Clyde

For many years, the town’s church had been run by a kind, older man named Stanton. Reverend Stanton was jolly and a popular man in the town. He never ate in his own home; he was always invited to some parishioner’s home for suppers and lunches. As a result, the trim middle-aged preacher who had founded the church now found that his waist had expanded along with his years. At 57, with a bad heart and failing legs, he needed to retire. No one was happy to see him go, and the ladies auxiliary and many of the business owners had taken a collection and built him a nice home in one of the nicer neighborhoods, away from the hustle and bustle of the center of town. This kept him in the community, and freed up the parsonage behind the church for the new Preacher. He was due in town soon, and many of the ladies had been working for days getting the parsonage cleaned up for the new Preacher, Clyde. They were not sure if Clyde was his first name, or a shortened version of his last name; the telegram had simply been signed Reverend Clyde. The only thing they knew for sure about him was that he was in his early 30’s and unmarried. His arrival had caused a huge amount of excitement for the ladies of the town. For days now kitchens had been the warmest rooms in most of the homes, as food for his arrival party was prepared. Julie had enlisted many of the men in the town to rearrange the furniture in the large lobby of the Inn, to accommodate dancing, musicians, and the large amount of milling townspeople. Her restaurant staff had been driven to distraction by the amount of food arriving at the door by parishioners eager to make sure that their “specialties” would be prominently displayed on the tables in the dining area. It was to be quite the social event; one that would rival the annual New Years ball held every year. For Julie, it was the biggest event she had ever had at her Inn and one she wanted to be remembered for a long time.

Two days before this event occurred, Reverend Clyde arrived in Mountain Junction. He was early, so no one met him at the train station, but this did not bother him. He preferred to get a feel for this new town privately. If anyone had seen Clyde that morning, they would not have recognized him as a preacher. He was not dressed in the traditional black garb of a man of the cloth, but had decked himself out in fringed Delaware buckskin pants, red shirt, and a Buffalo Bill jacket with long fringes in intricate patterns in the back. He wore his preacher’s collar, but it was hidden beneath the high rounded collar of the coat. His brown hair reached to the lower edge of the collar, and he wore a short, well-trimmed beard. He was the very image of a mountain man, not a preacher. The only thing that hinted at the fact that he was not long into the life of the mountains was the fact that the coat, buckskins and shoes were not scuffed, dirty or worn. Clyde was just too new to be a true mountain dweller.

He walked down the main street in the early hours of the dawn, before the streets filled with people and the smells of the day. He watched the diffused sun rise into the gray clouds overlooking the eastern mountains, turning the undersides of the clouds a brilliant orange, while the upper skies, in the small pockets where the clouds had not yet gathered, were colored a pale, dusty pink. This site was invigorating to Clyde, who had not seen a clear vista for years, due to his preaching in the cities. The smells were new to him as well. The smell of oncoming rain combined with pine needles was enthralling to a nose that had too long been assaulted with the odors of industry and large masses of people. To Clyde, this was paradise.

Paradise was soon lost however, as he walked past the Viscosité Buvette. It was early Friday morning, and Money had spent a good portion of the night gambling away his week’s profits, and drinking. He had finally passed out around four o’clock in the morning, leaning back in his chair against the wall next to the piano in the saloon. The banging of the keys and the singing of the saloon singer Ronny had not kept him awake; he had simply pulled down his hat and blissfully drifted off into a drunken stupor. Morgan, who had been supplying him with drinks, had thankfully left him and gone to bed, after giving Hawke a quick flirtatious wink. Hawke, however, had not been pleased with Money. As soon as he was sure Morgan was asleep, he had walked over to the wall, and with a swift kick to the chair sent Money sprawling to the floor, Money hitting his head on the side of the piano, where it had been resting. Money stumbled to his feet, fists up and ready to do battle, until he saw Hawke's face and thought better of it. Prudence came too late, however. Hawke, tired and sick of Money, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and with a full boot to the backside crashed him out of the swinging double doors accompanied by a loud string of profanities. Money flew out of the saloon, landing face first at Clyde's feet.

Shocked out of his revelry, Clyde dropped his bag and helped Money to his unsteady feet. Realizing that he was in no condition to go anywhere alone, Clyde simply steadied Money against himself, and walked as quickly as he could away from the big, sour faced man with the curses still spewing from his lips. It was no easy task, and since Clyde could not get a coherent sentence out of Money as to who he was or where he belonged, he just kept walking toward the center of town. Eventually, as the clouds that had been coming together in the early dawn began to mass and turn a darker gray, they reached the hotel. They were almost there, when the skies opened, and the downpour began. Dragging Money by his collar now, Clyde finally managed to get him into the lobby and dropped him unceremoniously on the nearest chintz couch. He dropped his bag at Money’s feet, and looked for someone to help him.

It was then that he saw a smiling woman emerge from the hallway that separated the restaurant from the hotel. Her dark hair was in a soft sweep, and her brown dress was modestly cut, with puffy sleeves and buttons down the front of the bodice. One look at the drunk on her couch, however, quickly killed the smile. The anger that flashed from her green eyes gave Clyde pause. But, to back down from anything, even a woman as lovely as this one, was simply not in Clyde’s nature. He quickly explained what had happened, ending with a brief introduction of him as the town’s new reverend. Julie’s eyes grew wide at the last statement, and the anger in her eyes quickly changed to a twinkle. She stood there, giving the unlikely looking preacher the once over, thought about his story, and tried valiantly not to laugh. She was only slightly successful. She just could not suppress a giggle. The sudden change in mood was answered by an appreciative laugh from Clyde.

Leaving Money to his sleep on the chintz, she guided Clyde to the large kitchen, where she put a plate of eggs and bacon, and a cup of tea before him. They spent the rest of the morning together, chatting away about her life in the town, and his life in the city. Clyde enjoyed watching her move gracefully around the kitchen, quickly giving orders to the cooks, often helping them with the cooking as the breakfast crowd began to stream in from the train depot. He knew it was her business, but there was a quality about the kitchen, and the way she treated her staff, that reminded him more of home. As he ate his breakfast, and drank his coffee he listened as she spoke of her mother, the town, and the unlikely friendships she had made. He found himself watching her animated face as she told him these stories, loving the mirth in her eyes, and the laughter that was constantly making its way into the conversation. When he had finished his meal, and taken the plate to the sink, he noticed her leaving the kitchen. He silently followed her into the hotel lobby, admiring the swish of her skirts, the line of her neck and the purposeful way she walked. She seemed oblivious to his presence, as she walked to a closet and pulled out a blanket. He watched as she approached the sleeping form of Money, tucked the blanket around him, and carefully removed his hat. She was so focused; she never saw the smile on Clyde’s face. When she returned to the kitchen, he was sitting at the table exactly where she had left him. By midday, Clyde was on his way to the Parsonage. Money had long since awakened and abandoned the chintz couch; the blanket rolled in a ball under one of the legs.

Inevitably, news of the new preacher began to spread through the town, and the townspeople began to fill his porch and yard. He was soon being introduced to the wives, daughters and other members of the town, and invited to their homes for meals. By the day before the party, he had met most of the townspeople, including André, who had come to the parsonage quietly the afternoon of Clyde’s second day. The two men had shook hands and talked a bit, but it was clear that André was gauging just how much money he would need to tithe to the church to keep the preacher off his back. Clyde, more astute then his laughing demeanor implied, immediately picked up on this. The result was an association that was not quite amiable, but not exactly aversive either. When André left the parsonage with a grin and a wave, both men wondered how they would feel about each other in the future.

Sunday morning, the church was filled to overflowing, partly out of curiosity as to what the new Preacher would be wearing, and partly because the party that evening meant only one service. Clyde wore the traditional black and collar, bringing relieved sighs from many of the ladies who had thought him a bit un-preacher like. The men liked his sermon, which was not the pulpit thumping, fire and brimstone delivery they were used to. Ronny, who played the piano at the church on Sundays, loved the hymns that were selected, and even Money was present in the back of the church, freshly shaven and looking uncomfortable in his suit. For most, it was a wonderful morning, full of the feeling of community and anticipation for the evening’s festivities. For others, like Morgan, it was a day of fear. Julie and Nancy had promised to “make her look like a lady” for the evening, and Morgan had already taken nips of Julie’s wine to fortify herself for the evening. André was his usual calm self, but was looking forward to finally getting the chance to give Julie the once over, although he would never have admitted that to anyone. Julie was excited about the party, but as any good hostess, was worried that the evening would not go well. Clyde was not fond of people making over him. He just wished the day were over.

Chapter 1 ... André
Chapter 2 ... Julie
*Chapter 3 ... Clyde
Chapter 4 ... The Welcoming Party
Chapter 5 ... Sunrise
Chapter 6 ... Tabletop
Chapter 7 ... The Race
Chapter 8 ... Missed Lunch
Chapter 9 ... Something To Chew On
Chapter 10 .. Back to Business
Chapter 11 .. House Work
Chapter 12 .. Idyllicus Interruptus
Chapter 13 .. House Repair
Chapter 14 .. Day’s End
Chapter 15 .. TBA
Chapter 16 .. TBA
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