“Yes,” she replied, “but not with you.” She brushed past him and sauntered up to Claudine and the man. With a word to Claudine, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the street. Claudine walked over to Hosea.
“Susanna said you wanted to dance with me,” she said.
He watched Susanna and the man bounce up and down the street. “I would be delighted,” he replied.
They danced the remainder of the polka, but afterward he went for a long walk in the bright moonlight. He didn’t want to see the ladies claim customers and take them back to the saloon. He prayed for them but couldn’t stop wondering why Susanna preferred to dance with Hiram and that rough character over him. Did she detest him that much or was it a matter of business? He thought of her assertion of losing one’s conviction the longer one lived in a brothel. The concept frightened him, though removing to other quarters wasn’t an option. He couldn’t afford to.
Sounds of the night surrounded him: insects chirping, a breeze through the trees, the crunch of stones under his feet. It was peaceful in contrast to the tumult of his mind.
“Is it time for me to leave, Lord?” Hosea prayed. “The longer I stay, the happier the ladies are, but the more damage is inflicted upon my conscience. The very things I would warn my parish against I find myself in the thick of. Am I right? Am I wrong? What lasting good am I accomplishing? Show me the way I should go, Lord.”
He sighed heavily. “How am I going to explain everything to the bishop?”
Chapter 5: Tombs of the Gadarenes
NOT for the first time did Hosea reconsider bedding down in the stable. It was a loud night at the saloon and his head was squeezed between two pillows. Downstairs the piano sounded like it was rollicking to its own tune, accompanied by raucous laughter. Upstairs was female laughter. Yet Hosea was not a man to break his word and abandon his flock.
“Looks like another night of song,” he said, and, though hoarse from his earlier performance onstage, he began to sing a hymn to block out the noise:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform
He plants his footstep in the sea
And rides upon the storm
He was on the fifth verse when he heard voices in the room next door raised in anger.
His purposes will ripen fast
Unfolding every hour
The bud may have a—
He paused, listening:
—bitter taste
But sweet will be the—
Slap. A scream from the other side of the wall propelled him through the door and into Susanna, who raced down the hallway to Claudine’s room. She turned the knob, but it was locked. “Claudine? Are you all right? Open the door.”
She was answered by another scream. It was cut off by a male voice cursing and the sounds of a struggle. Susanna went berserk. “Don’t you touch her, you brute! Let me in!” she shouted, pounding on the door as Alice and a customer appeared, peeking into the hallway from her room. “Open the door! I’m gonna kill you! Claudine, fight him!”
Thump-thump-thump. A heavy object was being knocked against the wall.
“Step aside, please,” Hosea said and was surprised when she complied. “Open this door at once,” he commanded.
They heard glass shatter. “He’s killing her!” Susanna threw herself on the door.
Hosea joined her, flinging themselves again and again against the unforgiving wood. The thumping ceased. “Wait,” he held her back and kicked the door knob once, twice, thrice. The fourth time the knob bent, the wood splintered, and the door flew open.
Claudine was sprawled across the bed, her face a ghastly blue-gray, eyes staring, red marks around her neck. Her left foot was bloody where it had smashed the full-length mirror next to the bed. The only sign of her customer was an open window.
“Miss Gomer, do be careful,” Hosea warned Susanna as she jumped over the glass in her bare feet. She yanked open the top drawer of a dresser on the far wall and pulled out a small pistol. “What are you doing?” Hosea asked as she ran to the window and fired.
Alice entered the room and screamed as Susanna fired off five more shots.
“Get her out of here!” Hosea ordered Alice’s customer, then sprang to Susanna’s side and wrested the gun away. “You must stop. Murdering a man won’t help Claudine. It will only stain your conscience.”
And then he was looking at the wall, his cheek stinging from her hard slap. “You self-righteous pig!” she seethed. “There’s a difference between murder and justice. If you don’t understand that, then go back to the blissfully ignorant world where you come from.”
Hosea’s eyes watered from the blow. “Miss Gomer, I’m only thinking of your soul.”
“Which is something that bastard doesn’t have!” she snapped. She turned and knelt beside the bed, brushing Claudine’s fair hair off her face. “Oh Claudine, oh sweetie,” she whispered. “I told you not to take the rough ones. That’s what I gave you the gun for.”
She quietly wept as Hosea took Claudine’s hand and whispered a prayer while checking for a pulse. He gently turned her head to one side; the back of it was bashed in, the sheets bloody beneath it.
“What’s going on?” Judson appeared in the doorway with a shotgun, flanked by Edna, Fanny, and a few patrons.
Susanna kissed Claudine’s hand. “She’s dead. He killed her.”
The hallway erupted in pandemonium. The ladies screamed and patrons shouted for the sheriff. Judson spat on the floor. “Someone fetch the undertaker. Don’t like the smell of dead bodies in my rooms.”
Susanna came off the floor with a banshee shriek and was halfway to Judson when Hosea caught her. “Everyone, leave! Allow us to pray over our sister in peace,” he shouted. “Gentlemen, see to the women. They’ve had a terrible shock.”
Edna and Fanny were led away in hysterics as Hosea kicked the door shut.
“I’m going to kill him. Let me go!” Susanna tried to claw her way past Hosea. Her anger lent her a strength which belied her slight frame, but he managed to grab her wrists and held her fast.
“He’s not worth it. Don’t spend your anger on him. Don’t seek revenge. Instead, pray for your sisters and yourself that you may be delivered from a similar fate.”
Susanna gasped. Hosea had not meant to speak harshly, but the truth of the matter lay before to them. With a sob, she deflated and he caught her.
“Tears are good. Tears are healing,” he murmured into her hair as she wept. He knew she mourned for more than the loss of her friend. She mourned lost innocence, her present circumstances, and a bleak future. How helpless he felt because he could not change any of it! It made him angry. He wanted to beg her to come away with him, but what of the other women? What of the money owed to Judson? What of his own lack of funds?
His anger soon dissolved into despair and he felt himself mourning through her tears. “Shh,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Susanna suddenly remembered herself and remembered who he was. She shoved him away and ran out of the room.
Feeling deflated himself, Hosea stared at the dead girl on the bed. “The bud may have a bitter taste,” he repeated the words of the hymn, “but sweet will be the flower. Yet not for this one, Lord. May the others bloom in happier gardens.”
He stayed there, unwilling to leave Claudine alone. Was this why the Lord wanted him to marry a prostitute, to save one from a land guilty of harlotry? Even one life spared from despair and immorality and murder was worth it. Yes, if he could prevent one woman from ending up like Claudine, he would count himself blessed every day at being chosen to perform such a divine task. God’s ways were mysterious, but they were always good.
When Sheriff Lewis arrived, he examined the pistol. “This was fired recently. What do you know about it?”
Hosea dreaded to say anything that might implicate Susanna. “One of the ladies tried to stop the killer, but no doubt her aim was poor. It’s dark outside, after all.”
Sheri
ff Lewis set down the gun. “I need to ask her about it. Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. He was glad he didn’t know her exact whereabouts, lest she accuse him of sending the authorities after her.
Sheriff Lewis questioned Judson and the other ladies, but no one could find Susanna. “Send her to the jail in the morning,” he instructed. “I need to get a statement or make an arrest if anyone shows up dead from lead poisoning.”
Hosea gulped. “Surely no charges will be brought against her if justice has been served. Do you not think so?”
The sheriff scratched his chin. “I think the judge won’t take kindly to someone dispensing justice outside the courthouse, especially since they just built a new one over in Sherman. You make sure she finds me in the morning.”
Two days later the sky was clear and bright, a happy contrast to the sad scene in the cemetery. Hosea stood at the head of a fresh grave. Edna, Fanny, and Alice held onto each other. Susanna stood alone.
Hosea clutched his Bible and recited as much of the burial service as he could remember. “We give thee hearty thanks, for it hath pleased thee to deliver this our sister out of the miseries of this sinful world; beseeching thee, that it may please thee, of thy gracious goodness, shortly to accomplish the number of thine elect, and to hasten thy kingdom; that we, with all those that are departed in the true faith of thy Holy Name, may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in thy eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” they echoed.
He hadn’t the heart to go on and concluded the service. They walked through the tombstones arm in arm.
“It was kind of you to pay for her coffin, Vicar,” Edna sniffed.
“That good for nothing Judson should have put up the money. But no, why waste cash on one of us?” Susanna grumbled from behind them.
“Miss Gomer, please,” Hosea said. “Now isn’t the time.”
“When is it the time?” she demanded. “When it is appropriate to talk about how much money Claudine pulled in for him, and look how he treated her? Always pushing her to take any man, no matter how mean. She was so young, she didn’t know any better. She didn’t know how to stand up for herself. Then when she’s dead, what does he do? He can’t throw out her body fast enough because he doesn’t want it smelling up the place,” she spat. “But no, let’s not talk about how cheap and mean he is. Do you know why she started working for him?”
Hosea shook his head.
“He raped her. Her father turned her out of the house when he found out because he assumed she was pregnant and didn’t want another mouth to feed, but rather than let that kind of merchandise starve in the streets, Judson let her work for him out of the kindness of his heart.”
Hosea couldn’t look her in the eye. The others wept.
“Claudine wasn’t under contract,” she continued with barely contained rage. “He expected her to work until she outlived her usefulness or died. Turned out well for him, didn’t it? He got everything he wanted from her and it didn’t cost him a dime.”
“Why not tell this to the sheriff when you give your statement?” Hosea asked.
“I’m not going to the sheriff!” she shouted. “He isn’t going to do anything about it. He doesn’t care about her or what Judson does to us no matter what I tell him.”
Hosea felt more miserable than ever. “Thank you for sharing Claudine’s story,” he said. “Whatever Mr. Judson thought of her worth, we knew she was priceless.”
“Spoken like a true man,” Susanna sneered. “A woman’s always got to have a dollar amount attached to her.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Hosea protested.
“Save it for the next funeral, Vicar.” She stalked off.
The others huddled around Hosea. “We know what you meant about Claudine,” said Edna. “Susanna’s just spiteful.”
Hosea’s brow furrowed. “Her own story must be dreadful that she is so full of anger.”
“She don’t talk much about her life before she came to the Spoke,” said Alice.
He watched Susanna’s retreating form. “Perhaps it’s best not to dwell on where we come from, but rather look forward to where we want to go.”
“Yeah,” Alice sighed, “but it sure is hard getting there.”
Hosea had only ever missed two Sunday services prior to his sabbatical. That was when he had the measles and was quarantined for a fortnight. Since leaving London, he avoided church out of fear of the Lord’s wrath. Upon arriving in Black Creek and being on better terms with the Almighty, his Sundays were filled with endless chores, yet the day after laying Claudine to rest, he felt he could not stay away.
“I was glad when they said unto me, we will go into the house of the Lord,” Hosea sang under his breath as he hurried late toward the church, delayed by a good deed. A gust of wind blew off his new hat and sent him running around the church after it. He discovered Edna and Alice seated on the back doorstep singing along to the hymn Rescue the Perishing. Alice was embroidering flowers on the hem of a skirt.
“Good morning, ladies,” said Hosea, picking up his hat and dusting it off. “Is there no room to sit inside?”
“There’s never room for us to sit inside, Vicar,” Edna said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t mind,” said Alice. “I can sing and do my sewing at the same time out here. Can’t do that inside.”
“We like to sing along,” said Edna.
“I know lots of hymns,” said Alice. “I went to Sunday School when I was little.”
“Excellent,” he said.
“Yes, isn’t it excellent she had religious education before throwing herself into the clutches of sin?” Susanna startled him from behind. “Edna, Judson wants you back at the Spoke. There’s a man asking for you.”
Edna laughed. “Must have made an impression.”
Hosea was horrified. “It’s the Sabbath. Surely Mr. Judson doesn’t expect you to, uh, entertain on Sunday morning?”
Susanna snickered. “No rest for the wicked, hey, Vicar?”
Hosea’s face burned with shame and indignation. Edna entertaining on the Sabbath and excluded from church? What could he do about it? At least there was one circumstance he could rectify. “Miss Alice, it would be my pleasure to join you.”
“Go away,” said Susanna. “You shouldn’t be out here with us. It doesn’t look respectable.”
“I won’t see Miss Alice sitting out here alone.”
“I’ll sit with her,” Susanna said.
Her glare told him his presence would only upset her more, so he set his hat on his head. “Good morning,” he relented and went inside.
Alice glowered at Susanna. “I don’t know why you hate him so much. He’s a good man and my friend, even if you don’t want to be his.”
“It’s nothing personal. I hate all ministers,” Susanna sat down. “They twist the Bible into something it’s not. If he’s such a good man, all the more reason he should avoid us. Ministers aren’t meant to be friends with bawds and we aren’t meant to be friends with ministers. That’s just how it is and it isn’t going to change.”
“He’s been nothing but sweet and kind and you act like he’s the devil.”
Susanna snorted. “Maybe he is and you just don’t know it.”
Inside the church, Hosea sat in a back pew but didn’t join in the song. He was lost in thought. Hadn’t the ladies just as much need to be there, if not more, than he?
You shouldn’t be out here with us. It doesn’t look respectable, Susanna’s words smote his conscience. Is that why she despised him, because he was respectable and she wasn’t? Or was it his hypocrisy? What could he do to change her mind? Merciful Lord, what was he doing? Was his presence at the Golden Spoke justified, or was his conscience seared and he was slipping further into rebellion?
Hosea abandoned his anxious musings when Reverend Albright began his sermon. He was a happy, smiling fellow who spoke briefly of l
oving your neighbor as yourself.
“To love your neighbor is to prove you love God, for your confession is backed up by action,” Reverend Albright admonished the congregation.
By the end of the sermon, Hosea’s conscience was relieved. His actions since arriving in Black Creek, however unconventional, were not sins against God; rather, they showed his love for God.
When Hosea introduced himself after the service, the reverend was elated. “I had no idea a new minister was in town. Do join my wife and me for dinner.”
“Thank you, I’m grateful for the invitation,” said Hosea.
An hour later he was comfortably seated at the Albright dining room table, which was laden with fine china and numerous delicacies. Reverend Albright sat at the head and was as jolly there as he was in the pulpit. He asked Hosea what denomination he belonged to and how many people attended his church, and then spent the rest of the time talking about himself. Mrs. Albright sat at the opposite end, pretty and demure, the consummate minister’s wife.
“After seminary, we married and served for several years in the St. Louis diocese,” Reverend Albright said.
“How I do miss the society of the city,” Mrs. Albright sighed.
“As do I, my dear. But you see, Mr. Honeywell, the opportunity arose to take up the mantle, as it were, out here, and how could I say no to ministering to the lost? Mark my words, I simply couldn’t accomplish as much as I have without my dear wife beside me.”
“I wonder you are not yet married, Mr. Honeywell,” said Mrs. Albright. “Is there a future Mrs. Honeywell awaiting you in England?
Hosea cringed. “I daresay there is, madam, yet I’ve been quite lax in seeking her out.”
“What else could occupy your time?” asked Reverend Albright, astonished. “Was marrying Eve not the first thing Adam did after naming the animals? If he didn’t delay in finding a wife, I think you should follow his example. I’ve never regretted doing so myself. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
The Vicar Takes a Wife Page 7
