Authors: Judith Pella
“Do you know why they don’t get along?”
“Tom, my husband, is a hard man. He seldom has any good to say about anything, especially his son. That does not serve to endear a man to his son.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Zack nodded with more understanding than Mrs. Donnelly could imagine.
“Add to that the fact that Tom often strikes Tommy—”
“Beats him?” Zack could understand that, as well.
“Perhaps that’s a bit strong. I know Tom only does it because he wants our son to grow into a decent young . . . man. . . .” Mrs. Donnelly’s lip began to tremble.
Zack thought perhaps she was having a hard time convincing even herself of this. They both knew you couldn’t beat decency into a person. More than likely you’d only beat meanness into a man and a total disregard for authority. Zack knew about that, as well. Maybe he’d been lucky enough to leave home before the meanness could take deep root, but the rebelliousness sure had.
While Mrs. Donnelly gathered back her emotions, Zack said, “I’m not sure what I could do about it, Mrs. Donnelly.I could talk to your husband, but if other pastors haven’t been able to get through to him, I don’t know if I could do any better.”
“Perhaps you could talk to Tommy?” she asked. “I fear so for him, that he will . . .” She sniffed and chewed her lip before continuing shakily, “I fear he will run away from home.”
Zack nodded.I t wasn’t an empty fear. “I’ll talk to him, of course. Perhaps I can go back with you now—”
“Oh no! Tomorrow would be better.I don’t want either of them to think I put you up to this. I t . . . wouldn’t set well with Tom.”
The next day Zack rode out to the Donnelly place.I n the short time he’d been in this county, some of the folks had come to him—their minister, they thought—with their problems. He’d listened and responded as vaguely as he could, deflecting as much as possible. But when he couldn’t do that he responded with whatever wisdom he thought the real William L ocklin would dispense. Sometimes he dished out his own wisdom. These people, he’d found, liked practical horse sense better than bookish gibberish anyway. He rather enjoyed this role because he thought he had more to offer than religious prattle.
But there was something about Mrs. Donnelly’s problem that touched him on a deeper level. Tommy Donnelly could have been a younger Zack. At least Zack had had going for him the fact that he was more sharp-witted than Tommy.If Tommy ran away from home, he might not fare as well as Zack had. There had been many times in the last dozen years when Zack had literally survived only by his wits.
When he rode into the Donnelly yard, it appeared deserted. He hadn’t made a set time with Mrs. Donnelly, and she hadn’t been able to offer more than a general time when Tommy would be there. But hearing a noise in the barn, Zack headed in that direction, dismounting near the doors and tying his horse to a post.
He pushed open one of the doors. “Hello? Anyone in here?”
A figure stepped out from one of the shadowed corners. “Yeah, I’m here. Who are you and what’d you want?”
Zack needed no formal introductions to know this was the elder Tom Donnelly. He was a tall man, three or four inches taller than Zack. He probably weighed a solid two hundred or more pounds. The scowl on his face did not help his coarse looks and neither did the unshaven stubble on his hard jaw. His eyes squinted with a fierce glint.
“Mr. Donnelly?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“I’m William Locklin, the minister—”
Donnelly cursed foully. Zack had heard worse in his time but pretended to appear shocked.
“You’ll be happy to know,” Zack said, “that I haven’t come to see you. I was looking for your son.”
“You leave my boy alone, too!” the man snarled.
“I make it a habit to visit all my parishioners.”
“Well, you’ll just have to break that habit where my kid is concerned.”
“I don’t think so,” Zack replied coolly. I t took everything he had to maintain civility. This man even looked like Zack’s stepfather, and it sent his mind back into the darkest moments of his childhood.
“This is my place,” Donnelly said. “You’ll do as I say.”
“I came to see your son, and I will do just that,” Zack insisted stubbornly. He knew it had less to do with young Tommy than with the fact that Zack refused to back down from this man.
“Get outta my place, Preacher!”
“All I want to do is talk with the boy.”
“All you want to do is fill my boy’s head with lies—religious lies!I ain’t gonna have it.”
“Then I ’ll just talk to him elsewhere, but I
will
talk to him.” “Oh yeah?” Donnelly took a menacing step toward Zack.
“I said get out!” Donnelly gave Zack’s shoulder a push with his grimy, gnarled hand.
“Don’t you touch me!” Zack warned.
“What you gonna do ’bout it, Preacher?” the man sneered. “All you preachers can do is turn the other cheek. Ain’t that right?”
“You’d be surprised what a preacher can do,” Zack replied.
Especially a fake one.
“Oh, you’re a tough one.” Donnelly pushed Zack’s shoulder again. “C’mon, then. Show me what you can do,” he taunted, giving Zack a harder shove and then another.
Zack’s fist swung fast and sure, making square contact with Donnelly’s jaw. The man stumbled back, caught completely by surprise. Zack took the momentary advantage and followed up with another swing into the man’s gut. Donnelly was big and solid, but Zack was strong and an experienced brawler. While Donnelly was bent and gagging from the blow to his belly, Zack charged—there was no honor in barroom brawling. Zack had learned you took every advantage you could, or you’d be dead.
The two men tumbled to the floor. Donnelly tried to get in a punch or two but could gain little ground against the barrage Zack aimed at him. Zack’s fists pummeled the man until finally Zack realized there was no more resistance from his opponent. He stopped suddenly. Donnelly was lying under Zack, arms raised protectively across his face, totally whipped. Zack rolled off Donnelly. His fists were bloody and bruised but not as badly as Tom Donnelly’s face.
“I’m leaving, Donnelly,” Zack growled, “because I want to leave.”
Donnelly groaned in response. Zack could tell the blighter would be okay, his pride bruised far more than his person.
Zack was still panting when he reached the barn door and strode out. I mmediately he saw a figure dart around the corner of the barn, and realizing who that figure was, Zack was suddenly and painfully aware of what he had just done.
“Hey, Tommy!” he called, jogging after the boy.
Tommy stopped and turned to face Zack. “Reverend,” he said indifferently, as if he hadn’t just witnessed a shocking event.
“Did you see, Tommy?” Zack knew he was going to have to confront the situation. Tommy nodded, but Zack couldn’t read his passive expression. “I’m truly sorry,” Zack continued. “Sorry you saw such a thing and sorry for what I did to your father.”
The boy’s brow arched slightly with perplexity. “Why should you be sorry?”
“Why?” Zack hadn’t expected quite that response. “Well, because violence isn’t right.” Zack himself believed those words. He’d never enjoyed violence and had never started any of those brawls he’d been in. He certainly never carried a gun for that reason. What had happened to Ron Sinclair when a gun did stumble into his hand was proof he’d been right.I t still made him sick to think he had killed a man.
“My pa deserved what he got,” Tommy declared, thoroughly shocking Zack. “You whopped him real good, Preacher!” Tommy grinned.
“It still wasn’t right. I lost control.I made myself like him.”
“You whopped him!”
Zack could see he wasn’t going to get through to the lad, but he felt compelled to try anyway. “I should have talked to him, reasoned with him. That’s how you help someone.”
“I never thought my pa could get whopped, but he sure can.”
Zack figured the only way to get through to Tommy was with actions, so he turned and headed back to the barn.
“What’re you doing, Preacher?” Tommy scurried after Zack.
“I’m going to see if he needs help.”
“You best not. He’ll be madder’n a hornet once he comes to. You might not be able to whop him twice.”
Zack considered that and realized Tommy might be right.I t would never do if he walked into the barn and another scuffle transpired. He probably only beat the bigger man because of surprise. That wouldn’t work again. Besides, another fight might bring out Jane Donnelly if she was home. He couldn’t have her see him and her husband brawling.
“You’re right,” Zack said. “I don’t want to risk stirring things up again. You go and take care of your father.”
Tommy seemed hesitant but finally went into the barn. Watching him, Zack suddenly wondered how William L ocklin would have handled this situation. Certainly he wouldn’t have throttled Tom Donnelly! Yet what else could he have done? Turned the other cheek and let the man throttle
him
? Much as Zack didn’t like violence, he also didn’t think a man like Tom should get away with his vile behavior. A man who abused those weaker than himself did indeed deserve what he got.
Nevertheless, Zack did fear the reaction of the community. This could mean the end of WilliamL ocklin’s tenure as minister to the good Brethren of Christ in Columbia County, Oregon.
It took only a couple of hours for the story of what happened in the Donnelly barn to spread through the community. Zack heard the first reaction when he came down for supper at the Copelands’.
“Heard you gave that Tom Donnelly what for,” his host, Edward Copeland, said.
“We did have an unfortunate altercation this afternoon,I regret to admit.”
“Don’t you regret nothing. That man had it coming.”
Zack gaped at the man. “What I did was deplorable!”
Mrs. Copeland said soothingly, “Now, Reverend, don’t be too hard on yourself. Maybe a heavy hand is just what that Tom needs.L ord knows, Reverend McFarland never got far with the man just talking to him.”
“I can’t believe whatI’m hearing!” Zack said.
The next day he received similar comments from others in the community.I t seemed Tom Donnelly had been something of a scourge on the town for years. He drank and picked fights at the saloons in St. Helens. He owed money to every person in Maintown and many others in the county. When he worked at the sawmill, he was late and usually drunk, often placing his fellow workmen in danger with his carelessness. Everyone had quit doing business with him because he was as likely as not to cheat them. Despite all this, everyone was too afraid to confront him. Those who tried were usually run off his land with a shotgun aimed at them. The townsfolk had generally fallen into the habit of simply ignoring the man.
The fact that his wife was an upright, decent woman, well thought of by all, probably also led folks to take a light hand with Tom. Any grief brought upon Tom would surely trickle down and hurt his wife.
Zack hoped he didn’t run into Jane, for he didn’t know what he’d say to her. Maybe ignoring the situation was the right idea. And as the pats on the shoulder continued, Zack was bolstered into thinking he’d done the right thing after all. Why, then, was he nervous when he headed to the Newcomb place the next evening for dinner, which had been arranged before the fight? Oddly enough, he hadn’t seen any of the Newcombs since his altercation with Tom, and he didn’t know what they thought of the incident. I t bothered him a little that it mattered. Calvin had gained Zack’s respect in ways that few men ever had.
Georgie met Zack at the door. “Hi, Reverend. L et me see them famous fists of yours!”
“Georgie, mind your manners!” Ada said as she strode up behind her son. “Good evening, Reverend. So glad you could make it.”
“Thank you for having me,” Zack replied, trying unsuccessfully to gauge by her expression what she thought of the fight.
Calvin was descending the stairs. “William, how do you do?” Smiling as he reached Zack, he held out his hand.
“I’m glad I am still welcome here,” Zack said, shaking Calvin’s hand.
“Of course you are. Come on and have a seat while the girls finish up dinner.”
Zack turned and saw Calvin’s daughters busy in the kitchen. Maggie waved and smiled. Ellie managed only a tight, polite smile.
“Use the parlor, Calvin,” Ada instructed.
“The reverend don’t like all that formality, Ada,” Calvin said. “You save the parlor for your ladies’ tea parties. Me and William will be much more comfortable in the main room.”
The main room had no fancy divans as in the Copeland or Parker parlors, but there were a couple of rocking chairs, some stools, and a bench, all sturdy and nice but obviously handmade, probably by Calvin. These were spaced in front of a huge hearth made of river rock. A large rag rug lay on the floor. Calvin directed Zack to one of the rockers as he took the other one.
Boyd came in a few minutes later and joined the men. “That’s a fine horse you have there, Reverend,” he said.
“Thank you for taking care of her,” Zack said.
“We are going to miss you, son,” Calvin said to Boyd.
“Where are you going?” asked Zack.
“I work in the lumber camp during the week and board there,” Boyd explained. “The last rain caused a mud slide that interrupted work for a bit, but I ’ll be headed back after church Sunday.”
“The girls have everything in hand,” Ada said, joining the men and taking a seat on one of the cushion-covered stools. “I so wish he’d take a job at the mill so we’d have him around more. But working in the woods pays more, and Boyd is saving his money to buy a farm.”
“Very industrious of you,” Zack said. “Perhaps I should try my hand at farming. It might be more my calling than preaching.”
“You are doing a wonderful job!” Ada said.
Zack realized he had probably been fishing for some support, though he hated it when other people did that.
Ada went on, “Reverend, you must not be too hard on yourself over what happened.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Zack replied, “but I’m especially surprised to hear it from you, Mrs. Newcomb. I know you and Jane Donnelly are close friends.”