by Chuck Buda
Preacher felt sorry for Sarah. He was about to console her when the crucifix on the wall in front of him slowly twisted upside down. Immediate flickers of heat accumulated at his fingertips. His eyes blackened and the itching sensation crawled across his skin. He felt a new engorgement below.
“I do love you, Sarah. You are special to me.” He stroked her hair and then kissed the top of her head. The smell of her fragrance enflamed his desires.
Sarah lifted her teary eyes to search his. She leaned closer to his face and opened her mouth. Preacher accepted her kiss. Their mouths searched hungrily for more.
Preacher thrust Sarah down upon the bed. He stood over her and dropped his pants. Sarah grinned at his readiness, tears still streaming down her cheeks. He climbed between her legs and thrust into her with reckless abandon. Sarah tossed her head back in ecstasy and clutched his bed sheets in her fist. Preacher felt his spirit leave his body as the Dark One took over. The sensation of her wetness turned to fire. The Dark One laughed as he claimed his prize.
Sarah moaned and pulled Preacher down into her. He felt himself go deeper than he had ever imagined was possible. Her nails scratched bloody tracks in his neck. The pain heightened his pleasure. The Dark One completely took over Preacher’s body. The crucifix on the wall began spinning to the rhythm of their passion. The Dark One laughed again as he neared the end.
Sarah’s moans became screams. Preacher grasped her mouth in his fist and squeezed so the noise would not escape. He reached the point of no return. The bed struck the wall and the posts scratched the wood floor as the furniture moved. He threw his head back, black eyes rolling back into the sockets. Both body quaked and thundered before slumping into a sweaty, hot embrace.
The Dark One quickly exited Preacher’s body. The crucifix stopped spinning and righted itself upon the wall.
He stared down into Sarah’s face. The shock of what had just occurred trembled through his limbs. He wanted to pull himself away from the moment and retreat to another room. But it was too late. He had lost control of himself. Or, at least, he had allowed the evil side to usurp his control.
Sarah cooed and stroked his cherry red stubble. Her eyes told him of her love. A love he could never return. Preacher closed his eyes and rested his face in Sarah’s neck.
Outside the bedroom door, Eleanor listened with her ear pressed against the wood. Her eyes were full of tears. Her heart was full of hatred.
Chapter 22
Eleanor draped her wet clothing over the string hung between the tree limbs. She scrubbed her dirty clothes to work off some of her anger. Even in the serene setting and warm sun, she couldn’t tear her thoughts away from what she had discovered earlier.
Sarah and Preacher.
How could they? Preacher was a holy man. And Sarah should know better at her advanced age, Eleanor huffed. Making matters worse, they had the gumption to do what they did in the church building. Eleanor figured that kind of sin was the icing on the cake.
Preacher.
Eleanor was a little jealous Preacher had picked Sarah over her. Sarah was older. She used to be a whore. Still is. And Eleanor was younger and prettier. Surely, men would find her more attractive than a used-up mother? Maybe not.
She didn’t like Preacher the same way Sarah apparently did. But it didn’t stop the jealousy she felt gnawing her sensibilities. Eleanor loved James. Or, she thought she did. She had followed him to Dodge City, giving up her dream job and a town she enjoyed. Her hopes were to settle down with James and start a family. She thought he felt the same.
He had yet to prove it.
How foolish of her to think he would feel the same way. She was older than him and she knew men were difficult to tie down, especially younger men. Their eyes always wandered and sometimes their hands followed along. James had kissed her back. He had looked disappointed when his mother wedged her way into the cot next to him.
And Preacher told her what James said.
How could James be surprised she followed him? Had James really used the word ‘surprised?’ Not happy? Not excited? Not overjoyed? ‘Surprised?’ If anybody was surprised, it was Eleanor. She was surprised she had given up everything for a shallow, conceited young man.
Preacher hinted there were religious men available for courting.
She flapped a dress hard, to shake wetness from it. Eleanor liked the idea of men to choose from. Wichita, as much as she like it, was full of saggy old men, ruffians and drunks, or married men. The pickings were slim at best in Wichita. And none of the men appeared very religious.
Neither is James.
Eleanor had to admit she was a bit bothered by the fact that James and Sarah did not practice their faith. She wasn’t sure if they even had faith. She thought they were wonderful people. Originally. Now, her reflections told her she was wrong. And Preacher’s words only reinforced her discomfort.
Eleanor was about to head back into the ministry when she caught sight of Preacher out of the corner of her eye. Her jealousy flared. She clutched at the hems of her dress and stomped to the building as if to brush right past him. He grabbed her elbow.
“What’s the matter, Eleanor?”
She wrenched her elbow from his grasp. “Don’t touch me with those filthy hands.”
Preacher smirked. “You know?”
“Of course I know. The whole town probably heard you. I’m surprised the whole church didn’t burn to the ground with the devil’s flames.”
“Don’t...mention the devil.” His face became serious and his tone had a hint of aggression behind it.
“Why not? His work has taken over here.”
Preacher softened. “I’m sorry you witnessed my sin. I am a weak human, like everyone else. I deserve your condemnation. I have betrayed you.”
Eleanor snorted. “Betrayed me? I don’t have feelings for you.” She tried to walk into the ministry. Preacher blocked her path.
“I meant, I betrayed your faith in my calling. My work.” He lowered his head. “I am worthless. I must quit the vocation and become a ditch digger.”
Eleanor felt sorry for Preacher. He looked truly devastated by his actions. She realized every man was subject to the temptations of life. Some guilt crept into her heart. Preacher had sacrificed so much to take them into his home. Give them jobs. Feed them. Heck, he sacrificed his life for the good of others. Saving souls as best he could. Why couldn’t he make mistakes like anybody else?
“I don’t expect your forgiveness, Eleanor. I wish I had been as strong as you in your faith. Thank God I have met a soul as pure as yours, so I can see proof of God’s grace upon this earth.” Preacher dropped his head and turned to go back into the ministry.
Eleanor grabbed Preacher’s elbow. She spun him around and embraced him. She felt him tremble against her chest. He didn’t return her embrace. Instead, his arms hung at his sides, showing his humility with her charity. Eleanor squeezed him tighter. She whispered into his ear.
“You are a good man, Preacher. You were tempted by a malicious serpent. A weaker man would have left the church behind to fornicate and drink. But you are sorry for your sins. You have admitted your weakness and the Lord hears your contrition.” She pulled back and looked into Preacher’s eyes. “And I have heard your confession. I know you will move past this moment.”
Preacher removed her arms from his back. “My whole life has been called into question by my actions. How can I look those people in the face and show them His work when I have sinned worse than they have?”
“You can do it and you WILL do it. I am behind you. I will help you be strong. You have done so much for me already. It is only fitting that I do the same for you. I will give you my heart and soul to rebound from this mistake. I promise.” Eleanor smiled. She felt much better about Preacher. He was a good man and she shouldn’t have been angry with him. Or jealous. How can she be jealous of someone who was so dedicated to the Lord?
“You promise?” Preacher dabbed at his tears.
“I
do.”
“You would give me your heart? And your soul?”
“Unconditionally.” Eleanor saw the change in his expression. Preacher smiled back at her. His hands caressed her face.
“I’m so glad you said that.”
Eleanor watched Preacher’s eye turn cold and black.
Chapter 23
Carson felt the hot tears streak down his face. He rushed past Gunderson who just stared after him with a gaping mouth. Carson skirted through the folks in the Trading Post who searched for wares. A dusty man with a very long beard tried to grab Carson’s arm to slow him down, but Carson was much too fast. He shoved the Trading Post door open and skipped the last step before the street.
As he zig-zagged across the street to avoid the traffic of carts and horses, Carson tripped and sprawled headlong through the dirt. He narrowly missed a fresh clump of horse droppings. Carson scrambled to his feet and took off running again. He didn’t even bother to dust himself off. The tears on his face cut clean paths through the muddy dirt.
Carson pushed the chapel door open and slammed it shut. He fell to his knees and cried harder. His breath slowly came back to him. It was mostly gone due to the mad dash through the town. But Carson attributed the lack of air to James’ punch. He felt the throbbing above his belt buckle where he was sure there would be four large knuckle prints, welted up in red.
As he fought to control his tears, Carson realized nobody came to his aid. The chapel was silent, and the rest of the building sounded empty as well. He swabbed at his eyes with his shirt sleeves. A snot bubble popped at the end of his nose. It made him giggle, shocking the sorrow from his system.
He pulled himself to his feet and walked through the chapel to the ministry. Carson swung the door open, finding the ministry still and absent of life. He climbed into his cot and buried his dirty face in the pillow. A vision of Sarah grimacing at him for dirtying the bed linens brought him quickly to his feet. Carson stared at the dusty imprint of his face on the pillow. He shucked the pillow case off and went out the back door of the building.
Some clean laundry sailed in the afternoon breeze as it hung from the line between the trees. Carson dunked his dirty linen in the sudsy bucket left over from a prior wash. He noticed his dirty clothes and thought he should wash them too. Carson stripped himself down to his under garments, dunking all the clothes into the bucket. The water splashed over the rim, emptying most of the bucket on the ground. Carson kneaded the wet clothes in the bottom of the bucket, then hung the pieces up on the line. It suddenly occurred to him that he was outside...in his underwear. He searched the yard and neighboring lots. But nobody was in sight. Carson breathed a sigh of relief.
He trudged back to the makeshift fire pit toward the back door. Carson sat on an upturned bucket and stared at the ground. A few ants scurried around near his toes. He ground the insects into the soil, taking out his aggression on the hapless beings.
Carson wanted to cry again. But he spat into the dirt instead. He was more angry than sad. James had hit him. After all they had been through together. James always talked about protecting Carson and loving him like his little brother. Then how could he hit me? He thought he knew James. Ever since they arrived in Dodge City, James had been different.
No more stories of Wyatt Earp. No more daydreaming about fighting bad guys and going on adventures. They hardly played poker anymore, either. James was always so busy with working at the Trading Post. Or too tired to spend time with Carson. He didn’t understand. Carson worked all day too. He was tired too. But he still had energy left to play cards and go exploring.
When was the last time James took me fishing? Or rabbit hunting?
Carson scuffed the dirt as some more ants surfaced in front of him.
James had been different. He seemed angry all the time now. He made his mother mad. Eleanor was upset with him. Even Preacher was being mistreated by James. He was a holy man. Carson admitted to himself Preacher had given him the willies a few times. But maybe he just misunderstood the holy man. After they last spoke, Carson believed Preacher was looking out for his best interests.
Unlike James.
Carson furrowed his brow and slumped his jaw in his hands. He wanted to figure out how to get out of this place. Carson wished he could run to his favorite hiding spot. Their favorite hiding spot. He wanted to feel the comfort of the familiar surroundings. The protection of the tree stump and exposed roots. The warmth of the cozy little room they had dug out. The camouflage of the moss they had placed around the exposed roots. The spot was perfect for hiding and sleeping. And protection.
He always felt safest tucked inside the hiding place. Dodge City didn’t feel safe. So many people. Loud noises. And all the anger. They lived in a church and yet it felt like they were in a jail cell. The mood and hostility that ran through the buildings choked off his breath.
Carson figured out what he would do. He would run away. Soon. He had some money James had tucked away for him from working at the Trading Post. Carson would find out where they came from, when his mommy used to live with them, and he would pay the first coach man he saw in the street to take him back to that place. It was the best place in the whole world. He was born there and grew up there.
He missed his mother. Images of her reddish, blond hair upon her shoulders as she smiled into his face, made Carson tear up. She was the one person he could always count on and she was gone. He used to be able to count on James, too. But that had changed now. Carson felt all alone, sitting in the afternoon sun. Alone. In his underwear.
He sniffled and kicked some more dirt at the ants on the ground.
I’ll show James. He’ll be sorry he hit me.
Chapter 24
James ducked under the counter. He saw Gunderson across the room, wiggling his finger at James to come over. James started to roll his eyes but caught himself. Whatever Gunderson had to say, James figured he had it coming to him for what he did to Carson.
Gunderson leaned across the counter. James could smell the stench of his breath coming over in waves. “What in hell happened back there?”
“We had a little fight.” James lowered his eyes and rubbed the edge of the counter with a dirty fingernail.
“If I recollect, you were fighting all morning. So what did you do to cause that boy to run off like an ass-shot jackrabbit? I got customers here, you know. I can’t have children dashing through the displays like a pissed off mule.” He scratched at his furry sideburns.
James nodded in agreement. He knew Gunderson was right. He had caused all the problems between them. Now he had to figure out how to get permission to go after Carson without telling Gunderson he struck Carson.
“Is it okay if I check on Carson? I promise I’ll make up the time. And it won’t happen again. Honest.”
Gunderson stood tall and picked underneath his fingernails. “James, I don’t think you understand the predic-iament you’ve put me in. I need the meat grinded, cased, hung and dried. The whole reason I brought you and that boy in here was to help me with my business. But now you want to go play hopscotch and take the afternoon off? I can’t run a business like this.”
“I understand.” James tucked his chin into his chest and began to head back to the slot under the counter.
“Now hold up, James. I ain’t said you can’t chase after Carson. I’m just telling you how you’re hurting my business.” Gunderson slapped the counter with a meaty palm. “Tell me what’s going on so we can get back to work around here.”
James swallowed hard as he realized he needed to confess. He felt he owed Gunderson an explanation since it was hurting his livelihood. For a fleeting moment, James thought of lying to Gunderson to avoid his admission of guilt. But he knew lies only led to more lies. And Gunderson would eventually learn the truth. Especially if Carson was involved because his little friend didn’t have a filter or know how to keep secrets.
James told Gunderson about the argument at the dinner table the previous night. He revealed
how the family had been at each other’s throats since arriving in Dodge City. Everybody blamed each other for their recent problems. And he admitted he had some reservations about Preacher. James made sure to keep the secret of the vials of blood he found in Preacher’s room. Until he understood it more himself, James wanted to make sure the town knew nothing about the strange holy man. James imagined a lynch mob breaking down the chapel door to drag Preacher to the hangman’s noose.
Gunderson took in the story while peeling dead skin from his lips. James watched the large man absorb the information with rapt attention. He began to feel better after airing the situation. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from James’ shoulders.
“So, that’s it.” James tapped the counter with his fingertips.
“There’s just one thing I don’t understand.” Gunderson stared at James but continued without waiting for James to question him. “I still don’t know why that boy ran outta here with his head on fire.”
James took a deep breath. “I hit him.” The admission was barely above a whisper.
“Come again?” Gunderson cupped his ear as if he needed to hear better. James grimaced at the wild tufts of black hair that filled the man’s ears.
“I hit him.” James said each word slowly, but loud enough for Gunderson to hear it.
“Carson is smaller than a runt. And harmless. Yet, you hit him?” Gunderson rolled up his sleeves. James got nervous. He didn’t want to fight Gunderson. But he didn’t want to take a beating either.
“It was an accident.”
“Accident?”
“He kicked me in the shin and I...reacted. Before I knew what I was doing.” James waited for the blow to come.
Gunderson showed James his arm, right above the sleeve which he had just rolled up. “See that scar?” James nodded. “That scar was made by my brother. We had a bit of a tussle and he branded me with my daddy’s iron.” Gunderson rubbed the outline of the scar with his dirty finger. “That’s all I got left of my brother now.”
