Loaded Guns and Broken Fences [On Hold]

Chapter 35

The church was one of the largest buildings in town, three columns and two aisles wide with six rows of long wooden pews. It was practical in its design, but not at all comfortable.

As the sun rose the temperature had done the same. Add the heat from nearly four dozen people, and it was no wonder that every door and window that could be, was propped open to vent the stifling air.

Milton Becken had never in all his years as the town's pastor had such a difficult time preaching to his congregation. From the empty spaces in the pews to the clear division of who was sitting where--his flock was heartbreakingly fractured.

He cleared his throat and dabbed at the sweat tickling his forehead before continuing.

"For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord. Thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end," he said to a room full of creased brows and ridged frowns.

Abby took what felt like the hundredth glance over her shoulder as she fanned herself. Although she'd spotted Allen right away, Bran and Tom were nowhere to be seen, no matter how many times she checked. The bandage across Allen's left eye was particularly frightening.

She'd locked gazes with Cordelia once from across the aisle, but her stomach twisted from the look on the McGrath's face. Abby felt horrible, but she knew from losing Ben that it was nothing compared to how either of the two warring families had to be feeling. Tears blurred her vision as she fanned her hot face more fervently. She wanted to see Tom...and she wanted to see Bran.

Across the aisle, Betty sat between her two sisters-in-law, Zee and Celly. Both now shared the burden of being widowed. She'd offered Celly stay at home several times, but Celly wouldn't have any of it. Betty admired Celly's strength, but she knew that despite her silent poise, she was close to her limit for heartbreak.

"Let us turn to the grace of God as we face these trying days ahead, and let us look kindly upon ourselves and each other." Pastor Becken cleared his throat. "In Jesus's name, amen."

There was a collective "amen" that echoed from the pews, but for a few minutes after, no one stirred. Then, at the edge of his patience, Leroy Shield stood and kicked at his brother's foot to get him moving. As Willis shifted his weight forward, Albert snapped his fingers at Leroy.

"Sit yer ass down," their uncle whispered. "Let the women leave first."

Albert cast a glance over at Betty and Allen. Only the almighty himself knew how much he would rather have her on his arm with his son at his side at a time like this. The aisle between them might as well have been the Mississippi as he sat there in Robert's place, with his dirty-faced nephews to his right.

Horace patted Albert's wide shoulder from behind as he stood and shepherded his wife, son, and daughter out of the building.

Further up the aisle, Euell and his small family were making their way towards the exit, when the Sheriff was caught by the arm from behind. When Euell turned, his light eyes settled on the face of a well kept and finely dressed young man. One look was all it took for Euell to know he must have been one of Faith's boys.

"Sheriff Atwell, I was wondering if you still needed a deputy?"

"What's your name, son?"

"Brice Overton."

"Brice, aren't you a little young?" Euell asked, aware that he was
fairly young himself for a sheriff. He continued to follow his wife and
daughter towards the door. Unfortunately, it was a slow journey, affording
the young man plenty of time to plead his case.

"I know the law."

"I've no doubt about that. You're one of Faith's boys, aren't you?" Euell had stepped aside with Brice, letting his wife and the others move past them while they spoke. Brice's lips had closed tightly at the mention of his mother, making Euell aware of how correct his assumptions were. "Look, I'm not taking issue with your schooling. I take issue with the fit your mother will have upon finding out."