Then Came the Thunder

by Rachael Huszar

  Everything about her seemed . . . what was the word . . . not stiff . . . Tight. Yes, everything about her was tight: her expressions, her clothes, the bun she kept her dark brown locks pinned up in. Sam wondered if she did it to uphold the strict schoolteacher persona. Or maybe it was something she did for herself.

  The mystery of Jessalyn Joy aside, Sam at least wanted to speak to her again, maybe get her to laugh, if he could. The potential weeks he’d be staying with her would be unbearable if they spent it in frigid silence. Sam would rather take his chances back in the desert than that.

  To his surprise, he came upon her right away. He’d been on his way to water Sinbad, but it seemed Jessalyn had beat him to it. Her now familiar full-skirted figure stood next to his horse, petting along his neck and speaking to him softly. Sam couldn’t make out the words at this distance. He stopped and leaned against the doorframe, watching them both. The horse’s ears flicked back and forth.

  “Under his jaw,” Sam called out.

  Jessalyn turned, startled. “Beg pardon?” she called back.

  Sam gestured to his own jaw, running a thumb along the length. “That’s his favorite place to be scratched. Right along the jaw bone.”

  Jessalyn held his gaze for a moment, then turned back to Sinbad, reaching up to his jaw. The horse let out a happy grunt in response. “What do you call him?”

  “Sinbad.”

  Jessalyn lowered her voice, but Sam thought she said, “Seems appropriate.”

  He held his spot in the doorway, several yards away. “What was that?”

  “I said, it seems appro—” Jessalyn turned to see that Sam hadn’t moved an inch. “What are you doing way over there?”

  “Keeping my distance,” Sam said, echoing the words Jessalyn had thrown at him with such fury. He had a suspicion that might sting a little.

  He was right. Jessalyn dropped her gaze to the ground and fiddled with the fingers of her left hand. Finally, she looked back up. “This is silly.”

  “I agree,” Sam said. “Permission to approach?”

  Jessalyn gave him a disparaging look. “Granted.”

  Sam stepped down from the porch and crossed the yard to Jessalyn’s side. “Now, you were saying?”

  “I was saying it seemed fitting that you’d name your horse after Sinbad.”

  “How d’you figure?”

  She looked Sam up and down. “Sinbad was a legendary sailor who could get himself out of any situation with charisma alone.”

  “Such flattery,” Sam said, placing a hand on his chest.

  “Never mind the destruction and body count left in his wake.”

  “And he returned home from a lifetime of adventure and became the richest man in Baghdad. You can’t leave out the end of the story. The end is the best part.” He flashed her a grin.

  Which earned him an eyeroll.

  He’d gotten her to speak to him again. That was something, at least. “You know,” he said earnestly, “you were right before. You don’t know me. But that means you don’t know enough to write me off either. Still, I think I took things a little too far. I apologize.”

  Jessalyn’s expression softened, barely.

  “Personally, I think it’d be better if we both held off on the snap judgements, but if I can make one more guess about you, I’d bet that taking boarders into your house wasn’t your idea?”

  She rolled her shoulders, and after a long moment, finally answered. “You’d be right. Mayor Carson feels that shaping the minds of Three Willows’ children isn’t enough responsibility for me, and that I should make an effort to be more sociable. And his grand solution is that by parading you around and making introductions, I might find a friend or two. I suppose.”

  Sam could tell by her tone that she resented the entire situation, and who wouldn’t? From the bit of time he’d spent with the mayor, though, this didn’t surprise him. Mayor Carson certainly seemed to like keeping his fingers in everyone’s pies. “I see,” he said. “I’m a project.”

  “It’s embarrassing to you, it’s insulting to me, this whole thing has gotten out of control ever since—” she stopped short.

  “Since?” Sam prompted.

  She shook her head. “If you were hoping for the leader of the welcome wagon, you will find me to be a disappointment.”

  The sarcasm was there, but Sam could tell there was quite a bit of truth, too. She hated this arrangement she’d been forced into, but she also felt like she was letting him down. Maybe that’s where some of the tightness came from. While Sam wasn’t sure how he felt, being treated like a puppy the mayor had gifted Jessalyn, he was certain of one thing. He wanted to help her. Something deep down was telling him that he couldn’t just leave her alone.

  “Why don’t we try it?” he said.

  She looked at him, surprised. “I’m sorry?”

  “Try it the mayor’s way. Make nice. I’m ready for a new start. Someplace where nobody knows me and I don’t know anyone. If this little exercise helps me start over and gets the mayor off your back, why don’t we do it?”

  Jessalyn fingered her sleeve cuff. “I . . . I’m not sure if I’m the right one for the job.”

  “Psshh. I already know I trust your opinion.”

  “Why?”

  “Because nobody has been up in my face like you were in a long time. I must say, I find it more comforting than the smiles and bull honky I seem to be getting from everyone else, like the mayor and that Mamie Piper woman.”

  And then it happened. It was small, and a little strained, but she laughed.

  “Yes,” Jessalyn said, the smile staying in place. “I’ve never had much patience for, ahem, ‘bull honky’ .”

  “Well, all right. It’s a plan, then. Glad to be working with you, Jessalyn.” Sam extended a hand to her. And after a moment, she took it, her smooth skin resting against his rough palms.

  “Likewise . . . Samuel.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  After releasing his hand, Jessalyn glanced up at the sky and the steadily rising sun. “Are you a church-going man?”

  “Reckon there’s really only one answer to that question.”

  “Service will be starting in a little while. I’ll walk you there and we can begin this tour.”

  Sam tucked his hands in his pockets and followed along behind her.

  9

  THREE WILLOWS’ CHURCH WAS AN enormous building. During the opening hymns of the service, Sam took in the sights of the bright white rafters high above, the polished floorboards below, and the sea of pews filled with what must be the entire town, maybe five hundred people. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d been in a church. A real church. They’d gathered together to worship in the army, of course, but saying prayers in the mud wasn’t the same as this.

  As the last notes of the hymn faded away and people took their seats, a young man stepped up to the pulpit. He was tall and stringy, with round spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He kept shaking the sleeves of his priestly robes back to keep them from swallowing his hands. When he spoke, his voice was shaky to start, but gained steam as he went on.

  “Friends. Today, as we are gathered here together, I’d like us to consider the nature of praise. There is no need to wonder about the proper way or means in which we offer our praise to God. When you see something that astounds you, when you hear music that overwhelms you, when you are so amazed that you cannot contain your joy, you are compelled to offer praise. It is no different than that feeling. For everything that you find to be impressive began with God. He is amazement. He is goodness. He is beauty, and love, and joy. And when we offer our praise to the sights and sensations that give us these feelings, we must also offer that praise to the Creator.”

  Every so often, Sam felt Jessalyn shift on the pew bench next to him. She was watching the sermon intently.

  “Which is why we come together, to remember who it is that w
e praise. We do not come to church to merely regard God from a distance, we are here to praise Him. He, who created Heaven and Earth. He, who sustains all life. He, who brought us out of the darkness. He, who grants us redemption, freedom, mercy, and love. When we offer praise to something we find truly spectacular, we are offered but a glimpse of the ecstasy of His being.”

  Sam could have sworn he heard Jessalyn tut under her breath. She wasn’t just listening closely, she was listening critically. He leaned toward her and whispered, “You all right over there?”

  “Yes. Fine,” she whispered back. But she didn’t look it.

  The sermon went on. “We lift our voices together to express the praise that we can no longer contain, and together, we are bonded, bringing us closer to each other, and closer to Him. And at that moment, that culmination, God fills us with His Spirit, and we can enjoy God enjoying us. This is the reason we worship.”

  Jessalyn kept fidgeting. Another glance revealed that her lips were growing tighter and tighter, like she was holding something back.

  “You look like you’re ready to jump up there and preach the gospel yourself. What’s wrong?”

  Jessalyn tore her eyes from the preacher to glare at Sam. “I had suggested more corrections to this sermon,” she hissed.

  “What?”

  “Roger Shaw occasionally enlists my aid in editing his sermons. And it seems he hasn’t agreed with all of my notes.”

  “ . . . You edit the town sermons?”

  “Yes,” she replied, as though this was the most natural thing. “Roger is a budding writer. He needs guidance.”

  Sam shook his head. “You continue to fascinate me.” To think someone could get so indignant over their grammar suggestions being ignored.

  “Let us pray,” the preacher, Roger Shaw, announced. “Oh, Holy Spirit, we go forth choosing to be people of praise. We ask that you fill this place, inhabit our lives, and delight in our praise. Let our songs be the pinnacle of that joy, knowing that God is good and glorious and the beauty behind all that is beautiful. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” echoed the congregation.

  “Go in peace and serve the Lord.”

  With that, people began to rise, stretch, gathering their hats and children, when a different voice rose above the chatter. “Everyone! Can y’all stay in your seats for just another minute? We’ve got an announcement from the Founders.”

  Sam recognized the figure of Mayor Carson stepping to the front of the hall, accompanied by two others, an old man, and Mamie Piper. “What’s this?” he asked Jessalyn.

  The announcement had stopped her stewing over the sermon, and she sat back down. “Mayor Carson, Reverend Finley, and Mamie Piper. They’re all three descendants of the original settlers of Three Willows. Basically, our governing body. But I’m not sure what they have to say. If they need to talk to the whole town, it must be important.”

  Sam resumed his seat next to her. When the rest of the crowd had also settled, Mayor Carson spoke again.

  “It has come to our attention that there have been a series of accidents out at the ranches. Something has been coming at night and killing livestock. There’s no need for too much alarm, we’re fairly certain it’s just a rabid desert predator, but it has reached a point where we must take action.”

  Fearful murmuring rippled through the church. Some of the men nodded in agreement. Mothers tugged their children closer.

  Mamie Piper stepped forward, today dressed in the brightest purple outfit Sam had ever seen. “Over the next few days, anyone willing to volunteer to be a part of the patrol should come ‘round the hotel and speak with me. We’ll down some liquid courage and go on a hunt.”

  The old man Jessalyn had called Reverend Finley lifted a hand. “For those of you staying in town, please take precautions as well. Remain indoors at night. If you must go out, don’t go alone.”

  “That’ll do it,” Carson said, his smile still cheerful despite the apparent danger. “Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”

  For a second time, the crowd stood from their pews and began filing out of the church.

  “Livestock attacks?” Sam said, putting on his hat. “This sort of thing happen before?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” said Jessalyn. A crease of worry had settled across her forehead. “I ought to find Lilah,” she muttered.

  “Lilah?”

  “Lilah Templeton, one of my advanced students. Her family runs a cattle ranch here in town.”

  “Sure.”

  Jessalyn maneuvered her way through the exiting crowd and Sam followed close behind. Every so often, Sam caught the eye of a townsperson staring at him, and he remembered how rare newcomers were. He smiled and waved and got a mix of reactions returned to him, from friendly nods to looks of suspicion.

  They bobbed and weaved until Jessalyn threw her arm up in the air. “Lilah!” she shouted.

  A teenage girl surrounded by young children, all equally bright blonde, looked up. She shifted the toddler she was holding to one hip and waved back. “Miss Joy! Hold on, kids. Hold on! I’m gonna talk to Miss Joy and . . . uh?” Lilah’s gaze fell on Sam, taking him in and realizing that she didn’t know him. She looked at Jessalyn, questioningly.

  “Lilah, this is Samuel Brooks. He’s new to Three Willows and he’ll be staying with me for a while.”

  “Oh! All right.” Lilah dipped her head to Sam. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Pleasure,” Sam replied. He gestured to the gaggle of kids. “Are, uh, all these yours?”

  “My brothers and sister, yeah.” Lilah tossed her head, pulling her braid from the toddler girl’s grip. The other three boys chattered energetically to each other from either side of their sister.

  “Quite the brood,” Sam said.

  “Lilah,” Jessalyn cut in, “that announcement from the Founders. Did the mayor come up with something?”

  Jessalyn obviously knew more about this situation than he did.

  Lilah must have noticed his confusion. “Out at our ranch, we’ve lost four bulls over the last three months. Two just the other night.”

  “That’s terrible. You think it’s some kind of animal?” Sam asked.

  “That’s what my brother and father think. Not a lot of other options, really. I’m not too worried. They said Mayor Carson agreed with them that they should set up a nightly patrol out there to keep a better watch on the stock. If a bunch of folks pull together to hunt it down, I bet they’ll get it, no problem.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Lilah, there you are.” A haggard-looking woman stepped from the crowd and seized the hands of the two youngest boys. “Quit your dawdling. We need to get home.” Then, with an expression that could have frozen the fires of hell, the woman looked at Jessalyn. “Excuse us.” With that, she dragged the boys away.

  “Right,” Lilah said, shaking off a grimace. “Um, I’ll see you tonight Miss Joy? For my lesson?”

  “Of course.”

  “Lilah!” the woman, Sam presumed Lilah’s mother, shouted.

  Lilah adjusted her grip on her sister. “Bye, Miss Joy. And welcome to Three Willows, Mister Brooks!” She turned and followed her mother.

  “Seems like a sweet kid,” Sam said once they’d gone.

  “She is.”

  “And, you’ve got a lesson with her tonight?”

  “I do,” Jessalyn said. “Lilah is an excellent reader and studies with me privately.”

  Sam noticed a pattern. The preacher received one-on-one advice from Jessalyn, and so did a talented student. He was growing quite curious about Jessalyn the teacher, as well as Jessalyn the woman. “Mind if I sit in?”

  She blinked. “On the lesson?”

  “Yeah. Might be fun to see you in action.”

  Jessalyn narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure how much ‘fun’ you could have.”

  “Leave that up to me. What’s the topic?”
/>   “We’ve been reading A Tale of Two Cities.”

  “Dickens. Good choice.”

  “You’ve read it?”

  Sam didn’t miss the incredulity in her voice. To be fair, he supposed he didn’t look like an avid reader. Still, there was something so satisfying about surprising Jessalyn. He gazed up at the sky and tapped his chin dramatically. “What was it we were saying this morning about snap judgements? I just can’t remember . . .”

  Jessalyn huffed. She put on a mockingly haughty tone. “Do forgive me, good sir.”

  Any reply Sam might have had was cut off by a sweetly shrill cry. “Jessalyn! Oh, Jessalyn!” Three women were making their way towards them in the slowly thinning crowd, the bright colors of their dresses making them pop out like early spring buds.

  Jessalyn froze mid-stride, and Sam watched a series of emotions cross her face. Pain, regret, resolve, and finally a smile so wide it looked like it hurt. “Charity! Patience! Felicity! Hello,” she said to the women. Ooohh, she hates them.

  The blonde flapped a hand at Jessalyn. “It’s been a while since we saw you out and about!”

  “Oh,” Jessalyn said with a sigh. “I’m around. I just have a lot of work to do, you know.”

  The brunette, dressed all in yellow, leaned forward. “Tell me about it. If I could get out of the kitchen in the summer and stay in that pretty little schoolhouse of yours, I’d never leave either!”

  The third woman spoke up. “It really is a lovely building. You did such a nice job.”

  “Thank you,” said Jessalyn.

  The blonde woman, her cheeks as pink as her clothes, had been looking back and forth from Jessalyn to Sam the entire time. “Jessalyn . . . aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jessalyn said. “This is Samuel Brooks. Mister Brooks, please meet Charity Meyer, Felicity Anders, and Patience Hale.”

  Sam tipped his hat. “My pleasure, ladies.”

  All three of them giggled.

  “Are you a relative of Jessalyn’s?” asked the third, Patience.

  “I am not. I actually just came to Three Willows a handful of days ago. Miss Joy was kind enough to open up her spare room to me, so I’ll be her boarder until I can make other arrangements.”