Chapter 21 #2
From her own study of Scripture, Noreen had eventually concluded that while God did intervene directly in people’s lives from time to time, he also worked to accomplish his will through humans.
Prophets spoke his words, warriors fought his battles, and servants ministered to those in need.
She’d long ago decided that she wouldn’t sit back and wait for the Lord’s intervention.
She’d be a warrior for his cause, serving him on the battlefield.
And today, that battlefield consisted of a swath of boardwalk lined with tipsy men singing a discordant melody.
Surrender was not an option. At least, not one she would accept.
As Mr. Cowan led the group around the corner, Noreen turned to face her battleground and reached for the temperance pledges in the cloth bag slung across her body. Not surprisingly, James found his way to her side.
He didn’t try to steer her away or talk her out of her mission, he simply stood guard beside her as she approached the men on the boardwalk.
She made her way to the harmonica player first. “Afternoon, Mr. Carter. You sure play a fine harmonica.”
He removed the instrument from his mouth long enough to smile her way. “Why, thank you, Miss Noreen.”
Before he could raise it back to his mouth, she pushed a pledge sheet under his nose. “Did your mother teach you to play?”
A frown marred his face, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what his mama or his harmonica had to do with the piece of paper currently hindering his music making. “No, ma’am. I taught myself.”
He lifted a hand to push the paper aside, but Noreen anticipated the move and shifted the paper to collide with his fingers so they would instinctively take hold.
“How talented you are. It takes a great deal of practice to master a musical instrument. A man with that kind of self-discipline has no need for liquor to dull his senses. Think how proud your mother will be to learn you’ve signed this temperance pledge. An answer to her prayers, I’d wager.”
“My mother passed two years ago.” His eyes grew slightly misty.
Oh dear. “I’m dreadfully sorry to hear that. I lost my father many years ago, too. He drank himself to death. That’s why temperance is so important to me, you see. I want to save men like you from ending up like my father.”
Mr. Carter lifted his harmonica back to his mouth, but instead of continuing the peppy tale of Old Dan Tucker, he began a mournful rendition of “Home on the Range.”
The singing dwindled, and the dancing stopped as the mood shifted. Noreen grabbed several more pledge forms and handed them around to anyone polite enough to take one.
“You don’t need to sign it today. Take it home and read it. Consider how temperance can benefit both you and your families.”
A voice behind her groused, “Get her out of here, Paxton. She’s harassing my customers.”
James stepped back to deal with Taggert. “Your customers are on a public walkway, not inside your place of business. She’s free to hand out literature to anyone she wishes.”
“Think of your children.” Noreen nodded to one of the older men who’d been dancing a moment ago. “Your grandchildren. Don’t you want to set a good example for them? Have them be proud of you?”
A man on the end lurched from his chair and stomped toward Noreen, his face a mottled red, and his eyes narrow slits.
“You got no right talkin’ about our children like you know who we are.
You don’t know us.” He swung out his hand and snatched the temperance pledge out of the harmonica player’s lap.
He tore it down the middle. “You think you’re so much better than us, but you’re not.
” He bunched the pieces together and turned them sideways to tear them again.
“You’re nothin’ but an interferin’ busybody”—rip—“too ugly to find a husband of your own”—rip—“so you go around punishin’ other women’s husbands. ” Rip.
Stunned and horribly embarrassed, Noreen froze in place as pieces of shredded paper rained down on the boardwalk. Until she felt James’s hand brush the small of her back as he moved to place himself between her and the angry man.
“That’s enough, Templeton.” He held out a placating hand, treating him as he would a wild horse.
Templeton? This was Luella’s father? A knot twisted in Noreen’s chest. She recognized that look in his eyes. One that promised retribution. Thank heaven Luella would be staying with her tonight.
“Please, Papa. Listen to her. You need this.”
No! Noreen swiveled her gaze down to street level, where Luella stood looking up at her father with tears in her eyes.
In a flash, his anger redirected. “What I need is for my daughter to mind her own business.”
Noreen dropped her pledge forms and ran down the steps, her only thought to get to Luella before her father forgot a lawman watched his every move.
Luella, brave, loving girl that she was, stood her ground. “The drink is hurting you, Papa. Hurting our family.”
Noreen reached Luella’s side and immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began drawing the girl away.
Mr. Templeton’s gaze burned into Noreen’s. “You turned my own kin against me. You’ll pay for this.”
Good. Keep that anger directed at me.
“Your daughter loves you. If you were sober, you’d see that.”
James caught her eye and jerked his head toward the far side of the building, his message clear. “Get the girl out of here.”
She couldn’t agree more. “Come on, sweetheart. He’s not ready to listen yet.” He might never be.
Tears streamed down Luella’s cheeks, but she finally submitted to being drawn away, even as one of the men closest to her father slapped him on the back and offered to buy him another round.
Rather ironic for a temperance woman to be thankful for the power of alcohol to sway a man away from his family, but Noreen’s gratitude for the drink buyer winged heavenward as she hurried Luella back to the safety of the prayer meeting.