Chapter 2: A Man of the Cloth

The Next Day

After a busy morning and midday, the sun was just now beginning to set when my detachment was to finish off our shift at one of the gate stations. Patrolling the market was always enjoyable if not a little strenuous at times. Unlike when my detachment was in the towers, there was always plenty to do and oversee there on the ground. Still, the end of the patrols had my group at one of the gate stations, which was one of the more uneventful posts and I had Lt. Canady running all the searches and checks with incoming travelers and traders at his station because he needed the experience. Needless to say, this afternoon was much like shifts in the towers since it wasn't long after taking our positions that the men and I found ourselves lost in idle conversation. After telling the guys about my prior evening and what I did with my time after the Constable pulled me from the tower, I went on to tell them about my time with the Men's group last night since the boys were missing me from the Guard Bible Study. There was a moment of plain old quiet after I was done until Nathan decided to break it in his colorful way;

"… That sounds like it sucked in all honesty" John immediately slapped him on the shoulder. Another loud group of tribal visitors and wasteland travelers passed our gate station as Nathan recovered from the hit and tried not to pout.

Even though I wasn't offended by Nathan's words, I still didn't like my men hitting one another, so I told John "Stop it. Don't hit him."

"Thanks lieu-" said Nathan before I cut him off,

"Still, you need to save your judgements or opinions for those who care."

Nathan hung his head, and his inaudible apology was good enough, so my loudmouth guardsman recovered quickly and said generally, "I didn't mean nothing by it, I'm just… thankful I joined the Guard is all… Some of the folks in town can be a real drag."

John went to swat Nathan again but caught himself when I found myself chuckling at that and noticed William Ramos and Carl smile as well. John cocked an eyebrow at me and warned, "Careful, Paul- er- Lieutenant. You know what happens if you indulge sir-jokesalot here."

"Oh I know…" said I, shooting a look at Nathan to remind him that his input wasn't necessary. Looking back at John I asked, "Still though, after last night's Bible study with the Temple men's group, I've concluded that I will be making our Guard's meetings from here on out, even when I'm off duty."

John's silence indicated that he was likely contemplating his own experiences worshipping with the general New Canaan public and coming to the same conclusions as us.

"So anyway, how you spend the rest of your day off, sir?" asked Ramos.

My eyes were pulled from the incoming group of wasters entering the marked to the youngest of my detachment. There wasn't much to say so I said so, "Other than the colorful study with the Temple Men's group, I mostly just slept and rested up, kept watch on the kids, helped Hannah review after her study, then went to bed… Had a pretty strange dream though…"

I wasn't sure why I said that last part, but the idle words caused some curiosity in the faces of my men. All except Nathan who glanced back from observing a few wastelanders arguing to say,

"I had my own strange dreams last night… It ain't sex outside of marriage if it was in a dream, right?"

I caught the smile on Ramos and Carl's faces when I addressed the back of Nathan's head, "Perhaps Mr. Langdon can remind you of what our Lord said about entertaining lustful thoughts of women after the shift."

Nathan held a thumbs up back towards us as he looked closer at the arguing wasters. After that, Carl Northrup said, "Go on, sir. What was that dream about?"

Hearing another reminder of that dream made me think about it again and part of me actually wished that Nathan would interject once more with something unintelligent. Still, I found myself thinking about it again. I thought about that strange image I saw during my nap before the evening study. I thought about those bright blue eyes and skinless face, and how panicked I was at the sight of them before I was swallowed by sleep. I quickly forgot about that image after waking, getting too distracted by making sure myself and family was ready for the evening. I hadn't even thought of it the whole time I was at the men's group. Then again, hearing Mr. Willis' testimony was very captivating for all of us present, even if the rest of the study was as boring or uneventful as Nathan concluded. No, it wasn't until I got home, got the kids in bed, and then went to sleep that I had this new dream. I don't know if the image I received yesterday afternoon had anything to do with the dream I had last night, but it was enough to mention it to my men here on duty, even if it was unconsciously.

My boys were still waiting for an answer and Nathan was beginning to walk towards the arguing wastelanders when I explained to them;

"You know? I'm honestly not sure exactly… I was standing on a ridge overlooking a town or city I'd never seen before. All I remember is that I was wondering where I was and there were a lot of people walking past me towards the city. I asked every one of them where I was and each of them gave me different answers. I had no idea where my family was but for some reason I couldn't ask where they were because I was so curious about where I was… All of the sudden, the city erupted into flames and the people kept walking towards it completely unfazed… Then… There I saw three men come walking out of the flames side by side straight towards me. One of them was…"

I paused, feeling strangely both at peace and very anxious. I was going to stop right there, but the eyes of John, Ramos, and Carl were still fixed on me silently asking to hear more. Nathan meanwhile was holding both of the wastelanders by the collar and lecturing them. My focus returned to my men when I knew Nathan didn't need backup, and swallowed the strange concoction of emotions before proceeding;

"One of them was Evan Buller, and…" As strange as it was in the new day to think about that man I failed, it still wasn't as strange as the other two walking towards me in the dream. "… The one on the right was actually my own boy, Joseph, as though he were a few years older…"

"Who was the other one?" asked John, curious but seeing my slight discomfort. The one between Evan and my son was the strangest part. I remember the dream even to this day, but it was not anyone I could recognize at the time. They didn't appear like a man, or really like a person in general even though they had the body of one. I remember the man between them in that dream took on more the presence of a spirit or ghost than anything. With the memories of that dream sitting at the forefront of my mind, I told my men,

"The one in the middle was a ghostly man wrapped in cloth…" I saw the look on my mens' faces but I could only go on even as Nathan returned to our group, "… All I can say is that, despite the brightness of the city on fire behind them, it was those bright blue eyes of the ghost man that was all I could see…"

That was it. A silence fell upon us after I was done telling my dream. All of them, including myself were stuck in contemplation for a long moment as the market got busier around us. At last, the silence ended when John shrugged and said, "Dreams are strange," followed by Carl, "Hmm, I've had some pretty weird ones too."

Then Nathan returned to us and asked, "Was I one of the ones walking towards the city?"

All of us turned to him, shocked he even heard that part while he was breaking up the bickering wastelanders. He looked at each of us puzzled at our expressions before Ramos asked him, "How did you even hear that part?"

Nathan nonchalantly said, "Jesus told me,"

Before a giant smirk grew across his face and before anyone else could ask how he really heard that part, the sound of the chains lowering the gate began giving their deafening sound.

All of our attentions turned to the guard crew at the other gate station across from us and Lieutenant Canady gave us a thumbs up. I returned one back, and when the gate hit the ground, the long caravan waiting on the road outside began to slowly move into the city with their enforcer escorts.

Once the disturbance was seen to, my detachment turned back to our own little world behind the sandbag barricades, but before any of us could continue passing through the slow shift, I caught eyes with another enforcer coming out of the gates. I knew every enforcer in the city, but I knew this one in particular. This enforcer came to our gate station at a trot and when he stepped through the break in the barricade, I greeted him;

"Mr. Schmitt, good day to you. How go your studies?"

My guards glanced back at the young new arrival and went back to watching the market crowds. John perked his head up towards the enforcer while he continued to sit in his chair beside me with only a nod for the young man as welcome.

The young enforcer was a new member of the Guard, and even though he wasn't in my regular detachment, I was there the day we met him, and have sort of taken him under my wing during our Guard studies. Anyway, he greeted me in rather simplistic response;

"Please call me Duncan, Lt. Young... But the studies go alright, sir. I'll admit that I missed you last night since I can't say I can make a whole lot of sense of 'Revelations' but I have a-"

John interrupted with a chuckle, "Welcome to the club, kid."

Mr. Schmitt frowned and returned to address me, "As I was saying; I'm to give you a message from Lieutenant Doyle. He wanted me to hand you the scouts' report on the situation with the Basin Hawks and for you to give it to the Constable next time you see him."

He removed the letter from his pocket, and I felt it get slapped into the palm of my hand. I placed it in my pocket, signaling to the boy that I'd read it later and asked him,

"Was this report from you or from his other scouts?"

"I just got back yesterday evening. It's mine," said the young man.

Before I could say anything, Nathan said with his back to us, "Why's Doyle sending kids out there on scouting runs?"

"Put a can in it, Nate!" said the rowdy young man. Nathan only laughed and I demanded the boy;

"You, don't speak that way to another enforcer! And Nathan…."

"Yeah?" asked Nathan with his back still turned,

"… Shut up." Both Nathan and the young Duncan Schmitt hung their heads. I withdrew the letter from my pocket and met the boy's eyes as I placed the letter back in his hands;

"You best give this to Constable Hanshaw then. I'll have your report here and now while I have you. Why's Doyle wanting me to have it anyway?"

Mr. Schmitt glanced at Nathan with a sneer and then back at me more humble, "Lieutenant Doyle was gonna have you give it to the Constable once you've read it. I'll have to give it to Hanshaw later, I have another duty I'm supposed to carry out right now that I'm already late for."

"What is it?" I asked.

Mr. Schmitt went on, "Deacon Mathers is meeting with some of those 'Happy Trails' guys outside of town and went without backup. Doyle told me to join him and some other guys to provide overwatch out there immediately after I was done making my runs. It took too long to find Deacon Caldwell, so Doyle and the others are probably there now."

Internally, I knew that the Happy Trails Caravans were some of the most fair and honest traders from lands beyond the wilderness that I've ever met. However, I could see the urgency in the young Duncan's face and could tell he only wanted to do good for his commander. I admired that, and there was more that I wanted to hear from him, so I said,

"Keep a level head about it. I'll come with you, so Doyle won't give you flak if he knows I stopped you. Come on, lets go."

Mr. Schmitt muttered a "Thanks, sir," and immediately began walking away from the gate station. I followed, tapping Carl on the shoulder to come with, and said to the rest of my detachment group, "John, you're in charge till I get back… And you have my permission to hit Nathan if he annoys you."

I'm sure Nathan said something in response, but the noise of travelers, traders, and tribals in the market quickly surrounded us as I caught up to Duncan with Carl by my side. Bringing Duncan to a slower pace, our walk through the market was calm as we headed south around the crowds and down the main roads. Passing the inn closest to the gates, the people were much more spaced out, so I asked the kid,

"So, what's the deal with the Basin Hawks? I take it you saw something worrisome if Doyle's sending you to me?"

"The letter isn't necessarily for you, sir. The letter is for you to give to the Constable, remember?" said the kid.

"Oh, I see. Doyle's afraid to give it to the Constable himself… Well, now I'm afraid if it's bad enough to put Constable Hanshaw in a mood. Ha."

Eyes forward, Duncan replied plainly, "I don't know if I'd say my lieutenant is 'afraid', I just think he wanted you to read it as well. I'm also just under orders."

Considering what he said and why Doyle wanted my eyes to read it, I said to the kid more seriously, "You still need to answer that question. What exactly did you see down south?"

Still more focused on the path out of the market, the determined boy thought for a moment before saying, "It was me and the two others who saw it. We watched the Basin Hawks for a long time and followed their war parties moving dangerously close to the Tar Walkers."

"So, the peace between the two was broken?" said I, thinking about the recent worries regarding the Basin Hawks and our mentioned ally.

"Not yet I don't think. But I saw their war and hunting parties violating Tar Walker territory at three separate places on our five day trailing. Not only that, but it looked like they were sporting some far more…" He paused, before adding in an unnerved tone, "worrisome equipment."

I was going to ask what kind of dangerous or "worrisome" equipment the Basin Hawks could have gotten their hands on, remembering their homes and war parties inhabited parts of the east beyond the mountains. I wondered what could have been out there by way of scavenging, knowing that all the old world military and police installations from here to the lands unknown had long since been picked over. With this in mind, I asked Mr. Schmitt;

"Perhaps they've come upon new hardware from successful raids beyond the east?..." I paused, the words that came from my mouth causing me to wonder even more about what kind of equipment Duncan was talking about. I added, "What kind of weapons did you see the war parties sporting?"

"Could be…" said the young man to my first supposition, "… But to answer your other question; it was mostly small arms, 10mm SMGs, assault rifles, and apparently lots of explosives like grenades and dynamite as evidenced by their new pastime of blowing apart critters like geckos and scorpions. They must have an abundance of new explosives if they're killing time after treks doing something as stupid and wasteful as that…"

I considered this new information, about to conclude that they must've raided a camp of ambitious miners in the mountains until Duncan said;

"… Although it wasn't necessarily the weapons that caught my eye, it was more what they were wearing…"

In the short pause, this new revelation caught my attention and I asked, "What were they wearing?"

Internally I was slightly terrified that a hostile leaning and disagreeable tribe like the Basin Hawks came across a cache of old world power armor, but it was what he said next that made me feel even worse about this likely future enemy of ours. Duncan said;

"They seem to be wearing a lot more heavy plastics and steel than usual, sorta like the old world sporting pads you see in some tribes on occasion. Not to mention a lot of them are starting to wear crimson-"

I would have stopped right there at the news, but we were already on the outskirts of the market, passing the few people and tents on the fringes and so we kept walking towards the meeting spot as I demanded from Duncan;

"You see any Legion observers with them? How the H- How do you know they weren't Legion?"

Duncan slowed his pace even more and looked briefly at Carl beside me before looking back at me. I couldn't see the look on Carl's face, but I knew what it was as I caught the eyes of Duncan.

"It wasn't Legion, they were definitely Basin Hawks, but I think you understand the worry of Doyle. Going back to the earlier issue, I think it's safe to say that their new equipment means they're likely Legion supplied now."

I was about to stop right there and sprint back to New Canaan at thought of the Legion getting a new ally this deep into the Utah wilderness. I knew that there were dozens if not hundreds of tribes inhabiting the lands beyond the mountains east of New Canaan, but they were almost always battling the Legion on the fringes of the known lands as well as the region around the Colorado border. Then I remembered something else. This something else didn't explain how the Basin Hawks could've gotten the equipment but it meant that this news wasn't a cause of immediate panic. I said to the young man;

"I'm sure you're right about that in some regard. Although the possibility remains that they could have obtained their new supplies from success against a former 'auxilliary' of the Legion, like the Maesers or the Whiterock. After all, The Legion hasn't been active out that way in over a year and a half... It's unlikely they're reaching out to tribes like the Basin Hawks so far beyond their territory-"

Immediately I was cut off by Duncan, "Well, word is that the Legion is back in eastern Utah... I heard from some of the militia guys over by Hanksville that they've been having to help some of their tribal allies fight Legion and their auxiliaries more and more as of late. This was last month when I heard about this, around the time of your…" he paused before adding for me, "Sorry about that by the way, I heard we lost a lot of guys out by the lake and heard you took a hit."

The words reminded me again of the pain in my abdomen, but that remained in the furthest part of my mind at news of the Legion's new operations in the east. I could only say distantly, "That can't be…"

A silence hung over us after that and for a short time we focused on the trail south as the noise of New Canaan and the market outside went slowly further into the distance. The moment ended when Duncan said with a slight shake of his head;

"I'd start believing it, sir. I've been catching more stories about the Legion out east since they lost some battle somewhere in the far south. They'll be more active in the east than ever if their defeat was as bad as stories say…"

I was too lost in thought, thinking more about how to take the news of coming Legion warfare in the eastern wilds and what I could recommend to Hanshaw by way of action to say anything else. It was then that Carl said to us;

"You know, I heard about that battle down south…" Unsatisfied with the lack of response, I was still thinking when Duncan glanced at Carl who took that as his cue to go on,

"Nathan, Ramos, and I popped in at The Trinity Inn during our patrol through the market last week and got to chatting with a few traders from NCR.. Now I don't know if they were affiliated with the California government, based on the vulgar words they were sayin bout them, but you can bet the three of us were more than 'intrigued' to hear that their soldiers managed to route Caesar's hoard of Legion filth at some place called, 'Hoover Dam' a few months back. That sounded like a cause for celebration as any, so the boys and I bought them their next glass of agua."

Duncan let out an idle, "That's basically what I heard too," but even though I was too focused on running over my plan of action I'd offer to the Constable, the story from Carl made me connect the two stories, making me say to nobody in particular;

"I don't know if I'd call the Legion or Caesar's defeat at Hoover Dam a cause for celebration. If what Duncan and Doyle's other scouts said is true, it means that… 'Graham'…"

For some reason when that name, that word, left my mouth, it left a bitter aftertaste. Both me and Carl knew the name "Joshua Graham" intimately, so did every person born in New Canaan, but Duncan was a relatively new member to the community as well as New Canaan Guard, so I caught his unspoken question on the side of my head. Either way, after uttering the most unfortunate name in the minds of every New Canaanite, and before Duncan could ask who that was, I could only add;

"… It means that Graham is going to be causing even more misery and misfortune for the tribes of the east in order for his and 'Caesar's' Legion to regather its strength."

Before I could go any further, Carl interjected, "I think you're right about Legion stepping up its fight out east, but it aint gonna be Graham leading them…"

I met Carl's look, seeing a not so hidden sense of glee in his expressionless face, "Part 2 of the story we heard from those traders says it wasn't more than 3 months ago that Caesar himself had Graham executed."

He paused, Duncan was surprised at this part, and myself was even more so. Hearing that, I reflexively demanded, "What?"

Carl went right on, "Yeah, they say that Caesar was real upset by Graham losing that battle and had his whole Legion watch as Graham was set on fire and tossed into the Grand Canyon…" He paused, seeing the second part of the story take its intended effect on me before concluding, "… Funnily enough, giving Graham his long overdue was probably the first time Caesar ever performed the Lord's work… If those stories are true at least."

Duncan chuckled to himself while a smile remained on Carl's face and I could only remind the two, "Death is never a cause for celebration, especially when it's one of ours."

Even though Duncan ceased his chuckling and Carl immediately removed the smirk from his face, I could tell the two only did so out of obedience to me. Their hearts were satisfied by the death of Graham and for some odd reason, I couldn't figure out why mine wasn't. I had every reason that Carl and everyone else in the community of New Canaan did to despise the name "Joshua Graham" and every horrible deed associated with it, but still, the news I just heard only made me feel even more disturbed than I was with my dream last night.

Not more than a moment later, I heard Duncan on my left ask, "Wait? You said Graham was one of ours?"

Carl was about to answer when the news sank further in and my thoughts returned to the New Canaan at large, making me ask, "Carl? What did you mean by that last part? Also, why is this my first time hearing about this? Why isn't the Constable or Heck, even Mordecai aware of Graham's end? I doubt there would've been a celebration, but this seems like the kind of information everyone in New Canaan should know."

Carl thought to himself for a moment, probably considering the enumerable conversations I've had with the men between my injury by the lake and whenever he and the others heard the story from those traders. After a moment, Carl answered casually, "Must've slipped our minds if I'm being honest. Still, you know stories from down south…"

He paused and I remained locked on his face with my eyes alone demanding a better explanation. He continued, "You've heard plenty of stories that traders pick up from tribes on the way here. Nobody can prove any of them…"

Carl was right in some regard, but this was different… somehow. So I said, "Go on"

Going on, Carl said, "… I don't know what to say, sir. You can bet that the Legion probably lost a big battle way down south, but when it comes to the details or all that stuff about Graham, I wouldn't be surprised if that part is just the start of a new tribal tall tale… After all, if you think about it, it seems pretty crazy to think that Caesar or 'Edward' would have killed his best pal of 30 years for screwing up in one battle…"

There was worth in what Carl said, and with that, I was left once more in quiet contemplation. I wondered all the possibilities and if the whole thing was true. Was the second in command of the Legion, the largest threat beyond the known wilderness of the east and south dead? Upon hearing that story, the strangest thing about it was the question of why did I care so much? Did I actually care? As I've said, I knew the name of Graham and what an enormous invisible stain it had been on our community, for over three decades, but I had never met the man, and couldn't figure out why the news of his death was hitting me the way it was when the end result was the same: The Legion would be even more involved in the far east.

At last I was shaken from my thoughts when I glanced back and saw the bustling market outside the walls in the far distance. I turned back to the road ahead as I heard Duncan interrupt the soft breeze around us;

"Ok, who is this 'Graham' guy you all keep talking about? I heard he's the Legion's Legate, but yall were talking like you knew him personally?"

"We all knew him in some form or another… I'm surprised you didn't hear about him when you swore into the Guard…" said Carl as I wondered even more about New Canaan's own "Not yet Prodigal Son" who, if the stories were true, wouldn't get his chance to return to the Father.

Carl was right, he and I both knew Graham in some form or another. We learned his story, his legend, and how he was the one who officially turned his back on us. As I continued to inexplicably mourn the rumored demise of that terrible person, Duncan replied;

"I'm still a 'proby', remember?"

Carl remembered Mr. Schmitt's status in the Guard and said, "Huh? That's right… And yet Doyle has you going on scouting trips?"

"Oh screw you too, Carl," replied Duncan.

I would've reprimanded the boy for speaking like that to Carl, but my mind was still elsewhere while my eyes remained locked on the dirt path before us getting slimmer and slimmer the further we walked from the town.

Carl grinned and said to the boy, "… You can't blame me, or Nate for that matter for being curious. I was with the LT here the day you showed up, and your little 'display' in the market left us with quite a few questions."

The boy replied immediately, "Figured I'd show whoever was in charge what I was good at-"

"I'm sure skinning a mole rat and a fully grown golden gecko might've displayed you as a decent survivalist and hunter, but doing that in the middle of the market while you're covered in blood and dirt of the wasteland gave some of us a more 'sociopathic' conclusion of your character." Said Carl,

"It got me running scouting ops for Doyle and it has me giving the kitchen some better meat for week nights… You're welcome for that by the way."

Carl shook his head, smiling slightly while I remained quietly listening and thinking. Now passing a long-abandoned shack, the three of us continued on towards the group of people in the distance getting closer. Carl replied to the boy,

"Still, it's pretty unusual to have a mere 17 year old from the wastes join the Guard and start running scouting ops before you've even gone on your first mission."

"I go on missions all the-" said Duncan before realizing what Carl was actually referring to by "mission."

Duncan then thought for a moment, remembering how being successful in worldly missions didn't really mean a whole lot to the protectors of his new hometown when he failed to measure up in spiritual missions. Upon remembering this, the boy said, "I guess I just aint that good at all the Bible… stuff…"

At last, I entered the conversation when I could better identify the group ahead, "Don't worry, you will be. You still got a few months before your 18th and we won't let you go on mission until you're ready…"

I heard Duncan's internal sigh of relief but assured the young skeptic, "I know you don't quite understand the spiritual requirements of our community, but just remember that although your skills are useful in the here and now, we'd rather your skills were directed at our true goals. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," said the young man before adding, "I'll keep trying at my… studies."

"Atta boy, before long, you'll be an expert at 'Bible stuff' and become a beacon of Christ's light in the darkness and stuff," I said,

Carl chuckled, Duncan hung his head, and the three of us remained silent as the figures along the distant path drew closer. A few silent minutes passed when the figures became more detailed beyond the heat haze rising off the wasteland sands. There at the head of the oncoming caravan, I could see the white long sleeves and dark pants of the deacon "Mr. Mathers" with the red sash draped down his shoulders walking beside a man in a heavy brown jacket and pants who was probably the leader of this Happy Trails caravan group. I could only make out the head steer loaded with all the trading outfit's wares but flanked on both sides were their own armed escorts as well as the white shirts and black vests of the entrance enforcers. Once we could make out the enforcers, Duncan said to himself;

"Ah, shoot, we're late." Only he didn't say "shoot", and he immediately apologized before I could reprimand him.

Instead, we drew nearer to the oncoming caravan and I said to Duncan, "Go on ahead and find Doyle, let him know I kept you, and watch your language before I have Nathan make you eat soap."

"Yes sir," said the boy before he immediately took off running towards the caravan. Alone with Carl, he and I kept our pace, and I made out more of the caravan. Rounding a slight turn in the road, I could see the train had at least six fully loaded brahmin and over a dozen traders and guards. Looking back at the head, I saw Mathers waving at me. I waved back and before we knew it, Carl and I were standing before the deacon, Mr. Mathers, and a trader from the Happy Trails group I knew, a Mr. Sam Watts.

I still had a lot on my mind, but as soon as I was face to face with Mr. Mathers, all my thoughts were behind me as I reached out, shook the man's hand, and said as friendly as he made me, "Mr. Mathers. What brings you to a meeting all the way out here without backup? You nearly got a poor young guardsman in trouble."

The tall dusty faced middle aged new deacon raised his pencil thin mustache as his lips curled into a smile. He motioned for Carl and I to join his side on this stroll with the traders and we did just that. Mr. Mathers replied, "So good to see you as well Mr. Young. I beg the young man's pardon for any misfortune I may have brought him. Despite my intentions, it would appear my simple task outside the walls was also a tremendous inconvenience to Mr. Doyle as well."

At that, I glanced back at the rest of the caravan, making notes of all the tired looking traders as well as the guardsmen under Doyle on both flanks. Upon sight of Lt. Doyle, I saw him lecturing the young Duncan until he caught my eyes in a glance. After which, we exchanged thumbs up and I prayed Mr. Duncan didn't take too much flak. Carl remained silent, adjusting his grip on the Thompson machinegun over his shoulder and we continued on with Mr. Mathers and his new company. Turning back to the deacon, I replied,

"No worries, Mr. Mathers, it appears Doyle let up on the boy, as for you though… I'd give Doyle one if you hadn't already, haha."

The smile on Mr Mathers' face grew slightly wider before saying, "I certainly do appreciate you guardsmen and your adherence to safety, but meeting some of our most favored traders less than a full mile beyond the wall is hardly an endeavor of the utmost security."

The head trader on the deacon's right moved a bit further up and looked towards us, "You are too kind Mr. Mathers, Happy Trails and I certainly appreciate yall's concerns about security but it's really no trouble and…" the trader, Sam Watts, paused upon catching my eye, "Hey there, Paul! Thought I recognized the guy coming towards us, wasn't sure it was you though. How you been? Been a long time hadn't it? You doin alright? I notice you're walking with a bit of a hitch in your step…"

I nodded at the trader, "Good to see you as well, Sam. It must've been at least seven months since we last met…"

"About the last time I was up this way…" said Sam with some fond enthusiasm.

Before anything else, Mr. Mathers jumped in, "I was meaning to ask you about your wound, provided you don't mind."

Even before yesterday, I hadn't been noticing the wound as much anymore unless I was making sudden or irregular movements. Yesterday might've been the most I've noticed it since I was patched up by the doctor, "Ms. Victoria Franklin."

It was usually patrol days like this one where I was so used to moving around that I had barely noticed it and said as much to the friends around me,

"I hardly notice it much anymore unless I've been sitting for too long or… people bring it up."

Sam caught my coyness in the last part, but Mr. Mathers was all sincere when he apologized. I told him that wasn't needed, but I was still grateful for his concern, then Sam asked;

"Took some hits out there since we last met, huh Paul?..."

I was going to answer the question in the vague way I'd grown accustomed to, but thankfully I didn't have to as Sam went right along,

"Yeah, me and the gang here had some hits of our own crossing through 80s territory and a few run ins with creatures here and there. You know how that goes. Still, the boys with me are experienced enough to avoid the trouble and trash outside of New Reno and then bout Caliente way. Lucky them 80s been fighting those 'White Legs' when we passed through and rounded the south roads, but it didn't spare poor Jill. I tell ya, she was one fine woman, but…"

I knew Sam Watts from Happy Trails through several interactions I've had with him over the past few years, but had difficulty remembering him exactly when I first saw him walking with Mr. Mathers. Sometimes all the traders I've met and dealt with over the years tended to blend faces and even names, but it wasn't until he started going on that I remembered who he was exactly and just how "talkative" he was. Mr. Mathers hopped in;

"I believe I'd met Jill a couple times on your crews' previous visits. I'm sorry to hear she didn't make this trip but rest assured that Paul and I will be praying for her."

Sam Watts was about to go on when something he said previously stuck out to me and I asked, "You said you took the south roads to avoid the 80s and White Leg conflicts?"

"Thanks for that Mr. Mathers, Jill would've appreciated that. Also, yes sir, I did indeed say that," said Sam before explaining further, "They're still fighting all along the wilderness southwest of here. Happy Trails made it company policy to keep as south along Utah as possible till the 15 or so. Some groups even change courses and head down south Mojave way just to avoid the 80s lands and skip you fellas altogether. Me, I'll take my chances in tribalville vs heading straight to that Mojave warzone-"

Immediately, I asked, "You hear anything out south, out near the Mojave?" noticing Mr. Mathers raise his eyebrow at me.

Sam thought for a second as the abandoned shack Carl, Duncan, and I passed earlier drew closer. When my eyes returned to Sam, he said simply;

"Nothin out of the ordinary. There's still a war between NCR and Legion down there far as I hear. Although I wouldn't know nothing about that as I stick to Utah and you guys on my runs… Figure war down there is why the rangers been so few along the 15 as of late.. Why do you ask?"

I noticed the bead of sweat that wasn't from the sun drip down Mr. Mathers' face at mention of the NCR's rangers, but heard the question asked of me. I replied with a slight glance and pat on Carl's shoulder,

"Well, Carl here says some California traders mentioned a big battle in the Mojave when they were here recently. Was just wondering if you heard anything similar."

After a short moment where we could only hear the footsteps of the traders and sounds of clopping hooves behind us, Sam said;

"I mean I ain't heard nothin directly, but I think I heard about something like that back at New Reno…" I again was going to inquire about what he had heard, but then Sam added with eyes locked on Carl, "… Them traders weren't with the Crimson Caravan were they?"

Carl saw the eyes on himself and replied hesitantly, "I? I'm not sure really. I don't think they ever said who they were with."

Sam replied with a hint of skepticism, "Ok then… If they were independent, that's fine, but…" making eyes with me and Mr. Mathers, he went on, "If you meet any Californians with the Crimson Caravan, you tell them to git! Happy trails fought hard to earn and maintain the routes we currently use, and yall did too. Crimson Caravanners are a bunch of cheats, liars, and… Oh! And I hear their head, 'Alice Mclafferty' is an atheist so yall don't wanna do business with them!"

Mr. Mathers and I grinned at one another. With eyes focused straight ahead, Mr. Mathers replied in his usual cool manner, "All are welcome to our gates and welcome to do business with us regardless of their beliefs-"

I added, "Perhaps we should make it a point to reach out to this 'Mclafferty' person? After all, who better to meet with than those who don't know our Lord?"

"I-? Don't say yall weren't warned," said Sam oblivious to any humor in my tone. Mr. Mathers asked with a smirk,

"Speaking of, when is a 'devout' ally of New Canaan and friend of our Lord like you coming to the Temple for your baptism?"

Sam let out an audible, "Uhh?..." before jumping to what was expected, "… We'll be in town a few days. Provided me and the gang aint too busy loading up, I might be able to fit it in my schedule."

Mr. Mathers, Carl, and I could only chuckle in response. As Sam wondered what was so funny, I'd already long forgotten where I was going with the questions I had for Sam regarding that war down in the Mojave. I asked the deacon;

"So, I need to ask; why is it you decided to meet with Sam's crew out here instead of the market?"

"Funnily enough…" said the Deacon, "We're here now."

Just then, Mr. Mathers said to Sam, "This is the place" and shouted for the rest of the trading gang, "Y'all can start unloading here!"

The caravan stopped, and just to my left off the dirt path to town was the abandoned shack. Immediately, the whole trading outfit began to unload the stacks and bags and crates of supplies and tools off of each brahmin and cart. I instinctively began to help as well alongside Mr. Mathers and some of Doyle's enforcers who weren't keeping watch on the surrounding wastes. I knew we were relatively safe since we weren't too far from the market and walls of New Canaan, and even got Doyle's help with a few stacks of cut lumber. Doyle and I exchanged greetings and courtesies since we hadn't the chance to earlier. Mr. Schmitt would occasionally catch my eye as he helped roam the perimeter around the shack. As the sun got a finger or two lower towards the west, the trading outfit was mostly done unloading their wares and I was so busy trying to be helpful that the thought of why we were out here almost abandoned me. Once I was done stacking my last toolbox beside the other assortment of crates and coolers and minor construction materials, the brahmin and carts were almost completely unburdened and I turned to Mr. Mathers who handed Mr. Watts a leather sack that made a jingle as it landed in his hands. I was going to ask my question when Mr. Watts thanked Mr. Mathers noting he didn't need to verify the total, and Mr Mathers replied;

"Of course, Mr. Watts. Pleasure as always. You get your crew and cattle into the market and take your rest at the Trinity Inn near the south gate. There's extra in that bag to cover your stays so just tell Martha and she'll show you your rooms."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate that Mr. Mathers," said Sam as he wiped the sweat from his brow, "The fellas and I will take you up on that, you take care now, ya hear?"

"You as well," replied the deacon as I nodded farewell to the trader. Mr. Mathers caught my eye, fluttered his shirt with one hand, then waved over Doyle with a shout, "Mr. Doyle! Over here!"

The deacon smiled at me and I watched Sam begin leading his traders and unburdened mules toward the town as I heard the footsteps of Doyle draw closer. Finally, I asked him,

"So, Mr. Mathers? You never told me why you had Sam's crew unload their cargo here so far outside the market… I take it it has something to do with this place?"

Mr. Mathers was going to answer but Doyle answered instead as he joined our side while we surveyed the scattered haul and decrepit shack, "Mr. Mathers is still doing his skimming racket. I thought you knew that, Paul? Have the traders drop off out here it's easier to steal."

The deacon shook his head in mock shame, replying, "You caught me, I confess it…" I couldn't help but smile and wanted to ask my question again before Doyle asked the Deacon,

"Anything else you'll have of us today, Mr. Mathers?"

"I just need three of your men to keep watch over the goods here if you'd be so kind. And don't worry, I'll have some enforcers from the night watch rotate your men out before it gets too dark."

After a moment of thought, Doyle glanced at me, then replied, "Alright Mr. Mathers. That'll be fine. I gotta get back to town. My duties call me elsewhere, so forgive my departure."

"Not at all" said the deacon as Doyle shouted, "Duncan, Ray, Hudson, you three are stayin here till relief comes!"

The three enforcers under his command each replied respectively and Doyle whistled for the rest of his enforcers to follow him. Just before leaving our company, Doyle stopped in his tracks, turned to me, and asked;

"By the way, Mr. Young, I had the boy, Mr. Schmitt give you his scouting report. Would you be kind enough to peruse it and hand it off to the Constable. There's details in there I'd like to discuss with you when you get back to town," said Doyle.

I replied to the man cooly, "I'm already familiar with it, but I left it in the hands of your messenger. I should be out here for a while, so I can bring Duncan back to town with me. You and I can have our meeting say, 8ish?"

"Agreed," said Doyle, "Your place?"

I nodded, he returned with a thumbs up, and then began a short jog to catch up with the rest of his men walking toward town. At last, I turned to Mr. Mathers, again ready to ask my question about these supplies way out here when Carl stepped up, "You need anything else, sir?"

I could only laugh. Such a simple question was on my mind yet I could not get the time or chance to ask it. I returned to Carl, "That is all, Carl. Go on back to town. I'm going to stay out here with the deacon for a while. John's still in charge and when your replacements reach the gate station don't wait up, just enjoy your evening."

"You got it. I'll tell John he has permission to kill Nathan and we'll finish out the shift change ourselves, sir." Said Carl.

"Atta boy," said I before Carl left me with a smile.

When at last I was alone with the deacon, I saw two of Doyle's enforcers roaming the area around the shack with their thompsons in hand. Then, I saw Duncan push himself off the shack wall with his back and unsling the scoped rifle on his shoulder before he too began his casual patrol in the late-afternoon sun. Finally, I looked at the deacon beside me who was studying the shack with a giant smirk on his face and before I could get a breath out, he said humorously;

"Such a simple question you've been waiting to ask, haha… You were asking about the goods I had brought out here?"

"Yes!" said I with a half-serious sigh of relief.

I began to follow my friend as he began maneuvering around the scattered supplies, studying them, and taking mental inventories as he answered, "It's nothing major. I just got permission to refurbish this old shack and begin making it into something of a relay or resupply point for our incoming traders and missionaries… Or some other such thing. The Elders hadn't quite decided what they want to do with the place specifically. As for my drop off, I wanted to save the Happy Trails from having to come back here once they reached the market. Also, getting to speak with Mr. Watts is always a pleasure."

There all the gear and goods I helped unload began making sense. "Very kind of you, and I guess that explains all the lumber, tools, and various containers we got here…" Then the real question hit me as a distant sound from the market entered my ears and I asked, "You sure that's such a good idea to build this relay so far outside the wall?"

More focused on studying the quality of the various tools on the nearby crates, Mr. Mathers said, "You speak as if we're miles away. We're only a mere 20 minute stroll from the market, Paul-"

"Which raises another question…" said I before asking, "Why do we need a resupply point so close to the community?"

After a moment, Mr. Mathers was done with his internal tool inventory and moved on to the boxes, replying, "Fair enough. But, I did say the Elders haven't landed on what they want to do with the place exactly. I merely asked for the permission to begin the preparations, and I received it."

Looking over the rain rusted, dust covered, rusty shack with the caved in roof, I looked back at the deacon and asked, "So, why did this heap of tetanus and stripped bolts catch your eye, Mr. Mathers?"

Without a thought, he said, "little ruins and abandoned homesteads like this show a lot of potential to us as well as the elders..." Then seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, "Did you know the walls of New Canaan haven't expanded in over 25 years?"

I thought about his question and did in fact know that even though I hadn't really considered it. I thought about what I saw from the roof of the tower just yesterday, the people pouring out of the Temple after the sermon, and then about the incoming shipments of concrete for the Temple renovation. Then I remembered what I was thinking the previous noon and how that concrete should probably be going towards the walls. The question entered my mind again and I replied;

"Now that you mention it, yeah, I do know that. In fact, I remember the last time the north wall was completed after that expansion… 25 years ago must've been around about 19 years before you became a New Canaanite if I reckon correctly."

A smile grew on his face as he rose from a crouch and met my eyes, "I really do wish I found you all sooner, but the fact remains the same… And I admit that I too remain hopeful of the elders' vision."

"And what's that?" I asked, more intrigued about this "vision" of the Temple elders than I would've presumed.

With the largest grin and most hope I'd ever seen in this man's eyes, he said, "The elders are looking to expand the bounds of New Canaan at least a mile beyond the current walls in all directions. Starting with places like this."

I wasn't sure why, but news of this made my heart sink. As great an idea and as possible as it was for us with the amount of recent converts, tribal refugees, allies in the wilderness, and success we've had with the faraway traders, I couldn't quite figure out why the news from the deacon made me so inexplicably anxious. Apparently my mouth knew the reason why before my brain did because I immediately said to him;

"I'm not sure you or the elders quite understand all the threats out there, all the threats on our borders, the ones closing in towards our walls." There it was.

Memories of the ambush by the lake and the face of Evan Buller began to hover in the back of my mind as I saw Mr. Mathers' face twist from satisfaction to one of concern. I don't think it was showing physically, but internally I began battling to keep those thoughts in the background. I couldn't remember what it was that made them go away or appear less awful just yesterday as I tried to think about the concern on the Constable's face, the face of my wife and daughter, and the present face of Mr. Mathers. Perhaps my words just spoken came out more hostile than I intended, but after a moment, the deacon's face remained sympathetic to my internal problem as he said calmly;

"I'm not sure what you mean, Paul. Me, my colleagues, the elders, and even Mordecai remain hopeful for the future…" He placed a hand on my shoulder and looked down towards my wounded abdomen before asking, "… You know I'm aware of your injury and the circumstances around it, but you know raids within our territorial bounds are nothing new. I understand if the events of that expedition brought about some new concern but you have to know tha-"

With my mind still struggling to keep those horrible moments of the previous month down, I found myself thinking more about the strange dream I had last night as well as the faces of my wife and children. As strange as that was, the dual thoughts weren't comforting, especially as the deacon's words continued to enter my flooded mind until at last, I blurted out in hushed concern,

"It aint about what happened last month, deacon…"

"Oh?" said Mr. Mathers, ready to listen to what else I had to say.

With my thoughts darting from news about the Basin Hawks, the Legion out east, the White Legs, the 80s, and every other horrible enemy of God that's sent us the heads of our missionaries in the past two years I wasn't sure how to speak or what to even say. I remembered the sound of the crying widows, the screams of slaughtered children, and every battered and broken face that came to our walls in desperation after experiencing the most horrific of nightmares made real. Then my mind focused on the stories I just heard from Duncan and Carl about war in the far south. At last, my thoughts landed on the visions of last night and the ghostly person with the bright blue eyes walking toward me through the flames of my dream. I saw those eyes, I saw the face of Mr. Mathers, and then I felt the clarity wash over me like a calming wave from the Great Salt Lake. The memories left, and Mr. Mathers was still awaiting an answer as I said instinctively, probably sounding far more stern and serious than the me who Mr. Mathers was familiar with;

"It's that story I heard… I believe there's something to it. Wars down south are going to set the eastern wilderness alight and you can be certain that the wars between the 80s and White Legs will only draw the enemies closer to us…"

A long silence hung in the air after I was done speaking and the deacon's face never changed. It was only his eyes that moved from my lower abdomen back to my face where he saw that the words I spoke came not from a place of recent trauma, but from objective reality. He stared into my eyes for a long time and I couldn't bring myself to lighten the mood or offer some gentleness even if I wanted or as I was normally one to do. No. The longer the silence lasted and the longer he looked into my eyes, he felt the full weight of my words. Eventually, and after a long enough time, he turned towards the setting sun and said,

"I'll take your concerns to the elders as well as Mordecai if I get an audience with him soon…"

I felt the sincerity in his words and saw it on his face before his eyes left mine. The message had been sent, but another silence hovered between us before either of us could change our character. As the storm in my mind extinguished the flame in my heart, I felt the incendiary thoughts fade back into the deepest parts of my mind slowly over the quiet moments. I began to feel the heat of the day and the cool breeze of the coming evening once more. The light from above kept those dark thoughts in hiding when another gust of wind hit my cheek. After a while, Mr. Mathers flapped his collar to embrace the winds of change as he asked in his casual and friendly way that I was all too familiar with;

"You wanna see what I plan on doing with this place?"

He was back to himself and so was I. After such a tense moment, I wasn't thankful enough to see that man smile again, and when he did, I couldn't help but do so as well. Seeing that man and feeling myself return to a semblance of normalcy, I gave the waiting man a nod and said, "I should probably get back to my men, but… sure why not."

I remained quiet about all the things that were on my mind and together, Mr. Mathers and I focused on talk about our families, matters of the Temple, and noteworthy incidents on watch or in meetings with the Temple officials. I could tell that Mr. Mathers really understood the concerns of the Guard while we were talking even if we weren't talking about the dangers outside specifically. He went on showing me how he intended to fix up the structure and all the various potential plans to turn this nothing into something. All the while, he quelled the concerns of myself and others in the Guard by reiterating the fact that it would still be a long while before the elders' and Mordecai's ambitions could begin to show fruit. Mr. Mathers was right when he said idly how any number of things could happen between the hopeful future and the present day, yet none of us could have imagined what the worst possible things were. Either way, the two of us went about the old homestead and I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the side of my favorite man of the Temple community.

Unlike other officials of the Temple, he had seen much of the world outside and not just through missionary work. He had a very unique background that made him one of the best and most relatable members of the church any of us Guardsmen had. Honestly speaking, if it wasn't for the fact that I was there the day Mr. Mathers was taken to New Canaan, he would've been my friend just because of how he treated us members of the Guard. It isn't like the Guard wasn't highly regarded in the community, it was just that the wishes and desires of the Temple and Mordecai tended to supersede what the larger community had in mind. This wasn't a bad thing, as the Temple only steered New Canaan in their best interpretation of the Lord's plan, but it did mean there were certain barriers to communication between us and them. Because of this, I knew without any doubt that Mr. Mathers was the bridge between the Guard and the Temple, and that the concerns of men like myself, Doyle, and even the Constable would be heard by them. With all of this in mind, I enjoyed the afternoon here beyond the wall with Mr. Mathers and helped him organize the supplies as the sun sank lower and lower in the west.

Just as the sun was about to disappear below the west, the last lights across the land showed several men coming towards us from New Canaan who I knew were the replacements. As Doyle's enforcers saw the approaching men, the three of them including Duncan began to congregate with one another as if they were readying to depart the second the replacements arrived. Sitting with the deacon on one of the wood crates, The deacon went on about something I asked him earlier, but my mind was somewhat elsewhere at the moment before he asked me something that was likely just idle banter, but something I did not expect.