DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years" are the creations of Rysher Television, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not to be published on any ftp site, newsgroup, mailing list, fanzine or elsewhere without the express permission of the author.
"Maria," "Rev. Ellis", "Rev. Ballard, "Angel," "Jesse Pritchard," and "John Tarbell" and are the creations of Darcie D. Daniels (danidarc@earthlink.net).
This is rated PG (By me. :->)
Setting: Curtis Wells, Montana Territory, late July 1880
It was a glorious morning in Maria's opinion. The sun was shining, there was a cool breeze wafting through the air, and the mud that filled the streets last week had almost become walkable again. Maria liked rain, but the rain in Montana came in nothing but short, violent torrents in the summer. She hoped that next spring she would see the rain fall gently, because she loved to walk outside and feel the drops splatter on her face. But there was a difference between being wet and being drenched, she supposed, and practicality forced her to remain inside the newspaper office or press closely to the buildings if she ever did venture out into the storm.
It did make the hillside flowers bloom, though, which made Maria happy. Early, almost as the sun was rising over the mountains, Maria ventured out in the hillside to pick the wildflowers. The colors blooming so late in the season tended to be a wide palette of yellows and reds. Maria would dry them and use them to brighten the newspaper office for Christmas and fill the winter air with their warm scent. The newspaper office which her uncle Josiah owned was lacking in little touches like that, and it gave her at least a little comfort to know that the place would be brightened as soon as she reached home. The newspaper office became especially oppressive to Maria during the rain, for she had to stay inside the place she had come to despise. She had fought bitterly with her uncle to stay there, and she resented it, because he had invited her to stay there in the first place. Josiah's presence due to the rain made matters worse -- Maria was forced to tolerate his irritability. It was as if he thought she was keeping him from making some discovery about his own lofted immortality. She tried to get him to talk about her late aunt Sarah and cousin Hannah, hoping it would release him from his despair, but Josiah descended further into his own reality. Maria did not know how to approach him, and it worried her.
But little of that mattered now as Maria watched the course of the river. The sound of murmuring water slowly eased away her frustrations. She was lucky enough to have the foresight to bring a fishing pole, and Maria caught a half dozen fish for dinner. Tying them in a bundle and anchoring them in the still waters near the bank, Maria placed her basket of flowers and her fishing pole beside the trunk of a tree. With her book braced between her teeth, she climbed the tree with ease and dexterity, careful not to rip her long, yellow pinafore. She settled on a branch wide enough so that she could sit, recline, and read. When she tired of reading, she stared out at the water. Maria heard him coming before he reached her.
Mr. Call was casually riding a beautiful white mare, looking like he had no particular destination in mind, when he spotted the basket and fishing pole beside the tree. He looked around suspiciously, and spied at the ground as if to track the owner. Giggling, Maria called out to him, "Mr. Call, I'm up here!"
Mr. Call wheeled about slightly when he heard her voice. Recognizing Maria and annoyed that he had been caught off-guard, he asked, "What the hell are you doing up there?"
"Oh, nothing much," Maria replied to her cousin-in-law. Putting the book between her teeth, she gracefully dangled and dropped from the tree. Maria then put her book back in her basket, and picked up the basket and the fishing pole. She walked over to Mr. Call's horse and gently patted it. "I was just watching you approach. Do you come here often?"
Mr. Call looked up, ignoring her for the moment, and unconsciously backed his horse away from her slightly. Maria recognized his behavior - he was trying to remain aloof and distant to protect himself from feeling and caring about the world. Maria was once in the same kind of shell and would still be, if it had not been for her aunt Elinor.
"Once and awhile." Mr. Call finally answered her. He sat on his horse, staring into the distance.
Maria liked Mr. Call, though he usually appeared rude. Deciding that she was on an emotionally more mature level than Mr. Call, Maria would have to take charge of the situation and save him from himself. Maria would have to annoy and tease him, deceive him into letting her nurture and sister him. Perhaps, then, she might win his trust. Skipping in excitement, Maria raced to the river bank. "So, Mr. Call," she said, "do you fish? See what I caught." She held up her catch.
"Impressive," he dryly commented.
"Yes, it is rather," Maria lied, because in Maine she had caught much bigger fish. "Though, I must say the fishing here is a bit different than ocean fishing." Mr. Call looked away as though he were bored. Maria smiled, changing her tactics. "I say, Mr. Call," she demanded, "get down from off that horse and help me put worms on these hooks."
Mr. Call looked at her as if she were mad. "How did you catch the fish in the first place if you didn't use worms?"
"I did use them, silly. But why should I have to when I have a man here to help me? Hurry up, Mr. Call," she said, tapping her foot, "no lolly-gagging about."
Mr. Call shook his head as if it were against his better judgement, and slowly got off his horse and tied it. "Damn nonsensical women have no right to be fishing," he muttered as he reached her side. Maria hid her laugh. Mr. Call was about the put the worm on the hook, when Maria stopped him.
"Careful," Maria said, trying to sound very distressed. "They make noises when you first spear them."
Mr. Call stared in the air, annoyed. Maria could not help but laugh. "Go on, Mr. Call," she encouraged him. "Go ahead. You can do it."
"Crazy damn woman," he said underneath his breath, jabbing the worm on the hook. Maria chuckled.
"See," she said. "You can be absolutely charming when you want to be."
Mr. Call, annoyed because he had barely hidden a smile, stared off into the river.
"Oh, shut up, Mr. Call," Maria muttered as she stalked into Curtis Wells, soaking wet, earning many amused stares from the bustling townspeople.
"I told you not to go on those rocks. I can't help it if you didn't listen."
Maria stopped what she was doing, and glanced up at Mr. Call, who was sitting bemused on his horse. "And you are such a gentleman to reiterate that fact to me. Oh, thank you, thank you very much." She earned a rare smile from Mr. Call, and that soothed her anger, though not her annoyance.
"Oh, quit following me," she said, shrugging him off at the livery stable, proudly holding her soaked head as she marched in the direction of the newspaper office to change into some dry clothes.
To her humiliation, she noticed Mr. Mosby leaning on a column, casually lighting his cigar. He grinned at her in greeting.
Maria silently wondered why he had to be present to witness at every embarrassing situation she could get herself into. Blaming him for the blush on her face, she whipped her bonnet off her head and wrung it, wishing it were Mr. Mosby's neck. Then she placed the bonnet on as elegantly as she could and smiled sweetly at him. Mr. Mosby laughed. Insolent man! she thought.
So frustrated by Mr. Mosby, Maria almost tripped over the two boys that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"Pardon me," Maria apologized, hoping she had not hurt them. One of the boys, Mr. Tarbell's son, smiled crookedly at her, backing slightly away. The other, Opal Pritchard's son, looked like he had an impulse to run. Maria grew suspicious.
"Is there something wrong, gentlemen?" Maria demanded, consciously using her full height to intimidate an answer. Being tall did have its advantages.
Both boys ran -- little Jesse Pritchard almost falling in the mud.
Those two were up to no good, Maria thought as she looked to see if they planted anything in her basket. Only her book and flowers were inside. Her fish would be there, too, if she had not lost them and her fishing pole in her mishap in the river. Maria shrugged. Then she twisted to see if the boys planted anything on her backside. They did not, but she was startled to see her cousin Austin leering at her from behind.
His eyes raked over her soaked form. This was just what Maria needed, to look like a drenched idiot in front of her cousin. When they had first met, Austin despised Maria because he thought she was taking advantage of his father. Ever since, Austin deliberately went of his way to confront her. He would really have a weapon of attack now.
"I hope you know how to swim, Maria," Austin smiled smugly as he circled about her. "You look incredibly foolish."
"Yes," Maria answered smoothly. She was not going to deny the obvious.
"This should give you an indication of things to come," Austin suggested.
Maria remained silent, not wanting to argue with her cousin so openly. Unconsciously, her body tightened as she braced herself for his following remarks.
"I wonder what Father would think of this." Austin searched for him, obvious in intention of telling him.
"I imagine he would find it quite amusing," she replied calmly, knowing how ridiculous she looked.
"I doubt it. He's mayor of the town, you know. You'll bring him public shame and ridicule."
This was the first thing Austin had said that truly bothered Maria. Maria promised herself when her aunt Elinor rescued her from the orphanage never to cause her aunt shame. Though she did not feel the same regard for her uncle Josiah or her cousin Austin as she did for her aunt, she knew the same promise applied to them. Still, she felt sure Austin's intention had not been to remind her of her duty. He wanted Maria to appear more foolish than she actually looked. Maria proudly held up her head.
Austin laughed. He grabbed her basket. "Oh, look," he snickered, as he pulled out her wildflowers. "What did you think you were going to do with these? Win Father's undying affection?" He threw the flowers on the ground, mutilating them.
Maria's eyelids lowered to mere slits, but she did nothing. She would not fight with Austin, even if it killed her. He was family, even if he did not acknowledge her. And her aunt Elinor would never have approved, either, if she behaved in a "manner unbefitting for a lady." Besides, Maria told herself, they were only flowers. She could go pick more.
But when Austin found her book, the one her aunt Elinor gave to her their last Christmas together, Maria could not control reaching for it as he held it above his head. She stopped herself, knowing that if she gave Austin an opportunity to exploit her weakness, he would never stop until he took every last book away from her. The familiar feeling of shame, hurt, and anger overcame her as she tried to shut out her memories of the orphanage. Mrs. Harner, the head of the private New York orphanage, would make her feel that way. When she was five, Mrs. Harner took everything Maria considered valuable. Her mother's doll, the necklace her father gave her, the little piece of string her brother Jeremy had given her to protect - they were all taken away from her. She could do nothing then, but she was an adult now. But, there had to be a dignified way to stop Austin without resorting with physical retaliation.
An unexpected wiggling in her pocket made Maria jump. Austin lowered her book and chortled as she pulled a frog out of her pocket. She heard adolescent giggling. The Tarbell boy and Pritchard boy! She would have to "thank" them later. But the frog gave her an idea.
"Oh, look, Austin," she smiled, looking directly in the frog's beady little eyes as she held it like a delicate kitten. "This reminds me of someone I know." Her eyes darted over Austin's greasy hair and grimy clothes.
It worked. Austin had forgotten her book, knowing he had been indirectly insulted. His mouth curved in a sneer. "It's going to give you warts, you know."
You are a wart, Maria's eyes told him. "Now, Cousin, there's no need to say that. It's only a cold-blooded, little reptile." Her meaning was not lost on Austin as his face contorted in anger.
Maria's satisfaction turned into horror as Austin, in frustration, remembered her precious book. He looked at her smugly as he slowly ripped out page by page. The sound of the paper tearing sent shivers down her spine.
"I always knew it was frustrating for you, Austin," Mr. Mosby's voice said in obvious contempt, "to read a book without pictures."
Both Maria and Austin wheeled around to look at him. He had been watching the whole scene, still leaning on his column, smoking his cigar.
"Stay out of this, Mosby," Austin snapped.
"What are you going to do, Austin?" Mr. Mosby smiled in such a way the Maria felt the threat. She instantly became alarmed for Austin's sake. "Are you going to pummel me with a bunch of flowers? Or perhaps the basket?" he continued in a slow, deliberate fashion. "Or maybe you think you can throw the book at me?" Maria could swear she heard a snarl emanate from Mr. Mosby's silent smile. His eyes glinted with the ferocity of a beast. "Well, do you, 'Sheriff' Peale?" Mr. Mosby laughed underneath his breath, his eyes regarding Austin's slovenly appearance with ridicule and contempt.
"You think you can just run this town any way you want, don't you, Mosby? Well, I'll be there when you're not looking. There's going to be a time when someone's not looking out for you. I'm watching you. Remember that."
"Austin..." Maria warned her cousin; for she knew that even though Austin was taller and larger than Mr. Mosby, there would be no way he could match Mr. Mosby's strength and intelligence. He was in no position to be making threats.
"Stay out of this, Maria." Austin looked smugly at Mr. Mosby, then as if he had had the last word, he walked off, smashing her basket and throwing her book into a water trough.
Maria rescued the book from the trough, shaking her head that Austin could be so stupid. She felt shame and pity that he seemed to be inadequate as a man. The alarm she felt on Austin's behalf turned into something like resentment on Mr. Mosby. He interfered, and he publicly exposed Austin to be something she already knew. Mr. Mosby was also dangerous to her cousin on some level, especially when Austin had continued boasting blanket threats at him. Oddly, it revealed a protectiveness in Maria that she did not know she felt for Austin. Maria turned toward Mr. Mosby.
"I suppose I ought to thank you, Mr. Mosby, for your gallantry, " Maria said calmly, eyeing him suspiciously, "even though it was unnecessary." She retrieved her ripped pages from the muddy street.
Maria was aware that Mr. Mosby watched her, nonplused that she evaded giving him the courtesy of thanks. He commented, puffing on his cigar, "I think I like the frog the best, Miss Bennett. It added a touch of grace to a rather," he paused, his eyes narrowing in a playful glint, "'inelegant' situation."
Of course, Maria nodded, he saw the whole situation. The drenched clothes, Austin, the frog, the book -- Maria knew that Mr. Mosby's role in her life was to witness her every humiliation. Even now he was grinning at her. The frog in her hand did not help matters.
"Thank you, Mr. Mosby. I'm so very glad I'm here to entertain you."
"But you do it so well, Miss Bennett." Mr. Mosby flashed a wide, devastating smile at her.
Mr. Mosby had to be the most wicked man Maria had ever known. He made her forget to be angry at him. Ignoring him, she looked at her frog.
"If I kiss you, will you take me away from all this?"
Mr. Mosby chuckled. She wondered if she ought to kiss the frog after all by the dare expressed in Mr. Mosby's eyes.
"Absolutely not, Mr. Mosby. With my luck, I'll turn into a frog myself. I'll have to hop away to some great, shining, lily pad in the sky."
Maria watched as his face darkened with sarcasm. "That's just what we need," he laughed under his breath, "a plague of frogs in Curtis Wells."
He looked suddenly impatient. He politely bowed to her. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby said. "I have some matters I need to attend to." As if an afterthought, he smiled as he added, "It's always a pleasure."
Maria was about to curtsy when a stagecoach passing by splashed dirty water all over her. Inexplicably, none if it got onto Mr. Mosby.
There had to be a meaning to all of this. She looked at her frog. "Is this some kind of cosmic conspiracy?" she wondered aloud. The frog croaked in reply. She gave way into hysterics as she let the frog go. Mercifully, Mr. Mosby gave her his handkerchief.
"It's a pleasure, as always, Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby repeated as she wiped her face.
"I'm sure it is," Maria laughed in reply. He refused his handkerchief as she tried to return it to him. They parted. Maria would have to wash Mr. Mosby's handkerchief along with her dress. Maria wondered if some angel of cleanliness hovered about him to protect him from the treacheries of Curtis Wells mud.
Pondering the thought, she wandered in the direction of newspaper office. Maria heard an unfamiliar voice ring out.
"See there walks the temptress of sin! God wants to wash her of her sins!"
Maria stopped in mid-step. She stared at a young, red-headed man standing near the public fountain. He was freckled, and his face was red with public indignation as a curious crowd gathered around him. An older man, blond and unbearded, silently stood behind him. To Maria's astonishment, the red-headed man pointed in her direction. Maria turned slightly to only see that no one was behind her. When she gestured toward herself for confirmation of his ridiculous accusation, the red-headed man continued to bluster, righteous passion giving him the courage to speak.
"She herself waits in ignorance of her sins, not knowing God has the power to cleanse her soul! I speak, good people -- look at this temptress of sin. She knows her own power to tempt men! We shall not be overcome!"
This has to take the cake, Maria thought. She grinned widely, yet when she saw her uncle Josiah in the crowd, making no attempt to disagree with the preaching man, her smile turned to a frown. Maria could not believe her uncle would not defend her. Her uncle knew she was no wanton; no one in Curtis Wells ever attempted to court her. Why couldn't Josiah speak in her defense?
Maria, attempting to regain her control of her hurt, spoke more for Josiah's benefit than either the crowd or the preacher.
"My aunt Elinor always told me that men were like melons," she said, looking to the crowd for effect. Maria felt her face growing red, thinking about what her aunt told her. "You mustn't squeeze a melon," she began sheepishly, clearing her throat, "until you get the melon home." The crowd laughed in agreement. "Well, Mr. `Who-ever-you-are'," Maria turned indignantly toward the preacher, directly informing him of her romantic situation, "I don't have any fruit!"
Maria was about to stalk back to the office when she heard a new voice speak.
"Perhaps you have been mistaken, my friend," the older blond man addressed the young, red-headed preacher. The man's voice then called to the crowd. "My young colleague has just illustrated a perfect example of how unwise it is to quickly judge."
Maria looked at the blond man. He was in his forties, by Maria's estimation, and the young, red-headed man looked at him with deference. He had the cleanest, smoothest face that Maria had ever seen. She might have considered him handsome if he had not had a weak chin.
"Indeed," the blond preacher continued. "`All that glitters is not gold.'"
How true, Maria thought. He quoted Samuel Clemens' _Roughing It_. The title suited Curtis Wells aptly.
Maria thought nothing more about the two preachers until Josiah came back to the newspaper office later that night. Oddly, Josiah had not returned drunk for dinner, as per his usual custom. Maria gave up telling him that drinking never solved matters, and that he should find relief from his grief in a different form. Josiah would only laugh at her, and rattle some non-sensible comments. Maria hated to admit it, but she almost liked her uncle better when he was drunk. He was more kind and whimsical. Still, drinking was not healthy for him.
Tonight, Josiah was sober and in a quiet and pensive mood. Maria and Josiah ate in silence.
"The steak turned out well tonight," Josiah said, after he finished eating.
Maria was startled, but pleased. Her uncle never complimented her on anything she did.
"Thank you. I made it the way you like it."
Josiah stared down at his plate, considering her words. "It must be the new frying pan," he said in explanation for the excellence of his dinner.
Just when Maria was beginning to like him, Josiah had to hurl some kind of insult or new hurt at her. Maria said nothing as she cleaned up their plates. This was nothing new to her. She was getting used to his maniacal behavior. Sometimes Maria wondered why she endured this. She had to, if she wanted to help him.
But he always seemed kind enough to other people, Maria's conflicted mind rebelled. Josiah would greet others brightly on the street. Yet, when he would meet her, he would look at her dully and act very sullen.
"Why didn't you say something to defend me to the preacher today, Uncle?" Maria demanded, suddenly very dismayed.
"What Rev. Ellis had to say made sense," Josiah replied, adding no further comment.
"Which one is he?" Maria angrily asked. "The red-head or the blond man?"
"Rev. Ellis is the red-headed man. He may bluster a bit, but what he says is true. God shows us his master plan every day. Just look around here. Mud, shootings, hangings, beatings -- God is at work here. We need to atone for our sins in blood."
Maria thought that sentiment was brutal and told him so. "How many sacrificial lambs will it take to ease God's vengeance, do you think?"
Josiah misjudged Maria's sarcasm, taking her seriously. "God has already started," he said solemnly. Maria watched in pity when his confused eyes sought for her late cousin Hannah's portrait.
"Oh, Uncle Josiah," Maria sighed as he took his daughter's picture from the wall Maria had placed her upon. Josiah recoiled from Maria's touch as he cradled the delicately framed portrait like a newborn babe. Maria watched helplessly as he stumbled into his room, Josiah in a tortured daze.
His actions reminded Maria of why she had to endure Josiah's destructive behavior. He needed her help. Even if he was mean to her, which often was the case, she would not leave him. Maria could never abandon her family. Aunt Elinor never abandoned her, especially during Maria's darkest hours. If she could just succeed with him, Josiah could help her with healing her cousin Austin. And as for Mr. Call, her cousin-in-law, Maria knew she was having success with him. All she needed was patience. Maria had to succeed in helping her family. She had no other choice. They were all she had.
"Oh, God," Maria prayed. "What am I going to do? How can I help them?"
"God helps those who help themselves," Maria heard her uncle Josiah tell Mr. Mosby. Josiah had a miraculous transformation in the past week. His new behavior could only be attributed to the two new preachers in town -- Rev. Ellis and Rev. Ballard. But the calmer, reserved Rev. Ballard seemed more responsible for this revolutionary effect on Josiah. He never came to the newspaper office drunk anymore, and he bore himself with pride and dignity. Maria had always wished Josiah would act in a manner more appropriate for a mayor, but this sudden change in him left her with great unease. Instead of behaving in a calm and rationalized manner, Josiah took it upon himself as mayor to act as divine arbitrator. Josiah had caught "the spirit of God," he told Maria, and this town was not going to take it away from him. They would feel God's effects, even if Josiah had to implement it himself.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mr. Mosby demanded as Josiah led a filthy, drunken, card sharp out from the jailhouse. Everyone in town knew Mr. Mosby had placed the con man behind bars when he cheated the Ambrosia Club, Mr. Mosby's gambling house, out of some money.
"This man has seen the error in his ways," Josiah said, his face lighted with righteousness and truth. "He has promised to reform and repent. I agree with Rev. Ballard -- God helps those who help themselves." Josiah indicated for the relieved con man to leave, but the criminal stopped cold when he heard a revolver cock like the deadly turn of a key.
"Indeed, how true that is," Mr. Mosby commented, smiling, holding his gun on the con man. "Zeke," Mr. Mosby yelled. "Put the man back into jail. Josiah," his Southern voice lowered to a growl. "I want to talk with you."
Maria did not know how Mr. Mosby was going to react to her uncle Josiah, nor did she have any intentions of finding out.
"Uncle Josiah," she interrupted Mr. Mosby as he was about to lead her defiant uncle away. "Rev. Ballard wanted to speak with you this morning."
Maria almost wished she had not remembered about the blond preacher. He had come to the newspaper office earlier that morning to talk to the absent Josiah. Rev. Ellis followed him as obediently as a puppy. Maria hesitantly thanked Rev. Ballard for Josiah's recent transformation. The older man only shrugged. His pale eyes positively sparkled at Maria as he looked over her entire form. "You know, my child, you, too, can feel the hand of God." He stared at her for what Maria considered an uncomfortable amount of time before he dismissed himself and Rev. Ellis. Perhaps what he had to say was true, Maria thought, but she did not know why Rev. Ballard left her with this unreasonable shuddering.
Josiah, almost in delight, left Maria and Mr. Mosby in a sharp pace when he found out that the blond preacher wanted to speak with him. Maria shook her head in worry.
Mr. Mosby looked at Maria with a certain amount of impatience, annoyed that she interfered with his business with her uncle.
"Do you mind telling me what is going on inside your uncle's mind, Miss Bennett?" Mr. Mosby demanded.
Maria sighed, frustrated that she did not know and doubly frustrated that she really should know. She shook her head. As if not wanting to admit it to herself, Maria reluctantly replied, "I have no idea." She added in worry, "God only knows what is running along in his mind right now."
"Well, God's been running around in his mind too much, if you ask me," Mr. Mosby commented, indignation lighting his features. "He has no right to just free and jail people as he chooses."
Maria regarded him sharply. No, only you have that right, Maria thought. Maria knew all power in Curtis Wells derived from Mr. Mosby. Surely, he was not going to deny it. "He is the mayor, after all," Maria reflected. "You appointed him, didn't you?"
Mr. Mosby's eyes narrowed as he smiled crookedly at her. "Why no, Miss Bennett," his Southern voice lowered in a smooth drawl. "The town elected him, honest and true."
Maria raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Oh, really, Mr. Mosby? I was under the impression that if you caught a cold, the entire town would be sneezing by midday."
His dangerous smile mirrored gratitude as if he had been flattered. "Then it's a good thing I'm healthy, Miss Bennett. Otherwise, the political winds would be most unfortunate, wouldn't you say?"
Maria imagined that it would be a hurricane if Mr. Mosby had really got stirred up. It was windy in Montana as it was.
Maria laughed. "We don't need anymore hot air around here, Mr. Mosby. It's already hot as it is."
Mr. Mosby looked beside himself, startled that someone actually attempted to be humorous with him. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss Bennett," he dryly commented.
Maria turned solemn, wanting to take advantage of the light moment between them. "Mr. Mosby," she began, almost reluctantly, "I never really had the opportunity to thank you for helping my family at the time of my cousin Hannah's death." Maria was referring to the time Mr. Mosby had taken care of Hannah's funeral arrangements, had Josiah appointed mayor, and cleaned up Austin enough to become sheriff. "Thank you."
Mr. Mosby's face darkened in pain for the briefest of moments. He quietly reflected, "It was nothing." He added, after a hesitant pause, "Your cousin Hannah, truly, was one of the most respectable women I had ever known."
Hannah must have touched the lives of many people, Maria proudly thought. She could only hope to obtain part of Hannah's angelic nature that made her so revered and cherished among the people she knew. Even the hard Mr. Mosby felt compelled to honor Hannah in such a way as to take care of her father and brother at the time of her death. Of course, Maria thought, helping Josiah and Austin probably did help to serve Mr. Mosby's purposes, whatever they were. Maria had a hard time understanding the man.
"Good day, Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby said as he tipped his hat. His departure was so abrupt that Maria had not a chance to curtsy.
Maria had little time to think of Mr. Mosby's odd behavior when she spotted the young John Tarbell and Jesse Pritchard. They were spying on someone, which obvious mischief in their demeanors.
The frog incident had almost slipped Maria's mind, but their behavior reminded her of her intention to "thank" them.
She crept quietly behind the boys, who were peeking around a corner. Maria smiled inwardly as she stood her full height and imposed her most regal, overbearing look. Having glasses did have its advantages.
"Mr. Tarbell, Mr. Pritchard. What a fine day this is."
Both boys spun around. They looked like they had intentions to run, but they thought better of it when they looked into Maria's dark eyes.
"Well, gentlemen, aren't you going to answer me?" Maria demanded, tapping her foot.
"Yes, Miss Bennett," both rushed to say. They looked down on the ground, though Jesse Pritchard looked a little more guilty than the other boy.
"So, what are you two gentlemen up to today?"
"Nothing, Miss Bennett," young Mr. Tarbell smiled in crooked innocence at her. Jesse Pritchard held his tongue, not daring to look up. John Tarbell was the leader of the two boys - Jesse Pritchard followed and probably received a lot of punishment for his friend's actions. Maria was going to put an end to it, and she knew how.
"I'd like to thank you both for the frog you left in my pocket the other day."
Neither boy knew what to say. "I don't know what you're talking about," John Tarbell lied. Jesse Pritchard looked like he was going to cry.
"Don't deny it, gentlemen. It shows great sweetness and gentility to give a token so prized in your affection."
The boys looked at each other in confusion. They partially understood her, and what they heard was causing them alarm. Maria felt like laughing, but she held her tongue.
"Oh, must I speak more plainly?" Maria looked up in mock exasperation, as if to appeal to the heavens for patience. "You both must obviously adore me so that you'd give me your most prized possession - your frog. I must say, this crush on me you will both outgrow. You will find young women of your own age to love and admire."
The boys looked absolutely beside themselves in disgust. "Love" and "girls" had about the same appeal as "baths" and "castor oil."
"Do you gentlemen mean to tell me that you didn't give me that frog as a token of your esteem and love? You really ought to be more careful of the gifts you bestow."
That comment hit the boys just as Maria had hoped. They would not be giving frogs to anyone very soon.
"What was your meaning by it, I wonder?" Maria could not resist the guilt trip.
The two boys stole conspiratory glances and looked at the ground.
"Well, then I can only assume you meant to frighten me. That was a useless gesture, considering it was only a frog. I know of no particularly frightening stories about frogs. Now, snakes, on the other hand -- I know some scary stories about those."
John Tarbell quickly seized the opportunity and revealed one from his pocket. "You mean like this one, Miss Bennett?"
Maria was unimpressed. "Oh, that's just a little garden snake, Mr. Tarbell. I'm talking about BIG snakes," Maria paused, gesturing with the length of her arms. "I'm mean the ones that are so big they don't even need to take a bite out of you. They can just wrap around you and squeeze you to death."
Both boys gasped in admiration. Maria had just earned two friends for life.
Maria was about to continue when Mrs. Hester Tarbell, little John Tarbell's mother, greeted her.
Jesse Pritchard ran away when he looked at Mrs. Tarbell's, dark, stern, and pinched features. Mrs. Tarbell, watching the fleeing boy with obvious dislike, pulled John to her protectively. She knelt down and "spit-cleaned" his dirty face with her handkerchief. Young Mr. Tarbell squirmed in terrible discomfort. Poor child, Maria thought.
"Miss Bennett, I do not like that child, not one bit," Mrs. Tarbell remarked about Jesse Pritchard. "He's always getting my son into trouble."
Maria raised an eyebrow at John Tarbell. The boy exchanged a knowing look with her, said nothing, and looked to the ground.
"How are you today, Mrs. Tarbell?" Maria changed the subject. The boy looked at her gratefully.
"I never have a complaint, you know that, Miss Bennett," she said, still doting on her son's appearance. When she straightened his hair, she told him, "That's enough, John. You can run along now." Mrs. Tarbell called out to her son as he ran after Jesse Pritchard. "And don't be playing with that Pritchard boy. His mother is a miserable sinner and has been living that way for years."
Maria's eyes narrowed. Mrs. Tarbell had always been precise about her opinion, but she had never seen the woman so publicly judgmental before.
Two ladies in fine, long dresses with scooped necklines and dainty, feathered hats passed by Maria and Mrs. Tarbell.
"Good afternoon," Maria smiled as she nodded her head to them in greeting. The ladies looked at her, as if not knowing what to do, and thinly smiled in reply. Maria wondered why she always received the same reception from ladies like them.
Mrs. Tarbell quickly yanked Maria to the side. "Miss Bennett," she reprimanded, making no attempt to lower her voice. "You should not be acknowledging those, those -- " Mrs. Tarbell's face contorted in ugly contempt, " -- ladies. They are soiled and ruined. Decent people should never speak to them."
Maria felt embarrassment for both Mrs. Tarbell and the ladies who had heard her.
"Please, Mrs. Tarbell," Maria whispered. "You are being rude. It is impolite to talk of people like that."
"Maybe you don't know what those ladies are, Miss Bennett. Well, let me tell you. They're whores! They take men's money after sex. Rev. Ellis is right. They seduce fathers and brothers and sons. They are not fit to walk on the same street as us!"
"Oh, come now," Maria argued, her sense of justice piqued. Maria knew full well that "those ladies" were prostitutes. These women had a lot more guts than most men Maria knew. "My aunt Elinor always taught me to be more open-minded than that, Mrs. Tarbell. These women have just as much right to live here as we do."
"Then maybe I misjudged you, 'Miss' Bennett. Maybe you are like one of them. Except you don't take any money!" She spit on Maria's face.
Maria could not believe it. Mrs. Tarbell had to be stopped. As she cleaned her glasses off with her apron, Maria quietly commented, "Your discussions always seem to be bordering on one particular topic, Mrs. Tarbell. Perhaps," Maria suggested, her voice smiling with knowledge, "you know more about that topic than you are willing to admit."
Mrs. Tarbell's jaw dropped open in astonishment as the two ladies began to laugh. She blustered, not knowing what to say. Then something finally struck her. "You said something about your aunt, I believe. It is a well-known fact that 'open minds' mean 'open legs'!"
Mrs. Tarbell instantly regretted her words as Maria's explosive change in countenance made her cower in fear. Maria would have felt great satisfaction to feel her fist break against Mrs. Tarbell's puny, pathetic, horror-stricken face, but something held her back.
"You are lucky," Maria told her as she started moving in on her, like a wolf herding its prey. "No, you are extremely lucky," Maria repeated, her voice laced with a cold, biting snarl. Mrs. Tarbell nervously backed away into the street. Maria followed her, as if on the hunt. "That my aunt Elinor taught me to be patient with those who are more ignorant than I. Her very angelic nature has prevented you from feeling the lack of Christian charity which your back-handed comments seem to inspire. But I warn you, Mrs. Tarbell," Maria pointed her finger at the frightened woman, "if you ever make remarks about my aunt like that again, I will smite you down until no one can recognize your bloody carcass. Do I make myself clear?"
Mrs. Tarbell gulped and could only nod. She dodged into a building before Maria could say anything more to her. Maria heard clapping as she slowly recovered from her rage.
The ladies that Mrs. Tarbell affronted were cheering Maria for her defense of them and of herself. Maria felt entirely foolish. Her aunt Elinor would never have approved of this spectacle, though Maria felt Mrs. Tarbell deserved it.
"I'm sorry, ladies," Maria apologized. "You shouldn't have seen that. My temper can get the best of me, I'm afraid."
"It's about time someone put her in her place," one of the ladies with a caring voice said. She had dark hair, and Maria thought her blue eyes were very beautiful. "My name is Sadie. What's yours?"
"Maria Bennett." She shook her hand and curtsied as her aunt taught her. Maria looked at the other woman. Maria thought she looked more like a girl with her cherubic face and beautiful blond hair. Her skin was as pristine as newly fallen snow. Maria looked in alarm as her expressive features twisted in pain as she clutched her abdomen.
"What's wrong?" Maria demanded, helping Miss Sadie support her.
"Oh, it's nothing," Sadie denied, though looking worried. "That's Angel," she indicated to the girl, who seemed to recover, yet looked deathly white. "She'll be okay. Won't you, honey?"
The girl nodded and smiled wanly at Maria. "I'm just having my monthly," she whispered, her face growing red and her lake blue eyes fixed on the ground.
Maria had terrible pains when she experienced her womanhood, yet she never had anything that looked that bad. "Are you sure? Maybe we should have Dr. Cleese look at you."
"No, no. I'm all right. I promise." The girl looked almost hopefully at Maria. "Say, I know you. I hear you sing every now and then when I pass the newspaper office."
It was Maria's turn to blush. She thought no one heard her as she cleaned up Uncle Josiah's home. Maria had always thought her voice was too powerful, yet her aunt Elinor had always enjoyed her singing so much that she made Maria take singing lessons. It was more booming now than before, Maria knew.
"I'm sorry you had to hear it," Maria said.
"Oh, your voice is beautiful. I wish I could sing like that. It's like the spring."
Maria blushed at the compliment. "Thank you."
The women departed amicably. Miss Sadie helped Miss Angel across the street. Maria thought about the girl as she watched them. Some people were blessed with a natural sweetness that only the kiss of God could bestow. Maria smiled, taking comfort in the thought.
"That was quite a show you put on yesterday, Maria. I thought I was going to have throw a rope on you and hold you back."
Maria felt her face blush in shame as Mr. Call sat on a bench outside Mr. Creel's general store. How could he have seen the near altercation with Mrs. Tarbell? It was all the way down the street.
Maria sat down beside him. Actually, there was quite a view of the town. "You really see a lot from your bench, don't you, Mr. Call?"
Mr. Call, as usual, said nothing. His blue eyes stared across the street.
Maria and Mr. Call sat in silence for a moment. Mr. Call broke it with his quiet voice.
"You remind me of someone."
"Who would that be, Mr. Call?" Maria asked, equally as quiet.
"My father."
Maria was stunned for a moment, wondering what to think. "Is that good or bad?" she hesitated.
"My father would look like that when he was angry. Especially when he thought someone did me wrong."
"He must have been a very protective of you."
Mr. Call laughed under his breath, as if he thought that was funny. "Yeah, I haven't seen him in two years."
Maria felt angry on his behalf. "Shame on him, Mr. Call. He ought to be here, helping you."
Maria almost did not hear Mr. Call's response. "I should've been there."
There was only one thing he could have been talking about. Mr. Call had been referring to Hannah. Maria was told that Mr. Call saw the explosion that killed his wife, but he was helpless in saving her. Did he feel as guilty as Maria felt when she could not save her family from the fire? The pain was always there, yet having Aunt Elinor helped lessen the pain.
Maria sat with him in silence. How could she tell him the pain would lessen, yet forgiveness never seemed attainable? All Maria knew was the relief could be taken from the people around you. She felt like crying, and she had not done that in many years.
"Miss Bennett," she heard a woman's voice address her.
"Miss Sadie?" Maria stood as she recognized the woman she met yesterday, except that she was dressed in black. Mr. Call still sat on his bench. Maria wanted to kick Mr. Call for being impolite.
"What's wrong, Miss Sadie?" Maria asked when the brunette woman did not answer.
Tears started to flow into Miss Sadie's eyes. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"What is it?" Maria gently asked, alarmed.
"Angel died last night."
Maria felt like she had been hit. She could not believe it. Miss Angel was such a sweet girl, so lovely and young. Her death made no sense.
"Would you sing at her funeral?"
Maria looked at her in confusion. When she did not answer, Miss Sadie asked again, "Would you sing at her funeral? It would have meant so much to her."
The memories Maria thought she had buried were alive and beating. Maria shook her head, bludgeoned by pain, not really understanding the woman. "I can't. I can't."
Miss Sadie looked at her in anger. "I thought you were different. But you're not. You're just like those preachers. You're just like all the others." She walked away in disappointment, her features in obvious contempt of Maria.
Maria felt herself sink under the burden of memories as they began to resurface. Old hurts were as painful as new ones.
"You only knew her a day. Surely her death couldn't have affected you that much," she heard Mr. Call say.
"You don't understand." How could she explain?
"Maybe you don't like the way she died," Mr. Call suggested, his eyes flaring for a moment in anger.
"What are you talking about?" Maria asked sharply.
"Some people around here think she doesn't need a proper burial for trying to get rid of a baby."
Maria's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Of course, that was why the girl was in such pain. Now two lives were gone. But she was such a sweet girl. She didn't seem capable of -- but did it matter?
Maria shook her head as a headache began to form. "No. No. That's not it, Mr. Call." She spoke hesitantly, admitting the true reason for her shock. "My aunt wanted me to sing at her funeral, but I couldn't do it. It wasn't right for me to sing those songs about forgiveness. How can God forgive the unforgivable?"
Maria thought about her family's deaths and her inability to help them. She looked at Mr. Call and realized he was thinking about Hannah. Did he hear the echo of Hannah's screams? Were they like her family's agonized cries that tortured Maria long after she had awaken from her nightmares? He said nothing as he rose. He walked away, his shoulders sagging as if under some unbearable weight. Maria's head began to throb.
"What is it, my child?"
Rev. Ballard's voice interrupted Maria's thoughts as she knelt in church. Hannah helped build this pretty little church, Maria was told. Maybe some answer could be found here. If there was, it was not coming to her.
Maria did not get up. "I don't know," she admitted.
She was startled when she felt Rev. Ballard's hand fall on her shoulder. To Maria, it felt like an overwhelming doom beginning to oppress her.
"You know," he said, his hand still pressed on her shoulder, "all answers lie in the hand of God." His thumb slowly moved along her shoulder blade.
Maria jumped up and moved away from the blond man. He backed away, his hands raised in the air, as if to stave off her nervousness.
Her heart thudded as Maria told herself that she was just being paranoid. "I'm sorry," she apologized.
"No harm done, my child."
Maria wondered why he kept having to stare at her that way. Nervously, she tried to turn his eyes off her.
"Uncle Josiah seems to be improving lately."
Rev. Ballard said nothing, but continued to stare at her.
Maria began again, feeling distressed, "But he seems to think he is some kind of divine judge. That worries me."
"Why should it? Your uncle has become an instrument of God. It should make you proud. All God's children should want to do so."
Maria considered him. Though truthful, something did not seem right about his words. Seeing her reluctance, Rev. Ballard continued. "You can see it now. The town will unify and throw sin out. All we have to do is persevere. Don't you see, child, the town will purge the corruption. Once they do, God will help them. There will be a cleansing by fire, if need be."
Burning. Fire. Maria's mind filled with sickness. She could never get away from it.
"What about the girl who just died?" Maria asked, trying to blot out the thoughts of her mother, father, and brother's fiery deaths.
"I don't know what you are talking about, my child."
"The people of this town won't allow her a proper burial," she replied, knowing full well the preacher knew who she meant.
Rev. Ballard said nothing. No emotions were expressed on his face.
"You are going to give her a funeral, aren't you?" Maria asked with a certain amount of dread, fearing his answer.
"Sometimes a man of clergy must bow to the will of his parishioners. The girl was a sinner and a murderer. I will respect the will of the decent people in town in this matter."
Maria's eyes widened in disbelief. "But that is not right!" she argued. Everyone deserved a proper funeral, despite what they did.
"Patience, child," Rev. Ballard's pale eyes grazed along her tall form. "I know what is wrong with you. All you need to do is ask for it."
Maria backed away from him, in alarm.
Rev. Ballard's arms opened, beckoning her to come to him. "God's arms are open wide. Ask for forgiveness. Ask for it." His hand reached out to touch her face. It seared her skin, making her feel almost branded.
Maria threw him off and ran blindly from the church, her heart pounding in fear.
Maria's thoughts returned to her as she slammed into something as hard as steel. She would have fallen backward if he had not held onto her.
"Hold on there, Miss Bennett. Why are you in such a hell-fire rush?"
Mr. Mosby was the opposite of Rev. Ballard in every way. While Rev. Ballard was pale-eyed, with a face as smooth as baby's skin and whitish-blond hair, Mr. Mosby's face was framed with a dark beard and a thick, dark brown mane of hair. The depth of his expressive eyes hinted at a wealth of gold. While Rev. Ballard's open arms made Maria feel like she would be throwing herself down some cold, dark abyss, Mr. Mosby's warm arms actually prevented her from falling down. Maria had to admit that Mr. Mosby was positively divine.
Then she remembered what he asked her. " ` A lady must not run in the streets, ' " Maria automatically quoted her aunt. She added, breathlessly, "I'm sorry, Mr. Mosby. I should watch where I'm going."
Mr. Mosby let go of her when he made sure she had regained her balance, his face expressing concern. "You still haven't answered me. You hit me like a locomotive just now. Something must have put the fear of God into you."
How could she explain this unreasonable reaction she just had to Rev. Ballard? "No," she denied, her thudding heart starting to beat its normal pace. "I am just going crazy."
Mr. Mosby nodded, as if not surprised. "Welcome to Curtis Wells," he muttered sardonically, as if insanity was the inevitable conclusion.
Oddly, Maria found that reassuring. "Mr. Mosby?" she asked, regaining some of her confidence.
He cocked an eyebrow at her as she walked along with him.
"What do you think about Rev. Ballard?"
He must have thought it was a strange question by the look expressed on his face. "I don't think anything about him. I hardly talk to the man. Why?"
"Well, don't you think he's -- " Maria tried to find a word to express how she felt about the man. " -- odd?"
Mr. Mosby looked at her as if she were crazy, wondering how such a question could be asked from her, of all people.
"Don't look at me like that," Maria pouted, feeling insulted.
"Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby began, trying to control his patience. "My town is stirred up as it is. I don't need you making matters worse by ridiculous insinuations."
"They're not ridiculous, Mr. Mosby," she argued, with a newly found conviction steeling her voice. "He doesn't belong in Hannah's church. He doesn't belong anywhere near Uncle Josiah. And he certainly doesn't belong anywhere near me."
Mr. Mosby stopped in mid-step, intrigued. "What are you talking about?"
Maria did not say anything, feeling embarrassed. "Something is not right about him."
"Is that all you have to base these conclusions on? Woman's intuition?"
Maria's face contorted in anger, but she remained silent.
"And what would you have me do, Miss Bennett? The man hasn't done anything wrong. Perhaps you know something I can tempt him with?"
The man was a Tammany Hall politician if she had ever saw one. "Then it's fine with you to let him do as he pleases, just so long as he doesn't interfere with you, is that it?"
Mr. Mosby's butternut eyes flashed like a cold saber. "Run along now, Miss Bennett, before you cease to be amusing to me."
"Don't you patronize me, Mr. Mosby," Maria returned, her dark blue eyes glinting like sharp bayonets. Maria wished she could have had another couple of inches on him, just to be able to use her height like he did.
Then Mr. Mosby smiled brightly at her. His smile widened when she seemed somewhat disarmed. "I would never do that," he countered in a slow, Southern drawl.
Oh, yes you would, her angry eyes reprimanded him. He laughed.
Maria ignored him. "And what about Miss Angel?"
"What are you talking about now?" his voice tinged with impatience.
Mr. Mosby knew everyone in town. Surely he knew about the cherubic girl's death. Maybe he was just as judgmental as Rev. Ballard.
"I assume you don't like the way she died, either."
"Miss Bennett," his voice finally raising in anger. "Don't you have any respect for the dead? Must everyone in town keep talking about this? Bury the girl, and let it be."
"Precisely, Mr. Mosby." He seemed taken aback that she agreed with him. She continued, seeing his confusion. "Some people in town think that Miss Angel doesn't need a proper funeral. It's not right," she reflected. "No, it's not right. It doesn't matter what she did. They want to `purge the corruption,'" she quoted Rev. Ballard. "As if not burying her in the cemetery with `decent people' will cleanse the town of one of its sins. It won't solve a thing."
"You don't believe in 'fighting fire with fire,' do you, Miss Bennett?" his voice lowered in warmth.
"Aunt Elinor always told me that you 'fight fire with rain.' "
Mr. Mosby smiled humorlessly. "The problem with that is," his voice dropped to almost an imperceptible volume, "the rain never comes."
The dark clouds overhead threatened like circling vultures. The last thing that was needed today was a Montana torrent. The old, rickety wagon carrying Miss Angel's coffin would have a difficult time, at best, making it up the hill without mud impeding the way.
Maria straightened her black dress. The last time she wore the mourning attire was at her aunt's funeral three years ago. Looking at her black sleeve, Maria could not help but think of Aunt Elinor. Her favorite color, Maria remembered, was green. Against the church's deepest objections, Maria had her buried in green. It seemed most fitting that way.
She saw Mr. Call sitting on his bench near Mr. Creel's store. Maria walked over and sat beside him. They sat in silence for a moment.
"Are you going to the funeral, Mr. Call?" Already many of the women of Miss Twyla's Sporting Club were gathering in the street. They were not allowed to conduct a service in the church, so they decided to speak a few kind words on Miss Angel's behalf before the wagon carried her coffin away to be buried.
"No." Mr. Call's light blue eyes looked at a rock across the street. After awhile, he glanced at Maria's dress.
"You?"
She answered, most uncomfortably, "No. I'm just paying my respect."
They both looked anywhere except at each other.
"It's a shame they would not allow Miss Twyla's ladies to have a church service for Miss Angel."
Mr. Call remained silent.
"Funerals are more for the living than for the dead," Maria quieted remembered what her aunt had told her.
"I know that," Mr. Call snapped. He stood quickly. He stopped in mid-step, looking like he had nowhere to run.
Maria looked sharply at Mr. Call. His eyes now shifted on his boots, and his face barely hinted at some deep torture. He had not attended Hannah's funeral, Maria remembered. Is that why he never bothered to go to it -- did he feel more dead than alive? Maria wanted to ask him, but she dared not. She had the feeling that Mr. Call would bolt, and she would never be able to reach him again.
Maria smiled at him. "What, Mr. Call?" she rose to tease him. "You don't have anything black in your attire?" She looked at his fringed, leather jacket that covered a dirty orange vest and red shirt. It rather complemented his filthy hat and leather trousers.
Mr. Call glanced briefly at her as if she had a lot of gall, then looked away as if she were some pesky insect. Maria smiled at that.
"You are not going to put that trash in our cemetery," a nameless voice hissed, interrupting Maria's thoughts.
An angry crowd gathered around Miss Twyla's ladies and the wagon carrying Miss Angel's body. Maria saw that her uncle Josiah was one of them. Some of them carried sticks and rocks. Some of them even carried weapons.
"She's a right to be buried just like the rest of us," Miss Sadie almost pleaded, using her body to shield the pathetic wagon. Miss Twyla's other ladies huddled around the wagon to protect her and themselves.
Maria sickened in horror as she watched the crowd maliciously encircle the ladies and the coffin. Some, with their courage bolstered by the anonymity of a crowd, began to push and prod at the ladies like meat on a fire. Others chided and snidely insulted the women.
One brave individual moved forward to accost Miss Sadie. Maria stepped toward them, but then realized there was little she could do. But there had to be someone who could stop them.
She saw Rev. Ballard and Rev. Ellis on the outskirts of the crowd. Maria begged them with her eyes to stop the madness. Rev. Ellis started to move forward, but Rev. Ballard's hand held him back. Rev. Ballard was emotionless. Hopelessly, Maria turned back towards Mr. Call, but he was already gone.
"I'd let the lady go if I were you." Mr. Call held a sawed-off shot gun directly on the man that held Miss Sadie. Instantly some of the crowd seemed to disperse, but they re-formed after they heard the cock of weapons ready to fire at Mr. Call.
"We're fed up with these heathens!" Maria heard someone yell. The crowd murmured in assent. Their angry faces turned on Mr. Call, and all reason seemed to be lost.
Maria looked back at Mr. Call. He stood fearless, like a dogged angel descending down from the heavens. She was afraid, and her heart raced in panic. He needed help.
She saw it. Mr. Mosby appeared from nowhere. He nodded for his men to support Mr. Call as Mr. Mosby's hand rested on the handle of his gun. Mr. Call was hardly aware of the sound of weapons ready to fire on his behalf. He stood steadfast. Mr. Mosby stood like a dark angel ready to give the commanding assent to his cavalry.
It was going to be a blood bath. Rev. Ballard was right. There was going to be a cleansing by fire. Curtis Wells would burn and cry in a hell of acrid smoke and gunpowder. Maria shut her eyes tightly as she could already hear the agonies scream in her mind. Burning. Fire. Perdition. All hope was gone.
"May God have pity on all our souls," Maria whispered.
It was quiet when it came. Gentle, delicate rain pattered on the ground. The earth almost sighed as it drunk up the tender drops of life. It was like music, and everyone stood in wonder. A trembling, almost hesitant, roll of thunder awoke their minds and cleared their hearts. Slowly, everyone began to disperse. Maria saw Josiah helping the ladies lead Miss Angel's wagon up the hill. It did not even make a sound.
Then she looked to the preachers. The disappointed Rev. Ballard looked bent and decrepit, yet Rev. Ellis seemed enlightened and vibrant. The red-head man led the other away. They would soon be leaving Curtis Wells.
When her eyes searched for Mr. Call and Mr. Mosby, both were confused and startled. Mr. Mosby told those who were remaining to go home, and he shook his head while he went inside. Mr. Call also walked out from the rain. She heard him mutter, "That's the damnedest thing I ever saw."
Maria began to laugh. Relief overwhelmed her as she ran out in the rain. With her arms outstretched and her face toward the heavens, she felt the rain splash onto her face as she twirled around. A tremendous burden had been lifted off from her. Her voice soared as she at last sang her aunt's favorite song, "It is well with my soul."
END
Darcie Daniels
Back to Darcie's Lonesome Dove Page