by Judith Pella
“What is it, Jane? Something has been troubling you all day.”
Jane sniffed. “I didn’t know it was still so close to the surface.I t is hard to have only one child and then to feel him slipping away.”
“Sons do grow apart from their families.”
“It is more than that, Ada. Before I left for the Circle this morning, Tom and Tommy had a huge fight. Tom is so hard on the boy, and the beatings don’t help. He is going to push Tommy away.I t used to be when Tommy was little that he’d run to me after his father . . . ah . . . disciplined him. Now, he goes off by himself. I . . . I think he blames me as much as his father.”
“That can’t be.” Ada glanced once more at her friend; then fearing to be distracted from the road, she reined in the horses and eased the wagon over to the side and stopped so they could talk more easily. “He probably just feels he is too old to run to his mother. You know how boys are.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m sure that’s it. I feel the same from Georgie, and he is younger than Tommy.”
“Ada, I’m’m afraid Tommy will run away!” Jane ended in a barely restrained sob.
Ada reached over and laid a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder. She didn’t know what to say. Yes, she had felt a small gulf form between herself and her boys as they grew older, but never had she believed they would leave home prematurely. Once Boyd had indeed run away. He had been ten and mad when his father wouldn’t let him drive the wagon on an icy morning. He had been gone only a couple of hours, returning in time for lunch. Ada knew it was much different for young Tommy, who was treated so harshly by his father. Her heart went out to Jane.
“Has he said anything serious about running away?”
“No, but he goes off by himself more and more.I just know one day he won’t come back.”
“Perhaps our new minister can help. He is a young man and may be able to relate to Tommy’s troubles.”
“It is Tom who truly needs help. I have prayed for years that he would be saved.I pray for Tommy, too, but as much as Tommy hates his father, he also desires to imitate him. Maybe if Tom started coming to church, Tommy would imitate that as he now copies Tom’s bad habits.”
“You should speak to Reverend L ocklin when he gets back from his circuit.”
“Reverend McFarland tried to talk to Tom many times. Once, Tom went after the poor man with the shotgun. The minister stayed away after that.” Anguish filled Jane’s eyes. “I fear to draw the new minister into this.”
Ada had heard about the shotgun incident and knew Jane’s husband Tom could be meanspirited. Jane’s fears were not without reason. Many stories had circulated over the years about how Tom would pick fights with men in the St. Helens saloons, or how he’d cheated his neighbors one way or another. Once, he had tried to sell a horse to Calvin, insisting that it was a four-year-old when even a city fellow could see the animal had to be at least ten.
“If you told Reverend L ocklin all this,” Ada suggested, “then he could decide for himself how to approach the situation. He is trained in such matters. There would be no problem with him talking to Tommy, would there?”
“Tom barely tolerates me going to church,” Jane replied. “And I never know how he will respond to anything. But I do agree I need to talk to my pastor. This situation is beyond me.”
THIRTEEN
Zack rode at an easy pace, the sun warm upon his shoulders. He felt oddly contented as he steered his horse back to Maintown. He felt like he was going home. He’d been there only a week before setting out on his circuit, but there had been something about the Copeland home, about Mrs. Copeland’s warm and welcoming ways after she’d returned to take up her household duties, that had made Zack feel as though he belonged.
This was a new sensation for him. He’d never belonged anywhere, even in his ma’s house, especially after his stepfather had entered the scene. So rather than feel uncomfortable about the fact that this was not his but William L ocklin’s life, he decided to enjoy it while it lasted.
He thought back on the last few days of the circuit. He’d held a service on the second Sunday at Bachelor Flat, a mere hour’s ride from Maintown. He had met most of the folks the previous Sunday at Maintown, so he had set out alone and then returned to Maintown that same day. He departed on the next leg of the circuit the following Tuesday, accompanied by Calvin Newcomb. They made the journey in two days of easy riding. The ride with Calvin Newcomb to the Deer I sland station— which he’d learned wasn’t an island at all, though he never discovered the reason for the name—had been more pleasant than he had anticipated. Calvin was a simple, decent man, not a great talker but full of a quiet wisdom that made Zack envy the man’s sons. How would Zack have turned out if he’d had a father like Calvin?
Zack recalled one conversation in particular. . . .
“Reverend, have you given any more thought to your employment when you are not riding the circuit?” Calvin had asked.
Back in Maintown Calvin had pointed out that since it was a small circuit, the churches could not afford to pay Zack a full-time wage, so the minister was expected to augment his expenses with other part-time work. The previous pastor, McFarland, had owned a tract of land and had worked this for income. Since Zack had no land, he would need to look elsewhere.
“I haven’t much,” Zack replied honestly enough. “There’s been so much to occupy my time lately.”
“That’s not surprising, Reverend—”
“Say, Mr. Newcomb, can I request that you call me William? I can’t get any others to do it, but I ’d sure be honored if you did so.”I n truth, Zack felt more comfortable with the false name of William than he did with the false title of reverend.
“I’d be honored, William, but then you must call me Calvin. I don’t much like formality, either.”
“Good. That’s settled, then.”
“Now, about work,” Calvin returned to the former topic, “I don’t know how your finances stand, and you don’t have to rush into anything, but if you are interested, ClydeL ambert, the manager of the Milton Creek Sawmill, said he’d be willing to hire you part-time.”
“I appreciate that and will consider it,” Zack said. “But since my room and board is paid by the church,I don’t have many other expenses. I ’d like to first spend some time getting familiar with my pastoral duties.”
“That is a good idea.” Calvin was quiet a moment, appearing to consider what he would say next. He seemed reluctant to speak on a delicate subject. Finally he continued. “You might want to think ahead to the future, lad.I . . . uh . . . don’t reckon you’ll want to be a single man forever.”
“I won’t be if the girls in Maintown have any say about it.” Zack glanced at Calvin, who seemed taken aback by the words; then a sudden grin bent his lips. Zack chuckled, and Calvin joined him.
“I guess the womenfolk aren’t as subtle as they think,” Calvin said.
“About as subtle as a mallet between the eyes.”
Both men laughed heartily.
Appearing more comfortable but still hesitant, Calvin said, “Have you any thoughts on this matter?”
“Of course I ’ll marry one day, probably sooner than later.” Zack answered as he thought William might but kept silent his thought that Calvin’s daughters would be his prime candidates.
“A man needs a wife,” Calvin said. “Not just for cooking and cleaning and such like. He needs . . . let me put it this way. A woman is like the North Star. I come from a long line of whalers back in Maine, and from them I learned how they used the North Star to steer their ships. That’s what a woman does for a man. She gives him direction, maybe even purpose.I figure if I didn’t have Ada, I ’d be carousing around in saloons, gambling, and drinking away my money.”
You mean, having fun? Zack wanted to say. But of course William wouldn’t have said that, and in truth, Zack realized he couldn’t say it either with total conviction. He lived his life that way, but did he really like his life? Was there
something better he was missing?
“With Ada I got something important to live for,” Calvin said, “my farm and my family.I don’t reckon I could have more.”
Zack didn’t like the introspection Calvin’s words had prompted and replied rather flippantly, “Well,I suppose it would be best for me to work as much as possible and put aside money toward my inevitable plunge into matrimony.”
“Marriage isn’t quite that bad, William.”
“I surely hope not!”
“You find the right woman, and it could be a pleasant experience.”
“I’ve seen some sad marriages, even in my short life, Calvin.”
Calvin nodded quietly.
Curious, Zack asked, “What makes a happy marriage, Calvin?”
“I’m no expert. That’s for sure!” Calvin laughed. “Ask Ada, and she’ll agree. We get storms and choppy seas.” He shrugged. “But we enjoy each other’s company.I ’d say we like each other well enough. Maybe that’s all there is to it—just liking each other.”
Zack decided that despite his curiosity, the conversation had proceeded long enough. He was only twenty-four years old, and he’d never thought much about marriage, at least not seriously. He definitely had never met the kind of woman a man would consider marrying. And most of the men he’d associated with were die-hard bachelors or had run away from unhappy unions. He had once met a fellow who had three wives in three different towns. He had run away from all three, never bothering to legally dissolve any of the marriages. Zack was seldom around any so-called family men.If he and his friends had happened upon one of this ilk, they were likely to ridicule the poor sot as anchored with a ball and chain. He had never let himself think that such a man was anchored not to a lead ball but to the North Star, and maybe he was soaring through the heavens, his life full of meaning and purpose.
Quickly Zack changed the direction of the conversation and asked Calvin about the work at the sawmill. They did not return to the disturbing topic of marriage again.
Calvin had returned to Maintown once he’d introduced Zack to the deacons of the church at Deer I sland. Zack stayed with one of those families for a few days and preached at the church service on the third Sunday morning. He reused the sermon “Consider theL ilies,” with which by now he was becoming quite comfortable.I n Deer I sland there was also a funeral to officiate. He’d brought William L ocklin’s books with him and now found that the Manual for Ministers was particularly useful, for it gave suggested outlines for various services. Flipping past the section on weddings—ignoring the slightly unsettled feeling that it gave him—he found the section on funerals. All went rather smoothly. No one seemed to mind that he read the service directly from the book. They probably knew he was too new at these matters to have it memorized.
Then he moved on to Columbia City, where he delivered the Sunday sermon—again “Consider theL ilies”—in the afternoon of the same Sunday. A covered-dish supper followed, which enabled him to get acquainted with the church members.
On Wednesday morning after breakfast at the home of the chairman of the Columbia City board of deacons, he headed back to Maintown. On his ride with Calvin from Maintown days ago, they had taken back roads to Deer I sland because Zack had told Calvin that he wanted to see some of the countryside. But the folks in Columbia City told him the fastest route back to Maintown would be through St. Helens. Zack had thus far avoided that city, but now he wasn’t sure enough of the roads he and Calvin had traveled to attempt taking them alone. He figured he’d simply skirt the city. Then Gilbert Reed, his host, invited himself to ride along with Zack because he had business in St. Helens.
“Pastor,” Gilbert said as they rode, “I’m good friends with the minister of the St. Helens Methodist Church, Reverend Barnett, and I know he’s been wanting to meet you.”
Meeting with other local ministers was one thing Zack felt he ought to avoid at all costs, so he’d have to come up with an excuse.
After a brief pause he said, “I’d like that, Mr. Reed, but today may not be the best time.I want to get back to Maintown before dark.”
“Oh, you could take time for a short visit and still make it.”
“You don’t say?”
As they rode into town, Zack searched his mind for other viable excuses to get out of the meeting. Finally he resigned himself to the inevitable.
St. Helens was a town of some two or three hundred people, three saloons, a large general store, and a couple of hotels. The townspeople had big aspirations, though, hoping to one day be the preeminent port on the Columbia River. Zack thought now about those three saloons and how easily he might get himself enough cash to make it to San Francisco. He thought he could parlayL ocklin’s few dollars into a nice bundle. But recalling his poor luck at the Portland gaming tables, he reminded himself there was also the risk that he’d lose the money along with his preacher disguise. No minister would be caught around a gaming table.
Giving a covertly wistful glance toward one of those saloons, he caught a far more disturbing sight out of the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly jerked his gaze back toward the front. He couldn’t be certain, but he wasn’t about to turn back for a better look.
He was sure that Beau Cutter was standing on the plank sidewalk in front of the general store conversing with another man. Now that his heart was beating again, it pounded rapidly, and it took all his will to keep from digging his heels into his mount’s flanks and flying. Keeping to their slow and easy pace, Zack dipped his head slightly to put his face more into the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat. Dressed as he was in Locklin’s duds, Zack would not be immediately recognizable as himself—at least he hoped not.
Calmly he said to his companion, “Mr. Reed, I just saw an old friend. I really must greet him before he gets away. Why, I’ve already lost sight of him.”
“I’ll wait,” Reed said congenially. “I’ve got business at Dolman’s General Store.”
“This may take a while.I’m’m afraid I ’ll have to postpone my meeting with Reverend Barnett. But tell him I will look him up at my next opportunity.”
Reed seemed reluctant to give up so easily, but Zack kept looking anxiously in the direction his imaginary friend had taken, opposite of where he’d seen Cutter. Reed finally bid Zack good day, and Zack rode off, still at an easy pace. He wound around through back streets, hoping they would eventually take him to the road leading to Maintown. He kept his pace easy the entire time, ignoring the urging of his pounding heart to run.
He did not feel safe until he was well on his way to Main-town. Maybe that’s where his odd feeling of contentment sprang from. Maintown represented a haven for him. Cutter would simply never suspect Zack’s crazy plan. And the man could ask all he wanted about a drifter named Zack Hartley, even give a description, and no one was likely to connect that man to the Brethren of Christ minister. Zack had always bemoaned the fact that his looks, though not unsightly, were rather nondescript. Tall, but not strikingly so, light brown hair, brown eyes, average physique—any number of men could fit that description, a fact he now welcomed.
He took one short side trip before returning to his boardinghouse. A couple miles east of Maintown, according to Calvin, was the Milton Creek Sawmill, and here Zack stopped to inquire about employment. He needed to do something else to earn money in order to expedite his departure from this area, even if it meant doing regular labor. For despite the feeling of hominess Maintown gave him, he knew he couldn’t stay here forever.
FOURTEEN
Zack’s return to Maintown was met with a steady stream of dinner invitations, most from the families of eligible young women, some from homes he’d already visited.
At the Fergus home, the daughter I ris was so blatant in her advances that she even said, “I have just been waiting for the right man to marry, Reverend.” The glint in her eye as much as said she had finally found him.
Zack had never in his life been nervous around women, but he was downright af
raid ofIris Fergus!
Dinner with the Stoddards was painful in an entirely different way. Mrs. Stoddard was clearly the aggressor there, at least in her unsubtle manipulations of Zack and her shy daughter Sarah. She’d managed to get the two young people alone in the parlor for long periods of time, during which Zack tried to maintain conversation with Sarah, but it would have been easier to coax blood from a turnip. Finally he conjured some pretext to go in search of Mr. Stoddard. The relief in Sarah’s expression when Zack took his leave was unmistakable.
But the most disconcerting dinner of all was with the Parkers. Mabel Parker was neither artless nor shy.I t was obvious she knew what she wanted, and it was clear she wanted Zack. She also knew how to get it. She was charming and coy, graceful and feminine. She probably would have won the new minister had it been the real L ocklin. Even Zack was nearly beguiled by the young woman, but her habit of putting on airs put him off.
The evening had begun with Zack being entertained in the finely appointed parlor.
“My family visited England when I was young,” Mabel said in response to Zack’s compliment about their lovely home. “Many of our furnishings were purchased there and shipped over. My mother is especially proud of the curio cabinet.I t was made to order from her instructions.” She went on about several pieces in the room, and Zack quickly lost interest.
Florence Parker chimed in with frequent embellishments. Mr. Parker seemed embarrassed by the bragging but was silent for the most part, though he did converse about other topics. Zack had to admit that of all the families in the area he had visited, the Parkers did indeed have cause to brag. Nathan Parker was half owner of the Milton Creek Sawmill, obviously a profitable business. He also owned a couple of large tracts of rich timberland, a fact that neither Florence nor Mabel let slip by.
Zack could not help being impressed. He was, after all, not a real minister who might be less awed by material possessions. His short stint impersonating English nobility had given him an appreciation for the finer things of life. Marrying into the Parker family could set up a fellow for life. And marrying the attractive, charming Mabel would not be so bad.
