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  “Beautiful,” she said. “They’re on a natural high from spreading God’s word to the public and want to know when they can do it again.”

  He smiled. “I know how they feel.” He turned back to Tarz. “Would you please put the pickup under the shed for me? I want to shower and clean up before going in to breakfast.”

  Tarz nodded. “Of course, Preacher.” He hesitated a moment. “Everything go well? Did we raise enough to cover this year’s mortgage payment?”

  Preacher nodded. “You’ll be able to make your banker very happy when you go in to see him.”

  Tarz grinned. “He sure will be. He was getting a bit edgy the closer we got to the end of the month.”

  “He’ll be okay now,” Preacher said, starting for his building.

  Charlie followed him inside. “You look beat,” she said. “Let me heat some water for you an’ you can take a hot soak.”

  “I’ll be okay with a shower,” he said.

  “Just this once, Preacher, do as I say.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then sighed. “Okay. I am tired.” He sank into a chair.

  “That’s better,” she said. She took a joint from her shirt pocket and lit it. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “Take a few tokes from this. It’ll relax you while I go and start a fire in the stove. Then I’ll be right back to undress you.”

  He took a deep toke from the joint. “You’re acting like I’m a baby.”

  She laughed. “All you men think you’re so big and strong. But a little bit of babying never hurt the best of you.”

  He took another deep toke as she went into the next room to start the fire. He leaned his head back against the chair. Suddenly he was aware that he was much more tired than he had thought. She was right. A little bit of babying would not hurt at all.

  ***

  Tarz came in while she was pouring hot water from the iron kettle into the large wooden-staved tub placed on the kitchen floor. “Where’s Preacher?”

  She glanced at him. “In the other room. Asleep in his chair.”

  Tarz crossed to the open door and looked inside. Charlie was right. His eyes were closed, his head leaning against the back of the chair. He was still in his clothes. The only thing he had taken off was his boots. Tarz came back to Charlie. “They’re expecting him down at the meeting house.”

  “He ain’t goin’ to make it,” she said. “He’s been up all night.”

  “What do I tell them?” he asked.

  “The truth,” she said. “It’s the Sabbath. And even the Lord had to take a day of rest.”

  He was silent.

  “You tell them to pray an’ that he’ll be with them after he gets some sleep. He should be okay by the middle of the afternoon.”

  He nodded, looking at her. “Okay. Need any help with him?”

  She laughed. “I can manage. After all, he’s not that big.”

  Tarz left the house and she poured another kettle of water into the tub. She took a bottle of colored crystals from the paper bag she had placed on the table and slowly emptied it into the tub. She stirred it slowly with a big wooden paddle and the scent of pinewood perfume rose with the steam. She breathed deeply. It smelled real nice.

  He felt her hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. “I fell asleep.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “What time is it?” he asked. “I got a sermon all ready.”

  “It’ll keep until this afternoon,” she said. “I already told them. You get out of your clothes. The bath is ready.”

  He got slowly to his feet and began to unbutton his shirt. He sniffed the air. “What’s that funny smell?”

  “Pine bath salts,” she giggled. “I bought them up in the city. The drugstore man says it’s real good for when you’re tired.”

  “You’ll have me smelling like a perfume factory.”

  “Don’t complain till you try it,” she said. “It’s got to be a lot better than chow mein.”

  He laughed. “We’ll see.”

  “How is it?” she asked, looking down at him.

  He sank even deeper into the tub, his head against its back, and turned to look at her. “Great. I’d almost forgotten how good a real bath could be.”

  She smiled. “I thought you’d dig it.”

  “You were right, Charlie.”

  She gave him a sponge and a cake of soap. “You scrub yourself good and clean. I’ll go and get you some breakfast.”

  He grinned at her. “My mother always used to wash me.”

  “I’m not your mother,” she laughed. “You’re big enough to wash yourself.”

  “Okay,” he said. “And while you’re out there, tell Tarz I want to see him right away.”

  “Can’t it wait?” she asked. “I wanted you to have some rest.”

  “It’s important,” he said.

  He was drying himself when Tarz came in. “How are you feeling, Preacher?”

  “Fine,” he said. “I was just a little beat, that’s all.”

  “Charlie said it was important.”

  Preacher looked at him. “It is. First thing tomorrow morning, get both tractors and six men. I want field ten completely plowed under. But real good, so that none of the old crop comes up at all. Then I want you to seed it with alfalfa.”

  Tarz stared at him. “We’re not going to make any money with alfalfa.”

  “We’re not going to make any money if the whole Community gets busted for growing and dealing,” Preacher replied.

  “That money pays the mortgage.”

  “We’ll have to find another way,” Preacher said. “We did well in Frisco. Maybe we’ll start a regular collection program and do a different city each week.”

  “The children aren’t goin’ to like it. A lot of them are here because they feel the outside rules don’t apply. They like the freedom that the Community of God has given them; they like the fact that no one passes judgment on them.”

  “They’ll still be free to do what they want,” Preacher said. “We’re just goin’ out of the business, that’s all.”

  Tarz shook his head. “They ain’t goin’ to look at it that way. They’re gonna feel that you’re giving in to the establishment.”

  Preacher looked at him. “They’re not wrong. But the choice is a practical one. I don’t think any of them will like the idea of going to jail any more than I do.”

  “They’ll still want to do their own dope.”

  “That’s up to them,” Preacher said. “They can do it. All I’m saying is that we’re not going to be growing it here. And anyone I catch breaking that rule gets banished.”

  Tarz stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll have the tractors out there at six in the morning.”

  “I’ll be out there with you,” Preacher said.

  “What’s the matter, Preacher?” Tarz asked, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Don’t you trust me?”

  Preacher laughed. “You know better than that, Tarz. I just want to make sure that the job is done right. I’m still the boss farm boy around here. You city slickers don’t know it all yet.”

  Tarz grinned. “Whatever you say, Preacher. But you’re goin’ to have to explain it to the children. They’ll never buy it if I tell them.”

  “I’ll do that too,” Preacher said. “All we have to keep in mind is that the only important work we have to do is God’s work. Everything else is incidental.”

  Chapter Six

  He rolled over restlessly in bed and finally sat up. A week had passed since his return from San Francisco and he had not yet been able to sleep through a night. A peculiar foreboding hung over him and he was not able to pinpoint the cause of his anxiety. And nothing he did was able to alleviate the strange nervousness. Not prayer, not fasting, or doping, or sex. Though each in its turn gave him a few hours’ rest, the feeling came back to haunt him.

  It was pitch-black in the room, the windows were black with night, there was no moon. He felt a stirring besid
e him and reached out with his hand, touching a naked young body. He tried to remember who had been with him when he fell asleep but couldn’t. He knew there had been several girls with him but he had smoked too much and his head was still fuzzy.

  “Preacher,” came the whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I just can’t sleep.” He paused for a moment. “I can’t see either. It’s too dark.”

  “I’m Melanie.” There was a whispered giggle. “You were really stoned. We all had to put you to bed.”

  “All?” he questioned.

  “Sarah, Charlie and me.”

  He felt a movement on his other side as the girl sat up. He knew this voice. “Preacher, are you all right?” Charlie asked.

  “I can’t sleep,” he said.

  “You haven’t been able to sleep since you came down from Frisco.” There was a bitterness in her voice. “You haven’t been able to do much else either. I think that Chinese bitch put a hex on you.”

  “That’s blasphemy,” he said. “There’s no such thing. That went out with the Middle Ages.”

  Getting out of bed, she said, “I’m going to make you some herb tea.” She lit a candle next to the bed. In the flickering light he could see all three of the girls. They were all as naked as he was. She picked up a small bottle from the wooden box that served as a bedside table and handed it to Melanie. “I’ve been saving this bottle of Kama Sutra Musk Oil. You stretch out and let the girls rub you down with it. It’ll relax you.”

  “I want a cigarette,” he said.

  “You’ve had enough dope,” she replied.

  “I mean a cigarette cigarette.”

  “You’ve been off them for over a year now. You don’t want to start up again.”

  “Don’t argue with me,” he said edgily.

  She was silent for a moment, then took a pack from the table. He pulled a cigarette from it and she held the candle for him to light it. He dragged deeply, the acrid tobacco burning its way down into him. He coughed.

  “Feel better now?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Much,” he said shortly, dragging on the cigarette again.

  “Then lie back and let the girls take care of you,” she said.

  He nodded and sank back on the bed as she lit another candle and placed it in a holder on the box. Then she walked to the door. “I won’t be long.”

  He looked at her. “Thanks, Charlie.”

  “You don’t have to thank us, Preacher,” she said. “We all love you.”

  “And I love you,” he said.

  “Turn this way, Preacher,” Sarah said, sitting cross-legged behind him. “And place your head in my lap.”

  He shifted slightly, doing as she asked. He took a last drag on the cigarette. It was real good. It had been stupid of him to give them up—he really didn’t know why. He held up the cigarette and Melanie took it and put it out in an ashtray. The faint perfume of the Kama Sutra Oil came to his nostrils as the girls placed some on their hands and then began to massage him.

  Sarah, behind him, began to work on his neck and shoulders, while Melanie, who knelt at his feet, began with his feet and worked her way up across his ankles and legs. Charlie was right. Their light touch and the softness of the oil was both relaxing and soothing. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the simple sensuality of the feathery-light touch that seemed to reach the nerve ends lying just under the surface of his skin.

  Sarah’s hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, moving in slow gentle circles over his nipples and ribs while Melanie began to knead his thighs. “Don’t fight us, Preacher,” Melanie said. “Your legs is all tight. Let the muscles go soft and easy.”

  “How do I do that?” he asked.

  “Talk to us about God, Preacher,” Sarah said. “If’n you concentrate on Him, it’ll take your mind off’n yourself.”

  He opened his eyes and looked up at her as she leaned over him, her arms outstretched to reach his stomach. He could see the faint patina of perspiration on her body and noticed the faint odor of her sex rising from her lap. “It’s not going to be easy,” he said. “I can smell you.”

  She giggled. “Then I’ll talk to you about God.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “I been having this dream. But I’ve been afraid to tell you. It may be blasphemous.”

  “The only real blasphemy in the Community is the fear of sharing everything. Even your doubts.”

  “Melanie knows the dream. I told her.”

  “Then you can tell me,” he said.

  She began to knead his stomach muscles, her fingers pressing more heavily than they had on his chest. “In the dream, it is night and I am kneeling at the foot of the cross on Calvary. I am praying at the feet of our Savior when suddenly something makes me look up and Jesus is looking into my eyes. I could feel a white brilliance running through my soul. It is so bright that for a moment I can’t see and when my eyes clear it is not His face I am looking into but your face, it is not His eyes, but your eyes. I can see so much pain that I want to reach up and touch you and comfort you but no matter how much I stretch and try, I cannot even touch your feet. I begin to cry. Then I wake up.”

  Preacher felt the tears on his cheeks. He looked up at her. She was crying even as she massaged him. He didn’t speak.

  “What does it mean, Preacher?” she asked. “Is it a vision? Or are you really Jesus Christ?”

  “One thing I do know,” he said. “I am not Jesus Christ. Whatever else it is I do not know. All I can feel is that you are seeking our Lord with such intensity that you are subconsciously changing His identity into someone closer to you who you can touch and reach.”

  “Is that blasphemous?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. All of us seek God, either in ourselves or in recognizable images. The important thing is that we do not create false images to worship, to remember there is only one true God and He has sent us His only Son Jesus Christ, to redeem us and lead us to salvation.”

  He felt her oil-softened fingers touch his penis at the same moment that Melanie touched his testicles. A fire seemed to begin in his loins.

  The girls suddenly withdrew their hands. “Turn over on your stomach,” Sarah said. “Charlie said for us to do your back the minute you began to get hard.”

  “Why?” he grumbled.

  “She wants you to be completely relaxed when you have your herb tea,” Melanie said.

  “I’m relaxed now.”

  “Turn over,” Sarah said. “You’ll be more relaxed when we’re finished.”

  He was half drowsing by the time Charlie came back. “How do you feel now, Preacher?” she asked.

  He turned his head to look up at her. “Relaxed.”

  “Good,” she smiled. “Now sit up and drink this.”

  He rolled over and sat up, taking the mug from her hand. He raised it to his lips.

  “Be careful,” she cautioned. “It’s hot.”

  Tentatively he sipped it. He made a face. “It tastes awful. What is it?”

  “Drink it. It’s good for you.”

  “That’s not telling me what it is,” he said.

  “Ginseng tea. The real stuff. I made it from the whole root, not the tea bags. That’s why it took so long.”

  “What’s that supposed to do?” he asked.

  “Give you strength,” she said.

  He glanced up at her. “The Chinese say it makes you virile.”

  “That too.” She smiled.

  He took another sip of the tea. “Do you think I need it?”

  “You can use all the help you can get. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

  “I know that,” he said. “But did you ever think I might have other things on my mind?”

  “Whatever it is, this should help you reestablish your perspective.”

  He tasted the tea again. “This really is awful.”

  “Drink it all,” s
he said. “The quicker you finish it, the quicker we can all get back to bed.”

  “Will this help me to sleep?” he asked.

  “You’ll have no problem sleeping,” she said with a faint smile. She watched him empty the cup, then took it from him and put it on the wooden box next to the bed.

  “Do you want us to blow out the candles?” Melanie asked.

  “No,” she answered. “Candlelight is very romantic.” She turned toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back on the bed, her mouth covering his lips. At the same moment he felt one of the girls place her hand on his genitals, then a soft warm mouth encircled him.

  “Hey, what is this?” he asked, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m beginning to feel like a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.”

  “You don’t know?” Charlie asked, lifting her mouth from his and looking at him.

  He shook his head.

  “We want you to make a baby in each of us,” she said.

  “Tonight?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” they answered almost in unison.

  He stared at them. “What for?”

  “That way none of us will ever lose you. Even when you’ve gone away, we’ll still have some of your godliness with us.”

  “That’s crazy!” he said.

  “No it’s not,” Charlie said. “We all know you’re going to leave us.”

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  “Things aren’t the same anymore,” she said. “Not since you plowed under the crop. You’ve changed, Preacher. We thought if we were all together once again, you would come back to us.”

  He got out of bed roughly and lit a cigarette. He stared at her. “Who put you up to this?”

  “Nobody,” she said. “But the Community is real upset. Half of them want to go away before you do.”

  He dragged on the cigarette. “And you think if you all have babies that would make everything right?”

  “That’s what we thought,” she said.

  “I’m not planning to go anywhere,” he said shortly. “Now you get your asses out of here and tell that to the others. And you can also tell them that if they have any complaints to bring them directly to me.”

  Charlie began to cry. He looked at the other two girls. They were crying too. He shook his head in frustration. There was no way he could make them understand.