5.
“Don’t they serve you
food on the trails?” Lance looked up from his stew that left to the last scoop
on the plate. He had been wolfing the meals ever since his return.
“I doubt the heathen
ever cooked anything that is not burned on the stake.” Father Dennis commented
on the Native American that traveled with Lance. “What his name? Tonto or was
it…”
“His name is Tonto and
he does cook well. It’s just on the trails we only have time for the plain
meals ….” Lance replied before he scooped off the last of the stew. Father
Dennis was not a great orator on the evils of Man but a superb cook of the
Irish foods.
“Yes, I had seen those
over cooked slabs of steak and God knows what’s in the tough hide of the
streaky beef.” Father Dennis had little regards for the food cooked in a jiffy
over an open fire. He had then taken another helping for the younger man but
the later had declined.
“Good food need not be
wasted.” Father Dennis pulled the plate back and went at it on his own cooking.
“Tell me about those you had snared. Skip the ones that had repented. I will
get to hear their confessions soon. Tell me on the ….:”
“I found nothing on the
association.” Lance sighed and then lied. “They won’t talk.”
“Cat got their tongue
or your heathen pal removed it?” Father Dennis cut in. “Son, I know when you
are lying. Your eyes twitched. Heck, I know when you smog the house too.”
“Sorry, Father Dennis.
It was the beans in the stew I think.” Lance smiled.
“I’ll be darned when I
served beans in my stew. It’s your trail food that served you beans.” Father
Dennis gave out one then. “I know it for I was eating it too.”
The conversation soon
moved to the porch where the younger man relates on the finding of his.
“The Association is a
well knitted community. They have been spreading along the smaller towns where
the banks held the money for the trail masters or owners. They seems to be keen
on robbing the banks at night and then arranged for some desperadoes to come
later for the actual event but there will be little or no money left. Most of
the desperadoes will then be ambushed and killed while some survived to escape.
They will soon be killed by the named posse. It was all to cover the real
robbery.”
“How could they do it?
The posse was from the town folks.” Father Dennis replied.
“Yup but they were all
the members of the community that was converted. I have seen some of them have
done the whole family or the main leaders. Those close to them which are not
converted are sent back east or worse to another town. Once they have finished
with the town, the converted will leave or go missing. In some towns, it could
be the town elders or even the Sheriff. It was how I caught up the trail. I
followed the towns where the Sheriff had left. From there, I traced the clues
to their next town or hiding place.”
“Their preferred hiding
places are empty towns devoid of inhabitants or abandoned mines.” Lance
continued on. “I also found trails of them being killed by their own.”
That stumped the priest
but Lance then explained.
“I assumed the Association
had limited members and the ones that are not required anymore may be killed.
It’s like a survival game. The herd is kept to a certain number and with that
they are efficient. If there are the maimed and old, they will be discarded but
with the Association, they can’t do that for the blood suckers are immortal
unless struck down with their heads removed. I believed the numbers are
maintained by having the fittest only.”
“So why the money for?
Build their homes?” Father Dennis asked.
“To build an army to
take over the country. The Association cannot surface unless they have the
whole country converted and then again, it will deplete their feeding ground.
They have decided to be the elite class and ruled over the others. In order to
that, they need to build an army of people to do their other tasks like running
for positions of leadership sponsored with the Association money. The President
is due to be replaced in six months.”
“And the money is in
the railways and cattle. Both are the new expansion in the country now.”
“No wonder my parish kitty
is always low. I only got farmers and miners to ask from. Where is the rail
when you need
it?” Father Dennis sighed. He then looked at Lance. “Would you be
coming for the Sunday services? The kitty is by the doorway.”
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