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Short Stories & Tall Tales
Jacob's Ladder
By Christopher Scott
The two men stood in the shadow of the boarding house staring intently at the young preacher. They were not contemplating Jesus and they were not there for the service. They had come to even a score.
The preacher stood on the top step of the little white church greeting parishioners as they left the Sunday morning service. They politely thanked him for such a good sermon and then slowly made their way down the gentle slope of the hill toward town.
As usual, Jacob Moore was the last one out the door. He had befriended the new preacher known by most as Pastor Jim, but Jacob wasn’t much for formalities. He tended to leave off the title and just call him Jim. At least, when there was no need to be formal. Jacob Moore was a successful businessman. Well known and well liked by most people in town. He owned the local sawmill as well as the deeds to major land and real estate investments. He was instrumental in bringing Pastor Jim to town.
As he stopped to shake the preachers hand and offer some small talk he noticed the two men in the shadows at the bottom of the hill. “Friends of yours?” he asked the preacher, glancing toward the boarding house. “Maybe they’re confused about your service time, but then again, they don’t much look like the church goin’ type.”
The preacher studied the two men. “Don’t judge people by their looks Jacob. The Lord draws to Himself those whom He will.”
“Well then, if that’s the case,” said Jacob. “I’ll just assume the good Lord is drawing two more lost souls toward your church membership since those strangers seem to be headin’ in our direction.”
Pastor Jim hurriedly thanked Jacob for coming to the service. “I hope I didn’t put you to sleep,” he joked as he walked Jacob down the stairs and hurried him on his way. “Looks like I may have some ‘business’ to conduct.”
Jacob slowly started on down the hill but kept a wary eye on the two men as they walked up the stairs of the church and disappeared through the front door with Jim.
Pastor Jim didn’t waste any time. “Just what brings you two around here?” he demanded.
The strangers stood uncomfortably close to the pastor. The meaner of the two grabbed a fistful of the preachers’ shirt and pulled him in real close. His breath was stale and the snarl in his voice was unnerving. He spoke in a hushed tone as if not wanting God Himself to hear what was about to be said. “Now is that any way to treat your old friends? Why we haven’t seen each other in goin’ on two years now and you didn’t even offer us a howdy or a handshake? I take it your not too glad to see us. I’m real disappointed about that Jimmy. You’ve been a hard man to track. But then we never expected you to be hiding behind a preachin’ collar. So tell me Jimmy, did you buy this here preachin’ collar your wearin’ with the money you stole from us? I hope not. I hope you still have our money. I hope you didn’t make some fool decision like maybe giving it all to ‘God’ as payment for your past sins? So tell me Jimmy, do you still have our money?”
The stranger released him with a shove. Jim stood his ground and fired back. “I never took that money and you darn well know it. You could have saved yourself some time if you would’ve talked to your good friend Bart first; he had the money in his bag when we parted company. I only took my share and what I did with it is none of your concern.”
The encounter with the two men was unexpected and pastor Jim needed to calm them down before they up and shot him on the spot. He knew all too well who these two were and what they were capable of. Bobby Dell and his brother Randy were wanted men… as was pastor Jim.
Bobby kept up the pressure. “We caught up with Bart a couple days out. You were supposed to be with him. He didn’t have any money on him. He said you had it all. Personally, I don’t think he would have let you take it. I think the two of you hid it somewhere. Unfortunately for him, he held to his story right up to the time Randy here put a bullet in him. So as far as we’re concerned, you got ALL the money and we’re here to collect our share. It would be quite a shame if the good folks of this nice town found out about your sordid past and this little con you got goin’. I’ll bet you make a nice little profit for yourself here don’t you Jimmy.”
Pastor Jim didn’t take too kindly to the accusation. “This is no con. I’ve turned from my past ways. I’ve found peace with the Good Lord Jesus and He has led me down the path of righteousness and has caused me to become a man of the cloth. Why the good book say’s…”
“Oh save it for the believers!” shouted Bobby. “The only path I care about is the one that leads me to the money you stole from us. We’ll give you exactly twenty four hours to come up with it or you’re as dead as our ‘good friend’ Bart!”
Bobby and Randy Dell stormed out of the church and headed down the hill. Jim breathed a sigh of relief and walked to his room at the back of the church... and Jacob Moore moved away from the open window he had been listening through.
Jim closed the door to his living quarters and sat down on the edge of his bed. He was beside himself. He couldn’t believe the Dell brothers had tracked him down. He needed to do something quick, but what? He got down on his knees, and pulled a dusty old wood box out from under the bed. As he knelt there on the floor with the box in front of him his thoughts drifted back to an earlier time. Back to his misspent youth when he had nothing better to do but waste his time with the Dell brothers and their friend Bart Masters. None of them earned an honest living; but hard drinkin’ and pretty women required money. Bart had first brought up the idea of robbing a stage and even though Jim was reluctant to go along with it, the peer pressure was overwhelming and he wanted to fit in.
With an angry shove, the box slid back under the bed. Its contents would not supply the answer he needed but would only make matters worse. The answer he needed was beyond his ability to supply. The answer, he believed, was with the Lord and that required faith, maybe more faith than he had. But then again, maybe not. He knew he would find out soon enough.
Before he got up off his knees he prayed for the answer.
Once the Dell brothers left the church they walked on down the hill and headed for the saloon.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” asked Randy.
Bobby shot back almost before Randy had finished the sentence. “Hell no I don’t think he’s telling the truth. I think he’s a bigger liar than Bart was. This preacher thing he’s got goin’ on is mighty sweet but if he doesn’t come up with our money I’ll expose him for what he is and that’s nothin’ more than a two bit con man.”
As the two men walked into the saloon Bobby pulled a coin out of his vest pocket and slapped it down on the bar. “Give us a bottle,” he barked.
Jacob Moore was wealthy and he was shrewd. What he had heard through the open church window didn’t surprise him at all. In fact, he was fully aware of pastor Jims’ past. He had made a few very good connections through his past business dealings and he had used them to do some checking on Jim before he offered him the town’s pastoral position. His full name was Jim Lint and he was hiding from his past. But in Jacob Moores’ eyes a skeleton in a man’s closet was of no real concern as Jacob himself had a few in his own closet. His belief was that one was bound to pick up a few along the road in life. You just needed to be sure you buried them along the way. He also knew that any man could change and that’s why he was willing to give Jim Lint the benefit of the doubt. Plus, the information he had gathered could prove to be useful to him at some future point in time. But even so, he still kept a watchful eye on him just as he did with some of the other folks in town. They all had a part to play in his master business plan and there was no way he was going to let anyone get in his way. He had dealt with small fish like the Dell brothers on more than one occasion and as far as he was concerned, it was time to do it again. He followed the Dell brothers into the saloon.
Jacob knew the sheriff would have a deputy posted in the saloon. He always did. Past experience proved it to be a justified precaution. The deputy was sitting at his usual table up close to the bar where the Dell brothers stood. Jacob took a seat at the table. In a voice just loud enough for the Dell brothers to hear, Jacob asked the deputy, “Has the sheriff said anything to you about the lumber mill payroll coming in on the noon stage tomorrow?”
Just as Jacob was hoping, the Dell brothers’ ears perked up.
“The bank in town was short on cash so they’re pulling about ten thousand out of their bank in Riley. Like I said, it should be here tomorrow on the noon stage.”
The Dell brothers didn't need to hear any more. They walked out of the bar to make their plans. And that was all Jacob Moore needed to see. He knew the bait had been taken. He then walked over to the sheriffs’ office.
“Sheriff, I got a bad feeling about this payroll transfer tomorrow. I know the bank will have a guard riding along with the money but I was hoping I could convince you to post a couple of your deputies inside the coach just in case.”
Jacob Moore had influence over the sheriff. This was not a request. It was an order, so the sheriff, not really having much say in the matter agreed to take care of it.
Jim Lint was a man of God but he had his weak moments and this was one of them. All afternoon he had fretted over the Dell brothers. His faith had grown weak and once again he found himself reaching under his bed. He pulled out the old wooden box and stared at it silently for quite some time trying to muster up the faith and the courage to shove it back under the bed, but his time he didn’t have it.
He opened the box, removed the contents and slowly unwrapped the velvet cloth to reveal a silver studded black holster and two pearl handled Colt revolvers. At one time they were Jims’ pride and joy. He never killed a man with em’ but he did cause a few to think twice about what they were about to do. As pretty as they were, just seeing those guns brought back a lot of bad memories.
“No,” he shouted. “I can’t do this. I am a man of the cloth now. I gave these up when I took the vow. I shouldn’t even have them.”
He threw them back into the box and slammed down the lid and with a forceful shove he slid the box back under the bed.
With his eyes toward heaven he cried out “Lord, I know this is not the answer, there has got to be another way; Please show me the way in which you want me to go.”
Jim Lint felt defeated. He opened his Bible and began to search the scriptures for an answer.
Bobby and Randy Dell were up early the next morning. Their plan was simple. They would meet the stage a couple miles outside of Riley. Shoot the guard, take the payroll box and release the horses. Then they would head back to town and collect their money from Jim Lint and be gone before the stage was due into town.
They waited in the trees just off the road. As soon as they heard the stage they stepped out. Bobby pumped a rifle slug into the guard before he had a chance to draw his weapon. The driver brought the stage to a halt.
“Drop down that payroll box and no one else gets hurt,” ordered Randy.
The driver dropped the box to the ground. As soon as Randy reached down to pick it up, the two deputies burst through the stagecoach door. The Dell brothers didn’t stand a chance. Their simple plan didn’t include their funerals.
As Pastor Jim said a few last words over the two coffins, Jacob Moore turned and walked on down the hill toward town.
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