"Oh,
dear, I've forgotten my manners, Mr. Crandal. My name is
Harriet Goodspell, and my companions are Miss Marilee Dinwitty
and Miss Rebecca Wannamaker. We're traveling to Contention
City to spread God's word among the miners, farmers, and merchants
there."
"Contention
City? I just come from over that way. It's a boomtown,
all right, but there's no place for you to stay. Mostly
just a tent and shantytown. Couple of saloons and whoN"
He almost said whorehouses but caught himself just in time.
Josh shook his head. "I don't think you want to go there.
It's no place for three ladies."
Harriet
smiled. "That's exactly why we must go there. If someone
doesn't preach the gospel, what will become of the souls of those
hard-working men? God will protect us, Mr. Crandal."
He
couldn't help but mutter, "Yeah, just like He protected you from
a broken wheel."
"But
He also sent you to fix it." The woman's lips were pressed in
a firm, self-satisfied, prim line.
"Listen,
Miss Goodspell, I'm just a circus clown." Josh shifted on
his feet. He was hungry, he'd gladly work off his meal,
but he knew nothing of mechanics. "I'm not sure I can fix
your wagon's wheel."
"I
have faith in you, Mr. Crandal." Harriet looked straight
at him. "Why else would you have fallen unnoticed from the
circus wagon if it were not God's will?"
"For
the love of God," he muttered under his breath. God had
nothing to do with it. It was that tightwad, Jim Clamerty
who pushed him off the wagon, who kept all of his clothes and
worldly possessions, just because Josh wanted his pay. Jim
Clamerty who invited him to a poker game, not even letting him
change his costume. Jim Clamerty who high-tailed it out
of Whiskey Ridge with his circus wagons and performers before
the sheriff caught on to his crooked dealings.
Josh
kept these thoughts to himself, accepted his bowl of stew with
thanks, and sat where Miss Harriet Goodspell indicated.
Just when he was ready to dive into his grub, the woman began
to pray.
"Thank
thee, Lord, for this food we have, and thank Thee for providing
us with an escort and helper to fix our wagon. We trust
in Thy wisdom, and accept our blessings with humility. Amen."
"Amen,"
the others including Josh echoed. It took a few minutes
before the meaning of Miss Goodspell's words sunk in. Escort!
Not me, Miss Prissy. Not on your life. Soon's I get
your wheel fixed I'm off to the nearest town. Anyplace but
Contention City.
Josh
dug into his food. He was so hungry he didn't spare much
time for good manners, but ate steadily as the night deepened.
The stew was tasty, seasoned well almost as good as something
he'd have gotten in the hotel dining room back in Savannah.