Devils on Horseback: Zeke, Book 3 (17 page)

Chapter Eleven

The first formal Sunday service in a year in the town of Tanger began at ten on a beautiful morning. It was expected that the old Reverend Delmont’s followers would take time to warm up to the young reverend. However, the townspeople didn’t live up to that expectation. They came to the old church in droves.

The town council led the way, with Hettie Cranston in her faded but serviceable, cranberry-colored dress. On her arm was Byron Ackerman in a spiffy shiny suit with his hair slicked back with pomade. Edith walked with Martin. The big burly blacksmith couldn’t have looked more proud. Naomi was surprised to see Margaret walking with Matthew, but glad for it. They were both gentle souls and maybe they’d find happiness together. Even that new banker with the cane arrived in his Sunday best.

Naomi watched it all as if it were a parade. Many folks passed under the saloon as they made their way to the church. Perhaps they were all in need of praying or salvation or whatever it was they were searching for. She had given up on church after her father’s death.

It had taught her to stop asking God for help because he didn’t listen, any more than anyone else did. She had to rely on herself, not a deity she’d never seen nor heard from. During her incarceration in Tanger’s jail, she’d broken down and prayed, not that it had done any good. However, it reinforced her belief in self-reliance.

She couldn’t see the front of the church from her perch by the window, but she imagined Conley greeting each of them with his boyish smile. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Louisa. Me, Joe and Carmen are going to go to church to see what the fuss is about.” Louisa poked her frizzy head through the open doorway. “Do you want to join us, or are you still entertaining your man?”

“I’m alone.” Naomi looked at her friend’s earnest expression and wanted to ask what she was excited about.

“We hear the preacher is going to do some good old-fashioned fire-and-brimstone type sermon.” Louisa came fully into the room wearing a light blue dress with frayed edges. The garment had obviously served the purpose of a Sunday dress in a previous lifetime.

“Why would you want to hear that?” Naomi couldn’t control her distaste. Men of the cloth who threw bolts of fire at ordinary folks just to make them quake in their shoes and throw up their hands in surrender weren’t worth the effort to listen to.

“’Cause he’s talking about the wages of sin, ’specially whiskey and women.” She waggled her eyebrows. “We thought we’d have a little fun and sit in the back.”

Not even remotely fun in Naomi’s opinion, but if they wanted to go, she wasn’t about to stop them.

“I reckoned I’d ask if you want to go with us.”

“No thanks.” Naomi smiled at Louisa. “Thanks for inviting me though.”

Louisa shrugged and waved. “We’ll see you later then.” As she walked through the door, she stopped. “I told her, but she don’t want to come.”

Carmen pushed past the sweet brunette. “
Oiga, chica
. They’re talking about your
hombre
today.” She looked deadly serious. “I hear they want him to stop being sheriff.”

The bottom dropped out of Naomi’s stomach at Carmen’s warning. “How do you know?”

Carmen raised one dark brow. Naomi knew then the Mexican woman told the absolute truth and it scared the hell out of her.

“I’m coming with you.”

* * * * *

Naomi didn’t know whether to run away or find a corner to get sick in. The dilapidated church was filled nearly to capacity. Every eye in the building turned to look at the contingent from Aphrodite’s. Lucy wasn’t with them, but nonetheless they were painted with the same brush. Another reason she didn’t like church, people were judgmental.

Joe looked dapper in a starched white shirt and brown trousers, while Carmen wore a blue peasant blouse and skirt. Naomi had chosen her only acceptable dress, the yellow one she’d met Zeke in. It seemed fitting that she’d come to a church to relive her own personal nightmare and protect the man she loved. Kind of a fitting way to exorcise her personal demons.

It had been cloudy the day the Yankees burned her father’s church down, the day they murdered his congregation. She had tried to forgive and forget, but God had taken everything she loved that day. Most folks would have prayed for help to get through such a trying time. Naomi simply grew a steel spine and moved on.

Gregory Conley stood at the pulpit, reading through his bible presumably. When he caught sight of them, he smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. The rest of the folks just nodded and turned around, satisfied the preacher had welcomed the tainted souls. Perhaps they hoped he’d save them. Naomi wanted to snort at the thought.

“Good morning, everyone,” he began. “I want to thank you all for making my first sermon such a success by coming to the church.”

More smiles all through the pews.

“Today’s sermon is a timely one. I happened to witness one of our finest members in the community suffering the sins of imbibing too much.” His smile vanished as the man started in on a subject that obviously bothered him. “The wages of sin aren’t worth the everlasting damnation you’ll suffer for enjoying them.” He pounded the wooden altar. “We cannot allow this to continue, and for that, my friends, I need your help.”

Matthew Marchison seemed to be the only one frowning at the minister. When he glanced at Naomi, she saw the same concern she felt. The shopkeeper had been kind to her and she hoped he wasn’t the only one who didn’t like the direction the sermon was headed.

Naomi’s throat went dry as sand when Gregory’s gaze met hers. In the depths of his eyes she saw not only passion for preaching, but fervor as well, reminiscent of her father when he thundered from the pulpit.

“Who was it, preacher man?” came a question.

“An appointed man we all rely on to keep us safe. I don’t think I need to say his name, do I? He violated our trust by falling victim to man’s oldest vices—liquor and women. We need to help him, and thereby help our town.”

Byron Ackerman stood and Naomi’s hands clenched into fists. This definitely did not bode well for Zeke.

“I know of whom he speaks. Sheriff Zeke Blackwood has made a mockery of lawmen everywhere. He has embarrassed this town too many times.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the church. “I agree with Reverend Conley, something must be done.”

Naomi didn’t wait to hear what else Byron or Gregory had to say. She jumped out of the pew and ran from the church, her heart pounding so hard, her ears hurt from the vibrations. She had to warn him, to protect him from small-minded fools like Reverend Conley and whatever frenzy he could whip up in church with the unsuspecting citizens of Tanger. She’d been wrong about him—he wasn’t as sweet as he appeared.

The streets were nearly deserted, giving an unreal feel to the morning. She should have been embarrassed by her behavior in running through Tanger, but there was no time to be. A fierce protective urge gripped her and she had to follow through on it.

There was a time in her life when she would have run the opposite direction from conflict or fear, but no more. She had grown up in the last three years, like it or not. Now her man, the one who held her heart, needed her and she’d damn sure be there for him.

She slammed into the restaurant and ran up the stairs, regardless of the astonished looks thrown her way by several folks. Although she was going too fast to see who they were, one of them was probably Zeke’s brother. More than likely he’d follow her up the steps, but she didn’t care one whit.

She wanted to burst into the room, but knocked on the door instead in a staccato rhythm designed to wake the dead.

“What?” came a groggy, annoyed voice.

“Zeke, can I come in?”

“Naomi?” A thump, a groan and a curse preceded him opening the door.

Naomi had to stop herself from breaking it down.

He looked out at her with bloodshot eyes and a terrible smell of stale whiskey—definitely a man who had been raked over the coals. She stepped back and covered her mouth. He ran a hand down his whiskered cheeks. She gazed down and realized he was quite naked.

“What is it?”

“You’re still drunk and you haven’t got a stitch on.” How was she going to clear his good name if he resembled the exact sins Gregory spoke of?

“Did you come here to tell me what I already knew? I ain’t still drunk, just got a hangover bad enough to kill a buffalo.” He opened the door wider and gestured with his hand. “You might as well come in before somebody sees you up here.”

“I don’t care if they see me or not.” She marched into his room, head held high. “You’ve got to come to church with me.”

The last thing she expected was for him to burst out laughing, but that’s what he did. Then he moaned and grabbed his forehead.

“Jesus, no laughing, that really hurts.” He closed the door and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Why do you want me to go to church? You planning on getting hitched today?”

“Reverend Conley and Byron Ackerman are stirring up the town to lynch you.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but it got his attention.

His face lost all color and his jaw tightened. “Who’s lynching me?”

“Well, not actually lynching, but they’re talking about your sins, or judging you for what they believe are your sins.” She wrung her hands together. “You need to get over there and set them straight before the town council decides to fire you.”

He scowled at her. “You mean he’s telling about what he saw this morning? What a little shit.”

“Zeke, you’re missing the point.” She knelt in front of him, ignoring his nakedness in favor of saving him from small-minded fools. “Regardless of the drinking binge, and your behavior toward me, I’ve seen what you can do as a sheriff. You’re good at it and I believe Tanger needs you.”

He shook his head, the scowl fading. “You came over here to warn me.”

“Well, yes, I did. Somebody’s got to protect you.” Naomi had no idea how to explain to him why she needed to shield him from harm without confessing she loved him. He certainly wasn’t ready for that considering he could barely stand or think.

“Believe it or not, I do have friends, little one.” He reached out a shaking hand to cup her cheek. “But having a fierce little doe stand by my side is an amazing thing.”

Naomi wasn’t sure she wanted to be known as a fierce little doe, but the sentiment made her heart gallop. He wasn’t the type of man to give compliments lightly, or ever flatter anyone, which meant his words carried more than their weight. He kissed her.

“You deserve better than a broken-down soldier who crawls into the bottom of a whiskey bottle.”

“That’s my choice to make, not yours. Now let’s get you cleaned up and go to church.” She tugged at his shoulders, but he didn’t budge. “I’m not going to let you lie here and let him win.”

Zeke looked up at her, his beautiful brown eyes swimming with agony. “Why shouldn’t I let him win? He’s right about me.”

Naomi had had enough. She spotted a basin of water on the washstand. Before he could realize what she was doing, she threw the water in his face.

“Get up.” This time she didn’t wait for an answer, she took the pitcher and refilled the washbasin. “I haven’t shaved anyone in two years, but I’m sure it will come back to me quick.”

He wiped the water off his face and glared at her.

She had wanted him to jump up and fight for himself, but he didn’t. So she had to do it for him, come hell or high water. Naomi would wash, shave and dress him. After finding his shaving gear, she set to work. He winced a few times when she scraped the razor across his face, but other than that, he didn’t speak or stop her from what she was doing.

After wiping off his face with a towel, she used soap and a rag to wash his face and armpits so he didn’t smell quite so badly. Spotting clean clothes on a hook, Naomi grabbed them and dressed Zeke as she would a small child. He simply let her do what she wanted.

It scared the hell out of her because it appeared he’d given up.

She wouldn’t allow that to happen.

It took about ten minutes, but she had him somewhat presentable and ushered him down the stairs. They went slowly because he gripped the banister as if it had magical powers to keep him upright. Naomi had a hard time believing he wasn’t still drunk because he sure acted like it.

Either way, they made it out to the street and to the church within twenty-five minutes. Fortunately it appeared the congregation was still inside since the town was almost empty of folks. When they arrived in the church, Zeke started to drag his feet.

“Get moving, Ezekiel, you’re not backing out now.” She pushed him up the steps and into the church.

The doors banged open and every head turned to face them. Zeke’s face flushed red and Naomi straightened her shoulders, not in the least afraid of what would happen. Or at least that’s what she told herself as her knees knocked together.

“Sheriff.” Gregory frowned, looking a bit startled at Zeke’s appearance.

“Morning, Reverend.” Zeke glanced around, his thumbs tucked into his waistband. “I hear you folks are talking about me this morning.”

He strolled in slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world or that he was drunk and naked half an hour earlier. The low buzz of conversation followed his progress.

“I came by to see what was going on.”

Byron popped up from the front row. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. You’ve been flaunting your fornicating and drinking, a poor example for the rest of the town to follow. You’re a poor excuse for a sheriff and if the town council won’t get rid of you, perhaps we can.”

The threat hung in the air, leaving a tang of disbelief and outrage on Naomi’s tongue. She stepped towards him, but Zeke grabbed her arm.

“Let me fight my own battle, little one,” he whispered.

As Naomi watched, Zeke walked towards the altar and turned to face everyone. They likely saw a big blond man with guns and an attitude, but she saw a man consumed by pain and self-loathing who did his best to survive moment by moment.

“I ain’t perfect and probably not the best person to be sheriff.” He nodded to Hettie and the rest of the town council. “Folks gave me a chance to do my best and I guess I didn’t do what was expected. I appreciate that chance, but there’s no need to talk about getting rid of me. I quit.”