There was a snicker of laughter from somewhere along to their left, a sound that seemed to come from the general direction of Jim Owsley.
Joshua Wolfe ignored it and carried on speaking. “Nothing for anyone to worry about. If they are pure of heart and fine of spirit, then the Blessed Jesus Christ, Our Savior, will stand at their shoulder and guide them through the gins and snares laid down by the Evil One.”
“Blessed is the light of the world,” called a shrill woman’s voice.
“Amen,” in a scattered chorus from all around the center of the ville.
“Verily, amen to that.” Wolfe put his head to one side, like a quizzical crow. “Enjoy your repast, and give thanks to the Almighty for its preparation.”
“When testing start?” Jak asked, helping himself to another two sourdough rolls.
“This very afternoon, if we can arrange it. I can see that you and the boy will have skills to offer to us. Young men, Brother Lauren and Brother Cawdor, agile and lithe. And I have no doubt that having walked the walk with Brother Ryan Cawdor and Brother Dix will have set you both up for their sort of living.”
Ryan had finished his meal and given the empty plate to one of the women. He felt comfortably full and relaxed, though a little concerned about the state of Doc’s health, which seemed to be still deteriorating.
At least they were in what seemed a snug and secure ville, with warm fires and food and stout walls. If Doc was going to be ill, then there were lots of worse places.
Weren’t there?
Chapter Twenty-One
“Brothers and sisters!”
Joshua Wolfe clapped his right hand against his thigh, drawing everyone’s attention. “After that wonderful meal, provided by the kindness of the Almighty, prepared by the sisterhood, it is time for a short service to welcome the newcomers into our midst.”
Ryan glanced at the others to see if anyone had any obvious objections to the idea of participating in a religious service. Personally he had no sort of belief in any kind of orthodox faith. Trust yourself a lot and your friends a little, and nobody else at all— It was the creed according to the Trader, and Ryan went along with that.
The heavy shutters that had been covering the windows of the squat church of Hopeville had all been thrown back, revealing some surprisingly beautiful stained glass, its bright, rich colors glistening in the early-afternoon sunshine.
Gradually, like fall leaves carried on a light wind, most of the inhabitants of the settlement made their way toward the heavy building, the shadow of its tower stretching across the trodden turf to welcome them.
The overwhelming color was the maroon of the men’s jackets, matched by the blouses and skirts of the women.
Ryan noticed that all of the men carried their blasters with them wherever they went. It was something that he approved of, if it was true that they were in a state of permanent armed conflict with the local Mescalero.
If you met up with hostile Apaches, then you best be carrying all the weapons you could manage. There was no such thing as too many blasters.
Wolfe shepherded them along. “Come, my dear outlanders. You shall face the testing with the love of Jesus Christ as your shield and buckler.”
“Sword,” Doc said, his booming voice sounding unexpectedly loud.
“How’s that, old-timer?” Wolfe asked, his benevolent smile still pasted firmly in place, though Ryan noticed that it didn’t seem to quite reach the slightly thyroid eyes.
Doc coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “My apologies, friends.” He half bowed to the leader of the Children of the Rock. “I simply thought it fit to correct your error, Master Wolfe. That was all.”
“Error? I think you should know that I am not in the habit of making any errors.”
There was a cold edge to the man’s voice, like a hacksaw buried in ice.
“Forgive me, dear sir, but indeed you did. You spoke of shield and buckler, did you not?”
Wolfe hesitated for a moment. The men and women of the ville were all pressed around him, hanging on the exchange. It was all too obvious that it was unusual for anyone to contradict something said by Brother Joshua Wolfe.