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  “Sure thing, Preacher,” the man said, walking to the pump. He stopped there, looking over his shoulder at him. “By the way, you got cash?”

  “I’ve got cash,” Preacher said. “But how come? We always ran a charge here.”

  “New regulations,” Mike said without meeting Preacher’s eyes. “No more private accounts. Only cash or credit cards.” He put the nozzle into the tank of the pickup, locked it on automatic and came back to Preacher. “Want me to check under the hood?”

  Preacher shook his head. “It’s okay.”

  Mike went back to the pump and waited until the meter clicked off. “Eight and a quarter.”

  Silently, Preacher held out a ten-dollar bill. Mike gave him change from his pocket. “Thanks, Preacher,” he said. “Have a good day.”

  Preacher looked at him. “We’ve been friends, Mike. Maybe you can tell me what’s going on here?”

  An embarrassed look came over Mike’s face. “I don’t rightly know, Preacher.”

  “I won’t say anything to anyone,” Preacher said. “You can tell me.”

  Mike glanced up and down the street before he spoke. Even then it was almost in a whisper. “It’s the Manson thing. It’s got everybody scared. And you all livin’ out there in the valley like you do. It’s just like them.”

  “But they know better than that. We never had any trouble before. The complaint had to come from somebody.”

  “I don’t know, Preacher,” Mike said. “Honest. But I heard that the sermons in the churches last Sunday were all about the hippies and their godless way of livin’ with sex and drugs and all that. That’s where the Mansons come from, they said.”

  Preacher took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That was something he should have expected. He had been rebuffed in every attempt he had made to become friends with the ministers of local churches. “Thank you, Mike,” he said. “I appreciate your talking to me.”

  His next stop was the post office to pick up the mail. This time he saw the sign that said NO TRUCKS, and parked at a meter on the street. He went into the building and opened his box with the key. There were about fifteen letters. He shoved them in his shirt pocket and locked the box. He saw the postal clerk watching him from behind his cage. Usually he stopped and passed the time of day with him, but this time when he caught the clerk’s eye the man turned away and acted busy. Preacher got the message and went out without stopping.

  He sat in the cab of the pickup and began to open the mail. He stared in disbelief at the very first letter. It was printed in pencil.

  GET YOUR FILTH OUT OF THIS TOWN NOW BEFORE WE COME DOWN THERE AND GET RID OF YOU OURSELVES.

  The letter was unsigned. Quickly he opened the others. They were all pretty much the same thing. And all unsigned. He turned them over and looked at the postmark. All were local and dated the day before. Silently he put them into the dashboard and started the motor. He found it hard to accept but it was almost as if overnight it had become another world.

  He glanced into the rearview mirror as he pulled into the road. A police car turned the corner and fell in behind him. Preacher drove carefully, making sure that he followed all the rules. He came to the end of town and turned onto the state highway that led to the Community. The police car was still behind him even after he had passed the city limits sign. He continued on for another mile, then pulled off to the shoulder of the road and stopped.

  The police car pulled up beside him. “Anything wrong?” the policeman nearest his window called.

  “Nope.” Preacher shook his head.

  “What you stop for then?” the policeman asked.

  Preacher looked at him. They were city police and had no jurisdiction beyond city limits. “I thought you might be interested in knowing that you’re two miles outside the city limits.”

  The policeman’s face flushed. He glanced at the driver in the seat next to him, then back at Preacher. “We were just waiting for a safe place to turn around.”

  “You got it,” Preacher said. “Ain’t no traffic here.”

  The policeman glared at him. “What are you? A wise guy?”

  “No sir,” Preacher said politely. “Just a citizen trying to be helpful. I wouldn’t want you fellows to get into trouble with the highway patrol. You know how jealous they can get of their jurisdiction.”

  The policeman stared at him for a moment without answering, then nodded to the driver. The police car pulled in front of him, made a U-turn and headed back toward the town. Preacher waited until they were out of sight, then went back on the road. Somehow he felt a little better even if he knew it was no victory at all.

  ***

  It was while they were sitting down to dinner that they first heard the roar of the motorcycles. Preacher jumped for the door just as the first rock came crashing through the window.

  By the time he was outside they had made a clean turn through the Community and were roaring back up the hill. In the rapidly fading twilight he could see four motorcycles, their white-helmeted riders hunched over the handlebars.

  The girls were pushing their way through the doorway when he turned back to them. “Go back inside,” he said. “They’re gone.”

  He followed them into the building. Ali Elijah gave him a note. “This was wrapped around the rock.”

  It was written in thick black marking ink:

  THIS IS OUR ONLY WARNING. GET OUT WHILE THE GOING IS GOOD. THE NEXT TIME WE MEAN BUSINESS.

  He sat down heavily. Suddenly he was weary. There was no way out, nothing more he could do. He pushed the note toward the girls. “Read that,” he said. “I have fifteen more outside in the dashboard of the pickup.”

  “What does it mean, Preacher?” Charlie asked.

  He shook his head. “Exactly what it says. They don’t want us around here.”

  “If we can’t stay here, Preacher, where will we go?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Wherever we go will take money and everything I have is tied up here.”

  One of the girls began to cry.

  “What is it, Beth?” he asked.

  “You’re not going to send us away, are you, Preacher?”

  “I don’t want to,” he answered. “But it’s not safe for you to stay here anymore.”

  “We raised a lot of money in San Francisco,” Charlie said. “If we get another caravan, we can all go on the road.”

  “That won’t work anymore. I have a feeling that attitudes toward us have changed everywhere. I don’t think people will be as kind to us as they were.”

  “Because of the Manson thing?”

  He nodded. “That’s got a lot to do with it.”

  Charlie was silent for a moment. “There are other ways we can get money.”

  He looked at her.

  “I spent some time with Moise David before I came with you,” she said. “The girls raised a lot of money for him.”

  “Moise David is sick,” he said. “He perverts the word of God for his own evil ends. Jesus never asked us to prostitute our bodies for him. We cannot turn the grace of God into lasciviousness, fornication and the seeking of strange flesh, for if we do that we consign ourselves to the eternity of hell, no matter how we seek to justify ourselves.”

  “But we have made love and it was good.”

  “Because the reason was love and none other,” he said. “What Moise David has his followers do is something else.” He was silent for a moment. “We’re all tired. Why don’t we try to get some rest? Tomorrow when our minds are fresh, maybe we will think of something.”

  Charlie looked at the other girls, then back at Preacher. “No matter what you decide, just remember one thing. We love you, Preacher.”

  “And I love you,” he said.

  He watched them leave and finally he was alone with Ali Elijah. Preacher glanced up at him. “It’s not easy,” he said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have no choice. I have to find a place for them and send them away.” />
  Elijah stared down at him. “You don’t have to do that. There is a way you can still keep the Community together.”

  “How?”

  “If you can’t lick ’em, join ’em,” the black man said. “But it means you’ll have to change your whole image. Cut your hair, shave, go back to the middle of the road. Then you can go on the road and preach the Gospel just like them radio and television preachers. You can put on a hell of a show with them ten girls all in white transparent gowns, standing around while you’re preachin’ against sin.”

  “It’s not as easy as that,” Preacher said. “That will take money too.”

  “Barbara, I mean Beverly, would lend it to you. She got a satchelful settin’ up there in your house.”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  Ali Elijah laughed. “Why not? You’ll still be carrying God’s word to the people, and isn’t that what you really want?”

  Preacher didn’t answer.

  “You do that, Preacher,” he said, “and I’m your first convert. I’ll take back my own name, Joe Washington, and forget all the Black Muslim stuff. Man, it’ll be like being born again.”

  “Do you really mean that?” Preacher asked.

  “I sure do,” the black man answered. “I’m sure that God didn’t intend to let this stop you. Not after He gave you all that lovely young pussy to help you spread His Gospel.”

  Chapter Four

  Exactly at four o’clock the black Mercedes pulled up before the gospel tent. The bodyguard jumped from his seat beside the chauffeur and opened the passenger door. Jake Randle waved aside the man’s extended hand and got out of the car unaided. Walking slowly, leaning slightly on his gold-topped ebony walking stick, he went to the entrance of the tent.

  From the far side, Joe gave the prearranged signal and two of the usherettes in long white dresses moved toward the old man to guide him to his seat. First, a silence, then a whisper ran through the crowded tent. “Jake Randle.” “Jake Randle.” For many it was the first time they ever saw the man whose name graced the town in which they lived.

  Silently, they watched as he made his way slowly down the aisle to the bench that had been reserved for him. Now they knew why no one had been allowed to sit there. Oddly enough there was no resentment in them, only an unspoken understanding. It was his right. He moved to the center of the bench and sat down without looking around. The girls gave him a program without asking him for a contribution, and he put it on the bench beside him without looking at it while his bodyguard sat down on the edge of the bench, far from him.

  Slowly, Randle removed his hat and placed it beside him, revealing a large shock of pure white hair. He looked up at the platform. The giant photograph of Preacher stared down at him, the words Jesus wants you! shimmering in the reflected light. From the empty platform his eyes turned to the large wooden barrels with golden spigots mounted on pedestals, five on either side of the platform. Then a herald of trumpets and a roll of drums came through the sound system and his eyes turned, following a spotlight to the side of the tent.

  The flap rolled up, revealing Preacher standing alone in the spotlight, an almost luminescent black cassock with a white collar covering his suit, his sandy brown hair brushed neatly away from his calm white face, a white leather-bound, gold-engraved Bible in his hand. The roll of drums continued and, after a moment’s pause, Preacher walked in measured steps to the platform. He stopped and placed the Bible on the podium just as the drum roll came to an end and looked silently out at the congregation. A deep sonorous voice came through the speakers.

  “In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, welcome to the Community of God Church of Christian America Triumphant. The Reverend C. Andrew Talbot, pastor.”

  There was a rustle of clothing and movement as the congregation settled back on their seats to await the sermon. Preacher looked out at them for a long moment before speaking. Then his voice came thundering through the speakers, strong and firm, but with a faintly Southwestern twang that made them recognize him as one of their own.

  “We are all sinners!”

  Now he had their attention. There was complete silence as they waited for him to speak again.

  “You look at me and ask, ‘How can I be a sinner? Did I not attend services at my church this very morning? Did I not listen to my good pastor preach the word?”

  “Of course you did. But mere lip service to the Lord on the Sabbath is not enough. Look deep into your souls. Think of the days past and the days to come. Can you honestly say that you will be safe from the wrath of God when He reveals it from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness?

  “Can you say that you did not turn God from you, so that He gave you up to uncleanness through the lusts of your own hearts, to dishonor your own bodies with unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness, envy, murder, deceit, and other evil inventions—sodomy, fellatio, cunnilingus and homosexuality?

  “Can you say that you are not guilty of intemperance, of the avid seeking of personal and physical pleasures, of seeking profit or property which is not rightfully yours? Or, even, of simply lusting in your heart after that to which you had no right?”

  He paused again and let his eyes sweep the congregation.

  “And I say to you, if there is one man among you who will come forth and say that he has not been guilty of any of these sins, then I will say to you that all of you are saved.”

  He was silent again, looking at them. The silence was absolute. No one moved.

  He took a deep breath and his voice came through the speakers with even greater intensity. “Then I will say to you the same words that Paul the Apostle said to the Romans.

  “‘I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.’

  “And this will be the subject of my message to you today. The failures of America are not because God has turned His back on us, but because we have turned our backs on Him. This country was founded in His name and will only regain its strength and purpose when we return His name to the country. That is the reason for the Church of Christian America Triumphant. To bring back to the United States of America the blessings of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!”

  It started as a murmur and turned into a groundswell of approval. The sound echoed against the roof of the tent. “Amen!”

  Preacher looked down at them. Not a hint of what he felt showed on his face. But he had them and he knew it. Their faces turned eagerly up to his next words.

  “The devil is in you!” he shouted. “And where will you be on that day when the Redeemer cometh to collect our souls? And, believe me, that day is coming soon, it is not far off. Will you go with Jesus up to heaven and stand with Him before the golden throne of God? Or will the devil take you down into the eternal fires of hell and damnation? Only you will know!”

  Dramatically, he raised his arms and looked up to heaven. “O merciful Jesus,” he prayed, “help me show Thy way to these misbegotten sinners before me. Help me, O blessed Jesus.”

  This time they shouted even louder, not realizing they were being led and amplified by portions of a prerecorded tape playing through the sound system. “Amen! Praise the Lord!”

  For more than thirty minutes, he shouted at them, railed at them, cursed them, threatened them with the most horrible images of the hell they were being consigned to until they were reduced to an almost fearful state of self-abnegation. Abruptly he came to a stop, his face and hair dripping with perspiration, his collar open and wet, his cassock hanging limply against him. Silently, he looked down at them for a long moment.

  “I am coming down among you, for in some of you I can see the devil more than in others. I will come down among you in the name of Jesus Christ and with Him at my side do battle with the devil for your souls.”

  They watched in dread silence as he turned and came down the platform steps. He walked slowly up the first aisle, peering into each face. Finally, he stoppe
d and pointed an outstretched finger at a young man, who seemed to be trying to make himself inconspicuous. “You!” he cried out. “Come here!”

  The young man shook his head in fear. “No.”

  Preacher leaned into the aisle and literally pulled the young man from his seat. He flung the young man to his knees before him. “Confess! Confess you have sinned!” he shouted.

  The young man shook his head. Frantically he tried to escape Preacher’s grasp. But Preacher held him fast.

  “Confess!” Preacher said. “Confess!” He began to slap the young man’s face. First on one side, then on the other. “Out devil!” Preacher shouted. “Loose your grip on this sinner! Out! Let his lips speak the words of his redemption!”

  The young man began to shudder, almost spastically. He seemed to be trying to speak but nothing but spittle ran down from his mouth.

  “Devil! Loosen his tongue!” Preacher shouted, giving the young man a punishing blow on the cheek, knocking him to the ground almost unconscious. Preacher didn’t hesitate. He knelt over him and pulled him again to his feet. The young man’s head rolled woozily on his shoulders. “Confess!” Preacher commanded him.

  The young man fell to his knees and held up his hands in supplicating prayer. “I confess! I confess. Sweet Jesus, I confess! Forgive me, I have sinned. I drank whiskey and smoked dope and have lain with women. I have despoiled my body and my soul. Forgive me, merciful Jesus!” He brought his hands to his face and covered it, his body wracked with sobs.

  Triumphantly, Preacher looked around at the congregation, then gently drew the young man to his feet and began to lead him down the aisle. “Come, my son,” he said, almost softly. “Let me wash you and cleanse you in the holy waters brought from the river Jordan at great expense, so that you may once more enter the Community of God and approach your Savior with clean hands.”

  He came to a stop in front of one of the barrels. He pushed the young man to his knees in front of the barrel and gestured to one of the white-gowned usherettes, who came forward and opened the golden spigot.

  The water trickled out and Preacher held his hand beneath it and began to wipe the face of the young man. Then, cupping the water in his hand, he splashed some on the young man’s head. “With this holy water from the river Jordan, I baptize thee once, in the name of the Father,”—another handful of water—“in the name of Jesus Christ the Son”—and a final handful of water—“and in the name of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”