The Way of the Dogs (The Colter Saga Book 2) Page 5

  “All in good time, James, all in good time,” Pastor John said

  The Pastor began walking around the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “The People’s Temple is based on the most basic tenets of Christianity,” Pastor John said. “We believe in sharing worldly possessions. The rich of this world have an obligation to provide desperately needed provisions to the poor among us. It’s not fair some have so much while others have so little. We take care of the poor, the down trodden, those without the means or ability to care for themselves.”

  “What if people don’t want to share?” James asked.

  “We know the only way a rich man is going to get into heaven is to share his wealth with the needy,” Pastor John said. “We’d be condemning him to an eternity in hell if we didn’t help him lighten his earthly burden. We have a moral obligation to help him along the road to redemption.”

  “So you take it from them,” James said.

  “No,” Pastor John said. “We provide them with the opportunity to make a donation. There’s a big difference, big difference.”

  James now knew why the militia was necessary. It was all about taking other folks possessions. Those who worked hard and were able to survive could now expect Pastor John and his militia to descend on them and loot their homesteads. It explained a lot. But not why the albino would nail an old man to a tree.

  “How many poor people do you feed?” James said.

  “We have over a thousand needy souls,” Pastor John said. “No to mention two hundred militia members. So as you can see we are taking care of so many. The search for food and sustenance is never over. My burden is heavy and the road is long. Just once I wish some selfish… never mind.”

  The door opened and a man entered the room. He was of average height, thin, with snow white hair, snow white skin, and pinkish eyes. He was dressed in a white shirt, black suit and carried a black brimmed hat in his hand. He wore expensive boots. James noticed he carried a gun concealed in a shoulder holster beneath his coat. James knew he’d found the albino with the pack horse.

  “Excuse the interruption Pastor John,” the albino said. “The women are here with your lunch.”

  “It’s quite alright, Bates,” Pastor John said. “Tell them it will be a few minutes.”

  The albino nodded his head and glanced at James as he left the room.

  Now he’s creepy, James thought.

  “Well, James Colter,” Pastor John said, “We can use someone who can hunt and shoot around here. If you want to be a part of the People’s Temple, we have services every night in the Temple. You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest building in town. Would you like to join us James Colter?”

  “I think I would,” James said. “If it’s no bother.”

  “It will never be a bother to me, James, welcome to the Temple,” Pastor John said. “Take this piece of paper and give it to one of the people out front. They’ll give you Temple money to buy things in town.”

  The Pastor handed James a written note.

  “I’ll be sending a group of the militia west of here in the next few days,” Pastor John said. “I want you to go along and get a feel for how things are done around here. I’ll have Bates lead your group. You can learn a lot from him.”

  James stood and as he left the room, three women carrying trays came through the door. All wore white silky robes and little else. It seemed oddly inappropriate for serving lunch to a preacher.

  As he waited in line for his Jesus dollars, James noticed Bates staring at him. When he had his money he walked over to where Bates stood. James, who was well tanned, with blond curly hair, and much taller, looked down at Bates and smiled.

  “Looks like I’ll be going out with you and the militia in a day or two,” James said.

  “I look forward to seeing what you can do,” Bates said. “By the way, have you ever been to the Cherokee lands? You seem familiar.”

  “I’ve been lots of places Bates,” James said. “But I don’t have much use for Indians or Gypsies.”

  “Until then,” Bates said, as he turned and walked away.

  Chapter 8

  Three days later James rode out of Christiansburg with the militia. They were a mix of hard cases and first timers. James belonged to the latter group. In addition to the riders, there were five pack horses. Only one pack horse carried supplies. The others were to carry back whatever was looted.

  They rode all day covering quite a distance. They passed many farms and villages looted in the past. Some had been hit more than once. People and children would come out and watch as the militia rode by. No one waved or smiled. James thought the People’s Temple had a fundamental problem. They had to keep going farther distances to find people with the food and goods worth looting. It didn’t make any sense.

  It was long after dark when they finally stopped for the night. There were no fires so they ate hardtack biscuits. They had to be soaked in water before they could be eaten. It didn’t bother James since he’d spent many a night sleeping out in the open under the stars. The other first timer’s complaints fell on deaf ears.

  The next morning, everyone was told to stay where they were as Bates and three other riders all headed in different directions. An hour later they all returned and huddled just out of hearing distance. Bates led the group back to the horses.

  “We found our two farms,” Bates said. “I’ll take you five and Colter.”

  Bates pointed at three of the new riders, two hard cases, and James.

  “The rest of you go with Johnson,” Bates said. “We’ll take two of the pack horses, Johnson your group take the rest.”

  Bates group rode for about twenty minutes. They came to a ridge overlooking a quiet valley. There were six buildings sitting in the middle of well tended fields. A corral holding horses sat next to a fenced field with at least thirty head of cattle. Four houses, with smoke coming from their chimneys, sat off to the left. Several people moving between the houses could be seen.

  Bates led the riders slowly across newly planted fields and stopped in the center of the central courtyard. A group of people slowly assembled in front of their houses as the riders sat and waited. Bates faced the farmers and their families. His rifle lay across his saddle.

  “Good Morning,” Bates said. “Would there be a name for this little community?”

  An older man stepped forward and squinted up at Bates, the sun was in his eyes.

  “My name is Dory, Sam Dory,” the man said. “This is my three boys and their families. Who are you people?”

  “We’re from the People’s Temple,” Bates said.

  Bates shifted his rifle quietly to point at the old man. The movement of the rifle wasn’t lost on the farmer.

  “We take donations from people to feed the hungry,” Bates said. “We wondered if you would care to make a donation today.”

  “Sure,” the farmer said. “We’re always willing to help someone out. I never got your name, what is it?”

  “Bates, my name is Bates,” Bates said.

  Bates moved his horse forward a step closer to the farmer. The tone of Bates voice changed and his whole demeanor became threatening. The click of the hammer on Bates rifle being pulled back, sounded as loud as the crack of a whip in the silence.

  “We heard of you people,” the farmer said, disgust in his voice. “I was wondering when you’d get to us. You already robbed some of our neighbors. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  Bates continued to stare at the old man. James looked at the other riders. Except for some of the hard cases, the others in the group looked ashamed.

  “One way or the other,” Bates said. “You’re going to feel it in your heart to donate. So let’s do this the easy way.”

  “There it is then,” the old farmer said. “We won’t stop you Bates. Take what you want.”

  When Bates was satisfied, the riders headed out using the road. It struck James ultimately they got very little for all this effort. It migh
t feed a few people for a few days, but these raids took time and resources. Going out and robbing people still didn’t make much sense.

  They met back with the other group at the same place they’d camped the previous night. Towards evening James noticed an older man from his group sitting off by himself by a small campfire. He seemed to have something on his mind. James thought it might be a good idea to join him.

  “My name’s James,” James said. “We rode out together today. Mind if I share your fire?”

  “Sure,” the man said. “Why not? My name’s Duncan. I don’t think I’ll be good company any time soon. You may want to sit somewhere else.”

  “What’s wrong?” James asked.

  “You were with Bates today,” Duncan said. “It was wrong. Any way you cut it, we shouldn’t a done it.”

  “It does seem like a dumb way to get what you need,” James said. “You hurt a lot of people for what looks to me to be very little.”

  Duncan looked over at James.

  “I don’t know you,” Duncan said. “You’re new right?”

  “Yes,” James said in a quiet voice not wanting to be overheard. “But between you and me, I don’t think I’ll be around long. I got family to the south. You can go with me if you want. We could find a place for you.”

  “I wish I could,” Duncan said keeping his voice low. “I’m too old and scared of these people. You get to an age where you just want to be left alone. I know these people are up to something and I want nothing to do with them. If I were you I’d get out of here and I’d do it in a hurry.”

  ****

  The entire group rode out the next morning and reached Christiansburg the morning of the second day. They rode slowly through town and unloaded the pack horses at the large warehouse squatting next to the massive People’s Temple Church.

  The warehouse was the main distribution point for food and supplies to the poor under the sway of Pastor John. Each Sunday there was a three hour service of Pastor John and his associates whipping the congregation into frenzy. After the service the people would line up to receive the ‘free’ food and supplies for the week.

  Food was distributed based on the number of family members in line with you. It seemed to James a large percentage of the children and elderly were sick with some type of influenza or colds. The hacking and coughing was almost continuous.

  The Sunday service finally ended. James joined a few of the other single men and walked out beyond the edge of town, near the woods on the far south side. One brought a flask of corn liquor and passed it around. James took a small sip and felt the liquid fire clear down his throat. There was laughter at the look on James face as he choked on the clear liquid.

  James glanced over and saw Samson sitting on the edge of the woods staring at him. The dog was alert and looked as if he were trying to tell him something. It was then the woods went silent. The normal hum of crickets, insects and birds calling back and forth just stopped. It was the sound of eminent danger. No one except James appeared to notice.

  He looked again and Sam was nowhere to be seen. James heard the faint twang of a released bowstring. He dropped to his knees as the arrow flew over his head and sank deep into the neck of the man standing next to him. The man pawed at his throat as blood pumped down the front of his shirt. The wounded man pivoted to look back at the town and fell face forward without a sound.

  The other men all turned as one and raced for town and their guns. James pulled his tomahawk from his belt, stooped over at the waist, and raced toward the edge of the woods. As he drew close to the first trees, he could hear shouting and what sounded like a commotion to his left. He broke through the underbrush and saw three Cherokee’s arguing and pushing each other. Samson had a fourth man by the throat on the ground. Each time the man attempted to move, Sam bit down with his massive jaws.

  “Charley, what is going on?” James shouted.

  Charley Oaks stopped shoving the other two men.

  “James, Am I glad to see you,” Charley said. “Can you get this dog off of this stupid Indian?”

  “I think so,” James said. “Sam, come here. It’s all over now.”

  James spoke in a soft voice and Sam responded by releasing the man’s throat and trotting over and sitting next to him. The man on the ground sat up and rubbed his throat. He took large gulps of air and appeared to recover as he glared over toward where Sam sat.

  “What the hell is going on Charley?” James asked.

  “We came from the Gypsies after I talked with Luther,” Charley said. “They had nothing to do with the hanging man.”

  “I know,” James said. “I found the group who did it. It’s Pastor John and the People’s Temple.”

  “It makes sense,” Charley said. “The Gypsies and Cherokees stopped his band of looters cold when they came after our people. They must be trying to create a split between the two groups.”

  “Who was the idiot who killed that man?” James asked, glaring back at the man on the ground. “He almost hit me.”

  “This is John Snowden,” Charley said. “He’s a friend of mine from my tribe and not the smartest Indian by a long shot. He reached for a second arrow and your dog took him out.”

  “Charley,” James said. “You better clear out of here fast. I’m sure the pilgrims will be back with reinforcements very soon. I’ll meet you on seventy five, south of the big tavern. You know where it is?”

  “Yes” Charley said. “How long should I wait?”

  “Three days,” James said. “Send your friends home or keep them with you. You decide.”

  All four Indians melted into the brush and out of sight in less than a minute. James heard the pounding of hooves coming from the direction of town. Sam disappeared into the trees. A dozen horsemen reined up at the tree line with guns drawn. James walked out of the trees. He told them the Indians had run off when he charged into the woods. The horsemen searched the woods for signs and gave up after a short while.

  That evening James sat in his room thinking about what his next step should be. The loud and persistent banging on his door startled him. He opened the door to find Bates and two other thugs standing in the hallway.

  “Come on in,” James said smiling.

  Bates and the others walked in and looked around James room. They seemed to be looking for something or someone. Finding nothing of particular interest, they turned back to James.

  “I understand you were with the group who was attacked today,” Bates said. “We were curious why you ran towards the attackers and not back toward town like everyone else?” Bates asked.

  “Who is ‘We’?” James asked.

  “I want to know,” Bates said, his anger rising.

  “I don’t know why I ran towards the woods,” James said. “It was a stupid thing I did and luckily whoever shot the arrow ran off.”

  “We found dog tracks in the woods,” Bates said. “Any idea what a dog was doing there?”

  “I have no idea,” James said. “Maybe the shooter brought a dog with him?”

  “Some thought they saw a dog with you at the barricade when you first arrived,” Bates said.

  “Yeah, stupid dog ran off,” James said. “You think it might have been the dog in the woods?”

  “I don’t know, it’s why I asked you,” Bates said, becoming more and more confused.

  “Asked me what?” James asked.

  It was obvious to everyone in the room, Bates was becoming agitated. James thought he’d better back off.

  “Listen,” James said. “Running towards those woods was a stupid thing to do. I didn’t see any dog and whoever shot the arrow was long gone before I got there.”

  Bates appeared to regain control a little. A short time later he left with his two cohorts. James wondered what the visit was all about when he heard another knock on the door. This time the knocking was soft, almost timid. James opened the door and an old man, shabbily dressed and with clouded eyes hurried into the room, closing the door behind him
.

  “Your name is Colter? Right?” the old man asked.

  “Yes, James Colter,” James said. “Who are you?”

  “You’re from down near Eagle Rock?” the old man asked.

  “Yes, who are you?” James asked.

  “It’s not important,” the old man said. “I knew your family a long time ago, and they were good to me. I need you to listen. I’ll be dead by morning. I know stuff, dangerous stuff. I got more people looking for me than you can shake a stick at. I think they were just here.”

  “I’m listening,” James said.

  “I do janitor work over in the Temple,” the old man said. “A few days ago I saw something. Not just the usual bad things old Pastor John and his thugs do to the women and girls over there neither. No this was a map. It was a big old map of this whole part of the country. It had writing on it. I saw it all.”

  The old man was getting more upset and James asked him to sit on the edge of bed and drink a tin cup of water from the pitcher sitting on the night stand.

  “Take your time and just sit for a few minutes,” James said. “What exactly did you see?”

  “Well,” the old man said. “Like I said, it was a map of this part of the country. It had the territories of the Cherokee and Gypsy marked with a third area towards the southwest by Chattanooga labeled Haven. Christiansburg was at the center of the map with big arrows drawn into these areas and labeled with ‘Militias’.”

  “So you think the People’s Temple is going to use the militia to invade these other groups?” James asked. “Why would they do that?”

  “I think I know why,” the old man said. “The map showed most of the area around Christiansburg as cleared. It showed whole villages with X’s through their names. Towns and farms that no longer had anything left to give. Somebody wrote in big letters on the map. It said ‘time to move south’. I got out of the room as fast I could, but a cleaning woman saw me just as I was closing the door. I think she told them because I’ve been followed ever since and they’re getting closer.”

  “Did the map show where they would strike first?” James asked.