Chapter Two
John Taylor sat at his desk in his Denver hotel, "Blasted. What is happening in Stockton?"
His son-in-law frowned, "Ridiculous. Some itinerant preacher has them worked up."
"How did they find out about the casino?"
"Hell if I know. People talk I guess."
Paul Franklin swallowed behind his back, "Miller wouldn't tell. He has my mark on this deal."
"Paul, we need this deal to stay afloat. Creditors back east. The Denver bank. These hotels don't pay for themselves overnight. The marble alone—-cut glass chandeliers —-the mahogany. Can't be paid for without a casino. Stupid yokels. Can you see if that friend of yours, Miller?—can head down there and put a stop to the fuss. The materials have been ordered and I have signed a bank draft—-they wouldn't order on credit. This has to happen. We never planned on the fire in San Francisco. That rebuilding alone cost us our ready cash."
"I will get Miller on it."
"No one is to be hurt, you hear?"
"Understood, sir."
"How is my grandson? His school should be out soon. Lisette bringing him here, I hope?" the older man asked with a touch of sadness.
"I bet she will. You know your daughter. She's always looking out for the boy."
John frowned as he looked at his son-in-law with questions in his eyes. He missed his late wife and tried his best to keep his promise to her. His daughter and Paul hardly passed paths, even at holidays. It broke his heart for her marriage to have obviously failed after the birth of his one and only grandson.
Paul quickly left the room and deeply sighed.
"If he only knew—Lisette. Henry. Miller. The fire in San Francisco. Lisette was right. His heart is not strong enough for the truth. But he knows Stockton is our last chance to recoup our losses and get on our feet again. My feet at least." and he checked his cravat in the mirror. He liked what he saw as he smoothed the bay oil back on his hair.
—-&—
"Jarrod? You really going out to the new church? That man is no parson, no Reverend. He is a Holy Joe. A tub thumper."
"Nick—Davina wants to go and I agreed to take her. She's a sensible woman; she can see through a charlatan. She has gone with us to hear Reverend Stacy several Sundays."
"Where did she hear him?"
"He came to visit her aunt; invited her to his mission aid society for the widows of Stockton. Our family donated to that, remember?"
"Not to him, we didn't. He kinda took over that group when Mr. Wilkins died."
"He did and he has made a successful go of it. Enough to fund the needs of our town and begin his own church."
"Wormed his way in. He is a member of the temperance union that picketed Harry's while you were gone. Couldn't get out of the front door without a fuss."
"Well I am going. Why don't you come with us? Give the man a chance. Davina, as I pointed out has good sense."
"I just might."
—&—-
The church building was full and Jarrod stood behind Davina on the back row. A farmer gave his seat to her and stood behind the pew also.
Jarrod searched the crowd and looked at the familiar faces. Judge Owens, the mayor's sister, farmers, merchants, servants. A diverse group.
His eyes caught Nick's looking through an open window. He had arrived too late to make it into the building. Jarrod wanted to laugh aloud knowing Nick's nosy side.
The minister led three congregational hymns acapella.
"For you visitors, we don't have a piano. God wants to hear his people sing from the hearts. No pianos in the Bible. None here."
Jarrod's baritone and Davina's soprano meshed perfectly in the familiar hymns. He even touched her shoulder with familiarity several times. She squirmed with warmth.
The sermon was very traditional in its themes, love, mercy and grace.
"The justice of God will make all things right one day."
Jarrod heard nothing of the fiery diatribe he had heard from Nick and found himself agreeing with all his theology. The end of the sermon gave more inclination to his views that were tearing apart Stockton.
" A Rechabite, that's what I am. I am a nomad. I own no land. Who was Rechab, the father of Jehonadab? Jehonadab was an ally of Jehu, a 9th-century-BC king of Israel, and a zealot against the worshippers of Baal, a Canaanite fertility deity. We slaughtered the worshippers of Baal in the Jehu revolt. We married Levites only to keep our purity. And our lips do not touch fermented beverages. God has called me to be a Rechabite. God has laid it upon my heart to take the name, Jehu. I am not worthy to call myself Rechabite. Only follow his teaching. I am no longer Jedediah Rains. I surrender my given name to the Lord. I am your brother in our great work, Brother Jehu."
"In the Bible, many men changed their name for a life change: Jacob, Saul, Abram, Simon—- I am now Jehu!"
Murmurs of assent swept the room. Jarrod tried to get a look at Davina to gauge her response.
He listed out the sins of pride, sloth, envy, gluttony, lust and so forth for the congregation to repent of and many in the pews found their way to the front.
Jarrod felt tension in Davina and he bent down, "Want to leave?"
"Oh no." she stayed glued to her seat entranced by the preacher.
They stayed until the lengthy invitation was finally over and he helped her out the door.
"Oh Jarrod, what a fine sermon."
Jarrod bit his lip, "Yes it was. Davina, do you know about Rechabites?"
"Not until the sermon but what an inspiring story from the bible. They were so pure they could marry Levites. And to think God would change his name. That was amazing."
"Yes they were." was all Jarrod could get out.
He watched Nick ride off with a "told ya so" look on his face. He had heard all of Davina's delight in the service.
They skipped the lunch on the grounds and headed back to her Aunt's home for lunch.
"Davina, my family has a vineyard," he finally decided to discuss the topic of temperance with her.
"I know. And scripture says it is good to take a little wine. Jesus made water into wine. The preacher is talking about spirits. Not wine. My father told me all about the differences."
"Oh," was all Jarrod could get out as her aunt's liveryman came out for the reins.
"Let's go eat lunch. I am famished." and squeezed Jarrod's hand as he helped her from the rig.
"That's a wonderful idea," as he realized the conundrum he was in.
—&—-
Nick was feeling out of place hitting thirty five, especially in church—-he was a man of faith without a doubt but single men were ostracized by default. He had fought in a war, fought the railroad, fought and whored through the state—gambled and drank too much—-fought for his little brother and fought for his respect in the Cattlemen's association. He fought droughts and freezes and cattle prices. He ruled his men with fairness and firmness. He fought and won.
The one place he fought and lost was love. Did he want to end up as one of those old men dying in his saddle one day, alone—or a stray bullet in a bar? Big Annie's was his answer but it left him emptier than before he entered. He had his family and friends—-but he wanted a woman. One to come home to. Raise kids. Hand the ranch over to. Jarrod had finally got over the horror of Beth's murder. He was moving on with that pretty little Davina. Heath still had oats to sow.
His family always said he gave his heart too easily—-Hester, Layle, Miranda, Michelle, Sabrina, others all crossed his mind.
"Lord, i'ffn you can help me out here?" he whispered as he rode back to the ranch.
—&—-
Cousin Adolf, Grete and Kai sat on the wooden bench in the back of Reverend Stacy's church. Grete closed her eyes and hummed with the familiar hymns. Her English was still not advanced enough to keep up with all the words. Cousin Adolf at sixty and a thirty-year resident of Stockton bellowed his baritone in a beautiful harmony. He missed his Marjie the most in church and at night. She had been gone two years—-
Kai worked diligently on reading the words and committing them to memory. He had decided that if he improved his English, the other boys wouldn't make fun of him.
Kai was a large ten-year-old with blonde curls and blue eyes like everyone in his family. He wore his best overalls and shined his boots before service. Fitting in was the most important thing in his life—-besides caring for his mother and aging cousin.
He remembered his Fader's words every day. They had rode quickly to the remote lumber camp in Wisconsin. His crushed father was still alive and seemed to be waiting on them to say goodbye.
"Son, take care of your mother. I am proud of the man you will become. The Lord has always let me know through your kind heart and strong arms, you will be a fine man."
"Grete," and he reverted back into Danish with words of love and desire—I will meet you by the eastern gate. I will wait for you. But love again, you are too beautiful to grow old alone."
He lived several hours more holding his son's and wife's hand until his heart stopped.
And nine months later, they were on a third class rail car to Stockton for their new life—without Fader. Grete turned down her third proposal from men old enough to be her father. Her time at home had passed. There was no place for a widow in a lumber town.
Church ended and the members on the front family pews passed out
Victoria stopped and greeted them, "Adolf, I loved those sweet rolls last week you sent with Silas. Please add them to our weekly order."
"Of course, Miz Barkley. Have you met my Grete? Her son Kai."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. Silas usually picks up our orders but Adolf told me a few months ago that his saving angel was coming west. Marjie was a fine woman and I am glad Adolf could keep the bakery open."
"Pleased to meet you," Grete replied in a measured and graceful lilt of speech.
"Pleased to meet you," Kai parroted.
Victoria ran her gloved hand through the boy's blonde curls, "What a fine, strong young man, Adolf."
"Yah, he's a good boy. A very good boy."