School Of Divinity

"He what? I'm telling you, that false man of God ain't staying in my house," Michael smiled as he heard Wilhelm protesting.

The wall next to the open window afforded Michael no protection, should anyone be outside. His black clothing was highly visible against the freshly whitewashed boards of Harold's home.

But no one patrolled the periphery of the home. Harold and his men were huddled inside the man's home.

"I always been a straight shooter with you. That man ain't in my home; he ain't coming nowhere near my Hannah," Wilhelm angrily protested.

"Methinks thou dost protest overmuch," Michael actually chuckled.

"No sir, that Henry, and Gus? They saying they ain't going be unionizing. Sir, I'm telling you what they done told me," Michael heard Wilhelm protest.

Wilhelm was summarily dismissed, with a hard boot to his rear from Hank. Michael stayed where he was; he did not want any movement to alert Mahon's men of his presence.

"Think he's telling the truth?" Michael heard one of the men ask, speech slurred.

"How you can tell Burchfield's saying a falsehood?" Harold asked Joshua.

"I don't know," Joshua slurred.

"His lips are moving. Them men are unionizing and he's right in the thick of it," Harold insisted.

The next evening, again near midnight, Michael was roused from his slumber by the sounds of horse hooves travelling from town to camp. There was no moonlight peering through the covering of clouds, but Michael estimated there were three horses.

Grabbing his moccasins, Michael stealthily followed the horses.

"Here. Right here," Michael heard Hank say.

The three men were now close to Wilhelm's hovel. Michael watched as each man dismounted and stood together.

Hank lighted a kerosene lamp and Michael knew their plans. They would throw the kerosene lamps at the wooden structure. The glass would shatter, spilling the kerosene, the wick would ignite the spilled kerosene, and Wilhelm's hovel would be ablaze in mere seconds. There was no rear door or window for Wilhelm or his wife Hannah to escape the blaze.

The problem was, since the hovels were all within inches of each other, barely enough room for people to safely walk between hovels, the flames from Wilhelm's burning hovel would quickly ignite the hovels of those families near the burning hovel. Before these three men returned to the small town, the entire camp would be ablaze and there would be few, if any survivors.

Michael withdrew his revolver as Joshua and Ned lighted their own lamps.

"On three," Hank said, raising his lamp high.

"One," Ned said.

"Two," Joshua slurred.

Michael squeezed off three shots before Hank yelled 'Three!' The lamps in their raised hands shattered, covering each man in burning kerosene.

There was a harsh knock at the front door. Harold Mahon pushed himself off of his wife's prone body. Bridgette sighed in gratitude; she truly did not enjoy coupling with her husband.

"No, no, my pet," Harold smirked. "I'll be back right quick and we'll finish. We'll put us a baby in you soon enough, hear?"

"Yes, my husband," Bridgette responded stoically.

Harold's scream brought Bridgette scurrying to the door of their large home. She fainted at the sight of the three charred bodies sitting astride their mounts.

In the morning, Harold called in the seven men that remained in his employ. The men looked at Harold's pale face and shaking hands. Two of the men put their hands over their mouths as Harold described the horrific end that Joshua, Hank, and Ned had suffered.

"So, men, that Michael Atwell, that so-called minister has got to be taken care of," Harold demanded angrily.

"You can handle him on your own, Mr. Mahon," Doug said. "Think I'll be taking what you owe me and find my way back to Colorado."

"Colorado sounds mighty fine to me," Earl agreed as he removed his sheriff's star.

Harold had no recourse but to pay the men; each had a pistol at their hip and he was unarmed. He did not miss the smirk his beautiful wife wore as he paid each man.

Caroline Atwell was enjoying a breakfast in the saloon when Harold Mahon stomped in. She did look at him, somewhat curious; there was no two or three men flanking him.

"Need send a telegram," Harold snarled at Caroline.

"Yes sir," Caroline said, resuming her meal.

"Now, Miss Atwell," Harold barked.

"Mr. Mahon, I do not work for you," Caroline said. "I am under the employ of the affiliation of the telegraph office of Washington D.C. I've already paid for this meal and will enjoy this meal."

Leisurely, Caroline enjoyed the meal, and the consternation of Harold Mahon. She almost requested more, but decided she'd angered the man enough.

"To Frankie Correcci," Harold snapped when Caroline was behind her desk. "St. Louis, Missouri."

"Correcci?" Caroline gasped.

Frankie Correcci was a well-known criminal. He was a violent thug and surrounded himself with men that willingly carried out violent, often sadistic crimes.

"Need twenty of your men. Stop. Will pay one hundred dollars per man. Stop," Harold snarled.

"And now, make sure you don't say nothing to your brother," Harold said and manacled Caroline's left hand to her heavy desk.

"Harold Mahon, you undo me at once!" Caroline protested.

Satisfied, Harold then walked next door and enjoyed a heavy breakfast. He also enjoyed the attentions of the waitress.

Sunday morning, after checking that the trees surrounding the camp had no intruders, Michael smiled and held his Bible aloft. The sun was beginning to crest the mountains, bathing the clearing in a soft warm light.

"My brothers! My sisters! Friends!" Michael called out in a strong voice. "I have come! I have come to proclaim the good news; the good news that our Lord and Savior has risen from the dead, has ascended into the Heavens and shall come again in triumphant glory! Brothers, sisters, come! Come and hear the good news, the word of God."

Michael smiled widely as he watched Marie using her stick. Catherine did hover nearby, but Marie was travelling on her own, making her way toward him.

"Woo-woo, chugga-chugga-chugga," Michael said when Marie's stick softly rapped against his calf.

Marie laughed out loud and put her arms around Michael. She then gasped, horrified at her bold behavior and backed away. Catherine also looked horrified at her friend's actions.

"No, no, child, you did nothing wrong," Michael assured Marie, Catherine.

Again, Marie and Catherine sat as closely to Michael as they could. Michael gave the miners and their families time to chatter, time to socialize for a moment, then launched into his sermon.

He watched as a beatific calm came over the faces of Catherine and Marie. Michael almost said, aloud, that this must be the faces of the angels in Heaven. Instead, he smiled down at the two girls.

In Acts, we learn, there is nothing, there is nothing that we can do to earn the forgiveness of God," Michael said.

"No?" Marie gasped, dismayed at this proclamation.

"But Jesus did say to His followers, 'ask, and it shall be freely given,'" Michael assured the crowd. "So, my brothers, my sisters, ask. Ask that you shall be forgiven. And forgiveness shall be yours."

After he concluded, Hannah Burchfield marched up to Michael. Michael kept the smirk from his face as he observed the dark glare of Wilhelm.

"Would you come and have the noon meal with us, Reverend?" Hannah asked loudly.

"It shall be my pleasure," Michael smiled.

Michael again fought against the smirk as he observed Hannah's triumphant smile. Michael kept the smirk from his face as Hannah sneered at her glowering husband.

One by one, the miners and their families returned to their hovels. Michael returned the friendly wave of Henry Bergeron. The quick little blush of Catherine, Marie, and Sabella did not escape Michael's notice. Nor did the shy little smile Catherine shot him just before the Bergerons and Martinellis disappeared into their hovels.

"Come forth," Michael said quietly.

The waitress from the saloon stepped into the clearing.

"Mr. Mahon skin me alive he find out I come here," she whispered, glancing about nervously.

"Did you come to hear the word of God?" Michael asked, turning so that she was shielded from view of most of the hovels.

"No, well, yes, but your sister, she needs you," the woman whispered urgently.

"I shall be there soon," Michael promised.

During the meal, Hannah's flirtations were brazen. The ribbons of her bodice had been loosed and Michael was afforded several glances of her bosom. The meal itself was bland; boiled cabbage and some gristle on their platters. This was served with a stout beer that had been sweetened with honey.

Finally, Michael brought the uncomfortable meal to an end. He thanked both Wilhelm and Hannah for their hospitality but stated he had urgent matters to attend to.

At his small camp, Michael again slipped his feet into his moccasins. He stayed off of the trail; he had no knowledge of Harold's men having deserted Harold.

Arriving at the small town, Michael stayed to the rear of the main buildings until he came to the rear of Caroline's building.

Harold must have anticipated this; he had Oscar Joiner standing guard at the rear entrance of the building. Oscar was a giant of a man, standing six feet, eight inches. The man was very nearly an imbecile, very addled in his thinking.

Unlike many of his condition, Oscar was no gentle giant. Oscar enjoyed using his size to intimidate others. If his size did not garner Oscar what he wanted, Oscar would use his superior strength.

"Mr. Harold said you'd be by," Oscar giggled.

"If you leave now, Oscar, I will not harm you," Michael said gently.

This declaration made Oscar giggle even louder. Michael shook his head sadly.

"I did warn you," Michael said, then delivered a roundhouse kick to Oscar's ribcage.

Ooh!" Oscar grunted, no longer giggling.

A spinning heel strike struck Oscar in the left kidney and he almost went to his knees. Michael then delivered a crescent kick and reverse crescent kick to Oscar's head that had the giant seeing stars.

"You hurt me," Oscar whined.

"Stand aside or I will hurt you again," Michael warned.

Oscar charged Michael. He grabbed for Michael, but Michael avoided the giant's grasp. Another kick to Oscar's left kidney did bring Oscar to his knees and the giant actually started sobbing.

Inside the building, Harold looked toward the rear of the building. His sickly pallor grew even more pale as he heard Oscar's sobbing.

"What on God's earth?" Harold asked, opening the rear door.

Michael grabbed Harold, pulled him out of the building, and flipped Harold over his shoulder. Harold landed with an 'oomph!' onto the ground.

"You've no need of this," Michael said, taking Harold's Colt from his holster.

Then he Picked Harold up by his shirt front.

"Oh thank God," Caroline said, seeing her brother frog-marching Harold into the building. "I've been chained here for the last three days!"

"Unlock her," Michael ordered.

"Well, sure now," Harold said. "Keys at my house. I'll just..."

"Empty your pockets," Michael ordered.

"Well now, like I said, keys at my..." Harold bluffed.

"Empty your pockets or I shall," Michael ordered.

"There's no need..." Harold declared.

Michael grasped the man's trousers and gave a savage yank. The large key ring clattered to the floor, along with various other items. Michael then gave a palm strike to Harold's midsection. Harold doubled up on the floor, gasping and grunting in pain.

"Thank you, Michael," Caroline said as she was finally unlocked from her desk. "And Michael? Harold here has sent for Frankie Correcci to send twenty of his men here."

"Mr. Mahon," Michael said coldly. "I was willing to offer you fair price for your land. The land you did cheat from some Indians. Now? I offer you just this. Relinquish the land to me."

"For...?" Harold gasped, trying to get to his feet.

"That is it. You will relinquish your land to me, to the men and women that did work for you," Michael said.

"No," Harold gasped and grunted, using the desk to pull himself to his feet.

"Remember, Mr. Mahon, those that make deals with the devil? Shall be called to dance to his tune," Michael said. "Frankie Correcci is the very Devil himself. And you will not like his tune."

"You hurt me," Oscar thundered, entering the office.

"I told you to stand aside or I would hurt you," Michael said. "Now, move out of my way, or I shall hurt you again."

Oscar had little capacity to learn from his experiences. He charged for Michael. Michael leapt into the air, left foot extended. Caroline and Harold watched in stunned silence as Michael's foot struck Oscar in the face, crushing Oscar's nose. Michael then delivered a spinning heel kick to the kneeling giant's head.

Oscar crumpled, landing face first onto the wooden floor of the small office. Michael then hoisted Harold off of the ground and marched out of the front door with the man.

The two horses did back away from the water trough when Michael threw Harold into the brackish water.

Michael walked from the town to the miners' camp. As he walked, he grumbled to himself the wisdom in leaving Harold Mahon alive, relatively unharmed.

"Man! Now, who that is?" Henry asked when a rapping was heard at his door.

"Know how you can find out yeah," Claire said.

Lucinda giggled as they stood at the wood stove, cooking. Claire giggled and elbowed their house guest.

"And how I find out?" Henry smiled, playfully swatting both women on their rumps.

"Go open that door and say 'who there?'" Claire said, returning his swat.

"Who there, aw hey, Reverend," Henry said, opening the door.

"Henry, might I have a word with you, and Mrs. Martinelli?" Michael asked.

"I uh, yeah, of course," Henry said. "Uh, Catherine! You take everybody out. Need find us um, find us a flying pig, hmm?"

"And how big that pig got be?" Catherine smiled, rolling her eyes.

"Aw, don't matter how big, long as its pink," Henry smiled.

"Blue," Claire insisted.

"Blue," Henry amended.

Catherine did get the others to join her. Marie smiled proudly as she grabbed her stick from the corner of the room and used it to march outside.

"Man! She getting good with that stick yeah," Henry said.

"Yes, I watched with delight as she came out this morning," Michael agreed.

"Some cider?" Henry offered.

"Please," Michael said, suddenly feeling quite nervous.

He almost smiled. He had just faced a true Goliath in Oscar Joiner, faced a true reptile of a man in Harold Mahon. But facing a five foot tall Italian mother and their caregiver had him nervous. He took a sip of the strong drink, savoring the taste.

Mrs. Martinelli, Mr. Bergeron, Mrs. Bergeron, with your permission? I would like to court Catherine," Michael said.

"She is eighteen," Lucinda agreed somberly.

"And she is quite mature," Claire complimented.

"Mr. Atwell, why we don't ask her?" Henry suggested.

Henry got to his feet and approached the door. Michael looked at the two women, still quite nervous. Both women smiled reassuringly at the reverend.

"Catherine, you come see," Henry called out.

"We still looking for that blue pig," Catherine laughed.

"Catherine Martinelli, you come see now," Henry laughed. "Um, Isabella, you watch..."

"I'm older than her," Marie called out petulantly. "I can watch them."

"Yeah, that's good. Marie, you watch them. You lose one them? Coming out your hide too," Henry agreed.

"Yes sir?" Catherine asked, stepping into the hovel.

Michael could smell the girl's scent. He could smell her sweat, could smell her unwashed hair.

He smiled nervously at the girl and she blushed, but smiled shyly. Henry sat again and nudged Michael.

"The Reverend here? He got something ask you," Henry said.

"I've asked your mother, and your guardian if I might court you," Michael spoke softly.

Catherine's mouth popped open. Her dark eyes went wide as she stared at the handsome, charismatic man. She suddenly found breathing quite difficult.

"I uh, oh my," Catherine gasped.

Suddenly, Catherine heard the laughter and squeals from outside. She even turned to face the sounds of happiness, exhilaration.

"Mr. Atwell, I cannot," Catherine mumbled, close to tears.

"What? But, daughter, why not?" Lucinda asked her daughter, in their native Italian.

"Marie," Catherine whispered, bottom lip trembling as the first tear coursed down her cheek.

"Mar... What of her?" Lucinda asked. "Catherine, she will be here, she will be cared for,"

"But she loves the Reverend," Catherine now sobbed.

Both women enveloped the girl, clucking gently. Henry and Michael stared at each other, then looked away, uncomfortable.

"Daughter, we all love the Reverend," Lucinda said.

"No, no, I mean, she dreams, she dreams of kissing, of lying with him," Catherine sobbed.

She lowered her voice and whispered into her mother's ear how Marie 'pleasured' herself, whispering Michael's name. Lucinda gasped, blushed, and then giggled.

"And do you pleasure yourself, thinking of the Reverend?" Lucinda gently teased her daughter.

"Mother!" Catherine gasped.

"Reverend Atwell, my daughter, Catherine is very taken with you," Lucinda stated.

Michael looked at Catherine hopefully. Lucinda smiled sadly and shook her head no.

"But, my daughter will not allow herself to be courted by you," Lucinda continued.

"I, but, why?" Michael asked, perturbed. "If I may ask?"

"Marie, my sister, my friend is smitten with you," Catherine stated firmly, even as tears coursed down her face.

"Marie?" Michael asked, surprised.

True, Marie Bergeron was a beautiful young woman. She did possess a quite comely figure; her bosom stretched invitingly against the bodice of her gowns. Her hips did swell enticingly, the hips of a young woman that could birth many children.

Because Marie was blind, however, Michael had never considered her capable of romantic notions or desires. He had never considered Marie Bergeron as a potential mate.

"And if I was to court you, Rev... Michael, her, Marie's heart would be broken and I would lose the dearest, truest friend, the most loving sister I could ever hope for," Catherine continued. "And I would rather lose my life, than lose Marie."

"But my Marie? She's blind yeah," Henry said, confused.

"And she a woman," Claire agreed.

"Michael, she even named her stick 'Michael,' named it after the man that gave it to her," Catherine said.

"Well then, Mr. Bergeron, Mrs. Bergeron, Mrs. MARTINELLI, might I have your permission to begin courting your daughter Marie?" Michael asked.

"But Marie?" Henry asked again.

"You will, Michael, you will court my Marie?" Catherine asked, wiping at her face.

"Your Marie?" Claire asked, smiling softly.

"Yes, yes I will," Michael declared.

"Marie! You come see!" Catherine shouted from the door.

"But we still looking find us that blue pig," Marie giggled. "John-John, give me my stick. Give it here. John-John, I ain't playing."

John-John, I come out there," Catherine warned.

A moment later, Marie came tapping into the cabin. Catherine grabbed Marie's other hand and pulled the blind woman to the table.

Michael looked again at her long beautiful blonde hair. Michael looked at Marie's simple dress, the way the dress stretched taut across her substantial breasts. He could even make out her nipples, the very nubs that brought a woman pleasure, that suckled an infant with life giving nourishment. Her hips stretched the material of her garment, full, womanly hips.

Her face was a beautiful face, an innocent face. Michael stared at Marie's soft blue eyes, full lips and nodded in approval.

"Marie? Michael, the Reverend here, he got something ask you," Henry said.