Black Noon (4 page)

That night, inside a shed on the Hobbses' property, shadows of tall, slender figures of animals were outlined against the wall of the candlelit room.

The cat sat on a workbench watching.

The shadows were from unlit candles fashioned in the shapes of owls—cats—snakes—along with other candles rather elaborately decorated.

Also, on the bench were several lumps of paraffin wax, kettles, and other accoutrements necessary in the art of candle making.

Deliverance sat on a chair by the workbench.

Bethia stood close by, holding an article of clothing in her hand. She smiled and placed the article into Deliverance's outstretched palm, then turned and walked toward the door.

Deliverance reached with her other hand and picked up a large pair of scissors from the table.

She began cutting off a small piece of the skirt that Lorna had worn on the desert trip.

Keyes came out of the Hobbses' house, took a deep breath, and saw Joseph, Jacob, and a couple of other men of the town approaching, carrying a trunk and other articles they had retrieved from the wagon.

He waited until the men were closer, but Joseph spoke first.

“Morning, Reverend.”

“Morning, Joseph, gentlemen.”

Joseph and the gentlemen set their burdens on the ground.

“We thought you might be in need”—Joseph pointed to what they were delivering—“in need of some of these things while you were with us.”

“That's very kind of you, all of you. Lorna and I appreciate what you've done—and are doing.”

“Work of the Lord, Reverend, ‘cast bread upon the waters.'”

“That ‘bread' is awfully heavy.” Keyes smiled.

“Good morning, one and all.”

It was William Bryant and his young son who waddled in on crutches.

“Morning,” they all returned Bryant's greeting.

“It
is
a good morning.” Ethan smiled. “My dad and I are on our way to work.”

“Ethan's my best helper now that school is out.” Bryant tousled his son's hair.

“I'm sure he is.” Keyes grinned.

“Well, son, let's get a get on,” Bryant said, “we're burning daylight.”

“Yes, sir.” Ethan was on his way ahead of his father.

Keyes watched as Bryant and the boy made their way toward the store, then he noticed his Henry rifle that one of the men had placed on the trunk.

“We found this among your possessions in the wagon, Reverend.” Joseph reached down, picked up the rifle, and extended it toward Keyes. “Thought it best to bring it along.”

“Thank you, Joseph.” Keyes paused a moment, then almost reluctantly took hold of the weapon just as Deliverance came out of the front door and walked toward them with a smile as fresh as a spring garden.

She motioned in the direction of the rising sun, and her smile broadened.

“Yes,” Keyes nodded, “it is a beautiful day.”

Deliverance's glance settled on the rifle in his hand.

Her eyes suddenly turned dark, her face sullen, tense, as she looked in a far-off distance.

Keyes and the other men quickly realized what she was looking at on the high slope of the street.

A figure on a horse, backlit by the circle of sun—but distinguishable.

Moon.

As still as a painting.

But daunting. Even at that distance.

They waited for him to advance. Not sure of what they would do—or of what he would do.

Time seemed tethered.

Then it happened.

As suddenly as he had appeared—he was gone, swallowed into the shimmering rays of the sun.

There was a shudder of relief through all of them.

Deliverance managed to smile again, but her face was no longer as fresh as a spring garden.

“The way cats play with mice before they kill them,” Caleb said when they told him of Moon's appearance. “Unfortunately, in this case, Moon's the cat . . . and we are the mice.”

“But mice can't fight back . . . You can,” Keyes said.

“With that rifle in your hand, Reverend?”

Keyes lowered the Henry he still held.

“There are other ways, Caleb.”

“If you think of a good one, please let us know. In the meantime, we are all looking forward to your Sunday sermon. Have you been thinking about that, Reverend?”

“Yes, I have. I'm referring to the Bible you retrieved from the desert.”

“Maybe the answer is in the Book, Reverend,” Joseph said.

“There are many answers in the Good Book, Joseph, but I'm not sure the answer to Moon is among them.”

“Maybe not,” Caleb lit his pipe, “but the Bible does speak of evil, doesn't it?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, right now I can't think of anything more evil than Moon,” Caleb puffed from the pipe, “at least around San Melas.” He pointed to the trunk on the floor. “But for the time being we'd better get you settled. Joseph.”

“Right away, Caleb.” Joseph motioned to Jacob and the other men.

Deliverance made certain that Caleb could see her as she proceeded to motion with her arms and hands.

“What is she saying?” Keyes asked.

“She'll join you in a few minutes. She has something to attend to.”

“Very good.” Keyes smiled and nodded to Deliverance, then started toward the stairway, still carrying the rifle.

Bethia sat on a straight-back chair next to the bed where Lorna was propped up with the feather pillows. Lorna's appearance and spirit were visibly improved as her husband and the other men entered.

“Mornin', ma'am,” Joseph greeted, and the other men entered and set their burdens in the middle of the room.

“Where would you like us to put these belongings?” Joseph indicated, “There's a nice, roomy armoire . . .”

“Just leave them there, Joseph,” Keyes smiled, “I'll put them away.”

“I'd be happy to help.” Bethia rose from her chair.

“That won't be necessary, Bethia, but thank you.” Keyes placed the rifle on top of the trunk and turned to his wife. “Well, darling, you certainly do look much improved this morning.”

But Keyes couldn't help noticing a slight look of uneasiness shading Lorna's face since they had entered.

Deliverance came through the open doorway holding a large new candle. She walked to the burnt-out taper on the bed stand and replaced it with the new one.

“Good morning, Deliverance,” Lorna said. “That certainly is a beautiful candle.”

Deliverance smiled.

“Almost seems a shame to burn it,” Lorna added.

“Deliverance makes those candles herself,” Joseph said.

“She does?” Lorna admired. “Beautiful.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Joseph pointed toward the window. “Out in the shed. Is there anything else we can get you, Reverend?”

“No, thank you, Joseph,” Lorna replied. “We won't be here that long.” She looked at Deliverance with the burnt-out taper in her hand. “And thank you for the beautiful candle, Deliverance.”

As they left the room, Keyes went to the bed and sat beside his wife, who was gazing at the candle.

“Beautiful,” Lorna said.

“The candle . . .”

“Yes . . . and the lady who brought it.”

“Deliverance . . . and I'm sure you noticed her affliction. She can't speak.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Lorna paused. “Jonathon . . .”

“What is it, dear?”

“The trunk and all of these belongings . . . I thought we would be moving on.”

“We will, just as soon as you get your strength back, but in the meanwhile, I'm sure our friends want us to be as comfortable as possible.” He pointed to the open Bible on the desk, “And I'd better get back to that sermon.”

“Sermon?”

“Don't you remember? I told you that they've asked me to give a service this Sunday . . . remember?”

Lorna nodded.

“And I want you to be there if at all possible.”

“I'll be there. And Jonathon . . .”

“Yes?”

She pointed to the rifle atop the trunk.

“Are you going to go hunting while we're here in this house?”

“No,” he smiled and kissed her forehead. “They just happened to bring it along with the other things.”

“You always were very adept with a rifle, even before the army. I was so proud when you won that marksmanship contest back in Monroe.”

“That's because most of the good marksmen were already at war . . . men like Custer . . . except there were no other men like Custer, at least none that I came across.”

“I think you would have won first prize anyhow.”

“First prize,” Keyes smiled, “a silver plate, just what a farm boy—would-be-lawyer needed.”

“I still have that silver plate, Jonathon,” she pointed. “It's in that trunk . . . along with your medals.”

“Instead of a law degree . . .”

“You are what you were meant to be, Jonathon. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Are you sure, Lorna? We haven't very much . . . we could have had much more.”

“We have each other, Jonathon. That's more than enough. And now you'd better get to work on that sermon.”

Into the night he sat at the desk leafing through the Bible he had carried since the war, making notes and thinking about what had happened since . . . but . . . mostly since their rescue and arrival in the benighted village of San Melas. The good people and the misfortunes they had endured. Their church burned. Their minister dead. Their leader, Caleb Hobbs, not knowing how to cope with their plight. The brave Bryant family with their young, sunny-faced son struggling to walk on crutches. Joseph and his faith in the word of the Lord. The insolvent mine, and worst of all the imminent threat of the man called Moon. Keyes had witnessed the grim determination in hardened soldiers on both sides; men who had killed and would kill again, each with graveyard eyes intent on killing—but always in those same eyes—hidden, but never completely able to be hidden—the fear of being killed themselves. But that element was absent in the look of Moon. Only complete certainty. No fear. But something else. The wanton look in Moon's eyes as he viewed the beautiful, silent face of Deliverance.

He tried to push that thought out of his mind.

Reverend Jonathon Keyes began to make notes as to what he would say at the Sunday sermon.

It was a Sunday like no other in San Melas. Even though there was no newspaper in town, word had spread to its citizens that this would be a special Sunday.

Men, women, and children, whom Keyes had met, and others he would meet for the first time, gathered at the grassy knoll to listen to a stranger, a minister, speak words they had not heard since their church had burned into a heap of smoldering ashes.

Some came more than an hour before the service was scheduled to begin. They sat murmuring in rapt anticipation.

Rows of benches were placed on either side of a makeshift aisle on the shady portion of the knoll.

Lorna had been helped from her bed and was seated in the front row near the temporary pulpit. Her face and body seemed the worse for having left the bedroom, but she had insisted on being present—as were the others from the Hobbs household— Bethia, Caleb, and Deliverance. And, of course, Joseph.

William and Pricilla Bryant sat on the last bench, with Ethan closest to the aisle holding his crutches and near Jacob Brahmwell.

In front of the Bryants were Sam Hawkins, the burly blacksmith with a cabbage face, his wife Cassandra, a thin woman with a thinner face and their two children, Grace, a plump eight, and Brian, a string-thin seven.

A reverent silence swept over the congregation as Jon Keyes approached the pulpit carrying only his Bible.

“Thank all of you for coming here today to listen to the words of a stranger in your community.

“I spent hours making notes and doing my best to prepare something to say to you on this occasion. But as you can see I have no notes, no prepared sermon with me now. I threw it all away. I have only this.”

Keyes held up the Bible.

“What is in my heart is contained in the words written here.”

Keyes paused and looked at the Sunday faces of all who had gathered—the faces that were familiar; most familiar, Lorna, then Caleb and Deliverance Hobbs, Bethia, Joseph, Jacob, the Bryants and their son, Ethan, the other faces, some of whom he recognized from the street when Moon came—and the others . . . the troubled citizens of San Melas.

Then he held out the Bible with one hand and with the other pointed toward the top of a nearby hillock—and began to speak.

“‘. . . and he opened his mouth and taught them saying . . . Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'”

His hand with the Bible swept slowly across the congregation.

“‘Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.'”

The Bible hand paused at Caleb and Deliverance.

“‘Blessed are they which do hunger after righteousness: for they shall be fulfilled. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.'”

Then at Joseph and Bethia.

“‘Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.'”

His other hand moved across to the opposite aisle.

“‘Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'”

Then to four children, ages six to nine, all towheads, blue-eyed, paying heed to the sermon.

“‘Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.'”

His gaze went to Lorna, whose hand trembled noticeably as she ran it across her brow, but did her best to conceal her condition.

With the Bible still closed, he went on.

“‘Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you . . . falsely, for my sake.'”

Then to all of the assembled.

“‘Rejoice and be exceedingly glad . . . for great is your reward in heaven.'”

It was as if the entire congregation had taken a deep breath of consolation.

Keyes went on. His voice stronger.

“‘For so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. Ask and it shall be given to you . . . '”

Deliverance's eyes were fixed on Keyes as they understood what Keyes was saying.

“‘. . . seek, and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you . . . for everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth.'”

Keyes set the Bible on the pulpit . . . paused and spoke slowly but with mounting emotion.

“My friends, you have done me a great honor by asking me to come and speak to you this day. I know that this is not the best of times for you. You have been visited by misfortunes hard as a piece of the nether millstone . . .”

The citizens of San Melas looked at each other and reflexively nodded.

“There is ‘darkness at noon' . . . But you must not lose hope. You must not give up. You are not forgotten. You are not lost.”

Keyes motioned toward Lorna.

“I know. For only a short time ago it seemed that my wife and I were lost, hopeless, and abandoned . . . our bodies too weak to move . . . our spirits shattered. But there is strength within you if only you will summon up that strength.”

But Lorna seemed even more uneasy.

“For there is hope in the midst of despair.”

For only a moment Keyes's gaze fixed on Deliverance.

“There is a candle in the darkness.”

Then swept across the assemblage.

“There is drink in the barren desert. And there is balm in bitterness.”

Keyes became more fervent.

“‘Your old men shall dream dreams . . .'”

He looked far out to where the Bryants sat.

“‘. . . your young men shall see visions . . . And walk with faith.'”

Ethan, mesmerized by the words, seemed to be struggling.

“Draw upon the spirit within. ‘Lift up your eyes unto the hills.' Arise and ‘renew your strength.'”

Ethan rose to his feet with his crutches and began to hobble into the aisle and make his way toward the distant pulpit as Keyes's voice gained drive.

“‘You shall mount up with wings of eagles.'”

Ethan let one of the crutches drop but kept walking toward the pulpit.

Keyes lifted the Bible and held it up to the congregation. . . but especially to Ethan.

“‘Hearken to the voice of my cry. Behold and rejoice. '”

Another step by Ethan . . . and another.

“‘You shall run and not be weary.'”

Ethan let the other crutch drop. There was a vocal reaction from the townspeople as Ethan stumbled . . . then kept walking . . . his eyes glaring directly at Keyes in a silent supplication for the minister to go on . . . to give him the power to continue.

Keyes responded, looked up to the sky . . . then back to the youth, his voice strong and charged with emotion . . . a command.

“You shall walk . . . ‘walk and not be faint.'”

Ethan nodded, and with effort kept moving ahead.

Keyes set down the Bible and came from behind the pulpit, extended both his hands toward Ethan . . . giving the boy a goal to reach.

“‘For darkness shall be lifted. And the crooked . . . shall be straight.'”

Keyes stood, waiting. Hands outstretched as . . .

Ethan's hands, also outstretched . . . toward Keyes, until . . . they touched his.

Keyes embraced the boy, who had tears in his eyes, as everyone in the congregation rose, smiling, laughing, and cheering while William and Pricilla Bryant rushed down the aisle toward their son.

Unseen, atop the hillock, outlined against the sky, mounted on a black stallion partially hidden by a tree . . . an ominous figure.

Moon's deathwatch face. His right hand moved slowly and touched the handle of his holstered gun . . . then again took hold of the reins. The stallion turned and moved away.