World Made by Hand

Sixty-one

I waited outside on the front steps of the old town hall, there being no reason to disturb Brother Jobe’s sleep until the others showed up. Cadmus seemed comfortable in front of Einhorn’s store, up the block, where there was a picket post and a water trough. I finished the slab of corn bread that I had snatched on my way out of the house and wished I had more, or better still a square of ham and cheese pudding, or best of all, one of Bullock’s hamburgers. The street was utterly still. With no electric lights functioning, only the moon lit the town. All around, in the houses up Academy Street, Van Buren, and Jackson, my friends and neighbors slept innocently as the earth turned them toward another day of hard work and summer heat. I wondered: if someone sat out there on the town hall steps of Union Grove long enough, night after night, would they eventually see a mountain lion walk casually down Main Street. The air was still caressingly mild. Exhaustion was creeping through my veins, my joints, and my spinal fluxes. When I blinked, my eyes did not want to open again.

I woke up sharply to the clip-clop of horses trotting down the street and the creak of harness leather. It was still fully dark, so I could have been asleep for only a few minutes. Brother Joseph had just rounded Van Buren onto Main at a trot on his big mount, Temperance. Behind him, Brother Jonah drove the utility cart. A hogtied figure occupied the box of the cart. Four other mounted New Faith men rode behind the cart. They slowed to a walk and then stopped in front of the town hall. Joseph dismounted. I went down to him. The whole group looked exceedingly grim.

“How did it go?” I said.

“We had some trouble.”

“Where are the rest of your men?”

“They’re back at the hermitage now.”

“Huh?”

“What you call the old high school.”

“Oh. What about that trouble?”

“There was some shooting.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

“No.”

“Did any of your own men get hurt?”

“We brought in your prisoner, sir.”

“I see,” I said, wondering why Joseph avoided answering my question. “Well, I’m ready to receive him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seth and Caleb dragged Wayne to the edge of the box and made sure that he landed on his feet on the pavement. The way they had him tied up, he couldn’t stand up straight. I went over to him. He craned his neck to look up at me.

“Hello there, Fiddler Joe,” Wayne said.

“You’re under arrest, Wayne.”

“No shit. Hope your jail is fireproof?”

“Why? Your people planning to burn it down with you in it?”

“Now you’re making me a little sorry that I didn’t ram that fungo bat up your ass after all.”

“That may end up being the least of your regrets,” I said and pointed to the front stairs. “Bring him along now.”

Inside the building, Jonah led the way up the stairway with a candle lamp. Brother Jobe was sitting up in his bed, wearing a nightshirt, when we entered the old jail room. He shaded his eyes against the lamp but didn’t say anything. Wayne stopped a moment before Brother Jobe’s cell, and the two stared at each other.

“What are you in here for, little buddy,” Wayne said to Brother Jobe.

“I’m here to pray for your soul, old son,” he replied.

Wayne cackled. I had the brothers put him in the cell we’d prepared for him. I threw the length of chain around the bars and made sure the door was all snugged up with the padlock closed.

“Can I see you alone for a moment,” Joseph said, when I was done.

I took him into the adjoining room, the old police office, and closed the door.

“We lost Minor,” Joseph said.

“What!”

“You know how he was. Headstrong. He had to go in with the first bunch.”

“In where?”

“Mr. Karp’s domicile. Like I said, there were shots fired. Minor wasn’t so lucky.”

“Did Wayne shoot him?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Karp himself.”

“How come you didn’t shoot Wayne?”

“You said not to.”

I kicked one of the old stage flats from Guys and Dolls. My boot went clean through the canvas. “Goddammit all.”

“We took Minor over to the doctor’s, but it was too late.”

“I’m very sorry. He was a fine young man.”

“We’re going to miss him,” Joseph said. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t lose his composure. “Arc you going to let Brother Jobe out now?”

“I can’t let him out. He hasn’t been in here overnight yet.”

“Don’t tell him about Minor,” Joseph said. “Not a word. We’ll tell him about it in our own way when he’s back with us. But don’t you say anything.”

“All right.”

We returned to the jail room. Brother Jobe was now kneeling at his bed with his hands clasped on the mattress, his eyes closed, and his lips moving soundlessly, the way little children pray.

Joseph told the others to come along, leaving me alone with Wayne and Brother Jobe.

“Nice accommodations,” Wayne said. “And real secure too.” He rattled the door to his cell.

I leaned against the wall beside his cell and drew the pistol out from the back of my waistband.

“Remember this?” I said.

Wayne sauntered over. I retreated a step.

“Hey, I’m not going to bite you,” he said. “Why, got-damn, that’s one of our old pieces. Ruger .41, right? I’m surprised you didn’t throw it in the crick or something.”

“I thought I might actually need it some day.”

“I bet it makes you feel real powerful.”

“It kind of does. I shot a man with it.”

“Really? That ain’t like you.”

“Shit happens.”

“I’ll say. Where’d you do that mighty deed?”

“It’s not important.”

“We didn’t hear nothing about it up our way.”

“It happened quite a ways from there.”

“I suppose you’d like to kill me now.”

“Yes. I sort of would.”

“You going to think about it for a while or what?”

“I’m going see if the Reverend Holder survives what you did to him.”

“And if he don’t, you going to kill me?”

“Pretty much, I’m thinking.”

“And then I s’pose you’d say I was trying to break out or some shit, right?”

“Something like that.”

“And what if he pulls through?”

“Then we’ll try you in a court of law and probably hang you.”

“It don’t look so good for me either way.”

“Nope.”

“Guess I’ll just have to stand by then.”

“I guess so.”

“You think my people are going to sit still for this?”

“I don’t know what they’ll do. But the frame of mind I’m in right now, I’d send the cavalry back up there and burn your whole village down if they tried something.”

“Union Grove would burn just as nice too?”

“You’re wrong about that. All those trailers and shanties packed in so close together up there. I’m surprised you haven’t burned it down accidentally yourself. Anyway, make yourself comfortable here. We’ll get some breakfast over for you by and by. There’s water in the pitcher and a pot for you to piss in. I’ll be next door in the office if you need anything.”

“Tell me one more thing, Fiddler Joe.”

“What?”

“Who all is this wing nut across the way?”

“I guess you’d say he’s another preacher man.”

“What’s he in for?”

“Cutting off beards without permission.”

“Who the hell you got to get permission from around here to cut off a got-damn beard?”

“The owner of the beard,” I said.

“Well, ain’t that some shit,” he said.