Deacon Underground

By Doug Ball

The Deacon, son of a now dead phony revival preacher, continues to struggle with challenges that conflict with all he believes and holds dear. The U. S. Army wants him to spy, a mine is being robbed, a man dies from wounds inflicted by person or persons unknown, Evelyn is kidnapped, Evelyn has a warrant out for her arrest on a charge of murder, he is being stalked, and it's all about gold.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Doug Ball
• Release date: May 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370475780

Doug Ball

Born in California and raised in Arizona. Grew to love the west at a young age while growing up in a blue collar home. Never knew we were kinda poor until I was 21 and making more money than my dad. Dad and mom were still raising three of my siblings. It was a shocker. I joined the navy after high school to get out of school and promptly went to over 2 years of technical schools. Rode submarines for 20 years and retired. Went back to school and earned a D. Min. while I pastored a couple of small town churches full of great people. My big dream in life was to be a cowboy and own a ranch. Santa never brought me a horse. At 37 I bought a horse and a ranch and lived my dream. I started writing at 39 and sold a few pieces to Mother Earth News, Countryside, and Arizona Magazine, along with many others. Wrote my first book and quit mailing out that western after 47 rejections. Nobody ever read it. That western is BLOOD ON THE ZUNI which has all five star reviews to date. Got the itch and kept writing. I recommend GENTLE REBELLION. It is the story of the life I wished I could live for years. I wrote it in my head on many a mid-watch at sea. PS. Sea horses are no fun to ride.

Book preview

The DEACON

UNDERGROUND

1

They call me Deacon, but Evelyn calls me Daniel.

There are many reasons for me being called Deacon, but being the son of the phoniest preacher in the west got me started. That’s the big umbrella. The finer points you will have to figure out on your own.

I hate the name, Deacon. I hate the killing that goes with it. I hate need for people like the Deacon. I love the God that gave me the gift to be the Deacon. There is joy even in hating evil, and that’s what I do. Hate evil, that is.

Evelyn and I were just finishing a series of meetings under the tent in Flagstaff, Arizona, a ways south and east of the Grand Canyon, which was becoming the place to go on vacation if you had the money. The results of the meetings were mixed. Some folks caught on to their need for Jesus and others didn’t. It being December, it was too cold to baptize anyone which left us with the invitation to all who desired baptism to return in June when the weather warmed up. Evelyn gave them the dates we’d be there, good Lord willing, right after I announced the situation and she sang her last song, a heart rending arrangement of ‘The Wondrous Cross.’ The choir from the local Methodist Church accompanied by the Fire House Brass Band assisted the crowd’s exit with their version of ‘Silent Night.’

I sat myself down on the edge of the platform at the front of the tent near a wood burning stove. One of the three folks that stayed behind asked, Why can we not get baptized now?

I cannot take the cold water in the stream. I cramp up something fierce when my legs hit that cold, cold water. Even in June, with the water running down off the mountains here, I will have problems.

We could use a tin horse trough and heat up the water on the stove right here.

Evelyn, remind me to look for a tin horse trough tomorrow morning. I turned back to the man, Check back with me tomorrow afternoon and we’ll see what we can do.

He stood to leave, Will do. Until tomorrow afternoon, Deacon.

As he walked away, I said, I thank you for your suggestion. If I can find a tin trough, we may just begin a revolution in baptizing, and my name is Daniel.

Evelyn and I damped down the fire and, as we usually did, walked across the road and through the trees to a café that stayed open all night due to the shift workers at the lumber mill getting off at all hours and cowboys wandering the streets from bar to saloon and back to bar all night long.

Go easy on the spending, Daniel. The bucket had little in it.

It isn’t about the money, Evelyn.

I know, but we can’t eat more than we can pay for. That would not be what the Lord would want us to do.

The waitress walked up just as we sat down, What can I get you? Boss said it was on the house for you two tonight. He saw how much was in the bucket when he left the tent.

Tell him thank you and bring us two plates full of whatever you need to get rid of, I said.

I looked at Evelyn and smiled.

So much for the bucket. Next thing I know you’ll be getting rid of the bucket all together. We don’t pass it any more. We don’t even mention it any more. All we do is put a two bit piece in the bottom of the empty bucket each night and see what the Lord provides.

We ain’t gone hungry yet, have we?

It’s ‘we haven’t gone hungry’ and not ‘we ain’t’. She had been trying to get me to talk proper for the last three months since our episode in Denver where dad was killed.

Yup, my daddy was a preacher, a phony preacher, one of the best phony preachers. He was a womanizer and a drunk, died in a barroom fight over a woman, a saloon gal. I was already filling in for him as the phony kid preacher when all of a sudden one night it wasn’t phony anymore. I believed what I was preaching and what I had been hearing dad preach for all my years.

Evelyn opened the show for dad and continued to sing for me. She lived in the caravan wagon and I slept underneath with canvas skirting all around the only thing between me and the weather. It was cold under there in December in Northern Arizona Territory.

If I couldn’t find a tin trough, tomorrow night would be our last service in Flagstaff. We’d be moving to Phoenix the next day if the roads were passable. There had been no snow so far this winter, and I was hoping it would stay that way until we got all the way down to Phoenix. Evelyn didn’t want to travel for a couple more weeks.

Christmas was less than two weeks away.

I had been teasing her that she was afraid that Santa wouldn’t find her on the road. She told me that Santa wouldn’t find me no matter where we were. I said, That’ll be fine with me. Ain’t nothin’ out there I want no how. I loved to hit her with my best dumb guy talk.

You know I really dislike it when you talk like you have no education. You are smarter than that. Matter of fact, I’m out of here, she got up and left, out the back door.

I was a bit startled until I remembered the only thing out there was the privy.

There was no tin water trough to be found in town. The nearest thing was a number 2 washtub and that would only be good for a two year old. I did find a rancher who had one 22 miles away and could bring it in the next time he was out there. I asked, When you goin’ out there, next?

He replied, Come spring.

That bein’ the case, I’d say there won’t be any baptisms until spring. I thanked him and left.

We did a last service that evening, saying goodnight and goodbye to a bunch of new friends. First thing next morning, around 10 AM because of Evelyn’s desire to sleep in, we headed for the south country. Three hours of daylight wasted.

During the night I had gotten the feeling that God wanted us to go through Prescott and do a couple of days there. Me and Dad had been there many years ago when I was around eight years old and I remember Dad telling me that Prescott was the cheapest collection of folks he had ever preached to, and them having pockets full of gold nuggets from their mines and all, he always added.

I figured it was just they saw through the phoniest preacher they had ever heard.

2

The trip was long and getting a 15 mile day was a bit tough. That caravan was a heavy wagon, what with the tent and all our life’s possessions. Water was a mite scarce along the way, so we had a forty gallon water barrel on each side. Them six horses earned their keep working four at a time pulling, with the other two tied on behind. My riding horse, Solomon, had once belonged to the man that killed my Dad and had some uncanny abilities I wasn’t too sure were normal in a horse. The dog we didn’t worry about one bit. I never had named that dog because I felt he was God’s dog and not mine.

Prescott had grown a bit since the last time I’d been there, but it wasn’t as big as it would get. The town was mostly referred to as Fort Whipple at that point in time although some folks were trying to end the rule of the Army in the town. Anyhow, the main drag was dirt with ruts a foot deep half filled with the constantly blowing dust. The only green to be seen were a few evergreens and small patches of weeds and grass (maybe) near the water troughs where water splashed or just plain leaked to the ground. All in all it was a dull place without a lot going on at mid-afternoon, an ugly town in a beautiful setting what with the mountains and all.

We set up camp on a flat spot next to Willow Creek, a couple of miles from the fort but near a camp filled with miners. No fewer than six miners left the comfort of their fires to come help us set up as soon as they saw Evelyn get off the seat of the caravan. Each of them was eager to make her acquaintance in this woman starved Territory of Arizona. It took us no time at all to set up the tent, complete with side flaps, as Evelyn walked among the workers telling each of them what a strong man he was and how fast he was getting the work done. By sundown we stoked up a couple of fires inside the tent and hired a young man to beat the drum and shout the word out to the camp as he walked through it advertising the preaching that evening. I could hear his voice yelling the particulars as I sat with my Bible on my knees watching the smoke rise and exit the tent through the holes at the peaks where the two tall poles exited the tent.

Three hours later the service was over and the tent was empty. A cold wind rattled the curtains and the loose parts of the main top bringing me to the decision to sleep with all my blankets near one of the fires inside the tent. It would be much warmer than the underside of the caravan.

I awoke to an icy morning and the sensation someone was in the tent with me. Evelyn, is that you with my morning coffee? It was a joke. She never brought me coffee.

No, a rough, deep voice responded.

I took a peek. Shined black boots wrapped around the bottoms of two legs which had yellow strips down blue wool.

Who are you? I asked.

Sergeant Rance Holcourt. A company. U.S. Cavalry. The Captain wants to see you.

The sun isn’t even fully up, Sergeant.

Reveille was over an hour ago, Mr. Fount.

I heard the sound of workers taking down the tent and Evelyn’s strong voice directing them.

I’ll meet you at the caravan in two swishes of a broom tailed nag.

Dumb way of putting that, Mr. Fount. Or, should I call you, Deacon?

I prefer Daniel.

The Sergeant turned and left me laying there in the quilts. I saw the sides begin to sag and figured I’d better get a move on or I would be under all that canvas as it came down. Stop dropping things until you make sure these fires are dead out or you’ll burn the tent. I was yelling as I hopped into my work pants and rough shirt.

Stomping into my boots, I hobbled to the water buckets near this fire and, once my boots were on, dumped the water on the coals. A few hisses and tendrils of smoke answered my actions. The coals died faster as I stirred the remnants into the water until there was no more heat and I could hold my hand on the iron. I trotted to the other fire which did nothing when doused with the water in the buckets beside it and then ran through the side door into the open, below freezing air.

How did I know it was freezing? Two ways. First my body felt it and second the water in the last bucket had a skim of ice. It doesn’t take a genius.

Just as I exited the tent the lift ropes were released and the canvas hit the dirt. I turned to watch more than twenty men finish unlacing the side panels under Evelyn’s direction as another ten men started the folding and rolling of the big top. It always came down faster than it went up.

I felt a hand on my arm, Right this way, Daniel. The Sergeant was persistent.

We walked down to the creek where I could see two horses and some blue in front of one of them. Who’s that down there?

The Captain.

What’s he want with me?

He’ll tell ya.

Just a wealth of information, aren’t you?

Yup. That’d be me.

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

I walked up to the man standing with the horses, I’m Daniel.

Thank you for coming.

Did I have a choice?

Yes and no. Yes, you could have refused. No, you are needed.

How’s that work?

Let me tell you.

Go ahead. I pulled up a soft rock and listened for more than twenty minutes.

All in all, the Captain needed someone to go amongst the local folks and Indians spying for him. I said, No, and began to walk away.

Wait. You don’t understand.

I stopped and turned around, No, it’s you that doesn’t understand. I am a preacher, not a spy. People either trust me or ignore me. If I betray them in any little way, I am going against all that I believe and will lose my credibility as a preacher of the Word.

But, even God said that we were to stand for what is good and righteous. He also said that we were to obey the laws of the land. All I want is information about what’s going on out there. I can’t send troops everywhere, there just aren’t enough.

No, you want me to spy on the folks eking out a living in this barren land and using methods that some politician back in Washington has declared illegal. I just won’t do that.

Obey those put over you.

You have not been put over me. Only God is over me. And, you are asking me to do something that is not to the Glory of God.

This country is about to explode and you argue with me? The Captain’s face was red and his voice was harsh.

If I hear or see evil, what I call evil, I will let you know at my next opportunity. In this country that may take time. Why don’t you get out in the field and learn what’s going on. That bunch down south of here I have already heard of and that was in Flagstaff two weeks ago. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I want to get to a warmer place before the snow falls and closes the road.

Go through Kirkland and that new mining area, Copper Creek, and you’ll be outta the high country and snow with any luck. Next month, don’t bet on it. Oh, and watch out for the riffraff moving into the mining area down there, the Captain said, visibly cooling off.

I have been amongst what you call riffraff. Matter of fact, I’ve been called riffraff. Some of the finest people I know would qualify to be called riffraff. All those riffraff were made in the image of God just like you. Maybe, some folks just need a silver spoon or two to get out of that group. I turned to walk away, Now, if you’ll excuse me.

I stopped and said, "Oh, I’ve never seen a silver spoon.

There’s a warrant out for Miss Daisy from Wichita. She killed a soldier there, or at least that’s what the warrant says. It’s federal.

And?

I will have to arrest her if I find her.

And, if I don’t do your bidding, you’ll find her.

Seems reasonable.

Send at least a squad and don’t let the Sergeant there lead them. I’d hate to shoot a wealth of information like him.

I walked a few more steps.

The Sergeant stepped in front of me. You ain’t leavin’ until the Captain says you can go.

My first punch hit him in the gut and my second caught the back of his head as he bent to pray.

I’ll leave when I am ready. I turned to the Captain again, Don’t even try.

Some Christian you are.

Everybody knows what a Christian is supposed to be and I’ll guarantee you that none of them are right. Just think, what if this woman were your mother, or wife?

Is she one of those to you?

Yeah, she’s the only mother I’ve ever known. Her life has been changed by God. He has forgiven her everything. You can have no hold on her. Tell Wichita that Miss Daisy is dead and buried beneath the cross of Calvary.

I’ll lead the squad myself.

Don’t.

Sunrise.

Write home tonight. Now why did I go and say a hateful thing like that.?

3

I turned again and walked away. The Captain kept saying all kinds of stupid stuff behind my back and I made it a point not to hear it.

At dark, we left heading west toward Iron Springs and beyond. I was still so angry I didn’t even pray for forgiveness in being so aggressive toward the Captain and the harsh words I had said. Once we passed the last cabin I remedied that with a long prayer that had me in tears at times. Miss Evelyn just kept driving down the road looking straight ahead.

Sunrise found us parked off the road a