“I trust your Christian judgment in keeping the safety of your guests.” Terence closed his eyes and immediately fell into a deep sleep.
V. The river border provides a means of escape and contemplation
Eliphaz discovered the sled trail just before midday. Philip hadn’t known much, but he’d known Terence’s starting point. He had screamed it into the night sky prior to his untimely demise. The information had provided the genesis of the Crusader’s search.
Eliphaz and his soldiers tracked Terence’s egress from Havasu to the mine shaft. From the mine, the sled trail was an easy pick. It ran a straight line through sand and brush alike. The trail ended abruptly at one of the desert’s numerous rock hills.
Eliphaz looked to the hill and the trail and the bits rock. His heart told him this was a dead end. He found the palm fronds stacked in a woyote den, safe from the wind.
“Comb the hill for signs of a camp, then circle the hill for an exit trail.” He commanded his men.
“Where did I lose them?” He whispered to himself.
Pious doused Terence with the pitcher of water.
Terence groaned and spat and rolled to his feet. His body ached. Terence’s blurred vision cleared to find Lead awake and sitting on the other side of the room. His wrists and ankles were still bound. Fever sweat glistened on his face and chest. Pious sat in a chair with the ax across his lap.
“Keep your hands out of your pockets, sir. I don’t want to commit error and if you reach for your gun I will strike you dead,” Pious said. “Your bound mumbles in fever about being a Preacher, you don’t talk like one. I’ll have the truth or both your lives with God as my witness. Are you a Preacher?”
Terence knelt and placed his palms on the hardwood floor. “Does it matter? You’ve taken us in. We were both Preachers but now we’re not. The men who pursue us are Crusaders. We are at odds with the Church who’ll see us as goodmen or dead or both.”
The news landed heavily on Pious. He stood and shifted the ax from hand to hand, not sure what to do next.
”I’ve sinned in giving you aid,” Pious said.
“That’s true, and I’m sorry for it,” Terence replied.
Pious looked around his house like a trapped animal.
“Be calm, son. I’ve meant you no harm in coming but know the harm I’ve brought. Listen to my words and take them as wisdom. Leave us here. Get yourself to the Havasu Parish in all haste and confess to the Pastor that you were tricked by a man claiming to be a Preacher. Tell them that we left heading south, for our trail leaving here will be in that direction. Tell them that you were forced to feed us under arms, for I am armed. Do this now and live a good life, for if the Crusaders find you here with us your life will surely be forfeit.”
Pious circled Terence, keeping frightened eyes on him until he reached the front door.
“I wish you Godspeed and forgiveness sirs. May your sins be resolved swiftly,” Pious said and backed out of door, the early sun shone behind his head a yellow cloudless sky. Pious flung his ax into a patch of tumbleweed, and ran towards Havasu Parish.
Lead drifted in and out of dreams. His body radiated heat that refused to cool in early morning air. Dirt coated his chest and arms thick, like a tailored shirt. Terence tipped flat warm water into his mouth. Droplets ran down Lead’s chest, streaking the layers of dirt.
“We need to go now.” Terence whispered as he untied the binds. “Can you rise up, Preacher?”
“Lead, my name is Lead.” Lead leaned his shoulder against the wall and forced his legs to hold up his body.
Terence wrapped the remaining steaks in plastic bags and stuffed them into a knapsack. He pilfered a jar of water from the pantry and a trench coat from the bedroom.
“We’re going to the South Storm Boarder.” Terence said, throwing the coat to Lead.
Lead heard the words but did not comprehend them. His concentration was dedicated to holding his body up against the cabin wall. Lead draped the trench coat over his shoulders and pulled his arms through the sleeves. Terence looped Lead’s arm around his neck and pulled him away from the wall. The two hobbled into the furnace heat of the desert.
Lead’s mind took him to a blissful place away from reality. He saw everything from afar, detached, floating in light winds while his body plodded along.
The sun shone warm. Distant lines of smoke gave proof of far away domiciles. Terence dragged Lead to the dry banks of the Colorado River. The river waters cut through the desert brush and layers of baked clay and mud. Terence dropped Lead onto the riverbed clay. He sat and caught his wind and scanned the riverbank for floatable logs.
Lead’s body burned and ached with fever. The wound in his shoulder was puckered and runny. Red lines crawled across his chest, reaching for his heart like demon’s fingers. The coolness of wet clay brought Lead back to reality.
“Where are we going?” He whispered.
“I know a healer not far from here. You need medicine.” Terence held his hand to Lead. “The water’s close.”
Lead took the hand and regained his feet. They stumbled to the river’s edge. The waters shown yellow from shallow mud and the sky reflected like filthy glass. Sun bleached logs stood like teeth and marked high tides lines of favorable days.
Terence tied a rawhide loop around one of the driftwood logs and rolled it into the current. He tied his knapsack to a branch on the dry side and the two waded in. Terence guided Lead’s arm through the hoop.
“Don’t let go of the log,” Terence said.
Terence and Lead drifted towards the deep center of the river. The water was blood warm; it cleansed Lead’s skin and soothed his wound. The edges of Lead’s trench coat floated around him. His mind envisioned fish nipping at his boots.
The two floated south with the current. They passed through a canyon cut by older, stronger waters and glaciers before that. Lead stared at the canyon’s edge, at the silhouettes of boulders and brush. A mountain goat looked down at him, strong and unmoving.
“They’re beautiful because they can live on anything.” Terence said, looking at the same creature. “They lived here before we did, they’ll be here when we’re gone.”
Lead nodded off, the infection tapped his strength. Warm waters embraced him. He awoke coughing and sputtering, having dipped too low. The sun’s placement showed the time to be late afternoon. Terence floated next to him, both hands holding his knapsack over the water.
“Fall asleep again under water and you’ll wake in the Lord’s arms.” Terence said with grin.
“What do you know of the Lord?” Lead said. “You’re a Church deserter. The Church gave you Cain’s Mark. You are a sinner.”
Terence contemplated. The river current crackled. Stunted trees and shrubs at the river’s edge nodded with wind.
“Yes, but my sin wasn’t against God. My sin was against the Church. Church and God ain’t the same thing. From what I know, God’s perfect. The Church makes mistakes.” Terence kicked his feet to straighten the log in the current. “God’s about order, Church is about power, as best as I can figure, to be against one is not to be against the other.”
One of his Lead’s boots scraped against a river stone. He put his other arm through the rawhide loop.
“The word of God comes through the Church. If the Church were wrong, God would smite the Church and find a new hand to do his will,” Lead said.
Terence laughed. “By God! The great contradiction, if the Church is wrong, then God would fix the Church, yeah? But what about free will? God granted us free will; or rather we took free will when we ate from the Tree of Knowledge.”