by Ralph Cotton
But Delphia did not try to get away. Instead she ran straight to Jessup, stopping a few feet back from him, with her head lowered obediently, saying, “Father Jessup, please allow me a word with you regarding Randall Turner.”
Jessup stood in stunned silence for a moment. This was the first time the young woman had ever showed him such behavior. So far all he had felt from her had been a cold undercurrent of defiance, even on those nights when she was forced to join him in his bed. As he stood staring at her, Edmunds and Searcy came running forward to grab her.
But Jessup called out, “No, leave her be, Brothers.” To Delphia Turner he said, “What is it you have to say to me, wife?” He cut a glance toward Randall Turner, making sure the young man heard him.
Delphia brushed back a strand of long auburn hair, which had fallen loose when she lost her head cover. She glanced at Jessup, then looked down coyly at the ground and said, “It isn’t something I want others to hear, Father Jessup. May I come forward? Can a wife ask a favor of her husband?”
It was the first time she’d ever called him Father, let alone husband. He smiled slightly, but managed to keep his joy showing too greatly. “Of course, dear wife. What is this favor you ask?” He draped the whip handle over his forearm as he spoke.
“I want to ask you to let this boy go,” said Delphia, emphasizing the word boy in describing her young husband.
“Oh, and why would I want to do that,” Jessup asked, “after hurt saying so many terrible things about me and our community of believers?”
“He’s young and foolish and he hasn’t yet realized that I no longer belong to him…that I now belong to you, Father Jessup.”
Jessup’s smile widened. “I’m afraid that being young and foolish isn’t enough reason to overlook what he’s done. He has to pay for it.”
“You’ll see that whipping will do no good,” said Delphia. “I know him well. He is stubborn and tough-skinned, and the only thing that will teach him anything is if he sees that I am going to make promises to you in order to spare him every time he does something rash and foolish like this.”
“Delphia,” Randall cried out, “please don’t do this! Don’t do this for me! Let him kill me! Please!”
Jessup’s attention turned to Randall. With a bemused smile he said, “You might just be right, wife.”
“I am right,” Delphia said confidently. “I know him, and I know what would hurt him worse.”
“Then speak up and tell me, wife,” said Jessup.
Delphia blushed, and said in a lowered tone, “There are promises a wife makes to her husband that no one else should hear.”
“Come over here, dear wife,” said Jessup, feeling better about this by the second.
Edmunds and Searcy gave Jessup a cautioning look, but he brushed it aside, watching Delphia walk forward to him. When she stopped again no more than a couple of feet away, he looked closely at her hands, making sure they were empty as she cupped them and leaned toward his ear.
“I bet that some awfully pretty promise she’s making,” Falon whispered to Ace Tomblin. “Look how the good reverend’s face is lighting up.”
“This ain’t none of our business, Frank,” Ace offered in reply.
“I know it’s not,” said Falon. “I think we best get the men together and ride back up to the boiling shack.”
“What about Heady?” asked Ace. “He can’t leave until after Jessup says it’s okay.”
“Didn’t you get a good look at him?” said Falon. “The shape he’s in, he ain’t going nowhere for a few days. Forget him for now. Once he gets his skin back on, he’ll know where to find us, if he ain’t too ashamed to come around licking his back.” He walked out to his horse, his brother, Kirby, following him. He unhitched the reins and stepped up into his saddle. Looking back at the rest of his men, he saw them still standing on the boardwalk, with sullen expressions on their faces. Ace Tomblin stood in front with his thumbs hooked in his gun belt.
Falon called out in a forceful tone, “Damn it, boys! There ain’t nothing we can do about it now! I said let’s ride!”
Slowly the men looked at one another, then at Ace Tomblin. When Tomblin finally stepped toward his horse, the others followed. Falon backed his horse a few steps and leered menacingly at the men until they all rode away single file along the dirt street.
On the boardwalk a few yards away, stood four men in black business suits and long riding dusters. They’d ridden in after the whipping had started. The leader of the four—a tall, hard-faced man named Rudolph Banatell—held a carpetbag up under his left arm and said with a slightly dark chuckle, “Gentlemen, either tell me I’m stone blind or green-hog crazy, or else I just saw a man get the living hell whipped out of him for drinking whiskey.”
“You’re not blind, Rudy,” said Ernie Harpe, the youngest of the four. “You saw it.”
“You might be crazy, Rudy,” said a large, stocky young man known only as Orsen, “but if you are, we all are. We saw it clear as day.”
On the way into Paradise, Rudy Banatell and his men had seen three crosses erected on a low hill on the outskirts of town. Beside the crosses a sign read welcome to paradise, a community of believers. Thinking about the sign, Rudy said, “I reckon we’ll walk the straight and narrow while we’re here, men.”
An older man named Shelby “the Gun” Keys, stepped forward and spit in the dirt in the direction of Falon and his men. Still talking about the whipping on the street, he said, “I can’t abide his friends just riding off without firing a shot.” His fingertips tapped idly on a big Smith & Wesson holstered across his belly. A big gold ring shaped out of a twenty-dollar gold piece glistened on his middle finger. “If that was any bunch I ever rode with, there’d already be buzzards already circling this shit hole. We’d’ve reaped vengeance, killed everything here that had air in it.”
“Reaping vengeance is all we ever hear you talk about, Gun,” said Ernie Harpe. “Why don’t you get yourself another subject?”
“Hush, Ernie,” said Rudy Banatell, grinning. “I like hearing that kind of tough talk. Gun was around when being a highwayman meant something. Right, Gun?”
“Yeah, I expect so,” said Shelby Keys, ignoring Ernie Harpe. “Anyways, no man should take a whipping like that and not go back and cut that son of a bitch’s arm off at the shoulder and beat him to death with it.”
“See? There he goes again,” said Ernie.
“I like it.” Rudy grinned. Ernie and Orsen just shook their heads.
A young man with only a wispy thin line of a beard came hurrying along the street, and before he could pass the four, Rudy’s hand reached out and snatched him to an abrupt halt. “Pardon me, lad,” said Rudy, “but what we just saw here.” He nodded toward the street where the onlookers were still dispersing. “Does this sort of amusement commonly take place on the streets here?”
Not understanding Rudy’s dark humor, the young man gave him a serious look and replied, “Oh! No, sir. This wasn’t public amusement. Those two men were being punished! They broke Father Jessup’s town commandments. The one who got whipped the worst was drunk on strong drink!”
Seeing how serious the young man was about the incident, Rudy quickly adopted a serious expression himself, and said in a shocked tone, “No, you don’t mean it! Drunk on strong drink?” He glanced at his three men and said, “Hear that, gentlemen? He was drunk on strong drink!”
“No wonder they whipped him then,” Orsen commented, going along with Rudy, mocking the young man.
“Strong drink? I’m surprised they didn’t hang him then,” said Ernie, taking up the joke.
“Oh, no,” said the young man, “Father Jessup would rather cure a man than take his life.”
“That’s big of him,” said Rudy, wrapping an arm around the young man’s shoulders. “What’s your name, lad?”
“I’m Anderson Farnsley,” said the young man. Proudly he added, “I’m one of the newest members of Father Jessup’s fold.”
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p; “Indeed?” Rudy gave him an impressed look. “And how did that come about?”
“My father and mother both died last winter, and Father Jessup took me in when I turned over all of their earthly possessions to his community of believers.”
“All their earthly possessions?” Rudy gave the other three men a knowing glance. “I’m sure you mean title to their land, money and such?”
“Yes, that’s what it was. He took in me and my sister at the same time. I became a member of his fold and my sister, Martha, is to become one of his wives as soon as she turns twelve next month.”
“One of his wives…” said Rudy, trying to contemplate the kind of situation that Jessup had going for himself. For a moment he stood silently, lost in that contemplation. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he said, “Tell me something, Anderson. How would you like to show me and my associates around town? Sort of give us a welcoming tour, you might call it.”
“Well, I’m on my way to Bible study.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to keep you from that now, would we? Maybe you best run along then.” But Rudy still kept his arm wrapped firmly around Anderson’s shoulder. “We don’t want to keep you from reading the Bible.”
The young man made a slight tug, but then made no more attempt to free himself from Rudy’s arm. “I don’t read the Bible. None of us do. Father Jessup is touched by God and understands God’s word perfectly. So he reads it to us—the parts that mean something, that is. Then he tells us what it means so we’ll know how we’re supposed to live by it.”
“Oh, I see,” said Rudy, giving the other three men another knowing look along with a bemused smile. “Well, again, I have to say, that is mighty sporting decent of him!”
“It inspires me,” said Orsen, “and I’m not a man easily inspired.”
“Me, too,” said Ernie. “It nearly brings tears to my eyes.”
Anderson looked around at the faces of the four men, feeling the arm around his shoulder begin to loosen its hold on him. “Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if I missed study, seeing it would be to show some newcomers around town.” He offered a smile. “Who knows? You fellows might decide to stay and become members yourselves! Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Yes, it certainly would,” said Rudy, beginning to tire of the young man and his gullibility. “But these gentlemen and myself belong to too many other organizations as it is. I just don’t see where we’d ever find the time.”
Along the street Rudy saw another man approaching them as Anderson Farnsley started to say, “Oh, finding the time is—”
“There, there, enough said,” said Rudy, cutting him off and patting his shoulder as he turned him completely loose. “You run along now. If we need you, we’ll find you.”
“But I want to be hospitable—” said Anderson.
Rudy gave him a little shove. “Then don’t overstay your welcome, lad.”
“I hope young Anderson isn’t making a nuisance of himself,” said the man approaching them.
“This is Brother Beckman, our bank manager,” Anderson said to Rudy Banatell, introducing the man.
“Yes, thank you, Anderson,” said the man. “Now you get yourself on over to the study group”—he looked the young man up and down—“unless of course you already know it all.”
“No, sir, Brother Beckman,” said Anderson, backing away. “I’m on my way now!” He turned and broke into a run.
Forrest Beckman faced Rudy and his men. “You’ll have to forgive Anderson. He’s one of our newest brothers. I hope he hasn’t been annoying.”
“Not at all.” Rudy grinned, touching his hat brim courteously. “We found the lad most informative. Didn’t we, gentlemen?”
“A fountain of knowledge,” said Orsen. Ernie Harpe and the Gun just stared.
“Well, in that case,” said Brother Beckman, “as Anderson said, I am the bank manager.” He spread his arms in a grand gesture. “Welcome to Paradise!”
“Thank you, sir,” said Rudy. Then lying, he said, “I’m Mr. Able. These are my associates, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Carter and Mr. Dean.” He swept a hand toward the others as he spoke quickly, using names he made up in alphabetical order. Then he stood grinning, waiting for Beckman to speak. Rudy Banatell was having fun seeing how far he could lead this banker. The man seemed awfully slow-witted to be in the money-handling business.
“So, then,” Beckman said after a pause, “what brings you men to Paradise?”
“Your bank,” said Rudy, flatly, just to see what look came to the banker’s eyes.
“Our bank?”
Seeing only the slightest questionable expression come to Beckman’s eyes, Rudy quickly said, “We have too much money on hand. We want to deposit it in your bank. Providing your bank is secure, of course.”
“It isn’t my bank. I only manage it for our community of believers. But let me assure you, gentlemen, this bank is safe! Safer than any bank I ever managed before I joined the fold.”
“That’s comforting to hear,” said Rudy, with another grin. He dropped the carpetbag from under his arm, flipped it open and held it forward for Beckman to see. “Because as you can see, we’re talking about some serious cash here. And we are prepared to pay a substantial fee to both you personally and your facility as well, for your help.” He gave Beckman a quick wink.
Beckman’s eyes widened slightly at the large amount of money piled in disarray; but they widened more as he saw the shiny Colt revolver lying nestled in the pile. He took a step back, saying, “Sir! Do you realize there is a gun in that bag?”
“No, kidding?” Rudy looked down, then picked up the Colt with two fingers and passed it over to Orsen, who took it and stuck it down in his belt. “I could have sworn I took that out before we left our camp.” This fellow was unbelievably stupid, he told himself.
Beckman looked at the guns the men wore.
In response to Beckman’s look, Rudy said, “As you can see, we are adequately armed anyway. I hope this doesn’t frighten you?”
“Well, no,” Beckman offered a bit reluctantly, “not now that you’ve explained your circumstances. I suppose if it were me carrying a large amount of money I’d be armed to the teeth. May I ask why you are carrying such a large amount across this hostile land?”
“Railroad money, sir,” said Rudy, making a story up as he went along. He patted the carpetbag. “We’re buying land for future rail speculation. Nothing helps like having the cash in hand when a deal is struck. It keeps folks from having doubts while they wait for drafts to be issued.”
“Yes, of course,” said Beckman. He reached for the door. “Let me show you gentlemen inside. I think you’ll feel better once you see the new safe we’ve recently installed. It’s large enough that a man could actually live in it!”
“My,” said Rudy, stepping inside ahead of the others and looking all around at the polished oak woodwork and brass-trimmed counters. “I bet those thieving poltroons will think twice before taking you on, sir.”
“Between having the new safe and the fact that the brothers are constantly on guard against any suspicious-looking strangers,” said Beckman, “I can assure you this facility is a fortress.”
“You know, sir,” said Rudy, suddenly stopping as if something had just occurred to him, “now that I think of it, I wonder if the brothers might have been watching us moments ago, perhaps wondering if we were up to no good.”
Beckman blushed. “A couple of them did mention that four strangers had arrived while Father Jessup was administering justice to those two lost souls. But after I took one look at you gentlemen, I assured everyone that you four were businessmen in need of banking services.”
“Are we that obvious?” Rudy asked, giving Brother Beckman a helpless look.
“No, but when you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you learn to size a person up pretty quick.”
“Indeed,” said Rudy. To the others, he said over his shoulder, “Hear that, gentlemen? Mr. Beckman already had us pegged before w
e even said howdy.” He grinned widely. “I find that to be a most comforting trait in a banker.”
Chapter 7
Inside the bank in Paradise, Shelby immediately veered away from the others and started toward the far end of the long teller’s counter to where he could keep an eye on everything. But before he could get there and into position, Rudy called out to him, saying, “This way, Mr. Dean! Let’s all follow Mr. Beckman and not wander off on our own.”
The Gun got Rudy’s message, but he didn’t like it. He stopped in his tracks, turned and gave Rudy a stern look, his hand resting tightly around his gun butt. He said with double meaning, “But I always like to look at a place from the long end, Mr. Able.”
“Yes, I know that,” said Rudy, the two of them understanding one another while the two tellers behind the counter seemed to see nothing out of the ordinary. “Only this time, will you please indulge me?”
“But I really want to do like I always do. I see no reason to change anything at the last minute.”
Rudy gave the Gun a scorching look as Beckman unlocked a door in the counter and swung it open. Apparently nothing they had said made the banker suspect anything. “You’ll have to overlook Mr. Dean,” Rudy said to Beckman. Behind his back he made a motion with his hand for Orsen and Ernie to go deal with the Gun. “I’m afraid he’s overcome with concern over all this money.”
“Well, I can certainly remedy that,” said Beckman, guiding Rudy through the door into an area behind the security wall and counter. “You’ll soon see why I have such complete confidence in this facility.”
Orsen and Ernie sidestepped a few feet cross the floor, closer to the Gun, and Orsen growled as quietly as he could, “Gun, gawdamn it! You heard him! Get over here and do like he said!”
“Damn it! This ain’t the way it was planned,” the Gun grumbled to himself. He gave in and moved along toward the open counter door with Orsen and Ernie, but while doing so, he growled in reply, “I’m ready to do this thing! I’m tired of pussyfooting around about it!”
“Shut up!” Ernie whispered harshly, as the three of them tried to get through the counter door at the same time.
