And he took the mantle of Elijah that fell from him, and smote the waters, and said, Where is the LORD God of Elijah? and when he also had smitten the waters, they parted hither and thither: and Elisha went over. – 2 Kings 2:14
I was two days out of Galilee, bound for Gorda, when I heard the rocks call out my name.
Now, I’m not a man that startles easily. Neither the Pinkertons nor the Federal Marshals employ the type of man who’ll jump at shadows. Even so, I’ll admit I may have just a bit when I came around a boulder and heard that voice.
Off in the shadow of the mountain was an old one-room shack, splintered wood weathered near gray. Sitting outside on a porch barely wide enough for his broken-down rocking chair was a twisted old Negro man with curly hair white as a salt pan. I brought my horse around and trotted toward him. He sized me up as I approached, in that measured way I’d seen from those familiar with the violence that one man can visit upon another.
I pulled up in front of him and touched the brim of my hat. “Grandfather. Didn’t quite hear what you said, there.”
“Asked if you were looking for something, son.” He sat back and slapped legs as crooked as a saloon card sharp on Saturday night. “Apologies for not showin’ respect. Damn bones ain’t worked right for years. I’m Ben Aching.”
“You’ve got good eyes. I am. This the road to Gorda?”
“Could be. If that’s where you’re headed.” The corners of his mouth tightened in visible disapproval. “Man like you, I take it you’re heading down for the church supper tonight.”
“Maybe.” The flat tone in his voice was obvious. “Not really the church-going type. They have a bar I could get a bite at?”
“Ha!” He hawked and spat off to the side, spittle raising a puff of dust from the dry ground. “Ain’t the church-goin’ type myself, either. Not anymore, at least. Down there in Gorda, though, it’s church this, church that. The bar’ll be closed. That pastor calls everyone to the church these days, c’ept for me and my granddaughter Lucinda. I’m long past caring about making the trek.”
“Too far for you?”
“Naw. Just a ways down the road and over the ridge. But do you think that bunch ever welcomed us into their polite society? Don’t give me that look, son. Ain’t complainin’. Wouldn’t want to have anything to do with ‘em. Spent my life out here, see. Lost everything along the way.” He smiled wide, showing off pink gums undisturbed by common dentistry. “Including my teeth. Never could eat what other folks eat. The only thing God’s saw fit to leave me was my beard.”
I raised an eyebrow at his bare chin. “Do tell.”
“Ha! Had to shave it all off ‘cause of lice.” He shook his head. “Never had much. So those town folks, they can keep to themselves and their fancy church meals. Let ‘em forget about old Ben and his granddaughter, like they always did. Never needed ‘em, anyway.” His eyes got a wistful, far-away look. “Except maybe when Lucinda used to run into town once a month and buy a sack of cornmeal for my mush. Been a long time since I’ve had even that.”
I rummaged around in my bags and tossed Old Ben a package wrapped in paper. He caught it, a question in his eyes.
“Sourdough. Fresh made in Galilee two days ago. Heat up some butter for it, and it’ll melt in your mouth. You enjoy.”
“Well now. Thank you, sir.” Ben hesitated. “Would you do an old soul a favor? Lucinda headed for town this morning. Should have been back by now. I’d appreciate if you’d keep an eye out for her.”
“I reckon I can do that.” I turned my horse back to the trail.
Ben nodded. “Thank you for paying attention to an old man’s worries. Take care, now. You wait on God’s man, you hear?”
I looked back over my shoulder. “The one down in Gorda?”
“That Pastor Harbaugh?” Ben’s laugh was more a bark of derision. “No. The mantle-bearer.”
I raised an eyebrow, but the old man appeared to have used up his supply of words. He waved me on. I turned away and kicked my horse into motion, heading up the trail to Gorda.
You can find “Benediction in Lead” and nine other stories of men & women settling frontiers that might have been in Wyrd West from Raconteur Press.
I did love this story - it was a fantastic lead in to that volume!