A/N: S.E. Hinton owns/inspired. Darrel, poor guy, had a real hard time staying consistent with the tenses. I kept on editing/re-editing and giving up. Let me know if there is any glaring mistakes. I had a hard time getting Darrel's voice in this chapter (he's approximately age 10 - 12). I'm thinking at times he sounds a bit young. But, my excuse is that until his confrontation with his mother (oooh, spoiler) he was largely innocent/naive-maybe even a bit like his youngest son? :D I also included a little backstory for the Windrixville Church that Dally, Pony and Johnny visit. ;)
Faith
There are a lot of churches in my town, mostly Baptist, but also Methodist and a few Holy Roller types. Then, there is Mama's church, Friends of Yahweh.
The first time I visited Friends of Yahweh, I was shocked. The "church" looked like it was made out of a single clapboard, it had no windows and it sloped down so really tall men, like my Daddy, had to bend their necks to get in the doorway. Daddy went to Friends of Yahweh for one Sunday and decided that was ENOUGH for him.
The county safety inspector was sent to Friends of Yahweh on four different occasions cause people complained about Brother Elijah's shoddy construction work, but nothing was done.
"That Brother Elijah don't have the sense God gave a Bulldog," Daddy said. I never knew what that meant, but I laughed.
Patrick and me had to attend church with Mama. I tried every trick in the book to get out of going to that place.
"Gee, Mama, this church sure looks like the type of hideout ol' Pretty Boy Floyd would have loved!"
To which her only reply was a curt, "If that miserable heathen had a church like Friends of Yahweh he wouldn't be all that trouble."
I tried a different tact. "Mama, them darn peckerwood churches look nicer than this place. We get any kind of storm, and the entire church is gonna blow away!" Mama just told me to hush up and that Yahweh would protect and provide.
I tried to enlist my Daddy in my cause. "I don't understand," I yelled to Mama at dinner one night, "why we have to go to church and Daddy doesn't. It ain't fair! If Daddy doesn't go, I ain't going!"
My Daddy just told me that if I sassed my Mama like that again, he'd personally deliver me to St. Peter and his Pearly Gates himself.
Paddy just told me to let it go.
So, every Sunday Mama, Patrick and me walked down to Friends of Yahweh; and I spend 4 hours praying that the roof wouldn't collapse on us.
"This place ever catch on fire, it's gonna be a real death trap!"
But my appeal to Mama's sense of maternal obligation and self-preservation fell on deaf ears.
Mama looked at me like I was nuts, "this is a house of the Lord, Yahweh will make sure that nothing happens to the building or the people in it. Yahweh will protect His house and people from fire."
Sometimes, I wish I had Mama's faith.
Snakes and Horses
Mama never believed me, but I went church almost every day. The difference was that my church was the stables, the hills and lakes around my town. I love people, I love the outdoors, especially fishing and hunting with my Daddy, but most of all, I love horses.
Ever since I was six my goal in life was to get a bunch of horses and buy a real ranch in Texas.
Daddy told me that I need money to do that, and he ain't got but two pennies to rub together. Besides, with all em droughts who knows what kind of land would be available when I come of age.
I just told him to hold on, because I'm going to do it. Gonna raise cattle and maybe ride in rodeos too. He laughed, but it wasn't his regular, big, joking laugh. It was a bitter, sour laugh and my stomach did a little flip flop.
Patrick and I both rode in rodeos. Patrick tried it once, fell off his horse and ain't never ridden on another horse again. When I saw him fall, my stomach sank to my feet and my heart got stuck in my throat. I'd never been that scared in my entire life. I started to cry out to Yahweh, Mama, Daddy, heck, even Brother Elijah, for help. I wanted to punch that horse for throwing my brother, and I ain't never got angry with a horse in my life. Paddy though, after brushing off the dirt on his legs just sat up and waved at me.
I have to admit, it was nice knowing there was one thing Paddy wasn't good at.
Me, I fell a lot, but I kept on going.
My Daddy and Mr. Charlie Stead have known each other since childhood. Mr. Stead owns "Stead's Stables" where I landed my first job in 1935. Mr. Stead couldn't pay me much, but he promised that he would teach me everything he knew about horses.
I made one heck of a bargain.
Buttercup
My favorite horse is named Buttercup, which is kinda a sissy name, but she's a real strong girl. I take good care of her.
One day, Mr. Stead brought me into his office. "Darrel, you are real good boy. Why, you are the hardest working stable boy I have and I couldn't make it without you."
I thought my grin was gonna break my face.
"You know, son, I can't really afford to pay you. I certainly can't pay you what you are worth."
"That's okay Mr. Stead, just being around the horses, and you, is enough." I really meant it too.
"Well, son, it ain't enough to me. How about this, you continue to work for me for at least five more years and I'll give you Buttercup? Of course, I understand you needin' to get another job and stay in school, so I'm just asking for one Saturday a week."
Have you ever been so excited you can't react? Like you are frozen with happiness? That was me on that day.
When I got home I told my Daddy, "You better get ready to visit me in Texas. I already got me a horse, now all I need is to buy me a ranch."
He didn't say anything, but just poured himself another shot of corn liquor.
Now, all I needed to do was the countdown the years until Buttercup official became mine, and think of a better name than Buttercup.
There's a whole bunch of people hanging around Stead's Stables. I like to listen to their stories and talk with them. If I see a bunch of grizzled old guys I always ask them if they were real cowboys back in the day.
I picked up quite a lot of cusses and a love for chewing tobacco from those men.
I did errands around the house for Mrs. Stead. Mrs. Stead came from Boston and she spoke kinda funny, but she made me flour biscuit cookies with raisins, so I couldn't complain.
"Darrel, what church does your family attend?" Mrs. Stead poured me some fresh milk for my cookies.
In our town the first question people ask you isn't "who you kin to?" or "where you from?" but "what church you belong to?"
And even though I liked Mrs. Stead, its real embarrassing when you gotta say you attend Friends of Yahweh.
"Friends of Yahweh, ma'am, I go there with my brother and Mama." I looked at my cookie like it is the most interesting thing in the entire world, and hope she'd drop the topic.
"Your father attend Friends of Yahweh?"
I turned bright red, my Daddy didn't go to any church and it was a sore subject around my house.
"No, ma'am, but he prays a lot." I figured if you count all the times he yells "Goddamit!" and "Jesus Christ!" as prayers, I wasn't really telling a fib.
"Your father is smart man," Mrs. Stead didn't say anything else, but she had my curiosity peaked.
Over the years I learned a lot about horses from Mr. Stead, a lot about people from Mrs. Stead and a lot about cussin' and whores from the cowboys.
Snakes and Snake Charmers
Every summer a bunch of snake charmers came and set up tents outside the fair grounds. I loved watching the snake charmers, they're real cool guys.
Mrs. Stead just crinkled her nose when I told her about the snake charmers.
"I can only imagine the type of diseases those snakes have. Speaking, of snakes, remember when 'Mama Margeaux' came carousing into town, Darrel?"
Boy, oh, boy did I remember.
A few years ago, some lady named Mama Margeaux came to town. Mama Margeaux claimed that she was from this area but was kidnapped by wild Indians as an infant and sent down the Mississippi, 'just like Moses,' she told us, in case we missed the connection. She floated all the way down to New Orleans where she was taken in by a real Voodoo Priestess. This Voodoo Priestess taught Mama Margeaux everything she knew, and pretty soon Mama Margeaux was placing curses on people. Until one day, she found Jesus, renounced her Voodoo ways and traveled between Oklahoma and Arkansas spreading the Good News in her old Jalopy.
Mama Margeaux was laughed out town. For one, there were no wild Indians in this part of the state. For another, someone claimed to have seen Mama Margeaux's picture in a newspaper and her real name was Bella Thibodaux and she was an actress who fell on hard times. Some people felt humiliated by Mama Margeaux.
I liked Mama Margeaux; I figure anyone who could spin a yarn that crazy gotta be good for something. She kinda reminded me of the cowboys I hung out with, about half the things they told me was a lie, but they're good stories, so I didn't mind.
A few months ago, some people from the government came by with film crews to make a picture about the farmers in this area, and apparently Mama Margeaux was hired as an extra, spreading the good news about her latest savior: President Roosevelt and the New Deal.
I only tell the story of Mama Margeaux to explain that the people in this area are smart and not ones to fall for con artists, which makes Brother Elijah's ability to twist the entire area out of shape a strange occurrence.
The country club set from Muskogee looked down on Friends of Yahweh in general and Brother Elijah in particular. Usually, I don't care what em rich biddies think, but I had to admit, I think they were right when it came to Brother Elijah.
Brother Elijah, according to Mrs. Stead, was really named Herbert Weston. Mr. Weston was a faith healer up in Windrixville. Mr. Weston promised the good folks of Windrixville he would heal their injuries and illnesses, but the only thing he healed was the lithe figures of three girls. After rumors spread that he impregnated three local girls, Mr. Weston had to hop the freight train out of Windrixville to escape a court of law and worst of all, their daddies. Mr. Weston escaped unharmed, but one newly minted grandpa was so mad he tried to burn down Mr. Weston's church. He didn't succeed, but no one ever stepped foot in that old church ever again.
Hmm, maybe Mama was right about God protectin' His house from fire.
It was our good luck that Mr. Weston headed east, changed his name to Brother Elijah and a few years after he left Windrixville formed Friends of Yahweh.
Armed with my new information on Brother Elijah's past I couldn't wait to confront Mama.
Prelude to a Sermon
My Mama always said that "Brother Elijah is touched by the hands of God." And my Daddy always replied, "He's touched alright."
I never could find a good time to tell Mama about Brother Elijah's past. I wasn't shy and had no fear of a whipping or nothing like that. But as much as I hated to admit it, Mama seemed happy at Friends of Yahweh. The weight on her shoulders would melt away after spending time at that church.
I couldn't take away the one place where she seemed happy; even if it was run by a scoundrel.
Mama wasn't the only person who found solace at Friends of Yahweh. After floundering for years, by the time I turned 12 Friends of Yahweh became popular. The little run down shack was replaced by a brick building with a Sunday school room, a big meeting hall, offices and reading rooms. Stained glass replaced the wax paper windows and there were rumors that Brother Elijah was going to install air conditioning in the church. Mama said this was all proof that Brother Elijah was touched by the Spirit and doing Yahweh's work, but I think it was more due to all of the problems people were having.
Paddy told me that Brother Elijah understood what people need when times are rough. They don't want promises that everything would be better, or that this was just the Lord's way of testing them.
"Nobody wants to be a Job, Darrel."
No, they want to know that the people who wronged them would suffer. That is what Brother Elijah gave us. He promised the farmers that the banker who foreclosed on their farms would spend all of eternity eating sulfur. He promised the bankers who could no longer afford to send their children to college that politicians would be torn from limb to limb. He promised the sharecroppers who couldn't rub together two pennies and whose children starved with bloated bellies that one day the boss man would fall into a lake of fire.
It may not have been very Christ like, but it was popular.
That's why, my brother told me, people who could barely feed themselves were willing to give all they could to Brother Elijah.
The Sermon
By the time I was twelve I had resigned myself to the fact that my Sundays belonged to Mama, Brother Elijah and Yahweh. And so, I sat in my itchy Sunday suit that I had outgrown two years ago, listening to Brother Elijah preach.
The first time I saw Brother Elijah preach, I thought he was having a fit. He wheezed and sneezed and made a bunch of BAH-HUMPHF sounds. Patrick told me he was feeling the Spirit. In between feeling the Spirit, he talked a lot about hell and damnation and every now and then about God.
That Sunday sermon was on Exodus 15.
"They was singing," Brother Elijah started to sing, he had a surprisingly deep baritone for such a small man.
"Moses n' Mariam, singing out to Yahweh! There was EVIL, so much EVIL in them old Egypt times, but Yahweh, Yahweh delivered them Israelites, and what did HE do? What did HE do when he saw this evil in His house? So much EVIL in His house?
Did He just tell em to LEAVE?"
Mama shouted 'no' from her seat.
"That's right, Sister Rachel. He did not. What did He do when He was faced with evil in His house? Did He say, well, you 'Gyptians are MY children too? I hath made you from the rib of Adam?
No, brothers, sisters he did not."
Brother Elijah got real quiet and walked up to the pews, like he was about to tell us a great big secret.
"You know what He did folks, you know, Moses and my gal Mariam sang about it, praisin' Yahweh. He drowned them Egyptians, drowned them both horse and driver and let the Israelites pass.
They sang; Yahweh is a MAN of WAR. The RIGHT Hand is GLORIOUS in power. Yahweh is my strength and song I will sing unto Yahweh!"
Mama and a few other folks started to sing, their voices a choir for Brother Elijah's preaching.
"And so, brethren, when people do wrong to us, to wrong to HIS mighty name, when have no choice but to drown em' both horse and driver into the river of righteousness. I don't care if it is your Mama, your Daddy, or even your son or daughter, if they serve Satan, no mercy shall be given. Don't matter who ya are, you walk with the Devil and disease and death shall be yours. Even if they tempt you, and Lo, they will tempt you, show no mercy or quarter. Drown 'em, horse and driver.
BAH-HUMPHF."
I looked at Mama her eyes were a glow with fury and righteousness, her mouth open taking in Brother Elijah's words as her own.
Sunday School
After the main service, Paddy and me were sent to the upper Sunday school for 10 to 14 year olds. We have a new Sunday school teacher, Sister Ruth. She's okay, but I missed my old teacher, Sister Carrie, she was real nice.
I carved a horse into the bench with my pocket knife. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, sometimes I just don't think. Besides, I really like horses.
Sister Ruth was droning on about love when she asked me, "Brother Darrel, who do you love more than anyone or anything in the world?"
I figure it being a church, I should be honest. "I love my brother Patrick more than anything in this world, Sister Ruth."
Silence. Some of the kids started to giggle; other kids put their hands in front of their mouths, Buddy Smith just continued to read his Flash Gordon comic. I need to remember to buy some more comic books the next time I'm in Muskogee. My brother just stated to sink down in his seat.
Sister Ruth just pressed her lips together, "Silence children! Now, Brother Darrel, I am going to ask you again, who do you love more than anything?" She tapped her stick on the floor and the entire room was staring at me, which didn't make me feel too hot.
I can get away with a lot. Mostly because I can charm my way out of any trouble I get into, but that Sunday I didn't feel like being nice, or making a joke or apologizing my way out of trouble. I stood up, and for a moment Sister Ruth backed away. I'm big for my age. "Sister Ruth, I love my brother more than anyone or anything in this entire world."
"You love your brother even more than Jesus?" Sister Ruth has her hands on her hips and she looks at me with a self-satisfying smirk.
"Sister Ruth," I said, "I love Jesus, but I love Patrick even more. Paddy can pitch a no-homer game, I ain't never read about Jesus doing that. Besides, Jesus' Daddy killed a bunch of horses. I don't think He shoulda done that, even if they was with the Egyptians."
Now, I know that was a mouthy thing to say, but she was asking for it.
Sister Ruth looked like she swallowed a lemon, "hmm, just wait until your Mama, the Elders and Brother Elijah hears about this!"
At the mention of Brother Elijah, something in me just snapped. I thought about how Mama looked at him like he was the Savior and how Mama seemed to almost be in a trance listening to him preach.
"Miss. Ruth," I began, "I don't give a shit what Brother Elijah thinks. The only thing we ought to be worried about is how many girls Brother Elijah is gonna to make great with child before he leaves town on the 2 AM freight."
A riot broke out in my class. Some of the kids were on the floor with laughter, and I grinned at them. Hey, I like making people laugh. Other kids were on the floor with Holy twitches, praying for my wayward soul. Buddy Smith took advantage of the general craziness to stop reading his Flash Gordon comic and stuck his wad of Wrigley's in Becky Wood's long black hair. Patrick just turned real white.
Both Horse and Driver
I had never seen Mama so mad in all my life. She was so mad, she could hardly walk straight and Patrick had to steady her a few times to prevent her from falling over. I would have helped, but I was so nervous I had my fists jammed in my pockets the entire trip home.
I figured when we got home Mama would belt me once or twice, and send me up to my room without any supper.
Instead, when we got home, Mama just walked up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn't stomp, didn't yell, she was real calm. For a second I sighed a breath of relief, she ain't gonna punish me. But then she turned around and looked right through me.
I mean it. Looked at me not with hate or with love, or with any feeling, but looked at me like I didn't exist.
I hadn't cried since I was a little kid, but I wanted to cry then. "Patrick, she's looking at me like I'm a ghost!"
We followed Mama up the stairs and stood outside her bedroom door. There, in her rolling voice she started to recite the Bible from memory. She started in a whisper and rolled into a thunder.
"Mama, please answer the door!"
Mama shouted out Scripture in an even louder voice.
"Yahweh is my strength!"
"Mama, I understand if you're mad at me, please just whip me, ground me, but talk to me."
We formed a strange choir, me begging and Mama screaming.
Patrick told me that I should just leave Mama alone, "maybe she needs to be alone for a while. Let her read her Bible and in a few hours she'll be just fine."
But, I'm not patient.
Mama has locked the bedroom door and I rammed it open. Paddy always tells me I should join the football team when I go to high school in a few years.
Mama looked at me, the blank of expression replaced by shock and then anger. Damnit! Why didn't I just listen to Patrick?
Mama turned on me like sick dog.
"Leave Satan!" Mama barked this at me, each time her tone getting more and more desperate.
"Mama, I ain't Satan, I'm your son, Darrel." I tried to say this as calm as I could, but it was hard with my mother screaming her head off at me.
"You are not my son! My sons are good and holy people who walk with the Lord. You WALK WITH THE DEVIL!" Mama screeches this last part so loud that her mirror falls of the wall.
"Mama, I know all about Brother Elijah. I heard from Mrs. Ste- from someone, that Brother Elijah ain't who he says he is."
"Oh, Lo The right hand is glorious in power. Yahweh is my strength and song I will sing unto Yahweh!" Mama got down on her hands and knees and started making a strange wailing noise.
"Mama," Patrick began, but Mama jumped up, a look of pure hatred crossed her face. I can't describe it, except to say that it was horrible. She looked at me, she looked right at me, and said, "Get behind thee, Satan!"
She slapped me so hard my I fell down.
"Mama," Patrick tried again, but Mama turned on him, and punched him right in the jaw. Patrick is a lightweight compared to me, and Mama's punch knocked him out for a few seconds. When he comes to, his mouth was covered in blood. A look of confusion crossed his face, and he spits out his blood right on Mama and Daddy's bed sheets.
"You're just like him!" Mama screeched.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted at her. "You're crazy, you know what. You are crazy. You talk to Ezekiel and Amos like they're your family and don't know a blasted thing about us." I'm near tears, I didn't know if it is seeing Patrick and his bloody mouth or seeing Mama lose her mind, but I felt like I was going to lose it.
"I walk with the LORD!" Mama shouted, her face contorted and her body shaking.
"No you don't Mama, you walk with Brother Elijah, and he ain't nothin' more than a…"
"Darrel!" Patrick shouted at me, "shut up!"
"Mama," I said as calm as possible, "I'm sorry for what I said in Sunday School, I didn't mean to upset you or Sister Ruth. I do love Jesus. I guess I even love Jesus even more than Patrick. I'm sorry I embarrassed you. But Brother Elijah isn't a good man." I gave her my biggest, cuddliest smile.
She slapped me again on the same cheek, this time, even harder. The left side of my face was numb and tingly, Patrick looked like he wanted to burst into tears, which I think was pretty funny, cause Mama belted him way worse than me.
"You know what Mama? The only preaching Brother Elijah does is to get into ladies' panties. I don't know why a Christian woman like you chooses to follow that con. Unless…"
Mama just looked at me and started to laugh, "Oh, the Lord sayeth I shall be tempted! Oh, how I am being tempted, by my own son! Oh, so much EVIL in this house, so much EVIL."
I just stood up and turned to face her so my unblemished cheek is in front of her. "Mama, I may not know the Scriptures, but I know enough not to let a worthless fool like Brother Elijah into my heart. I also know that the Bible tells us to 'turn the other cheek' so, I am turning my other cheek to you, go nuts."
She did.
She clawed me and knocked me silly.
Patrick tried to take her off me, but it was a rather vain effort. Patrick and I were both taught by our Daddy to never, ever lay hand to a woman, even if they deserved it. Plus, Mama may be a very tiny woman, but she was a very tiny, angry woman and we were no match for her.
I didn't know how much more I can take, I felt real dizzy when my Daddy walked through the room.
"What the hell, is going on in here?"
He pulled my Mama off of me.
Mama said in a real calm voice, "it seems that our son," she spits out the word 'son' with such contempt even my Daddy is taken aback, "is serving the army of Satan."
"Laur-, Rachel, sweetheart, neither one of our sons is serving Satan. Now, will you tell me what he did?"
"He said blasphemy in HIS Holy place!" Mama roared at Daddy, and for a second, I'm not sure if the 'his' referred to God or Brother Elijah.
"He then spoke EVIL against Brother Elijah!"
My father just looked at her, "Now, darlin' I'm sure Brother Elijah is strong enough in spirit to handle whatever a 12 year old boy throws at him. How about we all just calm down, boys you two go to your room. Rachel, how about we…"
Mama then loses it, "Brother Elijah told me my family would try to tempt me and destroy me! Oh, how right he is, how right he is."
I decided that I hate Brother Elijah with all of my heart; if that makes me Satan's soldier, so be it.
Love Your Enemies
That evening, Daddy talked to me and Patrick. The first thing I noticed was how old my Daddy is. I mean, my Daddy is a young man, but his eyes looked real old and worn out.
The second thing I noticed was how sad my Daddy looked. My Daddy is either laughing and talking, or screaming and shouting. But he's hardly ever quiet and thinking.
"Boys, I gotta tell you somethin' this ain't gonna be easy for me. First of all, your Mama had no right to yell at you like that," I was surprised, because Daddy has never admitted that Mama is wrong about anything to us.
"Secondly, while your Mama don't have no right to treat you like she do, she has her reasons. They ain't necessarily right reasons, but they are her reasons. Like I said, your Mama was wrong to hit you, but she didn't just do it cause she was mad, she had her own reasons."
"But, sir, what are her 'reasons'?" Patrick asked.
Daddy looked down at the floor, "your Mama needs a lot of love. I know that ain't a good answer. But it's the truth. Your mama has been badly hurt and she needs a lot of love. Now, I know I ain't a believer like your Mama is, but I believe the Good Book say, "love thy enemies" now, your Mama ain't your enemy, she is a good woman. So, if you can "love your enemies" that persecute you, surely you can love your Mama who hurts you too."
That didn't answer anything.
"I'm not trying to sass you Daddy, but why is she this way? Why does she follow a con-artist like Brother Elijah? Surely he don't walk with the Lord."
My father turned to me and puts his hand on top of my knee, "You know, I don't care much for Brother Elijah, I don't think he's fit to tie a bum's shoe, never mind leading a congregation. But, sometimes, people are there for us in our time of need and Brother Elijah was there for your Mama when she needed help. For your sake and your Mama's sake, just let it go."
I woke up early, and saw my Mama at the kitchen table, reading her Bible. My face smarted something awful, but I tried to smile at her.
"Hello, Mama, how are you doing?"
My mother looked at me and said in a real calm voice, "Darrel, if you ever ask me to choose between my God and you, I will choose my God every time."
A/N: Little historical note, Pretty Boy Floyd (1904-1934) grew up in the hills of Eastern Oklahoma.
ETA: ooh, boy. So re-reading this and noticing a lot of tense errors. Ugh, sorry about that. Going to go back to edit, sometime in the future. Hopefully it doesn't completely ruin the effect of the piece. (only semi-ruin ;) ).