Dance with the Deacon

The women though shy were articulate. They each gave thanks most said a special prayer for their families and friends. I was even mentioned by Mrs. Thorn. When they finished I said a hardy Amen then filled my plate with cold chicken and biscuits. One of the items I found interesting was a potato concoction made to serve cold. It was very tasty.

"Deacon what will be the subject of your Sunday sermon?" It was one of the ladies who obviously was the wife of the tall thin man who had more or less taken charge of the building.

"I really hadn't given it much thought. I am not really a preacher you know. The service will be more or less a celebration of the return of God's house to him. I suppose I will have to throw in a couple of men don't beat your wife kind of things." I smiled at their laughter.

"Deacon, why would a man do a thing like that then sleep beside the woman?" The question came from Mrs. Thorn.

"Mrs. Thorn you have no idea how foolish men can be. I assume you men will agree with that." To a man they nodded their agreement.

"Deacon, you ever been married?" It was one of the men who asked.

"No, so far I have not been lucky enough to stay in one place long enough to find a wife. First there was the war, then there was church business."

"Which side did you fight on during the war?" The man who asked had worked beside me all afternoon. I did not want to offend him.

"Why the right side of course." I grinned not elaborating. Everyone laughed.

"Deacon, I ain't much of a church goer but I will be there on Sunday. If you don't mind,I think I will bring my shotgun?" The man who asked had helped me set the roof on my house.

"I think on this one occasion God will look the other way Thad. He might even approve." I smiled at the men. They all smiled back at me. When they left they took both wagons and even the rental tools. I didn't care whether they returned them or stole them. I did expect that the store owner would get them back though. The men all seemed honest.

I spread my canvas from the trail on the trampled grass inside the house. That and two blankets would keep me pretty warm even without the stove. I did not have enough wood for it. I made a note in my mind to buy firewood the next day.

Before I went to bed I returned to the space in front of the house to smoke a poorly rolled cigarette. I sat on the bench Thad had made from a the few scraps of lumber. I supposed I could have made a fire from the scraps of lumber left from the side wall construction. The fire would have lasted only a few minutes, such was the closeness of the measurements. It seemed the merchant in the flats was as close with the lumber as he was with a nickel.

I heard the rattle of a horse drawn wagon before I saw it. The night was moonless at that time. I had the Colt drawn and by my leg as I waited. It would be just as hard for the driver of the wagon to see me. As I waited the tension grew. I had to hold myself back to keep from shooting at the noise.

I recognized the old gray before I did the wagon. I walked out to greet the wagon not sure exactly who would be on it. I half expected it to be one of John Wilson's children. I was happy to see that it was Edith.

"Well Edith, what brings you here?" I asked it smiling up at her.

"Actually I came to see if you needed doctoring. You have been here a whole day now. John expected you to be shot by this time."

"And you? What did you expect?"

"Well I didn't expect you to have your own house built in a day. I figured you to be at the Widow Henson's place. When I left here she wasn't keeping company with Samuel Deville."

"Ah, so that was the reason. In any event I had some help with the house. Would you like to at least get down. I'm afraid I have no fire going."

"No thank you, I was in town to see about ordering medicines from the catalog at the general store. I brought you a present but I should have brought firewood instead."

"Oh what kind of present?" I asked it to change the subject as well as from my curiosity. Rather than answer she handed me a ball of fur.

"It seems that in my absence my dog Sally went and got herself with puppies. They are two months old. I figured you might need some protection." Edith was grinning I could tell even in the dark.

"It is a little dark to see is this a girl or boy." I grinned but I knew Edith couldn't see it.

"It is a girl. It seems you do better with women Deacon."

"I am not going to argue with you one way or the other Edith. Why don't you get down for a while?"

"Sorry Deacon, I have to get home. I did bring you more presents. Seems Abe forgot this." She handed down my Springfield rifle. "The basket in the back is for you too."

"You can't get down because John will be worried?" I knew better but I couldn't help it. I didn't even bother to comment on the rifle or to open the basket.

Edith laughed. "Deacon, I will be at church on Sunday along with the boys. I do not know if John will be with us."

"He, like everyone else, is invited. Please do come and bring anyone else who would like to attend."

"I better get on home now. Deacon, you take care of yourself. These men play rough."

"Oh I think I can hold my own."

"I know you will manage, but I would rather you be alive than have a church in town." Edith did not give me a chance to reply. She turned the gray back over the rough field, then drove the wagon back to the main road.

"Well girl what shall I call you. I best not call you Edith." I said that as I took the large but still puppy inside the wood framed tent. "How about Sheba after the temptress of King David." The puppy seemed to like the name. At least she didn't object to it.

I tried to have her sleep with me to keep her warm but she left the bedroll to sleep on my clothes piled in the corner of the one cold room. I should have objected since I would be wearing those clothes again the next day. I didn't mind because she looked happy to be there.

I used those few scraps of lumber to make coffee the next morning. The camp equipment that Wilson's son had returned came in handy. The basket from Edith contained two more cook pots. It also contained jam and butter both in small clay pots.

I fixed oatmeal with bacon bits for myself. I had one of Edith's only fair biscuits. I shared the oatmeal and biscuit with Sheba. She ate her share as gratefully as I did mine.

After breakfast the pup followed me into the downtown, if you could call it that. We found the general store almost empty. I went to the counter with the pup at my heels.

"Good morning brother," I said to the man there. "I find myself in need of firewood. Could you arrange a load for me."

"I could Deacon," I could tell from his attitude it was going to be another of those days. "But I don't think I will."

"Oh and why not brother?" I asked it calmly.

"Because I do a lot of business with Mr. Deville. He made it plain yesterday that he would be very unhappy, if anyone did business with you." It took me about ten seconds to decide on a reply. That is a long time to stand in the glare of a killer. The store owner was very uncomfortable when I finally spoke.

"Let me ask you brother, how do you think you are going to like hell?" I looked at him with as much malice as I could get into the glare.

"If I go to hell for refusing to help you, I suppose I will be very unhappy." He seemed not to understand.

"Let me explain this a little better. Brother I am here to do God's work. If I have to make an example of you to save the others, then that is God's plan for you. So if you are prepared for the outcome of your decision, it will not be on my soul it will be on yours." At that moment he understood it was my intention to kill him. He looked at me for only a second in defiance then he crumbled.

"You would kill me over a load of fire wood?" He was visibly shaken at the thought.

"No brother, but if I have to kill half the men in this town to save the other half, then that is what I am called to do. Anyone who stands in the way of my opening that church will be moved by God or by me. You might want to spread that word. It would probably make my life a whole lot easier."

"All right Deacon Burke," he looked down as he replied.

"How much for the firewood?"

"No charge call it my donation." He looked as though he didn't like the idea much.

"Well look at it this way brother. If Deville does kill me, you can take it back." I smiled at him as I walked out the door. I did turn back just inside the front door. "I will expect the wood before dark."

Sheba got curious when we left the store. She headed off on her own in a totally different direction. Just like a woman I thought. Once the excitement ended she was off looking for more. I walked past the church on the way to my tent. I was suddenly reminded that I had to clean Deville's junk out before I could hold a service the next day. I was tempted to forget it since I had no idea if anyone would dare defy Deville. He was after all the source of most people's income. Still I had promised there would be a service the next day.

I began moving the things which I could handle alone into the yard. I piled them by the side path. Deville could get a wagon down it to move them. He probably wouldn't for a while. I am sure he expected me to be out of his hair fairly quickly one way or another.

I noticed the traffic on the street was heavier than it had been the day before. I realized again that it was Saturday. Many of the local families would be coming to town to do their shopping. Cleaning out the church would be noticed by many people who otherwise would miss the invitation to the morning service. I was sure the word would spread without a sign.

I had most of the stored junk out of the church. The exception being three large boxes I could not move. I sat on one of them trying to decide what to do next when John Wilson and his two of his sons walked up.

"So you are serious?" It was John Wilson who asked.

"Of yes, I am dead serious." I said it smiling so that he might see the humor in the remark.

"Well in that case my family and I will be here tomorrow."

"Good, could I impose on you for a small favor right now?" John didn't seem to want to commit. I guessed that from the length of the pause before he answered. "I just need the help of your boys to move a couple of boxes." I didn't think it would matter that there were three.

"Oh course," he replied.

The boys and I made quick work of the boxes. We sat them by the wall to await either my death or Deville's wagon. Personally I preferred the wagon. Wilson stood in the church looking it over.

"This place is going to need some heavy cleaning Deacon." His comment drew my attention to the amount of dust and dirt in the place. I had been so intent on moving the junk I had failed to notice the dirt.

"Yes I suppose it will. I suppose I need to get a couple of rags and a bucket." I smiled. John and I both knew how out of place a man with three pounds of iron on his leg would be with a scrub rag.

"Hold off a bit. I might be able to get you some help. Let me tell you one thing Deacon. If Margaret and her lady friends clean this church, Deville better not stop the services. These women can do more to hurt him than you can."

"Hell hath no fury kind of thing?" I asked it with a smile.

"Worse than that, did you know when the Indians want to really torture a man they turn him over to the women." Wilson laughed. It surprised me. I hadn't thought him capable.

"I honestly did not know that. From the things the married people I know say I am not surprised. It seems a universal fact that the female is the more deadly of the species."

"So it would seem." Wilson seemed to have lost some of his good humor.

The women arrived as the sun was moving close to the horizon. There were enough of them that the work went quickly. Even so they finished by lamplight. The church was fitted with enough kerosene lamps to defeat the darkness but not all the shadows. I supposed I might find some errant dust in the next days sunlight. Somehow I didn't think it would be a good bit though. The women seemed to be thorough.

"Well Deacon Burke, it appears we have finished the cleaning. Is there anything else we might do for you?" Margaret Wilson's words were slightly cool. I knew she meant the cleaning of the church. If it had been Edith Wilson, her words would have brought a smile to my lips.

"No sister Wilson, you and your friends have done much more than I could have ever expected." I smiled at her rather than risk taking her hand.

"In that case Deacon we shall be going." It was a bit strange that she spoke for all the ladies. Margaret Wilson was not of their faith but was somehow a natural leader. It had been the same with her sister Edith. It was a question to be puzzled on a cold night. How two sisters shared the same traits but obviously could not get along. The inevitable question had to be why then would they marry the same man. I didn't even try to ponder that while busy with other things. It might make for interesting musing one evening soon.

I waved to the women as they rode away atop their wagons. I didn't wait for them to leave my sight. Instead I turned from their departing figures back to the church. I noted for the first time that the church had insufficient heating facilities. It could have been that the former preachers wanted to make sure no one got too comfortable. Best give them a taste of discomfort here on earth. I supposed it would be easier for them to believe in hell that way.

There were four small clay stoves. Even so the chances that they could heat the large high ceiling room were very poor. I considered starting the fires immediately in the hopes that the room would be at least a little warm for the next day. I decided against it. I had other things on my mind.

I walked in the cold to my tent house behind the church. The tent was warm since I had left a fire burning in my clay stove. I looked out several times while I made, then drank my coffee. It finally got dark enough for my little ruse. I moved several pieces of the firewood into the tent. I made a pile that would resemble a man sleeping. I covered it with a blanket then looked back at my handy work. If it were dark and one only had a quick glance the pile might resemble me asleep. I expected that it would fool a person just about long enough for a quick trip to hell.

After I doused the light I took the other blanket from the corner. With it for cover I lay on the canvas ground cover under the table I had taken from the church. It was absolutely no protection from flying lead. I just hoped the subterfuge would give me the second I needed to end the fight to my advantage.

The puppy slipped into the tent sometime later. I felt her curl up beside me for the body heat. I drifted off into a troubled sleep. I had no idea how long I slept before I felt Sheba stir. I listened to the footsteps outside the tent as they came closer. I slipped the Colt from my holster onto the ground beside me. I held Sheba to keep her quiet as the tent flap moved near us.

He moved quickly inside the door. As I expected he hardly looked about. He saw the woodpile in the corner near the stove and fired into it. I wasn't really waiting for him to fire. I was more curious than anything else. He fired two quick shots before I fired a shot into his belly. He staggered back out the doorway. I should have shot him in the chest and would have, if the table hadn't been in the way. Still the angle was upwards so I was pretty sure he was finished.

Since I didn't know how tough the shooter was I went carefully out the door. I found him laying on the ground conscious but barely. "Brother, I think you should pray. I fear you are about to meet God." I didn't even bother to look at him. He was for sure dying.

"You ain't no man of god to do this to me." He was breathing hard. The air seemed to rattle in his lungs.

"Now friend, you come to my house to kill me. Then you expect me to pray for you. I think not." I actually managed a smile.

"Ain't you gonna call nobody to help me?" He asked it almost in disbelief.

"You got here on your own. I expect you can find your way out of here. That is if you start to crawl now. I don't expect you can make it to the street but you can try. As for me, I am going back to bed." I turned to walk away. I did not of course sleep again. I listened to him moan as he died outside my door. I might have tried to rationalize it by saying nothing I could do would have helped or harmed him. It would not have been the truth. I simply wanted to make a statement for Deville.

Ten A.M. came and I had no idea what I was going to say. I walked into the church to find a few more people than I would have expected. There were mostly women in the pews. The men lined the walls.

"I see we have a full house today. For those of you standing I promise this will not be a long service." I paused to take a drink of water. "This service is simply to rededicate this building as a place of worship. It is a place where you may come in times of sorrow. A place you may come in the times of Jobe. A place of safety in the wilderness of despair." I walked from behind the crude pulpit.

"This is Gods house and like his world all are welcome in it. This place will be open to any man or woman who comes in peace. Your relationship with God is solely between yourselves and him. The only requirement here is that you come with an open heart."

I saw the man standing in the door. He was dressed much better than anyone else. He was also better fed than most. I knew who he was without being told. He had the air of a man in charge.

"Welcome, I presume you are Mr. Deville. There are no seats but we can find a space for you to stand I expect."

"You are all trespassing on my property." He said it but the malice was missing from his voice.

"No Mr. Deville, this property belongs to God. I will not debate this point with you sir. I will tell you simply I am here as God's representative to take back what is his. I have done that. I will defend my God from anyone or any thing. It is my duty sir."

"I will not debate it either. You will all leave this place immediately." His face was beet red. I expected him to fall over from apoplexy.

"Deville, lest some innocent be harmed, we should take this into the courtyard." I gave him my best evil look. The one that usually cowers the strongest of men.

"Listen to me people. Did you just hear your man of God threaten me?" Deville was doing something that I had not expected. He was trying to win the people over.

"Deville you must surely know I am not a preacher. I am a deacon. If I must kill you to make this church safe for these people I will do so. If I must face the gunmen you can hire, then that is what I must do. I do give you a warning. If you send a gunman here to disrupt this service I will kill him. Then Mr. Deville, I will come for you. Sir, you can not hire enough gunmen to save you from God's rath.

Without warning a young man walked from the rear of the church. He walked right to me. I watched his eyes as he moved forward. He did not speak a word he simply went for the Colt on his hip. He was fast but not nearly fast enough. I chose, for some reason known only to God, not to shoot him. Instead I clamped my hand over the .44 as it came up. I swung it off to the side so that when it fired the shot went into the wall of the church.

He was so shocked that he stood open mouth as I struck him hard with the barrel of my pistol. He fell to the floor bleeding. It was a strange sight to see him falling while I still held onto his hand. He slumped to the floor more than fell.

"Billy," it was Deville who shouted it. I knew instantly that Billy was his son.