A day could sure go to shit fast.
Cort stood on the hotel veranda, his head resting against a post and tried to compose himself. He was angry and confused and the two feelings were so mixed up right now he couldn't think straight.
It was raining hard and he heard the distant boom of thunder. It looked as though a storm was heading towards town and the rain had cleared the street, but he could see people milling about on the saloon veranda, no doubt discussing the recent excitement. Cort was still trying to figure out what had happened there, how everybody in the room had decided to rally round him. Two days ago no-one would have lifted a finger to help and he pondered how people's minds had turned around so drastically. Right now though, that was the least of his worries.
He was having trouble believing the gang of men had been working for Henry Usher. They were brutal, professional thugs and he couldn't imagine them in church on Sunday morning, singing praises to the Lord. What troubled him more was the fact he'd been offered a job by their employer which probably involved doing pretty much what he'd witnessed tonight. Cort reckoned he'd made the right decision in turning Henry Usher down. He couldn't treat people like dogs no matter how much they might deserve it, but he needed to keep an open mind and not let personal feelings get in the way. He'd chosen to live on nothing for three years in his pursuit of faith, enjoying that dependency on God, but he'd also made absolutely no difference to people's lives in that time. Henry Usher brought change on a grand scale and Cort knew it was impossible to work at his level without hiring protection. It wasn't the way he would personally choose to do God's work, but that didn't make it wrong.
Something far worse was bothering him though, and it had everything to do with the man he'd locked in a cupboard under the stairs. He needed to go talk to Ben Carter, couldn't leave him cramped up in the dark for much longer, but he needed to be calm when he did it. He was angry with Ben but it was just a part of something deeper. Cort felt betrayed. He'd liked Ben, seen a lot of similarities between them, begun to consider him a friend and hoped he'd stick around so they might work together. He hadn't known much about the man, hadn't bothered finding out either, and now he felt like a fool for putting his trust in a common thief. Was he really so desperate for company?
He wouldn't condemn Ben for stealing the money, not when he'd committed a far worse crime against the church, but was disappointed he'd chosen to keep it quiet. He'd seen the expression on Ben's face when Jack Bellows announced his crime to the saloon. He'd looked horrified and he'd been looking right at Cort.
Cort didn't understand that reaction. Ben seemed to know all about John Herod and the bad old days, so he surely knew Cort spent years as an outlaw, robber and worse. Every man had a right to change for the better and Cort wasn't about to pass judgement on a crime he knew nothing about. And why should Ben have confided in him anyway? They'd known each other exactly two days and there had been plenty of hints dropped along the way. Cort knew Ben was on the run but since he wasn't fleeing the law he'd figured that was okay, that together they could deal with anybody who might show up with a grudge. He sure hadn't expected that grudge to come from the biggest church organisation in the territory.
Nagging at the back of his mind was something Ben had said before he got punched in the mouth. Cort didn't want to believe that Henry Usher, a man of God, dealt with wrongdoers by stringing them up without trial but Ben had looked terrified, like he honestly believed that was going to happen. Since Cort had once been in that unfortunate position himself, and wouldn't wish it on anybody else, he had to get to the bottom of things. Now was the time to get it done.
He sighed and headed to the hotel reception desk. He collected the key for the room he called his office, a bottle of whisky and a glass. On impulse he went back and got another glass. Ben could probably use a drink and in spite of the disappointing outcome to the day, Cort still owed him his life.
He unlocked the door to the office. It was a room where they usually kept cleaning materials and it still smelled of soap and polish. It was too hot in the daytime, chilly at night and there was only enough space for a table and couple of chairs. He lit the oil lamp on the table, unloaded the whisky then headed for the stair cupboard. It was a crappy excuse for a cell but it had a sturdy door with a stout bolt and it was all he'd been able to come up with at short notice.
Ben Carter was hunched sideways on the floor, surrounded by mops and brooms, and he swore and pulled his face away as light from the parlour hit him in directly. He'd been trying to get free of the ropes and Cort could see blood on his wrists. He felt guilty for leaving Ben tied up so long and reached forward to help him stand. Ben shook off his hand, throwing him a black look.
"We ain't friends, Marshal, so don't go acting like you care."
Cort was a little stung by the words but Ben was right. They were currently lawman and suspect and friendship had no part of it. "We need to talk, Ben, so you may as well come out."
Ben walked stiffly towards the office. He was tense, angry and Cort figured he might not untie him just yet. He didn't fancy a full-scale fight in the cramped little room. Ben paused at the door and Cort pushed him inside.
"Sit down and don't give me trouble."
Ben continued glowering as Cort took a seat on the other side of the table. He poured a glass of whisky for himself.
"You want one?"
"What I want is to get these ropes off. I can't feel my hands."
"I'll cut them when I'm sure you won't go acting stupid."
"What do you think I'm gonna do, Marshal? My gun's in the saloon."
That was true enough and Cort used his pocket knife to cut the ropes. Ben hissed with pain and it was obvious why. He'd made a pretty bad mess of his wrists; they were bruised and bleeding.
"Hell, Ben, why'd you do that?"
Ben was flexing and shaking his hands, bunching his fists, trying to get some circulation going. He glared at Cort.
"Because you've already judged me and tomorrow Henry Usher's gonna take me away. If you had any idea what that bastard's gonna do then you'd be wanting to leave as well."
"What's he going to do?"
Ben shook his head. "What's the use in telling you? I stole from the church and you were a preacher. There's no way you can see things straight."
"Maybe you should have a little faith in me."
"Why? You and Henry Usher got way too much in common for my liking."
Cort could understand Ben's belligerence and distrust. If he was sat in that other chair he'd be suspicious as hell too. He tried a different tack.
"Henry Usher paid me a visit last night, he offered me a job and I…"
He didn't get a chance to finish. Ben shot to his feet and kicked his chair across the room. He looked furious but scared shitless.
"I fucking knew it, you two are working together! What was the plan? Keep me hanging around in Redemption long enough for Usher to come find me?"
Cort shook his head wearily. "If I was working with Usher I wouldn't have stopped his men taking you tonight."
"You didn't stop them. You just wanted to look good in front of them people, make yourself look like a real marshal and not just some broken down preacher with nowhere better to go."
Ben was agitated and getting more irrational by the second. Cort reached for his gun then thought better of it. He didn't want to draw down on Ben; that would only make the whole sorry situation infinitely worse.
"Just sit will you? I didn't take his job, and I don't care if you took his damned money, I just want to know why he wants you so bad."
"Stealing's a sin and I stole from God, of course you fucking care."
"You stole from the church, which is a lot different to stealing from God, and I don't have any right to judge on either count."
Ben frowned. "Why?"
Cort sighed. There was no easy way to say this and although he'd confided in a few others along the way, he still hated hearing the words come out of his mouth. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever God was doing, he'd stop and take a good look at the man speaking them.
"I shot a priest once. There was no motive or justification. John Herod gave me a choice between killing him or dying so I took the coward's path."
"No shit." Ben dragged his chair back to the table and sat down hard. "Is that why you became a preacher?"
"One of them. It didn't do much good though. Here I am back to carrying a gun and shooting men."
"What kind of job did Usher offer you, Cort? I don't think you'd like the preachers in his churches much."
Cort raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, but Ben was calming down and might finally be ready to talk. He poured him a glass of whisky and pushed it across the table.
"I'm not fit to be a priest and I think he knew it. He offered me a job in security, protecting church money on its way to the bank."
Ben nodded. "He gave you the story about how great his ministry is? How many churches he builds, how many people he helps, how much money he raises?"
Cort nodded. "Most folks I've spoken to say the same thing?"
"It's like that on the surface." Ben took a gulp of whisky. "He builds churches and gets donations so he can build more. He brings faith to Godless towns and makes life better for some folks, but there's others who end up in hell, and it's always the wealthy ones. Usher says he's doing God's work but he only sees God as a way to get rich. Anybody who stands in his way gets hurt or killed."
He leaned across the table, an urgent look in his eyes. "You need to understand this; if I say anything else you'll be in as much trouble as I am."
"You haven't said anything substantial, Ben, and Usher says all the money goes back to the church."
"That's where the donations go, but money from his other enterprises goes straight to his pocket. You should see the house he's built for himself in Tucson; almost takes your breath away."
"Other enterprises?" Cort scratched at the bandage on his head, unconvinced by what he was hearing.
Ben sensed his reserve because he leaned back in his chair and looked wary. He considered a long time before he spoke again. "Usher specialises in extortion. Nobody knows about it except the men working it and the poor bastards getting robbed. They can't speak up for themselves though."
This was getting more ludicrous by the minute and beginning to sound like the lies of a desperate man. Cort knew he owed Ben a fair shot at explaining himself but even so, he couldn't help smiling. "He robs people?"
Ben glared. "I know you won't believe me over a churchman like Usher, but it's real simple. Folks admit to all kinds of things while they're in a Confession box. They tell the priest the bad things they've done, looking for forgiveness, and the priest passes it on to Usher's collectors. If those folks have got money they get a visit from a collection gang who expose them to the law, the newspapers or their wives if they don't pay up. Once they're on that path, they keep on paying forever."
Cort was irritated and fought it down, trying to keep an open mind even though Ben was pretty much talking heresy now. "No priest would break the sanctity of Confession. How could they live with themselves, or with God?"
"You don't like it 'cause you was a real preacher and did it for the right reasons. The ones Usher uses are only in it for money, and they get well paid."
"Nobody made a connection between the priest and the men who take their money?"
Ben shrugged. "Some, but they don't live long enough to spread it round. Most of 'em figure it's God's punishment, I guess." He smiled grimly. "No-one's figured Henry Usher's behind it, he's too smart and keeps his distance. The collection business runs independent of the ministry with its own administration. Everybody takes their cut and passes the rest to Usher."
Ben looked Cort right in the eye. "That's why Usher wants me, Marshal. Not for the money I took but for what I know about him. He can't let the regular law get involved because that would expose him, so he'll take me into the desert and kill me quietly but I tell you something, it won't be pretty."
Cort frowned. "You've been on the road for six months, who else you told about this?"
Ben snorted. "Who'd believe me? I keep my head down and my mouth shut, that way I get to live a little longer. But Usher's gonna assume I've passed all this along and you should start watching your back."
Cort sniffed. "I'm not afraid of him."
"A fast gun don't work against him, my friend, and I'll tell you something else; once you've sworn faith to Usher you're in for life. The only time a man gets to leave is when he dies or gets killed."
The idea of corruption among priests affected Cort more profoundly than anything else Ben had told him but also struck a chord. He didn't want to believe it but it wasn't the kind of lie many men would dream up under pressure. Ben might have figured it a good way to push an ex-priest's buttons and turn him against Usher and his ministry, but Cort didn't think so. He could read men pretty well and if Ben Carter was making this up then he was the most convincing and creative liar he'd ever met. Ben still hadn't answered the most important question though, and didn't seem about to volunteer the information anytime soon.
Cort drained his whisky glass. "Are you going to tell me how you know all of this, Ben?"
"Haven't you figured it out? I was one of his collectors."
