Chapter 29: What Only He Can Do

The Morning After Paul's Group Left

Narrative Continued by Deacon Saul Mathers

…

"You alright, Padre?" asked the younger Ranger Hale.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Please go on." Said I, still thinking about that poor angel and now even more desperate to find Paul despite knowing how impossible such a thing would be.

Ranger Banks went on, "… Well, after that, we spent the night with a few tribals we found on the road outside of 89 City. Never heard what they were exactly since we didn't speak gobbledygook, but they didn't shoot at us and were even kind enough to treat the girl with some herbs. Don't know if that helped other than maybe numb the pain since she was in and out of consciousness for the rest of the trip. It was lucky those last few days on the road were rather empty because Hale and I would'a had to drop her to return fire if anyone unfriendly decided to attack us…"

Banks paused, and glanced at his younger partner, they met eyes, and then mine again before Hale said, "That about sums it up-"

Ranger Banks hopped back in, "Oh, we Were going to leave her with the doctors at 89 City, or the healers at a Nephi camp we found, but when the girl was conscious she was pretty adamant about going home. Most of her serious injuries were healed up by that point anyway, but the psychological damage, understandably, was with her the whole trip."

Hale added, "She clearly needed to get home to her friends and family most of all, so we couldn't leave her with the docs in some other town or village and we couldn't say no to her cries to come home-"

Hale was done, but Banks had evidently kicked his partner under the table as the latter said, "Hale here's a bit of a Romeo, can't say no to the girls.. Still though, he's right and we were happy to help. Got all you need, Deacon?"

Still stuck in thought about everything I heard happened to Paul's daughter before the Ranger's arrival and after they found her, I answered the men after a moment, "Yes it does… Thank you for telling me everything…"

I couldn't help but wipe the tear from my eye before adding my genuine thanks, "And thank you for bringing her back… I'm just so sorry she, and the family, had to go through that."

Just as I began thinking about Paul and that group out in the wastes led by Graham, my thoughts were prevented from going further when Ranger Hale said, "Cheer up, Pastor. She was in good hands. Helping the people of the wastes is what we do."

His tone bore not sarcasm, but something like "Sincere but unnecessary bravado" if I had to describe it. I wiped the clouding from my eyes once more and that unique tone of the young ranger made me focus on the two rangers yet again. That's what it was: slight intoxication.

The two rangers were no longer focusing on me like they were a minute ago during their explanation of the incident around Michelle. Now the two were diverting their attention between me and the canteens they'd spiked with alcohol that were now completely empty. Banks had turned his canteen upside down and not a drop fell out while they were waiting for me to collect myself, and with one more adjustment of my composure, I asked the two rangers;

"Again, I know I speak on behalf of the family as well as the rest of New Canaan when I say I appreciate you bringing Michelle back home…" The two set their canteens back on the table and I went on just out of pleasantry and to further compose myself after such detail about Michelle's tragedy, "… So what brings you two this far out into Utah?"

Evidently, the alcohol they drank before our chat must have been stronger than even the two expected because they were sitting in their chairs even more casually than a normal ranger on leave, and because the older said, "Yeah right, we're not falling for that again" as he began idly taking apart his radio receiver. This caused Hale to smile very wide, suppress a laugh, and nudge his partner again before the younger turned to me;

"What my partner means is that we… well…" Ranger Hale thought to himself, glanced at his partner who was now blowing wasteland dust out of his radio receiver into his lap, then asked, "… Michelle's dad, he was a guard, right?"

I figured this was one detail Michelle managed to tell the rangers on one of the occasions she was conscious on the return home, so I answered, "Yes. Paul's one of the lieutenants of the guard. If I may, gentlemen, why do you ask?"

Immediately, the younger asked with that half-buzzed smile on his face he was apparently trying to suppress for return to sincerity, "Do you know where he went?"

My blood froze for a moment, wondering where exactly Paul and all the men who went with him were in the wastes. The question seemed innocent enough so I was curious why they were asking about this in the first place;

"Yes…" I paused, still unsure why I felt this to be an uncomfortable line of questions. I hadn't even thought about it when I finished my answer, "… Some of his men took him out into the wastes to… Well, to be frank, to track down the ones who attacked Michelle."

This caused the two rangers to chuckle to themselves for a reason I could not figure. After a moment, the two met my eyes again and Banks looked up from his radio parts saying,

"Were any of those men, John Langdon or Chance Rhynes?"

"Yes?-" I answered puzzledly, just remembering that Rhynes was still in town to tell the Constable where his guards went. Before I could say anything else, Banks nudged his partner and said to him,

"See, told you they'd screw us over, Hale."

"We don't know that, Banks! It hasn't even been 24 hours yet-"

Hale sought to argue further with his partner, but I interrupted in total confusion; "Gentlemen, I don't understand what's going on?"

Banks looked away from me back down at his radio and gave a motion with his head to Hale. Hale told me, "It's nothing. We just told John and Chance that we'd tell them where exactly they could find the site of that fateful expedition if they could get us an audience with their 'Constable Hanshaw' for as soon as possible… It was pretty dark last night and Banks and I were already a couple drinks deep when we could see a posse of gunmen pass by the windows. Couldn't make any of them out through the fog and darkness. Anyway, Banks thinks those guys took what we told them and ran after rounding up a few others and Michelle's dad. Me, I'd like to think those two at least Told the Constable about us."

Hale paused, then Banks glanced up from his radio, "To answer your question, that's why we're here. We just need to chat with Bishop Mordecai on behalf of NCR… or Constable Hanshaw, since apparently the 'All powerful' and mysterious 'Bishop Mordecai' don't have time for the commoners of foreign lands…" he paused, probably realizing the man who he was talking to worked for the Bishop, "… No offense meant."

For a reason I didn't quite understand in the immediate moment, I was very relieved to hear that the rangers didn't see who was in Paul's group that left in the night. However, the thought didn't occur to me as I considered the rangers' goal of meeting the Constable, so I said automatically;

"Well, I don't know the Constable's schedule, but I can check in with him later. Perhaps see if Rhynes and John let him know about you two still in waiting.-"

There was more I was going to say when an assumption of mine from earlier was proven wrong after Ranger Banks pulled another small flask from under the table, took a long swig, and his face twisted at a bitter taste. Ranger Hale answered, me, "You'd do that? Well, shit, thanks Pastor Mathers." The young ranger wordlessly took the flask from Banks, finished it off, winced just like his partner, and coughed before handing the thing back to Banks with the added words, "… I got a love-hate relationship with 'waiting games', Ha!"

Ranger Banks pocketed the flask with a louder than previous laugh at his friend's remark, and resumed cleaning out the dust from his receiver with a cleaning swab he pulled from somewhere. As the two settled in, and their New Canaan contraband worked through their blood even more, I found myself thinking about something in the brief silence. I thought of their goal to meet with the Bishop or Constable and wondered what that meeting might be about. I had no intention to ask about it, since rangers were the best about their orders. Still, it was at this time that I strangely found myself thinking about how it is only God who can turn bad into good when the rest of this important conversation went on. Hale turned to me and asked his partner like a man on a decent buzz;

"Hey! Maybe the deacon can help us?"

Banks looked up from his work on the radio, glanced around at the crowds throughout the room. There were less people now that the sun was a bit higher and more people were going about their days, but the noise of the masses' indistinct chatter continued to fill the room as Ranger Banks asked his partner,

"What part?"

Hale didn't answer, instead, the young and semi-intoxicated ranger turned to me asking, "You wanna know why we're all the way out here in the ass end of nowhere?... and your lovely town?"

Ranger Banks finished putting his receiver back together, clipped it back on his shirt, and stood himself up as if to stretch. The older ranger wobbled in place for a moment, and I could almost see the wave of strong wasteland moonshine wash over the rest of his body with the stretch of his legs. He almost fell back down in his chair, then said straight to me with a yawn and as if reciting some grand order of the utmost importance word for word;

"We're here to speak with the leadership of New Canaan about relations with NCR on behalf of Councilman Lansing who is Very disturbed by what transpired within this territory back in December!..."

After he was done, both Banks and Hale were laughing to themselves at an apparently very funny joke I wasn't in on. However, the name "Lansing" rang a bell with me, and I briefly searched my memory of a few months ago. It hit me. Lansing was the last name of the "boy" owner of the brothel that the guard shut down in December. I didn't know the kid's parent was an official of the NCR government, and I started wondering what was so funny when my two intoxicated brothers from another era flat-out told me;

"… Just kidding, Ha!... At least sorta, haha!..." added Ranger Banks. He went on, "… That's the 'official' story anyway. Whole thing's just a pretext for a…"

He froze. Clearly, and despite his intoxication, he realized he was about to go too far. It was in this moment that Hale added for his partner, "It's not really a big deal. Our orders just have us negotiating a few points for the Councilman. Nothing crazy, but still a waste of time for Banks and I when we could be…"

Now Hale froze. During this whole thing I was at something of a complete loss for words. I was curious why the rangers were out this far into Utah, but as interesting as this was, I was more just looking for a way to depart their company pleasantly. I certainly didn't want to be told anything I shouldn't be told, but I also couldn't get away if my legs would let me. In the short silence, Banks and Hale turned to one another and began to converse very softly. Looking for a way to assert my leave from them, my interest in these two men and their "true" mission in this territory went through the roof when the intoxicated Banks leaned in and asked me;

"… You really wanna help us out, Pastor?..."

I sat back a little and answered plainly, "I'm happy to help fe- NCR's rangers or those who help our people out there. What you have in mind?"

Banks and Hale both leaned in a little more, "Think we can get some Doctor Pat- er priest and sinner confidentiality with this one?"

Now smelling the alcohol with how close I was to the rangers, I kept my composure and answered, "You wanna confess something to me?"

"That's it! 'Confess'" said Hale with the snap of a finger and a very low shout.

Banks said to me, "Yeah, confess. What I'm asking is: if we tell you what's what, will you keep it to yourself like it's confession time, Padre?"

Was it wrong to extort secrets out of intoxicated people? I'm not sure at the time of writing this, but I honestly wasn't really thinking about that as I replied without thought, "I'm not Catholic, so you can just call me Deacon, or Mr. Mathers. But whatever you tell me, I'll keep it to myself, although you gotta do likewise for me, agreed?"

"You gotta do likewise for me?" I thought. The sentence just sort of came out, and I started to wonder why I even said that. However, the two rangers must have been too intoxicated to consider that part, or their minds were elsewhere because they both said, "Agreed…" Then they sat slightly back, and Banks was about to speak when Hale started to laugh as he said;

"As if I need to say why we're here. Go ahead, listen to the chatter, Padre…"

In that moment, the young ranger gestured his head towards the crowds still filling the Trinity Inn that morning. Suddenly, all the indistinct noise that had been indecipherable seconds, minutes, days, and probably even weeks earlier entered my ears clear as day;

"There's no way he could have survived the fire AND a fall into the Grand Canyon!" said one wastelander at the table behind me.

His friend replied, "It's true. That gang Julian heard it from said one of their boys saw it himself. He's still alive and walking around out there..."

The chatter of a few traders a table over came to me, "I saw him, I swear. It was right out by Hanksville, all burned and everything. -"

"That was a Ghoul you idiot!"

"Then why did that Legion patrol out east ask about him if he wasn't still alive?..."

All around us, the people talked;

"He wouldn't come here. Ask literally any New Canaanite. Every one of them gets all weird, well, Weird-er the second you mention his name."

"I'm telling you, that's why you know they're hiding him somewhere!"

"No way! They've been like that for decades, girlie! They still want nothing to do with him…"

Remembering who was out there, with Paul, with Doyle, with Herbein, with John, with the others seeking retribution for Michelle, my blood came to a stop inside me;

"I did some trading with a Legion camp down south aways only two months ago, all of them say he's alive even if they won't say his name anymore."

"What you expect? Everyone Legion was at one point a superstitious tribal just like the ones out here."

"Oh you shut up. I know you believe he's alive too. You're just waiting to see whether it's the Legion, NCR, or New Canaan that posts the biggest bounty before you start telling people you believe he's kickin…"

"There's people saying they see him every now and then. Not sure I believe the stories I hear from that one guy people are talking about, but I'm sure he's out there somewhere."

"I just don't buy him surviving and then coming here."

"Yeah, me neither. Probably a cripple for life, but definitely alive."

"Oh shut up!..."

After becoming conscious of the world and rumors directly outside the walls of my home, I really hoped my face kept its composure from before I heard what was circulating around me. Turning back to the rangers, I met their still smiling and intoxicated faces, and immediately Banks said;

"… We're here for Joshua Graham, Padre… " My heart stopped and the two squinted at the facial expression I involuntarily made. Was I now confused, terrified, sad, or something else? I didn't know… but I know I was at least internally relieved when Hale noticed my change in composure and said to Banks;

"See that, Banks. They always said New Canaanites get all cringed out when you mention that name-"

Immediately I reset my countenance the best I could and interrupted, "What do you want to know about that… name?"

The two sat back contentedly before Banks said, "Most had heard what happened to Graham after his big blunder at Hoover Dam down south… Shit, Hale and I were there at Boulder City…"

"Lots of shit." Said Hale to nobody in particular as he shook his head solemnly.

"… But now even people in the Mojave are starting to hear word that he survived his execution… We're just looking into it is all. Most of the time, it's a waste of time to look into tribal campfire stories, but lots of them rumors seem to be coming from up here and we're just looking into it. Now we know most things you hear out there are complete bullshit, but some of them got us thinking…"

He paused, and the two leaned in, no longer smiling drunkenly like they were seconds earlier, "So… With a priest's honesty, we need to ask you: You seen Joshua Graham up this way?"

The rangers were frozen, studying my face, and I was frozen, wondering what face I should make. What face would show discomfort, reveal the truth, lie, etc. I didn't know what to say or how to behave, but without even thinking about it, something foreign came over me. I felt my face twist from that of the completely exposed to that of the true master over the situation. The two looked at me puzzled when they saw this change, and without any idea of what I should say whatsoever, I looked both men dead in the eyes and asked them directly;

"What on earth could Chief Hanlon want with a killed and charred Ex-Legate of the Legion?"

The rangers' eyes grew wide and they looked at one another before returning to me;

"Chief Hanlon? How does someone like you even know the name of our chief all the way out here?"

My mind scrambled for what to say, but like earlier there was something else making me speak and act as I found myself telling the two of them as cooly as could be;

"He was my chief too, back when I was with the rangers, I mean…"

The two's eyes grew even wider while their eyebrows showed extreme confusion, doubt, and their mouths hung partially open as if they really wanted to interject but couldn't. I went on;

"He must be getting up there in years now, but sometimes I still miss those days. Looking back now, I've been wanting to thank him for dispatching me to Utah on my last assignment, so maybe you two could do that for me when you return to California, the Mojave, or wherever he's stationed now."

Just as my mind caught up and I internally asked myself "What have I done?" the rangers found the ability to speak, and Hale asked with a partially surprised and still partially drunk air from earlier;

"You were in the rangers? You retire early or something? How you end up here?"

Again, my mind scrambled for what to say, but yet again, I had no real control over this as I enlightened them with the truth that would, in some way, set me free;

"No. About 7 years ago, I was sent to Utah with my team when we found ourselves in a situation where fighting was the only option. My men were killed, and so was I. Luckily, I was born anew, thanks to some strangers who took me here, and this place has been my home ever since."

Hale grew almost frantic in his intoxicated state after hearing this revelation, darting his eyes between me and his partner saying, "You deserted? I- er Banks? You and I, we gotta bring this guy in? Right?"

I had already put my mind in the back seat and let instinct guide this near-suicidal admission to these two men as Hale continued to switch his attention between me and Banks who was staring at me silently with squinted serious eyes. At Hale's outburst to his partner, I almost immediately felt my mouth say in the calm tone I knew I was known for;

"Please don't attempt to arrest me here in this place. I really don't want any harm to come to either of you, or any of my former brothers."

Hale exclaimed, "You deserted though! You never checked back in!" scarcely even heard over the noise of the room. Banks continued to stare at me when I saw the two raise their hands from the tabletop, perhaps the beginning of a reach for their weapons when I said.

"You can look at it that way. The ranger archives will have me listed as either KIA or MIA, but I also won't accompany you because I will defend myself if you try to remove me from my home…" With both ranger's hands now halfway to their holstered weapons, I again surprised myself when I found I had beaten them to it.

Holding the long revolver I had under my black deacon's coat, I studied the weapon casually before them, making sure the barrel wasn't aimed at either, but could be if they decided to remove their weapons from those leather holsters. The weapon was a fine one, and one I sometimes went days without carrying. Looking over the black metal, golden engravings, and ranger emblem carved into the red wood of the grip, I began wondering what it was that made me carry this weapon on me this particular day. I only really carried it whenever I went outside the walls and to check up on the refugee village, but I didn't have that on this day's agenda and a momentary panic struck me earlier when I realized I had it on me as I was sitting with Michelle. Now I know why I had unconsciously put it on during my morning routine… It was for this encounter.

The two were still frozen with their hands at their sides and no closer to the weapons on their hips as I traced the golden engraving and told them, "… I got this pistol as a gift right before the Ranger Unification. Right before setting out for Utah. Had to miss the ceremony itself unfortunately, but the treaty was already written and agreed to anyway and I wasn't going to wait another two months just for a signing ceremony or for that wasteful monument to be erected…"

Now it was Banks' turn to lose himself as he came to the same conclusion as his partner saying, "You-!? I- Hale, what do we do?"

With a little wave of the pistol, the two placed their hands back on the table, continuing to switch their eyes from each other to me, and the three of us continued to be ignored by the loud masses of the busy Inn as I said;

"You two look me up when you get back home, see my record, and know you've made a true friend this far into the wilderness. And before you think of telling anyone about my 'desertion', as you say, you remember that it was confession time when I told you that information…"

The two looked at one another for a long moment, apparently just now remembering what they agreed to earlier. They appeared to be contemplating what I was saying mixed with the shocking news that the little man of the cloth joining them the past 40 minutes was actually one of their brothers in arms. They returned their attention back to me, their faces both seeming to ask what I was about to suggest "Ok, 'we'll think about it' but now it's your turn." I added for them, like the fellow ranger I was if circumstance said so;

"… Now you do that and return home knowing that you did get some good intel about Joshua Graham from one ranger to another."

Almost in an instant, the two appeared to completely sober up, at least in outward appearance. Although their heads still slightly bobbed occasionally, and the focus of their eyes on me was sporadically interrupted by some rapid blink, Banks the older said to me only with a hint of begrudging agreement as he asked me sternly;

"Tell us what you know about Graham? Padre."

I again must admit that I didn't have a whole lot of control over this conversation, or what I said next. However, I did find myself thinking a lot about a certain verse that's used frequently during departure ceremonies. The verse is from Matthew 10 and goes:

"When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour."

I believe what was said, was in fact given to me in this hour, because I was still thinking about the verse as I said to them;

"Joshua Graham was here. He did survive. We took him into the community, but he left. He left going south not long ago, and that's the most I can tell you. His presence made most of us extremely uncomfortable, and I for one am very glad he left before his presence within our home could bring any harm to the community."

"Where did he go?" asked Ranger Banks dead seriously as I realized that everything I was saying was absolutely true… I was very grateful they did not ask for specifics, but even if they desired some particular specifics, like where he went, I thankfully could not provide them;

"I don't know precisely, but something tells me he's going to be staying out there for a long time. Whether or not he returns or intends to return from the wilderness after he accomplishes what he's out there to do, I do not know."

I didn't know at the time just how truthful that last part would be, although it ended up being so, and I think that's why I said it. Whether he is killed out there on the journey to kill Michelle's attackers, or if the event reawakens something in him that prevents his return, I did not know. I also did not know if he would be allowed to return, given the nature of his departure. For that matter, I didn't know the fate of Paul or any of the others out there, but what I had said was evidently enough for the rangers when they did what they did next.

Ranger Hale banged his fist on the table with the loud oath, "Dammit"

And Ranger Hale sat back in his chair with a large scowl as he said, "I'm going to trust you for now, Ranger Mathers, but you get us an interview with the Constable in the next 24 hours. We still got our orders from Councilman Lansing…" And with a grin of skepticism, disdain, admiration, and hardened professionalism, he added, "… We'll see if he can corroborate everything about the former Legate too. You can go. We'll keep your secret to ourselves, for now at least."

I stood from the table, shook both of their hands, and pocketed my revolver, ready to depart the company of my brothers from another era as I left them with the words;

"By all means, brothers."

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone reading this :)