Black Noon (11 page)

From the bedroom window Keyes had seen Deliverance walking toward, then into the shed carrying the cat.

“Lorna, do you mind if I go out and get a little fresh air?”

“Of course not, Jon. There's no reason why you should stay cooped up all the time because I have to stay here a little longer . . . and I mean just a
little
longer. I feel much better since that ‘medicine' Doctor Keyes gave me this morning. I'll be ready to pack up and leave just as soon as that wagon of ours is ready.”

“So will ‘Doctor Keyes,'” he smiled, “good and ready.”

As Keyes was leaving the Hobbses' house he saw Caleb sitting on the porch puffing on his ubiquitous pipe.

“Hello again, Jon.”

“Hello, Caleb. For a time I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

“How's that?”

“This is the second time I've seen you without Joseph at your side.”

“Oh, he and some of the other men are at the mine. They're going to seal it up. We wouldn't want another accident out there now that the vein's run out, would we?”

“No, of course not. I see that Deliverance is in her workshop. Did she get the wax and other supplies from the Bryants' store?”

“Oh, yes. And she's back at work with her candles again.”

“Do you think she'd mind if I interrupted for a minute or two?”

“I think she'd be very pleased to see you, and m'boy, you will do all you can to help her with her affliction, won't you?”

“I'll do anything I can, Caleb, while I'm here.”

As she heard the knock on the door of the shed, Deliverance carefully covered the two wax figures on the workbench with the damp cloth, rose, and walked toward the entrance. The cat leaped from the workbench and followed.

Deliverance opened the door and smiled at Keyes.

“Deliverance, is it all right if I come in?”

She nodded and with an invitational motion pointed inside.

“I see you got the wax and what you needed from Mr. Bryant.”

Again she nodded and smiled even more.

Keyes looked at the workbench and the wet cloth.

“What is it you're working on now? More candles?”

Her lips formed a
yes.

“I'd like to see them when you're finished.”

Without hesitation she nodded.

“All these hours out here, day and night, with only your cat, you must get . . . lonely.”

A slight shrug and an enigmatic look in her eyes.

“Among the congregation, isn't there some young fellow . . . ?”

Deliverance shook her head and her hair bobbed loosely over her shoulders. Her fingers went to her crimson lips.

“The fact that you can't speak? I shouldn't think that would be any deterrent.”

As she had before, she pointed to him and then to her mouth.

“You're asking if I can help you.”

She answered with an eager look in her eyes.

“I just told Caleb I'd do whatever I could. But, Deliverance, it might help if I asked you about last night.”

There was the hint of disappointment in her aspect, but she did her best not to show it.

“The night was so quiet, not even a trace of wind, and you're so perceptive . . . didn't you hear, or through the window see anything out of the ordinary? Didn't you see Lorna?”

She shook her head deliberately, then pointed to the workbench.

“You're saying that you were concentrating on your work?”

Once more her lips formed a
yes.

“Then the first time you were aware of anything or anyone outside was when you heard Lorna's scream?”

Deliverance nodded.

“I can understand that. Sometimes when I'm working on a sermon, I'm oblivious to anything or anyone else . . . I only wish that my sermons were as good as the work you do with wax . . . and speaking of that, I've taken up enough of your time. I'll let you get back to your candles, but don't work too hard and too long.”

He started toward the door, but turned back and pointed to the wet cloth.

“And I
would
like to see what you're working on when you're finished.”

After he left, Deliverance, just as carefully, removed the wet cloth that covered the wax figures of Jonathon and Lorna Keyes.

The cat leaped back onto the workbench.

Keyes stopped by the stable to check on Hawkins's progress with the wagon repairs, but the stable doors were just slightly ajar, and there was no response when he stepped inside and called out Sam Hawkins's name. Keyes noticed that the fire pit had not been used recently.

As he proceeded toward the Hobbses' house he was greeted by a number of townsfolk . . . all women, except for a few of the older men and young boys and girls.

In front of the Bryants' store Ethan and three of his young friends were playing a game of what might have been hopscotch.

“Hello, gentlemen.”

“Hello, Reverend,” Ethan replied and so did his friends.

“Good day, Reverend,” William Bryant said as he came out of the store. “See you're out for a stroll.”

“Yes, I stopped by Sam Hawkins's stable to see about the wagon, but he was out.”

“Oh, yes,” Bryant smiled, “he and most of the other men are out at the mine.”

“Right,” Keyes nodded, “Caleb told me about sealing it up.”

“Wouldn't want these kids going back in there to play after what happened. I told Ethan he could take a break from work so he and his friends could play out here.”

Keyes watched as the youngsters were back at their game.

“Mr. Bryant, how has Ethan been sleeping since the accident? Any trouble? Any dreams about what happened out there?”

“Not at all. After supper, just says his prayers and sleeps the whole night through . . . thanks to you, sir.”

“I'm glad to hear that, sometimes . . . well, I'm glad to hear that. Good day, Mr. Bryant.”

It seemed that everything was back to normal in San Melas . . . except for the prospect of Moon's promise to return.

Lorna sat up in bed addressing a letter.

As Keyes entered the room she put the envelope aside.

“Well, Jonathon,” she smiled, “did you get a good stretch of the legs?”

“I did.” He looked at the letter on the bed. “To Reverend Mason?”

She nodded.

“You know, Jonathon, it's strange, I'm writing a letter to a man I've never met, but somehow I feel close to him from what you said about him . . . what he did for you and the other patients in the hospital . . .”

“And on the battlefields at the risk of his own life. He's the reason we're going to Saguaro . . . but there's one thing that happened I've never told you about . . .”

“Tell me now, Jonathon. I want to know as much about him as you can tell me. He seems to have done so much for you.”

“He did.”

“Then tell me.”

A look of solemn remembrance came across Keyes's face as he recalled.

 

 

“It was at the hospital as I was still recovering and still thinking of what he had already done for me and all the other patients, Union and Confederate . . .

“One morning while Dr. Clemmins was making his rounds after all night in the operating room . . . he was so exhausted he could barely stand on his feet . . . suddenly we heard a rebel yell and the breaking of a bottle . . . and all of us who were able turned toward the direction of the yell and broken glass.

“There was a Confederate soldier, named Jed Rawlins, a musician in civilian life, whose left hand had been amputated at the wrist—he held Dr. Clemmins from behind, held him fast, with the stump of his forearm, and in his right hand he held the jagged edge of a medicine bottle at the doctor's throat.

“Rawlins's eyes were twin torches of flaming fury.

“‘I want you all to watch,' he screeched, ‘This butcher who cut off my hand because I'm a Southerner . . . so instead of tending to it . . . it was easier to cut it off . . . and now I'm going to do some cutting on him . . . I'm going to cut his throat from Yankee ear to Yankee ear.'

“Rawlins jerked the sharp edge of the bottle closer to the doctor's face.

“Reverend James Mason took a step forward with the Bible in his hand.

“‘Jed, you know me . . . '

“‘Sure I do . . . you're that Bible-thumper. Well, don't waste your time with any holy-blown words . . . my mind's set and if you try to stop me I'll kill you, too—maybe first . . . I swear to God!'

“‘God?! Who's God, Jed?'

“‘The God who said, ‘an eye for an eye.' He didn't say ‘turn the other hand.' Did you ever hear of a one-armed pianist?!'

“The reverend looked for just a second at the closed Bible in his hand.

“‘No, but I did hear God's command: “turn your swords into plowshares . . .” “vengeance is mine; saith the Lord” and you're no Lord . . . and what vengeance are you talking about? Jed, gangrene had set in. Dr. Clemmins saved your life . . . stop and think a minute . . . and how many other lives can he still save if you kill him? Union and Confederate? Look around you . . . There are as many Confederates, your comrades, in this room as there are Union soldiers . . . '

“‘Words! Words! Words!'

“‘That's right, and listen to these words . . . I know you have a wife, Jed . . . do you think she'll think any different toward you if you come home from the war having lost a hand fighting for the cause? And how will she feel if you kill the doctor who saved your life so you
could
come home? . . . The War Between the States will soon be over . . . but will yours? . . . your wife and the South will need you even with one good hand . . . you're a musician . . . there's a lot you can do besides killing the man who saved your life . . . and that of most of the people in this room . . . if it weren't for Dr. Clemmins you'd be in a battlefield grave instead of this hospital . . . you're a musician . . . you can't play music, but you can still write it, compose it, and teach it . . . not use it to take his life, and your own, because if you kill him you'll never get out of here alive . . . Jed, there is no good war, except what we can learn from it . . . and we don't learn by killing.

“‘I'm coming to you, Jed, and you will have to kill me first. You're a brave Southerner . . . act like one. Put that bottle down. Son, it's your last chance to end your own war . . . and win it.'

“Rawlins trembled as if feeling the pain in the hand that was no longer on his body. With a barely perceptible nod, and softened eyes, his shoulders slumped. He lowered his right hand and the bottle dropped onto the floor. The stump of his left arm loosened from Dr. Clemmins's chest, and Reverend Mason moved to help the doctor step away, as a couple patients who were able, were at the doctor's side.

“Rawlins stood frozen for just a couple of seconds, then slumped, first to one knee, then to the other, on the side of the bed, his head buried in both arms.

“Reverend Mason moved close behind him and gently placed a hand on Rawlins's shoulder.”

 

 

Lorna looked at her husband, took a deep breath, and managed to smile.

“Jonathon, I'm glad that you told me. I feel as if I know Reverend Mason much better now.”

“He is as brave as any soldier I ever met. I'd be proud to take his place anywhere, even though I know I couldn't come close.”

“You will take his place in Saguaro, Jonathon . . . and I'm sure he'll be proud of you . . . as I am.”

Keyes walked out of the house onto the porch. Joseph's rocking chair was empty and so were the other chairs.

Caleb Hobbs was not in the house, nor on the porch. As he looked around Bethia stepped out through the doorway.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Reverend?”

“No, thank you, Bethia, but I was just wondering about Caleb. I don't see him around here. Did he decide to go out to the mine?”

“No, sir. He's just up the street at the burned-out church site. He goes there sometimes . . . when he's feeling . . . melancholy.”

“I understand.”

“Sir, if you don't mind my saying, I think it might be of comfort to him if you went over there. He does feel much better when you're with him . . . after all you've done.”

“Well, thank you for letting me know, Bethia. I'll go over and visit with him.”

“Very good, Reverend, and I'll go up and see if there's anything I can do to help the missus.”

“Thank you,” Keyes smiled. “We appreciate all you've done, Bethia.”

Caleb sat on a large stone in front of the charred church gazing at the skeletal ruins.

The pipe still in his mouth was smokeless, but he didn't seem to notice, or care, as he looked straight ahead.

And he didn't notice Keyes's approach until Keyes spoke.

“Hello, Caleb.”

“Oh, hello, Reverend,” there
was
a melancholy look in his eyes as he turned.

“I'm sure it was a fine-looking church, Caleb.”

“It was an exact replica of the one we left behind in Connecticut. Small, but well suited to our needs, and it helped keep us together, and now it's gone, and so is the mine . . .”

“But you're all still here . . . and together.”

“For how long? What happens when Moon comes back? Will we still be together? Or will he want to take something . . . or someone else?”

“You're thinking about Deliverance?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn't she leave? Go someplace else?”

“Where, Jonathon? In her condition, where could she settle? Here she can be understood, by me at least, and she's content with her work. But anyplace else she'd just be a muted stranger, looked upon almost like . . . a freak.”

“Not a beautiful girl like Deliverance.”

“You're right about one thing, she is beautiful . . . and Moon's noticed that, too.”

“
Moon! Moon!
” Keyes said. “It always comes down to Moon.”

“So it seems, m'boy,” Caleb looked back at the remnants of the church. “But maybe the Lord will show us the way. He's done it before. He sent you here, didn't He? We must have faith.”

“Well, as I said before, I wouldn't count on the Lord to strike down Moon with a bolt of lightning before he comes back.”

“Oh, I don't know, Reverend,” Caleb smiled, “as Joseph would say ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways.'”

“Not
that
mysterious,” Keyes smiled back, “otherwise there'd be a lot less evil in this world.”

“Then what do you think brought you here?”

“Who knows what to call it? Fate? Destiny? Chance?”

“You call it what you will,” Hobbs nodded toward the church site, “but I think His hand is upon us, otherwise you wouldn't be in San Melas.”

“Right now it seems you're more the minister than I am. Maybe you should be up there on that pulpit when you do rebuild the church.”

“Jon, I don't have your gift . . . I could never have done what you did for Ethan . . . at the service . . . and at the mine, and for Deliverance on that runaway horse. You have the calling.”

“Well, it's good of you to talk that way, but . . .”

“Jon, I'm going to ask you something that I'd never ask of anyone else in this world. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, Caleb.”

“You're going to Saguaro with your wife . . .” he paused. His voice took on the tone of quiet last resort. “If Moon doesn't come back here before you leave, would you take Deliverance with you and Lorna . . . take her to Saguaro with you and save her from . . .”

From a distance, on the street, sounds of a strident voice, hoofbeats pounding. Joseph, Jacob, and Sam Hawkins were riding into town as if their saddles were on fire. Joseph held up a canvas sack, and his horse leaped over a water trough as he hollered with all the might of his lungs.

“Where's Caleb! Got go find Caleb and tell him! It's a miracle . . . purely a miracle! Where's Caleb?”

Keyes and Caleb reacted to the commotion and hoofbeats and quickly moved toward the sounds and the riders, along with dozens of townspeople doing their best to keep up with the horsemen.

Joseph, when he spotted the two men, leaped off his mount as if he were seventeen, still holding the canvas sack.

“Caleb, it's a miracle!” Without pausing for breath, he went on. “Purely a miracle! Just look here . . . a miracle, Caleb. Looks like the Reverend's done it again!”

“What is it, Joseph?” Caleb said. “What's happened?”

Deliverance had come out of the shed, the cat in her arms, and waited with the rest of them for Joseph's answer.

Joseph made no attempt to subdue his excitement. Neither did Jacob and Sam Hawkins, who were now beside him. Hawkins started to speak, but Joseph interrupted.

“Let me tell it, Sam!”

“Well, go ahead and tell it,” Caleb said.

“We was out at the mine . . . to board it up like you said, so the children wouldn't go in there and get lost . . . but before we did, some of us went inside to make sure there wasn't anything left that we could use . . . then it happened!”

“What!?”

“One of the old shafts collapsed . . . ‘mightier than the noise of many waters' . . . nobody was hurt, but Caleb, there it was . . . the richest vein I ever seen . . . the mother lode. Just look!”

Joseph reached into the canvas sack and pulled out some small rocks.

“Look at these!” He handed Caleb one of the rocks and passed some of the other samples to those nearest in the crowd.

Caleb's eyes were aglow as he studied the nugget in his palm.

“There's more like these?”

“A whole mountain more, more than ever before.” He turned toward Keyes. “Yes, sir, Reverend, once again you brought us good fortune . . . Hallelujah!”

The rest of the crowd joined in with cheers of celebration and unabashed relief.

Caleb placed the glittering stone in Keyes's left hand, then grasped his right in a hearty handshake.

“Jon, ‘Fate?' ‘Destiny?' ‘Chance?' I don't think so . . . the hand of the Lord . . . and yours.”

Keyes looked at the stone in his palm, then at the people of San Melas, still celebrating . . . everybody except Deliverance as she gazed silently at Jonathon Keyes.

Lorna had finished the letter to Reverend Mason in Saguaro. Bethia was still in the room and had the wedding portrait of Keyes and Lorna in her hand, dusting it.

Lorna turned toward the open window and listened to the sounds of voices from outside.

“Bethia.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“What's all the excitement out there?”

Bethia went to the window and looked down.

“I don't know, ma'am. I'll find out.”

“And would you do me a favor, please?”

“Yes, ma'am,” she returned to the desk and placed the wedding portrait on it.

Lorna held out the envelope.

“Would you see that this gets sent with the next mail?”

“Of course, ma'am. I'd be glad to.”