This was a place where the Curse couldn't reach him.
Orville sat at an oak table in a dining room, where the sun streamed in from a large bay window. It wasn't made up. It had been a familiar room once, when he'd had a house. When he'd had a wife, before he discovered he'd been sharing her with someone else.
Even in his dreams he remembered Maggie was gone from him, had abandoned him. Since then, his vices had taken over his life, body and mind.
"Wake up, Reverend."
It was too bright to open his eyes further than a squint, but Orville knew who it was. Arthur. A man who'd time and again proven his goodwill by helping him through his foolishness.
"Get up, Reverend," the gravel-cut voice repeated with more force behind it.
Orville blinked blearily through the fog and found his vision filled with three Arthur Morgans. He knew why this man was sent to fetch him. Fear struck through him like a crack of the whip. "I told Mr. Pearson it wasn't me who took the money. I swore to it!"
Three frowns cut across the Arthurs' mouths. "What money?"
"Nothing, nothing," Orville muttered.
Arthur lifted him up by the armpits and Orville wobbled on his feet, disoriented. "What's going on, Mr. Morgan?"
"Much as I hate to say it, you and I got a job to do, Reverend."
"A job?" His vision cleared, but the explanation boggled his mind as Orville was never involved with any jobs. He couldn't be trusted in the implementation or stay focused enough on the tasks.
Orville opened his mouth to protest, but Miss Jones moved in front of him suddenly, scrubbing at his face with a wet cloth and without mercy. He tried to push her away, but she proved much stronger than him, holding his arms down while she attacked the dirt across his cheeks, forehead, nose and neck.
"This is degrading!" he finally spit out in between her machinations.
"What's degrading is being seen with you when you're like this." Karen called over her shoulder, "Arthur, you sure you need the reverend for this job?"
"If I had the option, I'd choose someone else, but it's slim pickings 'round here who's familiar with the Bible."
Orville's scruples were more compromised as of late, but there were still lines he didn't cross. "Are we robbing a church?"
"We ain't robbin' nothin'." For some reason, frustration coursed through Arthur's answer. Without explaining further, he asked, "Where the hell's Charlotte?"
Karen rolled her eyes. "Calm down. She ain't been gone five minutes. It'll take her longer to get ready than throwing on a robe like you did."
Orville noticed for the first time Arthur was wearing his black robe. His brow wrinkled in confusion. "What's going on here?"
No one answered him and Abigail appeared in his line of sight. Orville wasn't sure if she'd been standing near the whole time or if she'd only walked over. He rubbed his temple for some sense of clarity.
"You can't go out looking like that."
Arthur pulled irritably at his collar. "The whole point is to be disguised as a man of the cloth."
"No, idiot." Karen lit up a cigarette. "She means you need to run a goddamn comb through your hair. The both of you."
"And it wouldn't hurt to shave," Abigail put in.
Orville covered his mustache protectively as Arthur rubbed a hand over his grizzled jaw. "Ain't got time for shavin', but get the reverend a brush at least."
Miss Roberts handed him a brush and as soon as Orville finished flattening his hair the best he could, Hosea was pushing a cup in his hand.
"Drink this, Swanson. It'll sober you up in time before we reach Saint Denis."
Orville wasn't given the option to refuse. He swallowed the concoction, which tasted straight up like swamp water. He wanted to spit it out, but didn't want to be forced to choke down a second dose if he did.
Next, he was jostled onto the wagon while everyone else around him had a conversation without him. Not that he'd necessarily understand what was going on anyway. His mind remained foggy yet and it was difficult for him to keep his thoughts fluid. He wasn't even sure how much time had passed since he'd been herded into the wagon.
As usual, whenever he was idle for too long, the Curse gripped him. The Curse was what he called those terrible cravings for oblivion. The likes of which only morphine or excessive amounts of alcohol could accomplish in sating.
And then a woman was sitting in front of him. A fashionable lady and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the hallucination. But she was tangible, not one of the ghosts he'd seen hovering over the swamp. He didn't recognize her.
Orville furrowed his brow. Or did he? For some reason, a clear vision occupied his brain of her speaking with Dutch, standing beside Arthur and Mr. Pearson. Had that happened or were his phantoms filling in his memories, as they'd done before?
As she settled on the bench in front of him, draping a long skirt that hid her feet, Orville confessed, "I'm sorry, miss, but if we've met before, I can't remember it."
She glanced up at him and smiled, kindly and sweet as any saintly woman. "Rest assured, we haven't properly met before now." She offered a hand. "Mrs. Charlotte Balfour."
He was so relieved he hadn't made a fool of himself, he nearly forgot to respond with his own name. He took her hand clumsily and stuttered it out, "Rev-Reverend Swanson."
"I hope it doesn't come across as rude, but are you truly a reverend, Mr. Swanson?"
"Uh...yes." Orville couldn't begrudge her the question. "Yes. A long time ago, before the Curse cast the devil's designs over me."
She frowned. "The what?"
"You nearly left this behind, you fool."
Arthur reached over the wagon and pushed a Bible to Orville's chest. He clutched it as Arthur lumbered up into the wagon, taking the spot next to Miss Charlotte.
As he settled in, the wagon started off, Lenny at the helm. John and Hosea rode ahead. Orville's mind started to wander. He opened his Bible to distract his thoughts from darkness. He already knew before opening it that it was the genuine book and not the carved up one he'd once hidden his morphine needle.
'And he made his grave with the wicked...'
Orville shut the book immediately. He knew he was wicked and the company he kept was no exception, but the Lord didn't need to remind him at His every convenience.
"What's wrong, Arthur?" Miss Charlotte was asking.
"Nothin'."
"No man glowers so over nothing."
"I already spoke my peace on it and ain't none of you liked what I had to say."
"What difference does it make if the result is the same?"
Arthur told her, "We don't deserve the money. Not like this."
"Are you saying you'd rather earn it by waving your guns around and making threats?" She raised a brow. "Is that it?"
"No." Turmoil and shame swept across Arthur's features. Orville recognized it in himself enough. Arthur croaked out a simplistic, "Why?"
It was all he asked, but Charlotte seemed to understand what he meant. "This is a safe way to help you and your friends. And to return the life debt I owe you."
"I told you before you don't owe me nothin', Charlotte."
"I'll be the judge of that." Charlotte said firmly. "Now, let's not discuss this any further. It's already decided."
Arthur released a heavy sigh. "You got too much goodness and it's wasted on us."
"I only know that I'd like to help by the means that I can." Her nose crinkled. "If you must know, it's not only you who's displeased with my interference."
"What you mean?"
"Before we left, I ran into Dutch in the house..."
Arthur stilled. "And?"
"Well, he certainly blames me for Miss O'Shea's leaving. I denied it, but he didn't like what I had to say. So, I threatened him."
"What!"
"He threatened me first," she said defensively. "I don't know what came over me, only that I didn't care for his veiled accusations. I hope my temerity doesn't cause strife between the two of you."
Arthur looked like he didn't know if he should find the whole thing humorous or worrying. "It's done now. We'll see what the fallout is when we get back."
"Actually, Arthur," Charlotte looked away. "I think it would be best if I caught the train home from Saint Denis, after our business at the bank. I'll find someone to take me up to the house so you won't have to be concerned for my safety."
"Sure," Arthur said after a long moment of quiet. "'Course. Don't know what I was thinkin'."
For the short rest of the ride, the two fell silent and Orville had no more distraction. As they entered into Saint Denis, Hosea and John dropped back.
"Any problems, we'll see you at camp," Hosea told them before he and John rode on. As Orville wasn't privy to the plan, he had no idea where they were headed.
Charlotte asked, "Surely we're not expecting any? Problems, that is."
Arthur answered, "You wouldn't think so, but our luck ain't exactly been good lately."
Lenny parked the wagon across from the bank. "Meet me at the end of the block when you're done, Arthur."
"Sure." Arthur jumped from the back of the wagon and offered a hand up to Charlotte. Orville watched her stand, her foot trapping her skirt as she neared the end of the cart, but he was too late to warn her and too far away to reach his arm out. She stumbled, tripping off the wagon, but luckily Arthur was in position to catch her.
She grasped his arms, and he put her back on her feet.
"You alright?" Arthur murmured.
"Why, yes. It was only a silly tumble." She lifted her gaze. "You always seem to be in the right place at the right time around me."
Arthur stared down at her. "It weren't nothing."
Lenny called out, "What's taking so long back there?"
Arthur released her as quickly as he'd caught her. "There you are, Mrs. Balfour."
She cleared her throat. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan."
He mumbled, "Imma talk to Lenny for a minute."
"Right." As Orville got off the wagon, Charlotte asked, "Reverend Swanson, would you mind sparing an arm so I don't further embarrass myself?"
"Gladly, ma'am." Orville offered his arm. "I've made a fool of myself more than once in this life. It's part of my Curse."
She glanced up at him with curiosity. "What is this 'curse' you keep mentioning?"
"It's what he blames all his problems on." Arthur was back. Charlotte's grip tightened ever so slightly on Orville's arm, but otherwise she expressed no discontent.
"It's real," Orville insisted as they started to walk.
"But what is it?"
"An addiction to the devil's liquid," he admitted. "It's made a fool of me on more than one occasion."
"You can say that again," muttered Arthur.
Charlotte said graciously, "We all make fools of ourselves at some point in our lives."
"You're as sweet as the other girls, miss, but Mr. Morgan had it right on the ride over. We ain't deserving of kindness."
"And as I told Arthur, that is not for you to decide."
Curious as to her outlooks on life, Orville asked, "What faith do you follow, miss?"
An apologetic smile formed on her lips. "I'm sorry, Reverend. I'm afraid I've about given up on religion."
"How can you say that, miss? God is everywhere. If you pray, He will hear and rest your uneasy heart. 'Put your hope in the Lord for with the Lord is unfailing love and with Him is full redemption.'"
"Reverend..." Arthur said warningly behind him. "Save it for when we're inside."
Orville was overexcited with his speech, but he couldn't help it. Her admission shocked him. How was a woman of such a charitable nature not following the word of God?
"In my hour of greatest need..." Charlotte's words faltered. "Well, let's just say prayer failed me and leave it at that."
"Only the Lord knows His plans for you and He will give you strength." He quoted, "'But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not be faint.'"
Charlotte squeezed his arm. "Perhaps if I were attending one of your sermons, your passion may be enough to renew my faith."
Guide a lost soul to the light? He hadn't been in that position in years. He said sadly, "My time for that is long gone."
"Nonsense," Charlotte argued. "If it's a life you want to devote yourself to, it's never too late to go back to it."
Her words gave Orville a sliver of hope, if only he wasn't aware of all his terrible misdeeds. "There's no changing the sins I've committed in this life."
"You can't change the past, true. But the change in the man is what gives him the strength to leave his crimes behind for good." Charlotte glanced behind her. "Wouldn't you agree, Arthur?"
Arthur only grunted.
Had God put this woman in his path to encourage him? Orville thought the path to redemption all but blocked. To hear this kindly soul have her heart lifted by his words, it lifted his own.
They were entering the bank now, and Orville started sweating nervously. "I ain't much of an actor, Mr. Morgan."
In low tones, Arthur told him, "You don't gotta do nothin' but preach, preacher. When the time comes, just open your Bible and ramble away."
"There's nothing to fear," said Charlotte. "We're here to make a sizable withdrawal, Mr. Swanson, but nothing more. You only need to exude confidence."
Charlotte greeted the bank teller, asking about her account. Arthur was looking around the lobby, eyeing everyone with too much suspicion to seem pious. Orville looked around too, but didn't know what he should be taking note of.
Eventually, the bank manager came out and guided them to his private office. He wore glasses over beady eyes and a beardless face, which unfortunately reminded Orville a little too much of Herr Strauss. Orville had never been successful in getting money from him, which he hoped wasn't a sign of what was to come in this discussion.
"Have a seat, folks."
Charlotte spoke on her own for awhile as Orville tried to stay focused. She laid out all the details that hadn't been explained to him. To his ears, she sounded earnest and convincing, but the manager's expression was inscrutable.
"You want to use this money to invest in churches?"
"Indeed." She nodded. "As I've explained."
"As charitable as that is, it would drain nearly your entire account. Ma'am, this sort of investment won't turn you any sort of profit."
Orville started sweating again, but Charlotte answered smoothly, "I'm well aware of that, sir, but with my recently changed lifestyle, my fortune is unnecessary."
The bank manager opened his mouth and Orville was convinced he was about to outright reject them.
However, Charlotte spoke further, in passionate tones, "I understand this is a massive amount. Indeed, these men have tried to persuade me of donating less, but I truly believe in their cause. This money will change lives. It will not be wasted."
For the first time, Orville dared a glance at Arthur, noting his grim expression. Maybe Hosea's concoction was finally taking effect because he thought he was seeing the clear dilemma of the situation.
Miss Charlotte was wrong and Arthur was right. This money would be wasted on them. How many times had they gained a hefty amount only to squander it too soon and not use it for setting up their futures?
"And you trust these men? You're assured these two are no scam artists?"
Charlotte landed a hand on her chest, portraying shock. "Mr. Marcus, what a horrible accusation! I trust these men with my life. Why, I've known Reverend Swanson since I was a girl."
Orville wished she had, the way she jumped to his defense like no one had before.
"And as for Pastor Arthur, he may look like he's been in more brawls than sermons, but I swear to you he's entirely reformed. Do you not believe in second chances, Mr. Marcus?"
"Hmm..."
Orville felt Arthur's hand pressing into his shoulder and realized it was his turn. He didn't know where the words came from but he spouted, "Remember the-the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth..."
Mr. Marcus frowned. "As true as that is—"
Gaining confidence, Orville spoke over him, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal—"
"Alright, now—"
"How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven!" Orville declared. "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle—"
"That's enough!" Mr. Marcus snapped. "As insightful as your scripture is, I'd like to reserve listening to my sermons on Sundays."
Orville nodded, even though half a dozen more lines popped into his head and he was sorely tempted to continue. He felt invigorated, as if the Lord were speaking through him.
"What does your husband say to this, Mrs. Balfour?"
Charlotte stiffened in her chair. "I'm afraid he's passed on now."
"Ah, yes. Forgive me." Mr. Marcus' expression cleared as if her widow status told him everything he needed to know. "In that case, Mrs. Balfour, I will grant your withdrawal today."
Charlotte said with a little too much surprise, "You will?"
"Yes. However, I suggest you meet with these property investors today. It's not safe to have this amount of cash on your person." Mr. Marcus stood. "If you three will hold on a moment, I'll return with your funds."
"Of course," Charlotte answered demurely. As the door closed and they were in private, she leaned over and rested a hand over his. "Nice work, Reverend."
Pleased, Orville returned her smile, but Arthur warned, "We ain't got the money yet."
Charlotte turned in her chair. "What are you worried about?"
"Maybe nothin'," Arthur answered, clearly on edge. "But I'll feel better once we're out of Saint Denis with it."
Mr. Marcus returned with a pouch and started counting out the cash on his desk. Orville's eyes widened at the inordinate amount of bills. He'd never seen so much in person.
When the bank manager was nearly complete, there was a tap on the door and a clerk poked his head in. "Sir, can we get you out here? We have a...disturbance."
"Is it urgent?"
"Yes."
Mr. Marcus looked up at the clerk's expression and then set aside the money. "Excuse me, Mrs. Balfour. I'll return in a moment to finish counting this out for you."
The bank manager left a second time, with the clerk. Charlotte stood and finished counting out the cash herself before returning it to the pouch. She handed it to Arthur. "Well, here you are then."
Arthur gripped the money bag and grimaced. "Charlotte..."
"It's my money," she reminded him softly. "And this is how I choose to spend it."
"I don't know what to say."
"Promise me you'll spend it wisely and bring yourselves happiness."
"We'll try."
She smiled. "And perhaps a letter once you're all settled to let me know how everything went?"
"I surely shall."
"Arthur!"
The door opened again and young Lenny pushed his way through, shouldering the door shut before the bankers could re-enter. "Arthur!"
Arthur turned, confused. "Lenny? What is going on?"
On the other side of the door, the bank manager yelled, "Boy! You can't be back there. You leave those fine folks alone."
Over the bankers' hammering on the door, Lenny stated, "Arthur, we got a real problem."
Arthur moved in front of Charlotte. "What is it?"
"Lawmen," Lenny informed them glumly. "A whole hell of a lot of them and headed this way."
"Shit!" Arthur cursed. "But why—"
"Ladies and gentlemen," another booming voice carried from the bank's lobby through the door. "This is a hold up!"
Dutch?
"No." All the blood drained from Arthur's face. "That fool."
"What's going on, Mr. Morgan?" Orville asked, hearing the commotion. Arthur had told him they weren't robbing anything.
Arthur pushed the money pouch onto Orville and started hustling him to the window. He ordered, "Lenny, get these two out of here."
"Arthur," Charlotte protested at the same time Lenny was saying, "I'm staying."
Arthur turned on them and snarled, "Get them the hell out of here now."
"Yes, sir," Lenny responded, immediately going to work on the window.
"Arthur," Charlotte said again, but fearfully as a shot was heard on the other side of the door.
Arthur briefly rested his hands on her shoulders. His tone softened. "This is it, ma'am. You best get away from here. Lenny will take care of you fine."
Lenny got the window open and dropped down and out of view. Orville assisted Charlotte as Arthur threw off the black priest's robe, revealing the revolvers on his belt underneath. When Lenny had a hold of Charlotte, Orville fumbled his way out next, hearing Micah's snarky greeting.
"Howdy, cowpoke."
"C'mon." Lenny ushered them off to the right. "Wagon's up the other way, but we'll take the next alley."
They pushed through an iron gate, Lenny leading, Charlotte following with her hands full of skirt to keep her feet and Orville last in line. As they walked quickly down the sidewalk, a group of uniformed policemen were making headway up the block.
"Through here," Lenny said, opening another iron gate. "This should take us a little further down. Wagon's in front of the hotel."
Orville paused to close the gate and took a moment—only a moment, he swore!—to look behind them, to make sure they weren't being followed. Yet, when he faced forward again, his two companions were gone.
It greatly confused his mind, upsetting what little stability he'd had so far today. "Lenny? Miss Charlotte?"
Orville started forward, prepared to run after them, but he came to a split in the alley, one direction continuing straight, the other veering left. Lenny had said he'd parked in front of the hotel, but that wasn't helpful information for a person unfamiliar with this city, especially while managing it through its alleyways.
Orville chose to continue straight, putting his path in God's hands. When the alley spit him out, he knew his prayer hadn't been ignored.
A church.
It was the Catholic church, but that didn't make it any less his salvation. He'd met a monk from this church on his first trip to Saint Denis. He was a kind soul, who would no doubt grant refuge to another man of the cloth.
Orville stumbled on his feet when he passed through the iron fence and he stopped in sudden indecision. The Lord had guided him here, true, but did he rightly deserve it?
While he mulled this over, he looked down and realized he had something in his hand. The money pouch. His eyes widened on it. Arthur had thrust it into his hands when he'd told him to run.
Orville knew he should take it and find his way back to camp. This wasn't his money. It was for the others who still had decent lives to lead. But the Curse beckoned him, enticing him to find his most reliant vice. This city was full of them, to be sure. The Lord tested him now, but it wasn't the first time he'd failed such a test.
Orville turned around, moving away from sanctuary. As he passed through the gates again, a voice called out. "Hello? Are you lost?"
He found a short woman gliding towards him, a nun with a round, friendly face.
"Uh, no. I'm sorry, Sister. I thought...I shouldn't have come."
Her eyebrows rose. "And why do you think that?"
"I ain't deserving. I'm coming from..." Whistles, yelling and gunshots were playing out from down the lane and Orville flinched. "...from that mess."
Her eyes slid in the direction of the bank and then refocused on him, sparking with interest for some reason. "Oh? Have you come to repent?"
"No." He blurted out to her desperately, "I'm under a Curse."
The nun studied him, so closely it had him shifting his feet until she asked of him, "Do you want help breaking this curse?"
Orville glanced back where he'd come, wondering if the other two had gotten away or if they'd tried to find him. Guilt swept through him. He was a horrible man for thinking even for a second of running off with this money. But what else did he have? Then Miss Charlotte's words came to mind. The change in the man is what gives him the strength to leave his crimes behind for good.
"Come." The nun tugged his sleeve. "Come in and break your bread with us. Then we shall discuss this curse."
Orville faced the church fully, his heart lightening with every step as he allowed the nun to pull him up the walkway. This may be his last chance at redemption.
