The Gamble

Prologue

E’en grave divines submit to glittering gold

The best of consciences are bought and sold

Dr. Wolcot

One skeletal horse and two mules, whose belly skin hung like grey sacks from their shrunken flesh, heroically pulled the pilgrim’s wagons across the arid landscape. Ever so slowly, the train crawled past graveyards of rotting corn whose scarecrows stood like sentinels over the end of life. Above the pilgrims bent heads, the only witness to the abject misery of those pitiful souls shuffling below was the relentless scorching sun. Each footfall or turn of a wagon wheel stirred up a suffocating red dust to further sear their already parched throats.

Joshua constantly scanned the sky in the vain hope that the clouds on the horizon wispy as cotton candy would build into something more substantial. He’d lost track of time. One miserable day just melted into another.

Chapter One

Rockford, Illinois, 1860: With his fists clenched at his sides he paced back and forth outside the cottage. Tied to a nearby hitching post his mount stood munching on sour grass, saddled and ready. The walker startled at a sound close by and turned to see the boy cowering behind a large bush of dogwood. He gave chase, but before he could get to him the child had disappeared running into a copse of copper beech that grew behind the building. With a weary sigh he came back to the roadside and sat down heavily on the grass verge with his head resting on his hands. Perspiration beaded his brow, while inside his taut body desperation twisted and tightened his gut. How could she do this to him? Expect him to make an impossible choice. Didn’t he already feel trapped by one and desperate for the other? She said it was quite simple. Well, maybe on the surface it looked that way, but gambling was an appetite, a voracious craving that demanded to be satisfied. He wished like hell he’d never tasted the thrill of that first big win, or the sapping malaise of an empty purse that could miraculously be lifted by another game of chance. He’d gotten by when he was playing the mid– west because then he could come back to Rockford fairly regularly. But, like a stupid fool he’d broken the rules and overplayed several saloons within close proximity, allowing his face to become too familiar, his game too easy to read. A recent close call with a sore loser and the small matter of a derringer waved under his nose, left him in no doubt, it was time to leave the north. He’d heard the riverboats and small town saloons of the Deep South were lush with wealthy landowners just waiting to have their pockets emptied. His fingers itched at the possibilities. But Ruby didn’t see it that way. She refused to bring the boy and come with him, instead she kept insisting that he stay in Rockford and look for work. He took one last look at the orderly flower beds and lush lawns of the rented cottage and let out a loud expletive. As he was mounting his horse Ruby came rushing down the path waving her arm in his direction.

We’ll not be waiting this time, James Thomas, she screamed after him as he kicked his horse into a gallop. The wind picked up her long hair whipping it around her face. She screamed out with frustration, dashing away stubborn tears and reached for the boy’s hand, but he resisted, standing firm. So she left him, and went back inside. She was angry but resolute. For too long she’d put up with her husband’s selfish ways. Tired of being impoverished, both emotionally and financially, she was determined they’d survive without him. Her well tended garden she would miss, but not the small minded individuals that inhabited the town or the tatty rented cottage, would she give a second thought. From a drawer in the dresser she located a small leather purse and counted out eighty silver dollars. Certainly not a fortune but it would be enough. Seven year old Joshua ran from his hiding place and went to stand in the middle of the dusty road. He listened until the staccato of galloping hooves faded into the distance. Until the wind stirred dust clogged his nostrils and dried the snot he’d wiped across his cheek. What if he never heard his father’s laugh again? Or stood on his big boots while he danced around the room, faster and faster, until he, giddy and giggling, puked, what then? With one last longing look, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and ambled up the short pathway kicked open the door and fell into his mother’s arms.

The next day two women from the church came to call. Ruby provided treacle cookies and sweet lemonade. Joshua sat on a high stool by the window dividing his time between watching for his father and listening to their chatter.

We were so sorry to hear about your predicament, Ruby, said the plump one as she shuffled another biscuit between her thin lips.

Ruby sighed, deeply and wiped her brow. Although it pains me to admit it, Mrs Conway, my husband is a weak man, a selfish, foolish gambler.

I believe he’s been seen heading south? said the old one with a sniff of disdain.

Yes, I doubt we will see him again in this lifetime. Ruby said taking out a plain cotton kerchief and dabbing away at her eyes. She glanced over at Joshua then leant in to whisper to the women. Joshua heard her say.

While I appreciate your concern, ladies, I’m quite sure my son and I will be better off without him, quite sure.

"Preacher Hardy has decided to leave for Lafayette over in

Indiana, Ruby. Many of us are planning to go with him. We leave first light on the twelfth. Perhaps you should consider joining us."

Joshua bawled into his pillow every night for six months. In all that time Ruby never once mentioned his father, and he never asked.

* * *

15 years later…Lafayette, Indiana.

The doctor’s face was grim as he closed the gate and climbed aboard his wagon. Back inside the main bedroom of the modest manse Ruby sat in the stifling heat beside her dying husband’s bed fanning her face with a silver threaded fan, a gift from her long lost first husband James, and sighed. Jasper had been at death’s door for days. She’d taken to thinking back on her own life while she waited for him to end his. Without doubt Jasper Hardy, her second husband, was the complete opposite to James Thomas, her first. In fact Jasper was a perfect husband; he was well respected and held a good position in the church. They weren’t rich, but then they weren’t exactly impoverished. Her son Joshua had received an excellent education from the elderly churchman and for that alone she would be forever grateful. With a small endowment hidden in a hatbox on the top of her wardrobe and Joshua about to take Jasper’s place, her future, while not rosy, was secure. She leant over as Jasper with a loud rattle breathed his last. Smoothing down the counterpane with gentle fingers she closed her husband’s sightless eyes before jumping to her feet and throwing open the windows.

Four days later after the funeral when the last of the mourners had left, she stood by the window looking out proudly on her flourishing garden. She spied a grey rabbit casually loping across the lawn heading for her vegetable patch. Darn she cursed, once Joshua had assured her he would succeed Jasper she would purchase a Jack Russell to take care of that blasted rabbit and any other vermin that dared to threaten her domain.

Joshua stood for a moment leaning against the doorway and studied his mother before entering the room. Despite the fact that her mane of auburn hair was in middle age streaked with grey, and fine lines furrowed her brow above deep set blue eyes, she was still a beautiful woman. Although she was in full mourning she still held her head high, still oozed that nonchalant self confidence. A confidence, some would say he had inherited.

You wanted to talk, Ma, he said coming over to lay his arm lightly across her shoulders.

You know what you must do, son.

Ma, even if the council appoints me, I’m not sure it’s what I want.

You’ve been trained to take his place, Joshua. Ever since we arrived in this grubby little town all those years ago, I have thought of nothing else but this for you, she pursed her lips, shook off his arm and went to sit down at the small dining table.

Ma, I’m a grown man. I have a wife and a babe to consider. A post in the military would provide me with a good salary. With my education, I might even get a commission.

Get away from that simpering wife of your’s, more like.

Ma, this has nothing to do with Catherine, he sighed. I have enjoyed being Jasper’s deputy, but taking on the leadership, that’s a whole different story.

Where do you expect your wife and daughter to live while you are away playing soldier?

Joshua coloured. I had thought with you, Ma.

With me, her laugh was hollow, after we’ve been kicked out of here for the new leader. Without the stipend Jasper received I am penniless, son. She lied, and, I’m sure your meagre military salary wouldn’t stretch to cover rent on a large house.

You’re right, of course it wouldn’t. he sighed sitting down opposite her.

Son, I don’t want to put pressure on you. But I know for a fact that Shadrack is wooing the council. But if you show interest, as Jasper’s deputy, the vote will naturally go to you.

That did it. Even if he’d not already made up his mind, that obnoxious sod Shadrack was never going to be leader. Leaving her sitting there he walked out into the garden and sat down on the wooden bench under the dayroom window where he could hear Charity cooing and giggling in her cot. It was warm, so he took of his jacket and taking out his kerchief wiped his brow. He already knew the value of his mother’s argument. Everything she said was right, but he’d had to put up a token sign of resistance, she would have expected nothing less. He knew the situation was his to control. He’d just sit awhile then go back inside and concur. The military had always been a pipe dream, anyway, a carry over from childhood. Preaching and caring for folk came natural to him, and besides, he would never, ever, leave Charity alone with the unstable woman who’d given birth to her.

* * *

3 years later…

The overcrowded cemetery was located on a grassy windswept piece of land overlooking the city. According to local folklore it was the constant wind that carried the souls of the departed heavenward. In the winter of 75, a storm of biblical proportions ripped the town apart followed by a severe outbreak of influenza which carried away thousands of townsfolk including the preacher Jasper Hardy. More recently, after a harsh winter, several others rushed to join their neighbours on the hill, Ruby Hardy, Joshua’s mother, amongst them.

A blackbird with red tipped wings sung out brightly from the branches of a birch tree, while below two mourners stood beside the freshly dug grave. The only other sound on that still afternoon was the anguished cry of the small child as she sobbed for her grandmother. The bodice of her pretty pink dress was damp with tears as she clung to her father’s leg. Joshua’s lean face was pale against the black of his clerical suit as he stood immobile his head bowed while the gravediggers lowered his mother’s simple pine coffin into the ground. Sniffing back threatening tears he looked down on the fair hair of the child clinging to his leg. Charity would miss her grandmother, terribly. While not particularly maternal Ruby had still been more of a mother to the child than her birth mother Catherine. Catherine had declined to attend the burial pleading a sorehead. He wondered why she bothered to make excuses when he knew she was in fact entertaining her parents on another of their far too frequent visits.

Bending down Joshua scooped Charity up, wiped away her tears and cradling her against his chest moved a few yards to the left where he laid a small floral wreath on the grave of his stepfather. Then, he stood a long time gazing down on the city below and the rows of neat cottages that surrounded his small chapel. Since the last epidemic an air of neglect hung above the empty cottages, while desperation like a black cloud hovered above the others. There were more empty cottages than full; more motherless children; and more wives without husbands. Adding to their woes since the local timberyard closed six months ago, those who were able to work were left unemployed. Joshua was full of hope that his planned move south to Bloomington would give everyone a new start. With the recent inheritance he’d received from Jasper and a goodly sum left him by his mother he should be able to fund the venture himself.

Charity had become heavy with sleep so he hoisted her further onto his shoulder and began a slow walk back towards the cottage. In his mind there was no question, the time had come to cut all ties with Lafayette. Ever since he received the money he’d been formulating a plan. He fancied some land he’d seen a year or so ago when he and Catherine went to visit an old school friend of hers in Bloomington. If his memory served him correctly the land if still available for lease, would suit their purposes perfectly. He knew it would take time and a lot of hard work but he was sure over a period of time they could grow a flourishing communal farm. He looked back over his shoulder at the graves. One was well weathered, grey-green with crusted lichen, while the other was covered with soft black earth, strewn with roses and barely minutes old.

With the back of his free hand he rubbed his brow. It saddened him to be leaving the ashes of his family behind, but apart from that there was nothing else to bind him to the desolate city. He longed to be free of the sense of hopelessness that hung like a bad smell in the air and freer still of his overbearing in-laws. His heart was still heavy though, as he walked down the winding hill and meandered along the cobbled streets, but for another reason. With both his parents now dead if the engineered move south worked out he would be changing his address. So the chances of his birth father James Thomas ever finding him could be gone forever.

When he reached his house he was pleased to see the watchmaker and Catherine’s mother were just leaving. Relieved, he stood quietly next to his wife for a perfunctory goodbye. Beside him looking more like a lost child than a woman of twenty two, the petite blonde sniffed and wrung her hands. Having only just buried his mother he had little compassion for her misery. The chasm between them grew even wider as he looked down on her from his six foot two frame and despaired. Had she ever loved him? Or had she married him because he asked her and as the dutiful elder daughter of five, she felt obliged to. Had he ever loved her? Or had he married her because it was said he needed a wife, and her pretty face and soft body promised much.

He credited the woman he’d just buried to be the architect of his exit from what was a happy single life. He was sixteen and full of youthful lust when a comely young widow with long red hair and a lisp, took him under her wing and into her bed. He’d been totally smitten, in a young man’s heaven, when to his horror and total humiliation his mother came knocking on the widow’s door one day and ordered him home. It was Ruby who demanded Jasper double his study time and drill him relentlessly on his duty to God. Soon after the widow left town without explanation. He knew why, anyone faced with Ruby at her righteous best would run too. He would’ve if he’d been able.

I have things to attend to, Catherine. He said passing the still sleeping child over to her mother. She didn’t reply just moaned a little before waking Charity and insisting she walk up the pathway to the cottage. He watched them go, Charity sleepily tottering and Catherine walking beside her, her spine rigid her head slightly bowed, and shook his head. Although Catherine paid Charity a modicum of attention, the natural motherly touch did seem to be sadly missing. He was hoping without her parents close by she might turn her affections onto her child and hopefully the odd crumb might be thrown his way. One can only hope, he thought, turning away as they went inside and he walked towards the chapel. There was a church roll. Tom had been keeping it up to date. It might be helpful to know how many members they still had.

Then he stopped walking for a moment and leant against the trunk of a nearby tree. Ruby, for all her faults, was his mother, and only hours earlier he had buried her. He was sad, but why wasn’t he over come with grief? He knew why, he always responded to those who needed him, and she no longer did, his own community needed him now and their need was most urgent.

The manse, attached by a leafy walkway to the chapel consisted of five rooms, 2 bedrooms, a sitting room, a small washroom, and a large kitchen. There was a small storage room off the kitchen which Joshua had had adapted to accommodate a cot for Charity, as her parents occupied both bedrooms. The cottage was clean, though the interior was somewhat rundown. He had repeatedly asked Catherine to organise a tradesman to paper and paint. Every morning when he sat alone drinking his coffee he would look around at the same old washed out paper and dull paint, and sigh. That curling paper and yellowed paint had become a daily remember of how little influence he had over his wife.

Catherine prepared a cold supper of leftovers, he’d little appetite and was relieved to finish his boiled fish and leave the table. He left Catherine in a sulk and Charity moodily picking away at her food and went to his room.

From a drawer in his rosewood desk he took pen, ink and paper and began to draw up a list. He knew he had the finances, tick, he needed to consult his lawyer re legalities, tick, give notice to his landlord, tick, pack up his own household, tick, organise the church’s chattels, tick.

With the heels of his polished boots resting on a small upholstered stool, he thought back over the past few months. Tom, Noah and he had spent literally hours often sitting well into the night wrestling with the major problems facing their chapter. How could they help the men find work, give comfort to the struggling young widows and their hungry children, and generally ease the discontent amongst the brethren? A lack of funds had always been the problem but with that now taken care of maybe those seeds of changes they’d spoken of so often could finally be sown.

Joshua was a great believer in the law of providence. He firmly believed that the monies he’d received from his mother’s estate and funds left him by Jasper Hardy were there for him to use to do goods works. God had provided, so he would use his financial windfall for the welfare of his family and fellow brethren.

He checked his watch. He needed to talk to Catherine before evening prayers. Cracking open his door he spied her on her way to bed so he knew Charity must be tucked up for the night. Five minutes later he followed Catherine to her room. The look of surprise on her face as he stepped into her room and closed the door behind him and stood with arms akimbo almost made him laugh out loud.

I’m not in the mood for your overtures tonight, husband. My parents have only just left, she sniffed pulling her light cotton nightdress closer around her slight body.

There is little point in my flogging a dead horse, Catherine. So relax, your dignity is not under threat. No, I wish to inform you of my plans as they do involve you. In two weeks time I intend for us to leave this place and travel south to Bloomington. I will be making an announcement in that regard tonight after prayers. I am not expecting much opposition as there really is little to keep folk here. He spoke with a calmness that belied his true feelings.

Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth and her face turned pale.

But, she stuttered climbing to her feet, my family. I will never see them if we move to that godforsaken place. No, Joshua, I will not go, and that’s that.

You must have expected this, Catherine. I’ve been telling you for the past few months just how difficult life is here for folk. It is my duty to help where I can, and I will not be swayed by your reticence.

What about my family, she wailed dropping back down onto the bed and burying her head in her hands.

Your family Catherine is right here in this very house. We, Charity and I are your family. As well you know.

Catherine began to sob. And what if I refuse to come with you?

I will be taking Charity with me, Catherine.

But she’s my daughter too. You can’t just take her from me.

I can if I have to. Think about it Catherine and let me know your decision by teatime tomorrow.

With that he left shutting the door behind him. He sighed deeply and went to sit at the dinning table. He hated having to threaten her but if the marriage was to survive she had face up to her responsibilities and stop acting like a spoilt child. God, Catherine he prayed, make the right decision because I will take Charity with me if I’m forced to.

At seven he left the house crossing the walkway onto the path that wound around the chapel. He was pleased to see that although purple clouds heavy with rain hung in the darkening sky, many had still come out for prayers. After the short service he made his announcement. He spent the next two hours discussing his plans with individual groups and was buoyed to find almost everyone was keen to join him. He left the chapel at ten, tired but excited. In the kitchen he poured a small glass of mulberry wine and sat quietly sipping trying to clear his head before going to bed. It was spitting at midnight when he finally fell into bed. Overnight a storm with tearing winds crossed the valley shaking the window frames and sending rain gurgling noisily down the drain pipes. With the racket outside and the turmoil within, he slept fitfully, waking at dawn in a tangle of sweaty sheets. According to his fob watch it was seven thirty when he heard Catherine leaving the house. He’d figured she might take the carriage and go to see her parents across the city. She would do nothing without consulting the watchmaker first. The house was quiet, he imagined Charity to still be asleep. He lay awhile, dozing, finally getting up around eight thirty. After his wash, he went to check on Charity but her bed was empty. It took him a few minutes to realize she wasn’t at home, and a few more to realise Catherine must have taken her. At first he was alarmed and a little surprised. Then he began to wonder if Catherine had decided to leave him. He checked her room and wardrobe but there didn’t appear to be anything missing. If she’s gone for good, he decided slamming her door so hard that the brass door knob fell off onto the floor, he would simply go to the house of the watchmaker and bring his daughter back.

He spent the day finalizing his plans, reattaching the door knob and nervously waiting for Catherine to return. Late in the afternoon he heard her arrive back and with a huge sigh of relief went to meet her. He waited patiently for her to say something and when she didn’t he was finally forced to ask.

Well, what advise did your father give you, Catherine?

Half expecting her usual outburst, which always started with her calling him a selfish, unchristian sod, he was totally taken aback with her reply. When it’s convenient, husband, would you please retrieve the portmanteau from the attic so I can begin to pack for our move south,

* * *

Salvation, Indiana

It was a warm day in late spring when some fifty members of the church followed their young leader south to Bloomington. Five miles out of town they found several acres of sheltered, fertile land with a number of natural artesian wells, for lease. Joshua had to haggle with the owner but eventually they had a signed lease for twenty year on twenty five acres.

It took them six years and most of his inheritance but on the anniversary of their arrival on the land he was able to stand on the hill above the farm and look back down over Salvation with a great deal of pride. The highly productive farm lay gently on the fertile land below. Vertical lines of mature willow trees formed shelter belts for a pleasing pattern of grazing paddocks, fields of corn and maize. A wide creek fed with melting snow from the rocky hills above, formed two large ponds on opposite sides of the farm. One pond was utilized for irrigation while the other was used for domestic purposes. A large wooden milking shed, fenced in pig sties and a sizable chicken run ran along the eastern border. To his left he could see the two streets of neat, grey stone cottages surrounded by picket fences and well planned gardens. A few families had insisted on paying for larger plots which they rented off the community for their own hen runs, and a small paddock for a cow. He had no argument with this practice as long as the men did their share of the work on the farm.

He cast his eyes to the shelter of pine trees next to the manse where he’d built the chapel. In the sunlight the plain blue glass windows glistened out a welcome, while the whitewashed timber structure looked solid and safe. The most recent structure, a simple timber meeting hall with its wide double doors graced on either side by tubs of seasonal flowers was situated at the end of the avenue of houses. He sighed, the future for Salvation and its residents looked very bright indeed. What a shame, he thought, bending to pick a stalk of dry grass and placing it between his teeth before heading back down the slope, that the Hardy household wasn’t so fortunate. Sadly nothing had changed since the move down from Lafayette. Catherine was