by Chuck Buda
“And how would that work with the women?” Sarah folder her arms. She couldn’t believe Preacher had the audacity to suggest such a sinful tactic.
“Women are sexual by nature. A beautiful woman would be desirable by any man or woman.” His smile evaporated. But his eyes locked Sarah in, as if twenty horses dragged her through the town.
Sarah struggled with a desire to slap Preacher’s face and storm out of the church. How could a holy man be so devious? Could he be an owner of whores for God? She felt disgusted by the implications and betrayed by the man who had so generously welcomed them into his care.
Her spine froze.
Sarah felt Preacher’s hand caress her thigh. It rested on her lap as a deep warmth grew under his touch. She lost her breath for a moment. All her thoughts centered on pleasing Preacher. She wanted to take him between her legs and drain him of his holiness. Nothing else mattered.
“I’m sorry if I offended you, Sarah.” His words were gentle, almost a whisper. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against her ear. She instantly melted, feeling a burning desire moisten her innermost sex. “I want you to be happy...with me...Sarah.” The hot breath wet her ear and Sarah’s eyes rolled back in her sockets.
She grabbed Preacher’s head in her hands. Her breath heaving in passionate gasps. Sarah pulled Preacher’s face to hers, her mouth open to voraciously feed on his tongue.
Preacher shucked Sarah off. He stood before her, towering over her. He grasped the back of Sarah’s head with one hand and stared down into her obedient eyes. She was ready to accept him. To please him.
Preacher raised his other hand to the heavens. “Lord, bless this child so that she may lead others to Your calling. She has been a sinner. But now seeks redemption though Your work.” The words thundered through the chapel as if an invisible spirit spoke from beyond the roof of the building.
Sarah wept uncontrollably. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had never felt so strange in her entire life. Strange, but not unwelcome.
Preacher raised Sarah from the pew by her shoulders. He stared into her eyes, and for a moment, she thought his eyes had turned a glowing red.
“I knew I could count on you, Sarah. Now, go. Spread the Word. Make me happy.” He let go of her shoulders and strode away. Preacher opened to door to the street and left the chapel.
Sarah blinked. She tried to catch her breath. She didn’t understand what had just happened. She just knew she had work to do.
Chapter 16
James watched Carson work. He smiled at his little friend’s diligence. James remembered when he was Carson’s age, the last thing he wanted to do was work. He was always running around, getting into things, exploring cracks and crevices. But Carson worked hard. And he seemed to enjoy it.
James wondered if it was the fact that Carson was always sheltered from doing things. The boy just wanted to be included and involved. His disabilities made folks protect him and relegate him to a life of waiting and watching. Now, he was happy to be of use.
Carson must have felt James staring at him. He looked up and shrugged at James as if to say, “What gives?”
James chuckled and tossed a few tiny slivers of meat at Carson. The meat hit Carson in the chest and he shot an angry look at James. James grinned and then Carson laughed.
The boys had been tenderizing, grinding and cranking all day. James realized they hadn’t even made it to lunch time yet, which meant there was still more day ahead of them rather than behind them. He exhaled loudly.
“Wonder what mom is doing today. And Eleanor.” James thought aloud while they worked.
“Prolly prayering and cleaning.” Carson responded without distracting his attention from the sausage skin.
“Praying, not prayering.” James corrected Carson. He liked to help Carson learn to speak properly. The lessons never stuck but James liked the way Carson expressed himself.
“Time to bring the wursts up front.” James bent to retrieve the heavy bin full of sausage loops. Gunderson usually prompted them to bring the meat to the counter but they hadn’t seen the big man in a while. And the boys were so caught up in their working rhythm that the bin filled up more than before. James huffed as he used his legs to lift the heavy container.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” James carried the load to the front room.
When he chocked the door open, James saw a dark-skinned man talking to Gunderson. The man was just as big as Gunderson, but more muscular than fat. His dark mustache shaped like the Mexicans wore them made James wonder who the man was. He was certainly too big to be Mexican. As the man gestured, James caught sight of a gleaming badge on his chest. James knew the man was the local law keeper.
“I ain’t seen Mrs. Foster in some time, Marshal. Half the times she had Bart come in. Lately, I haven’t seen neither of them.” Gunderson leaned across the wooden counter. He lowered his voice a bit. James took a few steps behind the counter to eavesdrop.
“Everybody knows their problems with money and drinkin’.”
The Marshal nodded. “I shook him down on that. He claims he ain’t laid a finger on her in weeks. He suspects Preacher and her to be having an affair.”
Gunderson stood up. “That’s funny.” He cackled, a phlegmy laugh.
“What’s so funny about it?” The Marshal shifted his feet. His expression took on a more serious tone.
“Well, I mean, Preacher is queer but he ain’t got no interest in women.”
“He’s into dudes?” Marshal Holder lifted the brim of his hat. His face looked shocked with the news.
“No, no, no. Not queer as in fellas. Queer as in weird. Nobody likes that man. I couldn’t see no woman wantin’ that ginger bastard for a lover. ‘Sides. He’s a holy man, ain’t he?” Gunderson dug a finger into the seat of his pants, scratching. He sniffed his finger afterward.
“Holy men have still been known to fornicate, Gunderson. Bart said his wife met privately with Preacher several times. And each time she came home, she was different in a way that he could tell she was up to no good.”
Gunderson tsked and shook his head. “Guess I wouldn’t put it past him then. Did you ask Preacher?”
The Marshal paused. “I visited him in the middle of the night. Bart was causing a ruckus and when I tried to drag him home, he made the accusations about his wife disappearing. I figured it best to settle the matter right away, less eyes watching.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he hadn’t seen Mrs. Foster recently either. I shook him down but I believed he was telling the truth. Bart don’t believe him though. One of his buddies from the trail saw her go into the church but he didn’t remember seeing her come out. If he’s anything like Bart, the man would be too busy drinking to notice comings and goings.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I see anything, Marshal.” Gunderson reached across the counter to shake the Marshal’s hand. The Marshal glanced at Gunderson’s meaty paw and turned to leave the Trading Post. He thanked Gunderson over his shoulder as he left.
James hurried to the bin of wursts and slid it along the floor with his boot. The sound aroused Gunderson to his presence.
“Don’t be makin’ such a racket, boy. Pick up the bin and bring the sausages over here.” Gunderson waved his arms in frustration at the startling noise.
“Who was that?” James inquired as he hefted the bin up to the counter. Gunderson whistled.
“That was Marshal Holder. He’s one mean hombre, James. You best make sure you stay on the right side of the law in this town.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to get in trouble. I don’t like bad men.” James tried to catch his breath from lugging the heavy bin.
“It’s not just what you do, James. It’s who you associate with too.” Gunderson scratched at his thick sideburn.
“Are you on a wanted poster, Gunderson?” James tried to make a joke but the large man didn’t look amused.
“Not me, James.” He nodded his head toward
the street. “That one.”
James saw the cherry red hair across the street. Preacher was talking to an older woman with a bonnet on her head.
“Preacher?”
Gunderson slapped James’ shoulder. “Things ain’t always what they seem, young man. Ever heard of wolves in sheep’s clothing?”
James stopped stretching the sausages over the string. He stared at Gunderson, worried that his feelings of strangeness were valid.
“Beware of your friends, James. Mayne there’s a reason most the town steers clear of that church.” Gunderson pointed at the meat. “Finish hanging and then we’ll grab a bite for lunch.” He stomped off to the rear of the shop.
James watched Preacher through the window. He wanted to find out more about Preacher. Before something happened that he would regret.
Chapter 17
The chapel was quiet. James held the door open for Carson and then shut it behind him. Something felt strange to James but he couldn’t quite place the feeling. Carson ran down the hall to the ministry.
“Hello?” James called out to the empty building. His voice echoed off the wooden surfaces.
Carson walked back into the chapel. He shrugged, acknowledging the lack of presence. James smiled at his little buddy. He wondered where everyone could be. James knew his mother and Eleanor were eager to start their new jobs. So they must be out and about picking up supplies or posting flyers. Preacher should be here though. James laughed at himself for expecting Preacher’s typical welcome home. The holy man would greet them and offer them supper as soon as they got home from work.
But not today.
James thought it would be a great opportunity to look around without Preacher’s knowledge. He didn’t want to involve Carson in case he got caught. And he wasn’t sure Carson could keep such a secret.
“Hey, buddy. Why don’t you go out back and set up for a game of cards? I have a feeling I’m going to whoop your pants today.”
Carson shouted, “Oh, boy,” and ran to the ministry. It sounded to James like Carson had run right through the heavy wood door. He chuckled to himself.
Better get moving before someone comes back.
James glanced around the chapel. The room was barren of anything that might provide clues about Preacher. Just pews and the altar. A few holy books rested in the pews. He figured if Preacher had anything to hide, it would be kept in his bedroom.
The butterflies flew within his gut. James knew he was doing something he shouldn’t. But overhearing the conversation at the Trading Post left him with an insatiable desire to learn more about Preacher. Especially since his mother took a liking to him. James wanted to know exactly who the man was.
James softly knocked on Preacher’s door. No response returned. James pushed the handle and the door swung open. The room was sparse. It looked similar to the chapel and the ministry. Four walls. A bed. A night stand. Not much else.
James stepped into the room and gently shut the door behind him. He crouched down on his knees and looked underneath the bed. Even the wood floor below the bed was spotless. No dirt or dust built up. James found it odd for a man to be so conscious of cleaning. Then again, he recalled the phrase ‘cleanliness is next to Godliness.’ James stood up and brushed his hand upon his dungarees even though they were clean. As he turned around, James caught sight of the crucifix on the wall next to the door. It was a rather small crucifix. Yet, it drew his attention as if it were the rooms’ centerpiece. It was a powerful focal point upon the empty landscape.
He shuddered with guilt at what he was doing. He found it odd to feel guilty when he didn’t consider himself a religious person. But he knew what the cross signified, and it was in direct opposition with his sneaking around. James lowered his gaze and looked around some more.
A dresser against the far wall stood alone. James approached it and slid the drawers open. Mostly clothes. A vial of water appeared to be holy water stood alone in the top drawer. James rolled his eyes at the weirdness of keeping a whole drawer for a thin bottle. It was odd to keep it inside the drawer but James brushed it away as inconsequential. He spun around. Next to the bed was a small night stand.
The night stand had a small candelabra set in the middle. A small drawer handle poked out from the underside of the top. James tugged the drawer open. The drawer stuck a bit, not sliding easily on its track. He pulled it a bit harder and the drawer opened.
James nearly fell over.
His mind wrestled to comprehend what he had found. It was completely out of place in this holy building. The drawer was filled with small vials of blood.
Blood.
James blinked his eyes several times to see if it would clear his vision. Part of him felt like he was imagining what he saw. After blinking, the vials still remained.
Blood.
James reached to touch them but held up. A Bible rested atop the bloody containers. He picked up the Bible and inspected the cover. The leather binding was weathered and worn. He leafed through the holy book and found thousands of scrawled words in the margins. Almost every page was filled with handwriting, obliterating the white space that surrounded the verses. James brought the book closer to his face. He thought his eyes had played tricks on him again because he couldn’t make out the words. As the page neared his eyes, James realized the scrawling was not in English. He had no idea what language the writing was in, or if it was a language at all.
A door closed. James stiffened at the sound. He didn’t want to get caught snooping around. Especially by Preacher. He thought he could explain it away if it were his mother or Eleanor. Even if it were Carson, he could make something up so the boy wouldn’t be apt to spill the beans on him. But if it were Preacher...
The hairs on the back of James’ neck stood up. He gently placed the Bible back in the drawer, careful to place it exactly as he had found it. He tried to close the drawer but it caught on its tracks again.
James heard footsteps approaching through the chapel. He jiggled the drawer to get it closed. It made a small noise and he bristled at the ruckus he had caused. The drawer finally slid home.
He reached for the door handle and paused. He couldn’t go out the way he came in. He would be found, for sure. James hurried over to the window. He lifted the pane of glass and climbed outside. Then he lowered the pane and scrambled around the side of the church to the back yard, where Carson waited for him.
Chapter 18
Preacher washed up before supper. He let the water soak through his pores, dripping from his face, before drying off. It had been a long day after a long night and all he wanted to do was rest. But he knew resting would not be possible with the urges and the voices.
As he dried his face and hands, Preacher reflected on the day’s activities. While things went according to plan, it wasn’t without problems.
Preacher had convinced Sarah to use her feminine wiles to attract people to the church. She had been difficult to convince but he had managed to use his ‘charm’ to achieve his goals. He had hoped to avoid showing his hand so early in the process. Sarah was a very strong woman. And intelligent. He had misjudged her professional experience as being synonymous with her faculties. Most whores Preacher encountered were empty of spirit and intelligence. They knew their way around the boudoir and nothing else. Sarah was different. She had everything. Beauty. Brains. Sensuality. He felt her desires brimming over. Preacher understood her need to conquer him and make him her own. He wanted to use that attraction to squeeze her soul, but her strength was too much. So he tipped his hand, revealing his supernatural abilities. It would be costly in the long run, keeping up the veil.
Eleanor had been much easier. After dismissing Sarah to her chores, Preacher took Eleanor to the print shop to acquire paper. He had to charm Sophie and Don into giving him some sheets for the children to use. Schoolhouses typically used slate and chalk. It was cheaper and easier to re-use. But he wanted his schoolhouse to stand above the norm. Preacher figured it would leave a bigger impression
amongst the children, and the parents. They would gossip how God’s school was well provided for and more formal than the regular schoolhouse.
While they waited for the supplies, Preacher delved into the mind of his new school master. Eleanor was frail and wholesome. Impressionable. She was quite smitten with James even though he was younger than her. She had given up a steady commission and a beloved community to follow James to a new town. Everything she had worked hard for her entire life, had been sacrificed in the hopes of getting hitched and starting a family. With James.
Preacher shared his vision for the future of his schoolhouse and the children of the community. Eleanor ate it up and asked for seconds. She was entranced with his dreamscapes. She wanted to be a part of the solution. And he found her religious background to be advantageous to his cause. Years of attending services and listening to her father read her scriptures had lowered the gates so Preacher could march in and take control. It was easy to win her over. And then begin the process.
He planted seeds of doubt in her mind. After all, James had confided in him his shock about her coming along with his mother. He was surprised, too, since Sarah didn’t care for Eleanor. She had nodded in agreement, relating several instances where Sarah had thrown her out or hinted at blocking the relationship. Eleanor also complained about Sarah taking the cot right next to James. She felt mistrusted, as if Sarah would think she would throw herself upon James in the middle of the night, with her and Carson in the same room.
Preacher consoled her, using his electric touch to reassure her. James was a fine young man, but Dodge City was full of wonderful men. Religious men. Folks who attended services and prayed, unlike James and his heathen mother. Eleanor understood her new purpose. She needed to stand on her own and take control, regardless of how James or Sarah thought about her.
So easy.
