trail into the ministry.
Chapter 14
The banging was loud enough to wake the dead. Preacher scrambled out of bed and into the hallway. He glanced back toward the ministry to see if his guests had been aroused by the late night banging. It seemed they were still asleep. Preacher shuffled through the chapel and unlocked the door.
Marshal Kaden Holder filled the doorway. Behind him, a disheveled Bart Foster. The pungent smell of whiskey drifted inside. Preacher didn’t have to guess which one of the callers was the culprit.
“Evening, Preacher. Sorry for the late hour. Do you have a moment to speak?” Marshal Holder’s muscular frame made for an imposing figure. His dark mustache always bothered Preacher because it was shaped like the Mexicans wore theirs. Thick with a strong downward dive on each side of the mouth.
“Uh, certainly.” Preacher stepped onto the porch and began shutting the door behind him. He didn’t want the others to overhear anything.
“Kinda hoping we could come inside and sit down for a minute.” Marshal Holder spoke with a kind tone. But his expression and stance were more formidable. Preacher nodded and opened the chapel door. He held his arm out to show the men the way inside.
Marshal Holder stepped into the dark chapel. Bart Foster glowered in Preacher’s face as he pushed his way in, making sure to elbow Preacher in the gut as he passed. Preacher closed the door and then lit a few candles. The scant light glowed in a small circle near the front door.
Bart Foster slumped in the last pew. His hair was mussed and a growth of several days shadowed his cheeks. Marshal Holder remained standing with his hands resting on his hips.
“What, what can I do for you tonight, Marshal? Is everything okay?”
“No, it ain’t okay...” Bart started in with a loud voice. The Marshal held up a hand to stop the man. Bart obeyed begrudgingly. Preacher tried to avoid direct eye contact with Bart. He feared if he looked him in the eye, then he would lose his temper and pummel the drunken bastard.
“Mr. Foster, here, seems to believe that his wife was here recently. Is that true?”
“Yes, Marshal. Mrs. Foster was here. She attends my services each week.”
Bart shot up out of the pew. “Where is she? I know you took her from me.” His words grew louder. The Marshal stepped in front of Bart and placed a large hand on the man’s chest. Preacher knew he had to make eye contact or it would look like he was guilty of something. He looked at Bart, controlling his emotions so his face revealed confusion instead of hostility.
“Other than services. Has Mrs. Foster visited you other than services?” The Marshal studied Preacher.
“Yes. Yes, she, uh, was here a day or two ago as a matter of fact.”
“And what did you do to her? You tell her to leave me? You sleeping with that whore?” Mr. Foster tried to push his way past the Marshal. But the Marshal wasn’t having any of it.
“Mr. Foster, if you cannot contain yourself while we are here, I will be forced to physically remove you from the premises. Do I make myself clear?” Marshal Holder towered over Bart and pushed the man backwards. Bart grumbled under his breath and slumped down in the pew again.
Preacher watched the Marshal return his attention. “Well?”
“Like I said, Marshal, Mrs. Foster came by for some guidance, which I provided as the Lord has moved me to counsel my congregation. And then she left.”
The Marshal’s eyes worked their way up and around Preacher’s face. He felt the heat of the brown eyes upon his fair skin. He felt compelled to continue speaking. But he had learned at an early age that guilty conscious’ liked to ramble in order to avoid the truth. Preacher was stronger. He could speak only when spoken to. Regardless of how guilty he was.
“And what did you discuss with Mrs. Foster?”
Preacher held up his hands in surrender. “I’d rather not say, Marshal. What my members choose to tell me in confidence is between them, me and the Lord above. That’s it.” He gave the Marshal a serious look. “If you required my counsel, you would expect the same confidence, I imagine.”
The Marshal stared. He nodded slowly. “I reckon. Any ideas about where she might have gone or anyone else she might have been talking to?”
Preacher folded his arms. “No, I can’t say I recall her mentioning anyone. I figured she was heading home. Why?”
“Cause she’s missing. Ain’t been home for nearly two days now.” Bart Foster sobbed into his hands. The man was clearly distressed about his wife’s absence. Preacher laughed inside. Should have treated her better while you had the chance.
Marshal Holder grabbed Preacher’s elbow and tugged him aside. He kept his voice low so Mr. Foster wouldn’t hear. “I know he’s got a drinking problem and all, but he swears his wife’s got no reason to run off. Would you agree with that sentiment, Preacher?”
He felt the Marshal’s glare. The smell of tobacco was strong on his breath. Preacher looked over his shoulder at the crying man. “Let’s just say Mrs. Foster had concerns about the treatment she received at home.” He wagged his head toward Mr. Foster a few times to hint at potential marital strife.
The Marshal straightened up. He tipped the front of his hat, signaling his appreciation. “Mr. Foster, let’s leave Preacher to his rest.”
Bart Foster slowly rose and shambled between the wooden pew. He stumbled for the door and the Marshal caught him with a large hand. Preacher held the door open as the Marshal ushered Bart from the chapel.
“Apologize for the late visit, padre.” Marshal Holder mumbled over his shoulder.
Preacher watched the men make their way across the darkened and desolate street. The moonlight cast eerie shadows alongside the men as they walked away. He wondered what time it was. Looking at the moon above, he knew it was past midnight but beyond that, he had no idea.
He closed the door and leaned against the heavy wood. A yawn escaped him while he scratched his stomach. The burning feeling in his gut had dwindled to a mild itch. His guests had remained asleep, to his relief.
That was a close one, he whispered to himself.
Chapter 15
Sarah emerged from the ministry, excited to begin her new vocation. She had strange dreams last night about being saved by the Lord. When she awoke, she thanked God for blessing her. Not long ago, she was a whore, selling her soul and her intimate parts for a dime a throw. Sarah had gotten lucky, landing the position as Madam in Wichita. It gave her a chance to do something slightly more respectable. And now, she had an opportunity to work in a church for a wonderful man. Redemption might be closer than she thought. Sarah hummed to herself with glee.
Preacher sat in a pew, reviewing scriptures in the Holy Bible. He looked up with a smile.
“Good morning, Sarah. You’re up early today.”
Sarah returned his smile. She felt weak in the knees, looking into his dark eyes. His fiery hair looked wonderful. She thought of running her fingers through it while she kissed his soft lips.
“I guess I’m just excited to get to work.” She rested her hands on her hips, hoping Preacher noticed her best dress. She had done herself up in hopes of catching his eye.
“What an angel the Lord has sent us.” Preacher stood and approached Sarah. She blushed, unsure if he meant she looked beautiful like an angel or he was thankful that providence had delivered her to his church as an extended hand of God. She shrugged off the thought.
“So, what shall I do first?” She accepted Preacher’s hands as he held her arms out, inspecting her visage.
“My oh my. Heaven will lose its luster when you
arrive someday.”
Sarah giggled and reddened. She felt like a little school girl with a crush. It was a nice feeling. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Sarah hoped it would last forever.
“Enough of my admiration. How about we discuss the ministry you will provide and see if we can agree on the best use of your...talents.” Preacher bit his lower lip and Sarah caught the gesture. Her stomach fluttered as she understood the sign of his attraction to her.
Preacher led Sarah by the hand. They sat in the same pew he had been sitting in earlier. He rested his arm over the back of the pew with his hand behind Sarah’s back. It was touching her body but she shuddered at the thought of his touch.
“We have a hard time attracting new members to the community. Quite frankly, we have a hard time keeping them around too. Drinking and whoring are much more exciting than the word of the Lord in these parts.” His eyebrows came together, revealing his deep thoughts and concerns. “However, I believe with the proper coaxing, we can bring folks in and interest them in staying longer.” His finger brushed Sarah’s back.
Sarah felt a tingle in her loins. She swallowed quickly to gain control. “I will do whatever I can to help out, Preacher.” Her eyes stared at his lips.
Preacher smiled. “I would like you to wander around town and entice folks to attend service.”
“Wander around?” Sarah was confused. She envisioned herself as a greeter at services and an event coordinator. Not an oil salesman.
“As you introduce yourself to people, use your...skills...to interest them in attending.” His fingers brushed the back of her neck. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms.
“I don’t understand. It sounds like you wish me to lure men to church with my sexuality.” Sarah was shocked at Preacher’s idea. Her attraction to him battled her instincts.
“Sarah, I am not asking you to have sex with anybody. I just think men would be more willing to come to services if they thought there might be a chance of future romance. It doesn’t mean you have to go through with anything.”