A visitor came by today, a tubby looking fella on a mule. I kept a sharp eye on him as he came up from the creek. Who he was I did not know, but I knew what he was, and that had me reaching for my whiskey.
‘Howdy!’ said the visitor. He raised his hat and wiped his brow. ‘I’m Cornelius Thurman, the new pastor in town. Nice place you’ve got here.’
I eyed him with a scowl and rocked back in my chair. Ain’t good manners I know, but I didn’t want to encourage the pesky varmint.
‘Mind if I water my mule?’
Since I ain’t the kind deny a thirsty animal a drink, or even a thirsty preacher, I told him to go ahead. Lucky for him my gun was in the house ‘cause if he’d said Hallelujah Brother just once, I reckon I might have shot him. Instead, I rolled a cigarette.
‘Beautiful day isn’t it?’
‘Yup’
‘A fine day for a man to sit in the sunshine.’
‘Yup’
‘And count his blessings.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t suppose you came out here to tell me that?’
‘Indeed not, I’m here on a mission.’
‘Someone send you?’
‘Oh yes,’ said the preacher, as he aimed a smile skywards. ‘Well, maybe not directly but in essence, certainly. I’m looking for a man called Valance. Would I be correct in assuming you are that man?’
‘Maybe’
‘I thought so; tall; slim; whiskey worn face; a bear’s demeanor. Sheriff Berry described you perfectly.’
‘The sheriff sent you out here?’
‘Indeed he did. He told me all about your work here.’
‘He did, huh?
‘Yes and I think it’s wonderful how you provide food and shelter for lost souls and fallen women.’
‘I’m sorry Mister Thurman, but you’re wasting your time. I used to do those things, only the Lord’s work don’t come cheap. I had to stop due to lack of funding.’
I figured it was my lucky day when he hopped up on the porch. I smelled a generous donation coming, till he froze on the spot and his chin started wobbling. I thought he’d seen a rattler or...
‘Y-you have a dog. Tell me, does he bite?’
‘Who? Nameless?’
Hell, I never saw a man so scared of a dog. His eyes grew so big when I Nameless came out on the porch, I thought they were gonna pop right out of his head. I had to help him to a chair and give him a glass of whiskey to calm him down.
‘Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t like dogs. Never have, never will,’ he said.
‘Care for a cigarette?’
‘No thank you, I don’t smoke. Don’t drink either, unless it’s for medicinal purposes.’
‘Me too.’
For an hour or more Pastor Thurman rambled on about the scriptures. Twixt refilling his glass with medicinal whiskey and nodding at him once in a while, I got lost in some beautiful daydreams; the best being about a girl I knew in Reno. We were just getting down to business when the danged parson ruined it.
‘Well, what do you think he did next?’
‘What did who do next?’
‘Jesus…with the loaves and fishes?’
‘Hmm, I don’t know, but he sure picked a fine time to make a sandwich.’
‘You’re not a religious man, are you Mister Valance?’
‘No Parson, I ain’t. Truth is me and God went separate ways a long time ago.’
‘Nobody is beyond redemption; the gates of heaven are open to all. I shall pray for you.’
‘Save your breath, Parson. Wherever I’m bound, I’ll hold my hands up to my wrongdoings and I’ll take fulsome praise for my virtues, without you, God or anyone else creaming off the credit.’
‘You’re a cynical man.’
Ain’t I just. Reckon Nameless thought so too, when I dug my heel into his tail. He jumped up with a yelp that almost gave the pastor a heart attack.
‘Are you s-sure he doesn’t bite?’
‘Sure I’m sure. He’s the friendliest dog you ever saw. The only thing that bites around here is Miss Houston.’
‘Miss Houston?’
‘My elderly aunt. Bites all the time, when she ain’t howling. Poor woman was raised by wolves.’
‘Is she here?!’
‘Don’t worry, she’s locked up and muzzled. I don’t let her out till nightfall. That’s when she goes hunting fresh meat.’
My oh my, you should have heard that preacher squeal when he ran for his mule. Alright, so it was mean trick, but what do I care.
‘Hey Parson!’ I yelled, as he fled. ‘If you find any fallen women… save one for me.’
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