(1995) The Oath (21 page)
Steve paused to think something through one more time, then asked, “So—what did break the trees off?”
“The people who killed your brother know the dragon legends. Trees broken off by the dragon would really sell in Hyde River. It would be very persuasive.”
But Steve still had a problem with it. “How did they break the trees off? You’re talking about snapping off an eight-inch trunk and several branches—without a machine.”
She smiled knowingly. “Hey, this is logging country. Get some chain, some cable, a few come-alongs and some climbing spikes. The right people with the right tools could do it.”
“So now we’ve got people defeating their own purpose: They break the trees off to stage a dragon attack, then cut the trees up to keep people from suspecting it was the dragon—”
She shook her head. “It’s Hyde River, Steve. One thing follows another.”
Steve gave her a teasing smile. “But you’re still looking, aren’t you? You didn’t have to go back to Wells Peak, not with Collins closing the case. What were you doing there?”
Tracy shrugged off the question and said, “Let’s get out of here. I still have to lecture you and take you back to your camper.” They walked on. “Oh, and one more thing: Let me know if you get any weird phone calls.”
The night of July
19
th, we gathered with Benjamin Hyde in the main room of Hyde Hall and signed the new town charter.
We regarded ourselves as the elite of Hyde River: the owners, the businessmen, the foremen and bosses. The future was in our hands to shape as we would, and we were drunk with the possibilities.
It was to protect this future, this dream, that we swore a blood oath over the signed charter. Like everything else that had transpired in town, this was Benjamin Hyde’s idea, and just as he had provided a newly written charter for us to sign, so also he provided a small basin of blood—that of the day’s purged undesirables, he claimed—and required each of us to dip our fingers in it, paint a streak across our foreheads, and swear upon that blood that we would forever preserve, protect, and defend the town charter and never disclose what had happened on that day.
There were at least a hundred gathered in that room: ourselves, our wives, our children. We were devoted to Benjamin Hyde. In the light of one candle, we smeared ourselves and even our children with the blood and swore the Oath.
The Oath has been kept now for generations, by my children and their children and their children’s children.
From a letter enclosed with the last will and testament of Stephen Morris Templeton, who died in Phoenix, Arizona, on January 18, 1942, at the age of ninety-four
“
L
EVI
,
COME ON
, you know better than to trespass down there.” Reverend Ron Woods was tall and gangly, with a large nose and sad eyes that made him look like a tortoise without a shell. He was a patient man and once again, Levi Cobb had given him occasion to prove it.
“Sure, I know better,” Levi argued, “but that Benson fellow didn’t. I couldn’t let him go traipsing around down there by himself.”
It was Thursday evening. The day was cooling down, and the shadow of the west ridge had advanced up the opposite slope and shaded half the town. Ron and Levi were walking up the street toward the old steepled church, a short climb up the hillside from the main highway. This was the part of the new Hyde River that had first sprung up when Old Town began to fade early in the century. Its original log and hand-hewn timber homes had been restored, then restored again. The matronly old church, built of logs and tilting a bit, was a centerpiece for the neighborhood, and now it too was being restored with a new coat of weather sealer and a new roof. Ron and Levi were heading up the project, and that was the real reason for their being together now. This other subject had come up out of necessity. Word had gotten around town about the Great Trespass, and Ron had gotten word—a rather strong word—that Levi needed talking to.
“But look at the cost,” Ron continued, hoping reason would prevail. “Not only is Dr. Benson in trouble with the law, but we’ve got people upset and talking about it. Levi, it’s a simple matter of respect for other people’s feelings and views and keeping peace in this town.”
Levi gave Ron a sideways look, signaling that a disagreement was coming. “Kind of a one-sided effort, don’t you think?”
“Levi—”
“All this talk about tolerance and understanding. When do I start getting tolerated?”
Ron only smiled resignedly. He was a gentle sort, with a smooth, soothing voice. It suited his job quite well. “Maybe when you learn to keep your strong opinions to yourself.”
“I can’t help it. People ask me, I tell ’em.”
Ron laughed. He’d learned to do that whenever he was with Levi. “Okay, Levi, okay. But you could have told him he’d be trespassing.”
“I did. But he’s a driven man, Ron. He’s gonna find out what killed his brother or die in the attempt, I know.”
“And I’ll bet you told him the dragon killed his brother.”
“He asked me; I told him.”
Patience, Ron, patience, he reminded himself. “Well, that’s something we disagree on.”
“Not my fault.”
“In any event,” the minister continued, “you won’t be doing Benson any good filling his mind with that stuff. It’s the reality he needs to be informed of, like who owns that land down there and how people feel about outsiders snooping around.”
“He knows now.”
“So let’s have a look at this roof.” It was a quick change of subject, something either man could use at any time. It was one way they’d learned to put up with each other.
The old church, built in the
1920
s, was looking good for its age—better and better, as a matter of fact. Since Ron had come to pastor the church some four years ago, he and Levi had repainted all the trimwork, recaulked and weather-stripped all the windows and doors, and jacked up the sagging front steps so the porch and front door lined up again. The bell in the steeple, originally from a steam locomotive, was ringing once more, thanks to Levi’s machine shop and a little welding.
The problem now was the roof, or more specifically, the roofing contractor.
Levi stood with Ron along the side of the church and had no trouble spotting what Ron was upset about. “Didn’t he use a chalkline?”
“Quite honestly, I don’t know that he used anything—a little too much alcohol, maybe.”
The first row of shingles looked all right; the second row looked a little crooked; the third row looked worse; and the fourth row looked like a desperate attempt to straighten out the error made in the first three. The rows applied above these continued to wander about the roof like a car without a driver.
Then Levi spotted something else. “Where’s the shake liner?” Ron looked quizzical, so Levi explained, “He’s supposed to be running a strip of felt under each row of shingles. Come to think of it, that was in his bid.”
“Oh, no.” More bad news.
They circled around the back of the church and found the contractor up on the roof of the back porch, slapping more shingles down and nailing them home whether they were straight or not. He didn’t look up from his work when they came around, but not because he didn’t see them.
“Vic!” Ron called.
Vic Moore didn’t look at them. He only grabbed another shingle. “What?” His tone was so vicious it shocked them both.
“We’d like to have a word with you.”
Vic kept pounding nails. “What about?”
Ron looked at Levi for help.
Levi spoke up. “You’re doing a lousy job on this roof, Vic.”
Vic stopped hammering and used the hammer to point at Levi. “I’m not talking to you!” He looked at Ron. “I’m not talking to him!”
Ron pressed on. “Vic, I don’t see any shake liner up there. Wasn’t that part of our agreement?”
Vic took a second to look at his work, then answered, “I changed my mind.”
“You changed your mind about our roof?”
“You don’t need any shake liner.”
Levi looked at the clear sky. “Well, not today, anyway.”
Vic looked as if he was ready to throw his hammer at Levi. “What’s he doing here?” he said to the minister.
“He goes to this church, Vic. He’s on the restoration committee.”
“I don’t need any direction from anybody, and I don’t need him telling me how to do my job!”
“You don’t huh?” Levi said. “Well, why didn’t you use a chalkline on this east side? You’ve got the courses so crooked it makes my eyes cross.”
“They’re close enough.”
“No, Vic,” Ron said in what he hoped was a calm, rational voice. “They’re not close at all.”
“So now you’re taking his side?”
“Vic, I’m being straight with you. This roof is costing the church a lot of money. We need better workmanship than that.”
“Well, nobody’s gonna see it from the street!”
Ron and Levi looked up at him, then at each other. What was wrong with the man? Vic went back to nailing, banging with more force than was needed on a little shingle nail.
Ron was hoping Vic’s common sense would take hold soon. “Vic, come on, now. The inspector’s going to take one look at that and—”
“I’ll slip him a few bucks. He’ll go for it.”
Levi finally drew a deep breath, sighed it out, and nudged some gravel around with his toe as he told Ron, “Well, it’s your call. You hired him.”
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
“Vic, could you stop a minute?” Ron asked.
Bang, bang, bang.
“Vic, please, don’t nail another shingle!”
Vic stopped, his eyes full of spite.
Ron kept his voice calm and even. “I think you should stop working until we can iron this out.”
Vic considered that for maybe one second. “I’ve been in business in this town for twelve years. I’ve got friends up and down the valley who know good work when they see it, and they show me some respect! You don’t like my work, you just try to get somebody else to work on your crummy little church!”
“Okay, Vic, come down,” Ron said as if he were talking someone out of jumping from a ledge. “Don’t nail another shingle—”
Vic burst into an adult tantrum, hurling a bundle of shingles to the ground as Levi dodged out of their path. He fired some obscenities at Levi and then translated, “You’re what’s wrong with this town! If you weren’t around we’d all have a better time of it!”
Enough was enough, Ron thought. “Vic, that’s it, it’s all over,” he said firmly. “Now come down from that roof and pack up your gear. You’re—” The word sounded so spiteful, he dreaded saying it. “—fired.”
“Well, that’s fine with me!” Vic growled, going to the ladder. “You can just get somebody else, somebody you don’t even know . . .” He kept muttering as he came down the ladder. “And just try to get this signed off. The inspector’ll never work with anybody else; you’re gonna find that out.”
Vic climbed down and walked straight over to Ron. “I thought you were a better man than this, Ron! You been listening to this old idiot too long, and now you’re thinking like he does!” Ron stood his ground but was wondering how bad things might get in the next few seconds. Vic was waving the hammer around like he’d love to smack somebody with it. “Well, you’re not gonna make it in this town, let me tell you. Things could get real bad for you.”
Ron had no interest in winning the argument. He only wanted to defuse the situation. “Now, Vic, just calm down. We can talk about this later.”
Vic gathered up his tools, throwing his hammer, nails, tape measure, and shingle hatchet into a five-gallon bucket. His jacket was unzipped and hanging loose. It flopped open as he slammed his tools around.
Ron swallowed. This man was carrying a gun!
Vic grabbed the bucket and approached Levi on his way out of the churchyard. “You’re dead meat, Cobb!” He put his finger right in Levi’s face. “You and me, we’re gonna settle this. You be ready.” With those words Vic turned and stomped away toward his truck. A few moments later, they heard the truck roaring down the hill.
Ron walked over to Levi. “Don’t let him upset you.”
“Oh, I’m upset all right, but for him.” Then Levi read Ron’s face. “You’re not looking so good yourself.”
Ron’s gaze fell to the ground. Vic Moore was gone; the confrontation was over. Now he could just be himself. “I’m upset, yeah. To be honest, I just—I just want to punch that guy!”
“Whoo! Strong words, Ron!”
The minister was apologetic. “I know, I know.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get the roof done.”
“It’s not just the roof, Levi. It’s—” Then he blurted out, “What am I doing here, anyway? What’s the point?”
Levi could sympathize. Vic Moore was not the first of Ron’s problems in this town. “Just obey God, Ron. That’s the first thing.”
Ron took no comfort in that little sermon. “Obey God—fine.
So where is He?”
Levi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Ron, you haven’t figured that out yet?”
Ron’s abundant patience was running low. “Levi, not now.”
“All right. But you asked.”
“I’m sorry I asked. I was just—just spouting, that’s all.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
Ron looked at the tattered, ragged roof, then over the rest of the forlorn town. “I deserve better than this, you know? I’m a professional. I could really make a difference, I think, if I could just—” He was reluctant to express his feelings aloud but was in a sour-enough mood to do it. “If the placement board had a little more regard for all the training I’ve had, I could be somewhere else right now! I could be accomplishing something! As it is . . .”
He stared at the old church and shook his head bitterly. “I have a waking nightmare about this place. I can envision myself in my eighties, and Sue dead and the children all grown and gone, and I’m still here with no retirement, living on next to nothing, still having to do everything myself because people won’t show up, still getting yelled at by all the Vic Moores, and still wedging up this old building to keep it from falling over. I didn’t go to seminary to spend my life doing this!”
Levi thought it over, then said, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you need to ask God why you’re here and not let go of Him until you get an answer.”