The Wayward Preacher

By Fay Risner

Locked Rock, Iowa has a new preacher. Gracie Evans decides the man is way too young and inexperienced to be a preacher for elderly citizens set in their ways. Although, she admits he wasn't too bad at preaching a sermon. It was when he said good bye after church to the congregation, Gracie objected to his familiarity with the unmarried women as they filed out. He latched onto each young woman's hand and kept her talking to him as long as he thought he could get away with it. Gracie complained his behavior wasn't seemly, but Melinda didn't want to hear her bad mouth the preacher. She said so what if he was wife hunting. Nothing wrong with that. Gracie didn't intend to drop her opinion so easily. She vowed to keep an eye on the preacher to keep him from making a fool out of the young women in town. Some mysterious things started happening after Preacher Mayfield arrived that might prove Gracie right. A few young women whispered among their family and friends that their pantaloons disappeared from their bedrooms in the night. Weirder yet, expensive porcelain dolls were found on the porches of the young ladies the preacher flirted with. Dolls that looked just like the young women. All evidence to Gracie that the town's preacher's past should be checked. She just might be right about him being a Wayward Preacher.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fay Risner
• Release date: Mar 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370218035

Fay Risner

Fay Risner lives with her husband on a central Iowa acreage along with their chickens, rabbits, goats and cats. A retired Certified Nurse Aide, she now divides her time between writing books, livestock chores, working in her flower beds, the garden and going fishing with her husband. In the winter, she makes quilts. Fay writes books in various genre and languages. Historical mystery series like Stringbean westerns and Amazing Gracie Mysteries, Nurse Hal's Amish series set in southern Iowa and books for Caregivers about Alzheimer's. She uses 12 font print in her books and 14 font print in her novellas to make them reader friendly. Now her books are in Large Print. Her books have a mid western Iowa and small town flavor. She pulls the readers into her stories, making it hard for them to put a book down until the reader sees how the story ends. Readers say the characters are fun to get to know and often humorous enough to cause the readers to laugh out loud. The books leave readers wanting a sequel or a series so they can read about the characters again. Enjoy Fay Risner's books and please leave a review to make others familiar with her work.

Book preview

The Wayward Preacher

Amazing Gracie Mystery Series

Book Nine

Fay Risner

Cover Art 2017

All Rights Reserved by Author Fay Risner

Published by Fay Risner At Smashwords.com

Copyright 2017

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals are entirely coincidental. Excerpts from this book cannot be used without written permission from the author.

Booksbyfay Publisher

Author, Editor and Publisher Fay Risner

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The Wayward Preacher was the entry in the National November Writing Month contest. I had over the fifty thousand words by November 21, 2016.

For lack of wood the fire goes out and ashes where there is no whisperer, contention quiets down.

Proverbs 26.20

Chapter 1

Sunday afternoons in Locked Rock, Iowa had a way of putting everyone in a catatonic state after they ate a large lunch. At the Locked Rock, Iowa Rest Home For Women, the afternoon routine for the retired women was always the same. At least, when it was warm enough to get outside and sit in their rockers.

No way could the citizens of Locked Rock dream what an elderly woman's suspicions would do to that small town's imagination. Talk about their young preacher liven up the town. The need to repeat unsavory gossip spread like wild grass fires among the women who spent their time hanging over their back fences taking in and spreading rumors. No one bothered to find out what was fact or fiction about the preacher. They were having too much fun.

On one Sunday afternoon at Moser Mansion, Madeline Sayers went upstairs to her room to take a nap. Gracie Evans and Melinda Applegate rocked on the Victorian mansion's long front porch. They both wore heavy woolen sweaters to ward off the cool breeze.

The women agreed the reason for sitting in their rockers was they wanted to enjoy being outside, but usually they didn't rock for long before they both dozed off. That was when nothing of interest was happening in the neighborhood to keep them awake.

This Sunday at the beginning of April, the sky was a serene, clear water blue with fluffy white, mountainous clouds floating along from one end of the porch view to the other. The wind was barely a puff now and then, and the sun beamed down on them. Unless the day changed drastically, the ladies sweaters might be too heavy.

Among the branches of the large, ancient maple tree at the end of the porch, a squirrel set up an angry chatter. He clearly felt Gracie and Melinda were invading his territory. Gracie tried to pick the squirrel out of the small unfurling leaves emerging from the green buds, but she failed. He was too well hidden except for his irritating bark.

Shut up, squirrel. You're making too much noise with all that jabbering, shouted Gracie in her coarse voice, waving her fist at the tree top.

Must you shout at the poor little animal? He has a right to his say, defended Melinda, smoothing the wrinkles out of her black cotton skirt.

Gracie had a crawly feeling in her hair like an early fly was sneaking under the long, dark gray braid she wound around her head. Although it might be sweat trickling along her scalp. She patted the braid, hoping that would take care of the problem. Reckon. It's sure warm for the fifth of April, Gracie complained, thinking she should change the subject.

Uh huh, Melinda said in her soft voice and leaned her head back against her rocker. She closed her eyes. You know what they always say. Just wait a day in Iowa, and the weather will change. After all, it's early in the spring season. We could be shivering out here in our coats or stuck in the hot stuffy parlor watching something as exciting as the logs in the fireplace burn.

Might be, but I always have hope that the weather stays this way. It became spring the twenty first of March. Besides, I saw a robin yesterday in the back yard which gives me another reason to hope for an early spring, Gracie continued.

One robin doesn't make spring a sure thing the first part of April or even at the end of April. It just might mean he doesn't have the sense to stay put a while longer, Melinda predicted, mashing her silver curls as she turned her head to view Gracie for her next comment.

Maybe, but March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb. That might be one sign, Gracie retorted with a shrug. When the temperature is this warm this early makes me think we will have a hot summer.

Might at that and dry too, conceded Melinda, brushing bread crumbs out of the lace down the front of her white blouse.

Have you noticed the daffodils and tulips are peeking through the ground. The flowers know what time of year it is, Gracie said.

Melinda shook her head in agreement. "I noticed, and I can hardly wait to see colors of flowers in the yard and not white snow. I know it means the gardens will get planted early this year. Gardeners will take their chances and cover up the tender plants with sheets if a late frost seems about to happen.

Did you hear this morning at breakfast when Malachi Washington told Miss Molly he was ready to buy his garden seed? He won't work on the Sabbath but wait until in the morning. I'm willing to bet you he'll be working in the garden right after he goes to Strummer's hardware store to buy his bulk seeds."

I reckon that's right, but I sure hope Emil Strummer has new seed in by now. If he tries to sell last year's seed to Malachi Washington and his other customers, the seed might not come up good, Gracie surmised.

It would be heartbreaking to Malachi if he had a bad garden. He takes such pride in his garden and what it raises. Not a weed to be found all summer long, Melinda declared.

Might not hurt if we warned Malachi to ask if the seed is this year's seed before he buys it, Gracie said.

That is a good idea, Melinda agreed. If we don't forget we should tell him about that in the morning over breakfast.

That's a long time to wait. I might forget by then. Sure wish Malachi would be here to eat supper with us, Gracie said.

Now don't wish away Malachi's free time with his friends. He misses dear old Pearlbee so much since she passed. Being with his friends is the best medicine for him, Melinda scolded.

Say you reckon he has a girlfriend is why he stays all night somewhere? Gracie asked.

Oh, Gracie, you know better. Don't be starting that rumor and embarrassing Malachi. Why just thinking about such a thing makes me blush. If you were to mention that to anyone, someone would be sure to ask him if he has a lady friend. It would make him feel awful embarrassed, Melinda scolded.

I didn't intend to ask the man outright. Would you like to go for a walk and work off the big dinner Agnes fed us? Gracie asked.

No, not now anyway. It's too nice right here, Melinda answered. Resting her head back on her rocker, she swayed slowly back and forth.

Gracie rubbed the arm of her rocker as she thought. What did you think of our new preacher and his sermon today?

The man has a name, Gracie. Preacher John Mayfield gives a fine sermon every Sunday. You should quit calling him the new preacher. He isn't exactly new. He has been here since last fall, Melinda reminded her.

He is a might too young to be a preacher for my tastes so that makes him new all the way around in my book, scoffed Gracie.

Melinda rolled her head to the side again to stare at Gracie. Her eyes landed on a wisp of dark gray hair Gracie hadn't stuck in her braid when she wound it around the top of her head. Do you actually think all preachers start preaching when they're in their fifties like Reverend Whitestone. He had been a preacher for years so he had to be young when he started.

Nope, Preacher Whitestone wouldn't have been so good at his job if he hadn't started young and got plenty of experience. I know that about all preachers. I just wish we had Preacher Whitestone back. We had taken messages from him for a long time. I was used to him.

Gracie, you shouldn't complain. After all, Preacher Mayfield and Preacher Whitestone are on the same side. I'm sure everyone in church would agree they liked Preacher Whitestone, but he moved on. We're lucky to find another preacher so soon after he left.

I'd feel much better about this preacher if he was married and more settled with a home life. He has one very bad habit I don't like. He won't let go of the hand of every available, single, young girl in town that goes to church. I'm surprised some of the mothers haven't complained by now, Gracie said.

Oh, Gracie! Those girls are of marrying age. I reckon their mothers are delighted by the attention the girls get from any young male especially a preacher. They probably think the preacher is as good a catch in this town as the girls ever will get as far as husband material goes, Melinda declared and yawned.

Mothers might ought to be more cautious about watching who flirts with their daughters. It might look more seemly on his part if he just picked out one girl, but he flirts with all of them, Gracie groused. How would you like it if you were the one he flirted with, and you took a liking to him? Later on, you find out he flirts with all the other girls in town too.

If that's the case may the best girl win, Melinda said, grinning.

Well, speak of the devil! Look whose coming this direction, Gracie hissed as she watched a young man with sandy hair and of average built saunter toward them with his hands in his black trouser pockets.

Melinda looked south and saw Preacher Mayfield walking along their street. Gracie, stop being so sacrilegious. I'm glad to see he has taken his suit jacket off and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He looks less daunting as a preacher that way.

The preacher was strolling down the middle of the street, taking his time while he looked around him. He stopped across the street to study the vacant lot next to Earl and Sara Bullock's house.

Preacher Mayfield waved at Earl Bullock smoking his pipe on the stoop. He had his chambray shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a sign he was warm. Good afternoon, Marshal.

And a good afternoon to you too, Preacher Mayfield, Earl replied and puffed a few tiny clouds of smoke up and away. He took the pipe out of his mouth so he could speak. Out for a walk, hey?

Yes, the weather is so nice I thought I might start my visitation times with this afternoon, the preacher shared and kept moving.

Oh, oh, that means he's probably headed here, Gracie groused.

Hush, he might hear you. So what if he comes to visit, Melinda whispered. That's part of his job.

When Preacher Mayfield reached the mansion gate, he opened it and came in. Good afternoon, ladies. I hope I'm not disturbing you with my visit this fine afternoon.

We were just talking about that, Gracie said gruffly.

When the preacher gave her a quick observation, Melinda said hastily, Not at all, Preacher Mayfield, we're always glad to see you. Aren't we, Gracie?

Sure we are, Gracie said with less enthusiasm.

That's good to know. Mind if I sit down on the edge of the porch and take the weight off my feet? The preacher asked.

Not at all, but why don't you sit in one of the empty rockers. That's what they're here for when we have company, Melinda offered.

That sounds like a fine idea, the preacher said, going past Melinda to the other end of the porch. He eased into a rocker and immediately rocked back and forth. I love to rock. I'd say you two ladies have the right idea. This is a really pleasant way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Gracie grunted. And every other day of the week too as long as we don't have anything better to do.

Yes, well you couldn't find a better, more quiet place to rest, the preacher said. You two mind, when I'm looking for a quiet place to relax, if I come over here and sit in this rocker?

Of course not. It's yours any time you want it, Melinda said with a giggle.

I haven't taken the time do my weekly visits or to get to know about this town until now. When I came last fall, the weather turned bad so fast, I found it easier to wait for spring. Tell me about your neighborhood, ladies. I see that Moser Mansion takes up almost half a block it looks like. Who lives next door to you?

The Hopwood sisters, Sandra and Lacy, Melinda said.

Oh, right. They are members of my congregation as well, aren't they? He asked.

Gracie nodded. Yes, they are.

Preacher Mayfield pointed at the spot across the street. I couldn't help but notice the vacant lot across the street. What happened to the house?

It burned down after the murder, Gracie replied as if the statement was a common place event in town.

My word! A murder here in town, the preacher said aghast.

Yes, actually one of several. The murder across the street was a lady of the evening that bought the house. She was here most of a year, and we never knew how she made her money. She let on like she came from a wealthy family in northern Iowa. At least, we didn't know until she was murdered exactly what she did for a living, Melinda amended.

Now you know that isn't completely right, Gracie added. The days were hot that summer, and we stayed on the porch after dark, waiting for our bedrooms to cool down. We did see some men going in a side door between Earl and Sara Bullock's house and hers. We knew those married men shouldn't have been so friendly with that young girl in the night.

The preacher made clucking sounds and shook his head. Who lives in the house on the other side of the Bullocks?

That house belonged to the killer of the lady of the evening, Gracie said, wondering how the preacher would take her revelation.

So close to that poor, unfortunate woman and your house. Praise the Lord, I'm glad they caught the man that did such a terrible act of violence, the preacher said.

Wasn't a man. It was a woman, Gracie revealed, enjoying the preacher's stunned look.

Preacher Mayfield's eyebrows shot up. Have mercy on her soul, Lord. A woman you say.

Mavis needed a whole bunch of mercy. She was hung for the killing at the county seat. Made for plenty of talk since this county had never hung a woman before, Melinda explained.

The thought that one of their neighbors killed another was hard for the preacher to comprehend. This is a small, quiet town. How can such awful crimes happen here? Why would one woman kill another and a neighbor at that?

Melinda's face flushed red. Maybe we should not go into it now. It's old history.

Gracie had no trouble filling the preacher in on the ending of the story. Reckon Preacher Mayfield just wants to get to know about Locked Rock. The story is simple, Preacher. The lady of the evening living that close was exactly why Mavis Jordan killed her. She'd have killed her own husband if he hadn't disappeared as quick as he did. Now do you see the reason? Gracie asked.

The preacher was quiet a moment. His face flushed almost as red as Melinda's when he realized what Gracie was telling him. Oh yes, I do see. He felt it best to hurriedly change the subject. Who lives in the house now?

My nephew, Jeffery Applegate, and his wife, Moxie, bought the house when it went up for sale. Moxie is Molly Lang's best friend," Melinda said.

It must be nice for you with them living so close. the preacher said.

It is, but we don't see nearly as much out of that couple as we would like. Between Jeffery's job as bookkeeper at the feed mill, and Moxie working as the librarian at the new library, they stay pretty busy, Melinda complained.

As with most young couples these days that have to work. Their names don't ring a bell. Does the couple go to our church? He asked.

Melinda ducked her head and said quietly, No, so far they haven't gone to church since they married.

Well, maybe I should drop by and invite them myself, the preacher said, rubbing his hands together as if he had won a jackpot.

That would be nice,