Prairie Preacher

Contents

1. The Arrival

2. Merton

3. Trinity Lutheran Church

4. Katherine

5. The Office

6. The First Night

7. The Long Day

8. Church Council

9. Finances

10. Tuesday

11. John Peterson

12. The Steps

13. The Trip to Town

14. The Church Raising

15. The First Sunday

16. Settling In

17. Another Friday

18. The News

19. The Old Straw Stack

20. The Funeral

21. The Weekend

22. Lloyd’s Surgery

23. The North Wind

24. The Outsiders

25. The Hayride

26. The Newcomers

27. Elsie

28. Jessup Family

29. Ellen

30. Three Letters

31. Saturday Night Dinner

32. Minnesota

33. Home Again

34. Goats and Oleo

35. The Deer Hunt

36. John’s Request

37. The Merton Clergy

38. Sunday Service

39. The Hospital

40. The Arrangements

41. The Quiet Soul

42. Rest for A Tortured Soul

43. Moving Day

44. Nora Grainger

45. The First Snowfall

46. Butchering

47. The First Blizzard

48. The Passengers

49. Thanksgiving Preparations

50. Thanksgiving

51. Chivarie

52. Attorneys and Holidays

53. Saturday Night

54. The Program

55. Origins of the Church

56. The Week Before Christmas

57. Christmas Eve

58. Christmas Day

59. The Dinners

60. Holiday Week

61. Mom and Dad

62. New Year’s Eve

63. New Year’s Day

64. January Thaw

65. The Wedding

66. Ned Grainger

67. Winter Doldrums

68. The Dead of Winter

69. Gerhardt

70. Seek and Ye Shall Find

71. The Lion and the Lamb

72. Byron’s Question, Elton’s Decision

73. A Sunday in February

74. Making Amends

75. Changes

76. The Funeral Lunch

77. Valentine’s Day

78. New Plans

79. Katherine

80. March Winds

81. Munson

82. Mother’s Protective Love

83. The Waiting Room

84. Nora and Pepper

85. The Endless Wait

86. The Infections

87. Easter

88. April Showers

89. The Weather

90. Spread the Word

91. Family

92. Another Weekend

93. Bird and Lord

94. Mailboxes

95. Santa

96. Nora’s Wedding

97. Berry Picking

98. Marly and Byron

Dedicated to Mom and Dad,

who taught me the value of faith and humor

With very special thanks to my brothers John and Steve for their advice, Jamie for listening to me endlessly, Dorie, John, Louise, Ray, Mike H. and Peggy for their input, Sally for her encouragement, Bruce and Greg for being my cheerleaders and to my little Emily for her patience.

1

•

The Arrival 

Some people love to see the horizon in all directions, uncluttered with nothing but blue sky domed to the edge of the planet. Then there are others, like Byron, who are more comfortable when the horizon is irregular with trees and hills protruding the sky. Maybe it has to do with where you were born and raised. Byron grew up in northern Minnesota where there are plenty of hills and trees.

The North Dakota landscape was definitely for folks of the first variety. The Midwestern prairies offered little diversity. There were fields and pastures separated by a few barbed wire fences. During the summer heat wave, the pastures and crops had become dry and blended into an endless panorama of brown and golden tones. A meager smattering of farmsteads and gravel roads separated miles of nearly flat fields and gently rolling pastures. There were a few trees and bushes planted around the farmsteads, but for the most part, there was nothing but crops and sky as far as the eye could see.

The drive of over 400 miles had been tedious and the scenery did little to keep his interest. Byron’s earlier enthusiasm had melted into boredom. Optimistically, Byron had left St. Paul in the early morning hours driving west. When the sun came up, there was a beautiful sunrise. However, as the sun rose higher in the sky, it lost it’s beauty and became a penetrating glare. Soon heat waves were not only rising from the highway, but from his dashboard as well. The temperature in the car soared and Byron was sweltering.

Around Fargo, Byron dialed through all the static until he tuned in a good radio station out of Bismarck that played the latest popular tunes. The announcer broke in between songs with news and agricultural reports. North Dakota was stifling under a record-breaking heat wave with no end in sight.

Byron was singing along with the Four Aces to Three Coins in the Fountain when he arrived in the capital city of Bismarck. He drove along the main street and turned in at the first gas station he saw. He turned off the radio as he pulled up to an island of pumps. A middle-aged attendant in a neat gray uniform approached his car.

How do you like her? the attendant asked, gesturing to Byron’s 1955 baby blue and white Bel Air Chevrolet.

Very well, so far, Byron smiled back. I just got her about a few weeks ago when the 56’s came out.

The attendant nodded, Heard good things about these rigs. Chevy builds a good car. Wanna fill’er up?

Yes, please, Byron answered getting out of the car. Rest rooms in the station?

Yup, key’s hanging by the door.

When Byron returned, the attendant was just finishing cleaning the windows. Oil’s fine. You should be thinking about changing it soon,—new car, and all.

Thanks, I’ll do that. Could you give me directions?

’Pends on where you’re headed, the attendant grinned, as he wrote up the bill with a very stubby pencil. Sixteen gallons at twenty nine cents per gallon is $4.64.

Handing the attendant a five-dollar bill, Byron said, I need directions to Merton.

Oh yah, I’ve been there, the attendant said as he reached in his pocket for the change. Sleepy little town. It was a pretty big deal at one time, but then highway went in west of there and the town sort of folded up. I guess it has a high school, a grain elevator, and, of course, the traditional three bars. He chuckled and then went on, Just go back east two blocks, turn north, soon you’ll merge right onto the highway. Go north about 35 miles and you’ll see a sign that says Merton. Turn right about 20 miles on the gravel road which will bring you right into Merton.

Thanks. That sounds easy enough.

There ain’t much between here and there.

That doesn’t surprise me. There isn’t much between here and Fargo either.

Noticed you’re from Minnesota. Pretty country, but the prairies will grow on you. Eventually, you may think this is downright scenic. What brings you this way?

Putting the change in his pocket without counting it, Byron answered, Moving out here.

Really? To Merton?

I was just ordained as a Lutheran minister and have answered a call to the church in Merton. Byron could not help but feel some pride.

You --a preacher? the attendant smacked his own forehead and chuckled again. Well, I’ll be damned! I wouldn't have guessed that!

Why not?

No offense, but you’re young and good looking. I thought preachers were always old and looked like they sucked lemons!

Ah, no. Many of them started out young. Don’t know about the lemons. Guess they might come later! Offering his hand to the attendant, I’m Byron Ellison, soon to be pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church.

Shaking his hand, the attendant introduced himself, Name’s Elton. Elton Schroeder, gas attendant and mechanic. My name and phone number’s on the receipt. He took a blank receipt from his pad and handed it to Byron.

If you get an opportunity, maybe you’d like to visit the church.

Wish you the best kid, but don’t think I’ll be going to church. Me and churches don’t mix much. Not my bag, but good luck anyway!

Byron laughed, taking the small paper and tucking it in his shirt pocket. He liked this fellow with twinkling blue eyes. I imagine there are service stations in Merton.

Well, you can get gas at the Farmers Union—and buy tires, but I doubt there’s any service there. New cars need the oil changed after the first 1000 miles to get the grindings cleaned out. I’d be glad to do that for you as soon as you’re back in town.

You’re quite the salesman, I’ll have you do it for me, but I don’t know how soon I’ll be back this way.

Oh, in about a week, the attendant said matter-of-factly.

Huh? Why do you say that?

Folks that live up there come to town about every week or two for groceries, laundry and stuff.

Byron looked at him quizzically and then shrugged, Well then, as soon as I get settled, I’ll have you take care of it, Mr. Schroeder. Do I need to call ahead?

Name’s Shray-der, not Schroe-der. But no matter, you can call me Elton. Most folks do. No need to call ahead.

Thanks, Elton. You can call me Byron.

Ain’t never called a preacher by his first name before. So, where’s the missus?

Between Korea and the seminary, Byron said as he got into his car, I haven't had much time to think about marrying.

You’ll be married before the year is out. Good-looking guy like you in little old Merton? The farmers will be lining up their daughters! Driven much on gravel road?

No, mostly pavement, Byron answered through the open car window.

Drive slow or the gravel will ding up the paint job.

Thanks, I’ll remember that. Byron offered his hand, It was really nice meeting you.

Elton shook his hand, The pleasure was mine. Take it easy there, Preacher Man. I mean Byron.

Byron pulled out of the gas station, turning east and waved. He enjoyed meeting Elton. Byron took the receipt out of his pocket, looked at it and smiled. Then he put it back in his pocket.

Married before the end of the year! Byron shook his head and laughed.

2

•

Merton 

He felt rejuvenated having visited with Elton. It was quite a relief to know he was getting near his destination. However, it was also disappointing to know that it would be at least another fifty miles. There seemed to be a few more farmsteads and a bit more activity. More grain trucks and machinery were on the road, crawling between the combines or thrashing machines in the fields and grain elevators.

Byron’s clothes were clinging to him and his feet were sweating fire inside his shoes. The air was hot and filled with grain dust, which had a slightly choking sensation. Byron yawned. He was tired, hungry, and restless.

He turned the radio on again. The announcer said the temperature was going to be 106° again today, a record heat wave. They played the top hit of the day, Rock Around The Clock by Bill Haley and Comets. Byron sang along to keep awake. It was a relief to see the arrow shaped sign announcing ‘Merton - 25 miles’ pointing east.

As soon as the tires hit the gravel road, the dust billowed into the car. Byron quickly rolled up the window but not before the car filled with dust. Coughing and sneezing, he turned off the intake air vent that was sucking dust into the interior.

By the time he got to Merton, the dashboard was covered with a fine layer of grit, as was his sweaty body. He brushed his dark blond hair with his hand. Dirt was in his ears, eyes and even his teeth.

Merton seemed like a pleasant little town. As Byron approached the city limits, he noticed the Greek Orthodox Church on the north side of the road. It was an impressive building with stained, leaded glass windows, a rock exterior and a large onion dome with a cross on the top. On the east side of the church was a cemetery with a tall wrought iron fence and gate. Behind the church was a small rock home with leaded glass windows surrounded by a short wrought iron fence and neat flowerbeds. It was beautiful and well tended.

Wow! You don’t suppose the Lutheran church looks half this good? he asked aloud. Byron’s heart began beating a little faster.

The next building in Merton was a huge three story white building with a verandah around the front and sides. Sprawled around the grass were large lawn chairs lounging between the shade trees and beds of petunias. The sign in front read Merton Retirement Home.

Off the road to the south were railroad tracks and beyond them rolling pasture. A wind-ravaged sign announced, ‘Merton, North Dakota, Elevation 1350, Population 428’. The reliability of the statistics was doubtful because the faded paint was peeling on the warped wood.

Then Merton officially started. The road was paved and there was ample diagonal parking on either side of the main street. On the south side of the street, there was the large Farmer’s Union Elevator and Feed Store. As Elton had mentioned, a couple gas and diesel pumps were out front.

Across the street was the Munson Drug Store. Byron checked his watch. He still had half an hour before he was to meet the president of the church council, Mr. Munson, at that store. Feeling more confident that he knew where the meeting would be, he decided to drive around and look over the town.

On the next block was a small Five and Dime Store and then the Merton Hotel. The main floor of the two-story hotel also housed an attorney’s office and a couple vacant offices. The D’s not having survived the weather, a sign proclaimed ‘ octor and entist’.

He went past the Farmer’s Bank and the Merton Post Office. There was the Little Hen Café and the three bars of which Elton had spoken. Then the little town gave way to prairies again.

The next street to the north was Broadway. Broadway was partially residential but also boasted of the Merton Elementary and High School, home of the Charging Bison. Next to the high school were the St. John’s Roman Catholic Church and its parish.

St. John’s was a red brick building with newly painted white trim. It had wonderfully stained glass windows all around the church. The single story parish was also of red brick. The yard was immaculate and surrounded by a white picket fence, as was the cemetery.

The rest of Merton seemed to be residential. Byron was a little disappointed that he had somehow missed Trinity Lutheran. He had hoped to get a glimpse of it. After seeing the Orthodox and Catholic churches, Byron was encouraged. This community was predominately Lutheran, so he was confident that his home would be equally as nice.

He drove back down Main Street and parked in front of Munson’s Drug. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror and wiped the grit from his eyes and face with his handkerchief. He got out of his car pulling his sweaty pants from his legs and reached in the back seat to get his jacket and the small packet of introduction papers.

He had chosen not to wear his clerical collar, but thought that a jacket would be in order when he met the council president, Fritz Munson, who would direct him to the church. As Byron closed the car door and shook the dust from his jacket to put it on, he noticed that a few people had stopped and were staring at him curiously.

‘Don’t tell me I have done something stupid already!’ he thought to himself as he made a quick check in the car’s side mirror. ‘Parked okay, headlights off, fly zipped, jacket on straight. Guess folks just aren’t used to seeing many strangers.’

He gave a quick, self-conscious wave to a group of three standing in front of the hotel. None of them acknowledged him. Slightly intimidated, Byron wondered if he should have worn the clerical collar after all.

As he entered the drug store, the two shoppers inside stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him. By now, he was convinced that he had made a serious blunder not wearing the clerical collar.

‘Good move, Byron,’ he reprimanded himself.

Clearing his throat, the new pastor approached the thin, graying man behind the counter. Hello. I am here to see Mr. Fritz Munson.

I’m Munson, the expressionless man answered as his eyes appraised Byron.

Pastor Byron Ellison, Byron extended his hand with a big smile.

Dispassionately, Mr. Munson shook his hand, his blue eyes boring through his glasses, I was expecting a more mature minister.

Byron could feel the blood draining from his body with the cold, menacing greeting.

I’m sorry. Byron responded weakly and then began to ramble apologetically, I didn't wear my collar, but it was a long drive from St. Paul and rather warm—the collars are quite- He could feel himself floundering and finally just quit talking.

Munson remained stone faced. After a few long seconds said, We’re used to an older minister.

‘Well,’ Byron thought to himself, ‘there isn’t much I can do about that.’ Although he was certain he was ageing rapidly with this encounter.

Aloud he said, I have my introduction papers here. He reached into his notebook and offered the papers to the man.

Mr. Munson waved them off without saying a word. Byron fumbled them back into the notebook. There was an awkward silence as the two men stood there, the older man looking the young man over critically.

Shifting his weight on his feet, Byron said, Nice drug store you have here.

Don’t have the pharmacy any more, Mr. Munson retorted. Druggist moved to Minot.

Sorry to hear that, Byron responded lamely.

Didn’t much matter. Doctor and dentist both moved off too.

Byron just nodded. He felt Mr. Munson was enjoying his pain and he was trying to quell his growing animosity toward this man. After a few eternal seconds, Byron offered cheerily, Well, if you’d just give me directions, I would find the church myself.

Mr. Munson answered gruffly, No, I’ll take you. Said I would. I need to finish up here first.

Okay, Byron answered, and then smiled. I could use a soda pop anyway. He began to move toward the soda fountain.

Won’t be that long, might as well wait here!

Obediently, he stood right there, even though every fiber of his body told him to run. Byron was wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into. The entire time, the other people in the store had not moved, still staring and hanging on every word. Mr. Munson shoved the cash register drawer closed and reached for his hat on the back counter.

Taking this kid out to the church, Mr. Munson groused to a middle-aged lady near the back of the store. Be right back.

Going out the door, Munson ordered Byron, Follow me. My car is the black ’51 Ford.

Byron nodded and got back into his car. He noticed the bevy of gawkers had increased in size on the street, but no one acknowledged him. They just stood there like a lynch mob without a rope.

This is like an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Byron mumbled aloud to himself. Just how fast can I go on gravel? A dinged paint job might be the least of my worries!

He backed out carefully and fell in line behind Munson’s black Ford. He considered whether he should wave to the crowd of onlookers, but decided against it. At this point, he wasn’t certain it would matter.

Byron groaned aloud, I can’t believe this! God, don’t you have a remote island with a band of hungry cannibals where I could settle? What kind of a place is this?

He continued muttering to himself while he followed the Ford down the gravel road. The next time I see the people at the seminary, are they in for it! That is, if I ever get out of here in one piece. Congregation is in need of a minister since their Pastor died. Yah? Wonder what killed him? It sure wasn’t kindness.

He paid little attention to where he was driving, but he was heading east out of Merton. Lost in his self-pity, Byron almost did not notice Munson slowing down and signaling to turn. Slamming on his breaks, Byron’s slid his Chevy on the loose gravel, finally coming to rest a couple inches from the black Ford. Byron saw Mr. Munson give him a dirty look through his rear view mirror.

Byron shrugged and mouthed sorry to the surly Mr. Munson.

Okay, Byron he admonished himself, Pull yourself together and quit whining. You made it through combat, you can handle this.

Byron was so pre-occupied that he had paid no attention to Trinity Lutheran Church. The car came to rest and he got out. He took the first look at his new home. As he looked around, he could feel all his blood clotting in pools at his feet.

3

•

Trinity Lutheran Church 

The church was a once-white wooden building with a tall bell tower and a wooden cross on top. It was all very weather worn and the paint was peeling. The parking lot was mostly dirt with a little loose gravel. The neglected grass around the church had intermingled with the prairie grasses and weeds. There were two outhouses in the back, both in need of repair. The door on the Gents hung by only a single hinge. Weeds were growing amongst the remains of a crumbling foundation behind the outhouses and the church.

Off to the southeast was a cemetery that joined the parking lot. A barbed wire fence kept the inhabitants of the surrounding pasture from grazing on the gravesites. The few plants in the cemetery were in varying stages of perishing. On the other side of the fence was an old windmill that pumped water into a watering trough for the cattle. That was the only patch of green.

The entrance to the church was six narrow unpainted wooden steps with wooden railings. The church had single pane sash windows, obviously in need of caulking.

"Bleak!

Bleak!"

That was the only word in Byron’s mind. While he was speechless, the word screeched inside his head like some unrelenting crow.

"Bleak!

Bleak!

Bleak!"

Mr. Munson was standing at the bottom of the front steps to the church impatiently frowning. He scowled at Byron, You coming?

Byron joined him and they entered the building. The first area was a cloakroom. There were two doors from the cloak room. Mr. Munson opened the double doors in the middle and entered the sanctuary.

There was a small table on either side of the double doors. On one sat a collection plate, a hymnal and some bulletins from a past Sunday. On the other side lay a guest book and a broken pencil. Everything was covered in a layer of dust.

"Bleak!

Bleak!

Bleak!"

The cry was deafening.

Mr. Munson was already half way down the aisle of the sanctuary, waiting impatiently. Byron followed quickly in his direction. There were wooden pews, a cross and a lectern all of a dark wood. Although badly in need of refinishing, the wood had once been beautiful. Byron wanted to look around more, but Mr. Munson was already entering the sacristy to the side of the altar area. Byron had to hurry to catch up with him.

The hallway sacristy had a few pastoral robes hanging on hooks and a cupboard on the other side. Byron followed Mr. Munson quickly through the next door. It opened into the southern facing office.

4

•

Katherine 

The office was pleasant and light streamed in through the sheer curtains on the double windows. On the windowsill were some well-tended African violets. Behind the desk sat a very petite, elderly lady.

Katherine, Mr. Munson smirked and pointed to the lady with his index finger, and then with his thumb to Byron. They sent us this kid for a preacher.

The lady’s face lit up and she beamed as she eagerly held out her hand to greet Byron.

My name’s Katherine Englemann, she said, smiling from behind her bi-focals. And you’re Pastor Ellison?

With unsurpassed relief, Byron smiled and shook her hand. My name is Byron Ellison.

Pleased to meet you, Pastor Ellison. I’m the church secretary. I’ll be happy to show you around.

They both felt Mr. Munson’s disgusted glare as he cleared his throat loudly and opened the side door.

Katherine can show you the rest. Munson said brusquely, I have to get back to the store.

He left through the outside door of the secretary’s office and down a wobbly side stairs that had no railing. At the bottom, he turned as if he had remembered something, The church council will be here tomorrow night at 8 to meet you. Then he turned abruptly, putting his hat on his balding gray head and disappeared around the corner of the church, adding sarcastically, That is ---if you plan on staying.

Byron and Katherine stood there in silence looking after him. Katherine shook her head and pulled the door closed. Then with a wink, she smiled, Don’t pay him much mind. Come on. Let me show you around properly.

Next to her office, was a similar one that was for the Pastor. Through the next door to another large airy L-shaped room.

This is the sitting room. It’s quite nice. At one time, there was a porch all the way around from the south and the east sides of the sitting room. When it collapsed, it was replaced with the little staircase. There is a door out the east side too, but it has to remain closed. There are no steps and a big drop off on the outside. You don’t ever go out of the sitting room that way!

The sitting room contained several dark green overstuffed chairs and a love seat. There was a wooden dial radio on a table between the two chairs. On the other corner was a large cherry wood dining room table and its ten matching chairs. The table had a beautifully crocheted tablecloth on it that matched the crocheted table scarves that were around the room. It reminded Byron of his granny’s living room.

Byron looked around, This is a very pleasant room.

Yes, Katherine said, I like it, too. Pastor and Emma used to spend most of their time in here. When the big porch was still up, they used to sit out there in their rocking chairs and relax. They even had lunch out there some days.

Seems like a good idea, Byron said, What happened to the porch?

It just fell apart from lack of care a few years ago. Katherine answered, Pastor lost interest in things after Emma died. He was 77 when he died last month. He hadn’t able do it all for a while.

Seems like it would be a lot of work for an elderly couple. I’m surprised they didn’t retire. Couldn’t the congregation help them with all the work?

Looks like you need some lemonade. Katherine said, changing the subject.

Byron followed Katherine as she opened the door at the back of the sitting room that opened into a long staircase no more than a couple of feet wide.

Watch your head, Katherine warned as they went through the door. This door is for short people.

Byron ducked and followed her down the steps. Katherine had turned on the light that was near the bottom. The bare light flickered a couple of times before it burned steady. The steps had an unusually short rise that made them difficult for Bryon. Near the bottom, one of the steps was loose.

At the end of the staircase was a short central hallway that went to the kitchen. There were two side doors, one labeled Private Quarters. Katherine motioned to it and said, I’ll show you the PPQ after you get something to drink.

PPQ? Byron asked.

Oh, Katherine laughed as she entered the large kitchen, That’s just what I call it. Pastor’s Private Quarters. That door is to the coal room that also serves as a root cellar of sorts at one end. They will be bringing a load of coal in about a month or so. This is a shared kitchen. You share it with the church hall on the other side of this pass through. The church does all the cooking for functions here and also stores extra food here. You can help yourself to any of it.

She pointed to a small room that contained the deep freeze on the one side of the kitchen and the cupboards overhead. Here is the pantry and Emma’s cleaning closet.

Then she turned her attention to the stove. There was a huge cook stove with a large oven and two warming ovens above the cooking surface.

That’s the biggest cook stove I’ve ever seen.

Yes, the church is quite proud of it. Katherine went on, We purchased it from a hotel kitchen in Minot.

Is there something smaller than this to use? Byron asked, It seems like a lot of stove in this heat.

No, Katherine said, This is it. In the winter, you will enjoy having the stove. You’ll have to tend the coal furnace back there behind the stairway. The furnace heats the all upstairs in the winter. The coal room is handy to the bedroom so that you don’t have far to walk at night to stoke it.

That’s nice, Byron nodded, unenthusiastically. He was beginning to feel sick.

Katherine took a large pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator, poured two glasses and, handed him one. Have you had anything to eat?

Not since this morning, he responded, not telling her that he was feeling nauseous. Minnesota seemed a lifetime away.

Let me make you a couple bologna sandwiches.

Byron leaned against one of the counters and watched as Katherine took a loaf of bread from the breadbox and deftly sliced it. Then she put together the sandwiches and placed them on a plate. Taking a few napkins, she motioned, Come.

She went through the door to the church hall. Inside the hall were several tables arranged in rows with an aisle down the center. Oilcloths of various designs covered the tables, which could each seat at least ten people. Stacked folding chairs leaned on one side of the large room and a few short tables with children’s chairs were nearby. Behind them, Sunday school papers were taped on the concrete wall that was painted light green.

Katherine sat at the first table near the kitchen door and Byron sat opposite her. She set the plate and napkins down in front of him. Not very fancy, but it will keep the wolf away.

Really, this is fine. Then looking at the sandwiches, Byron asked. Is one for you?

No, young man. It’s all for you, she smiled as she remembered something and got up, There are some cookies left over from Pastor Erhardt’s service. Frozen, but they are still good.

You needn’t. Byron said as he took a bite of his sandwich.

Well, I want one, Katherine said as she went into the kitchen and returned briefly with a plate filled with a variety of homemade cookies. She put them on the table between them and took one herself.

Overwhelming, huh? she said sympathetically to Byron.

A bit, Byron smiled, and then thought a minute. Quite a bit.

I imagine. What can I help you with?

This lunch is helping a lot! Byron said, amazed at his own appetite, So, is there an eating area in the PPQ?

PPQ is just my nickname for it, Katherine laughed. No. There’s a writing desk in there, but that’s about it. Ah, let’s see, I’m not certain where to start. The pump in the kitchen will give you about three pails of water before the water gets murky. After you pump that much, you’ll have to let it rest for about an hour or two ‘til the water clears. The windmill water can only be used for cattle or the cemetery. That water was tested by the State lab, and it isn’t fit for human consumption.

That’s nice, Byron answered flatly. Where do I wash clothes?

If I were you, I’d take them to the Laundromat in Bismarck. The Laundromat in Merton has one washer and one dryer and it’s slower than molasses in January. Bismarck has a larger Laundromat with more machines and you can get finished faster. Byron nodded, remembering what Elton had said. He felt the knot in his stomach tightening.

How did Pastor Erhardt survive? Byron asked with amazement, not intentionally out loud.

Not very well, Katherine said seriously. I tried to encourage him to retire and go live with his son, but the congregation would have none of it. He felt he had to hang on,’ Katherine related. This place wouldn’t let go.

‘The only way to get away was to die,’ Byron thought to himself.

I thought it was criminal, Katherine continued. Mentally he was still sharp, but his body simply wore out. He held on as long as he could. He died out in the cemetery when he was visiting his Emma’s grave. Now, he’s resting next to her.

Katherine’s eyes teared up, He used to say, ‘Now don’t you go frettin’. It’ll be just fine.’ Pastor never asked for much, and what he did ask for, Fritz Munson discouraged, as he did to anyone who ever volunteered to help. Soon folks just quit volunteering. Katherine was getting upset. Goodness sakes! Even the outhouses have needed to be moved for at least a couple years.

Are they the only bathroom facilities? Byron was afraid of the answer.

Yes. Noticing Byron’s frown, she asked, Is there something?

Well, where does one bathe?

There’s a metal tub hanging in the pantry. The boiler is there, too. Just fill the boiler with water and set it at the end of the cook stove and at the end of the day, the water will be warm.

Where do I dump it? he stammered. His mouth was feeling very dry.

Katherine answered, I would use the old bath water to scrub the floors or wash out whatever clothes you need between the visits to the Laundromat. Then carry the rest out back. You can only drain a bit of it down the sink here. The septic tank needs to be pumped too.

Byron shrugged dejectedly, Of course.

He mechanically reached for a cookie after he finished a sandwich that was trying hard to come back up. Doesn’t the church council know these things need to be done?

Yes, Fritz Munson has been told. The full council very rarely meets. Fritz never takes any action.

Mr. Munson doesn’t seem to be very helpful. Byron offered charitably.

That’s putting it mildly. Katherine retorted. He has a burr under his saddle. His family gave the land to the church when the state was still a territory. According to Fritz, there were never any papers signed deeding it to the church. The church can use it until it closes and then it reverts back to the Munson family. He owns all the land around it and there is coal under it. He has been trying his level best to get the church to close. Stopping for a minute, she added, I’m sorry, I guess I shouldn’t told you all this as soon as you walked in the door.

No, I’m glad that you were frank. I need to know what I’m facing here. It looks like quite a bit.

Yes, I’m afraid it is. Katherine said thoughtfully. When the parsonage burned down several years ago, Fritz was new to the council. He actively discouraged the congregation from rebuilding. That’s when Pastor and Emma moved down here to the basement. She shook her head, remembering, Pastor, my husband and son did the work themselves.

Silence fell on the two. After a moment, she broke into a big grin, But we pulled through that and we’ll pull through this too. I’m so glad you’re here.

Byron smiled, I’m so glad that you’re here, too.

Anyway, Katherine said, There’s the telephone up in the pastor’s office. You can hear it from down here, if there’s nothing going on and the doors are open. Our ring is three shorts.

Byron’s stomach was churning as he wiped the crumbs onto his plate and carried it out to the metal wash pan that was sitting inside the sink. Katherine smiled and acknowledged the dishes being left in the sink, Seed for later. Want to see the PPQ now?

Yes, please. Byron said aloud, but was thinking to himself, ‘Please dear God, don’t let it be bad!’

The Pastor’s Private Quarters contained a big double bed with a large feather tick on it. The embroidered pillowcases and sheets were neatly pressed, with the blankets and a piecework quilt of orchid and pale green. It was very nice.

I washed everything up for you. Katherine offered. I can throw the bed together after a bit, if you like.

Thanks, Byron said. I can take care of it after I bring my things in from the car.

There was a bulky walnut wardrobe, a small writing desk and chair, and a stand that held a porcelain bowl and pitcher set for washing up. Under the washstand was the night pot. A wooden rocking chair sat next to a floor lamp with a large folded afghan on the back.

It’s certainly nice and cool down here. Being in the basement has some advantages in this heat. Byron remarked.

Yes, and it’s toasty in the winter and handy if there’s a tornado or wind storm.

Byron wondered if it was possible to hear anything that was not somehow depressing. I noticed that there are a lot of kerosene lamps around here.

Well, we tend to loose the electricity often here when it storms. Be sure you keep matches handy, in case the lights go out. There’s a flash light in the top drawer by the bed.

They went up the narrow staircase and Byron tripped on the bad step. He forgot the low door frame at the top and almost hit his head.

This’ll take some practice, he muttered to himself.

5

•

The Office 

In the Pastor’s office, Katherine pulled out his chair, directing him to be seated. Pastor Ellison. Have a seat in your office.

Byron sat down, chuckling because the chair was adjusted for a much shorter man.

As I said, our ring is three shorts. It’s a party line, so you’ll have to be careful what you say on it. If you don’t put this clip up, she said, pointing to a small metal clip by the earpiece, No one can hear you talk. That’s how people rubberneck.

Rubberneck?

Trust me on this. Half the people in the county listen to whatever anyone says on the phone. One person answers and everyone else on the line listens! So don’t say anything on the phone that you wouldn't want everyone to know! Ever! Other than that, you only need to answer our ring, but you’ll hear all the rings on the line. If you call someone on another line, you need to go through the operator. That is one long ring. For instance, my home phone is 2 longs and a short. I made a list of the ones we use the most here on your desk, in those files. All the congregation have their rings listed on the cover of their file. Okay? The general alarm to announce an emergency or fire is one very, very long ring. Always answer a general alarm. The file cabinets should be pretty self explanatory.

Byron nodded, hoping he would remember half of what he had been told and looked through the files. There were very neatly labeled and organized. These are the neatest files I’ve ever seen! I see that Pastor Erhardt had rather extensive library.

Yes, he was quite a reader. Here is the schedule that Pastor followed, Katherine handed him a sheet of paper. "You can look it over and, of course, change things as you want. I like to have the sermon and the bulletin information on Tuesday morning, so I’m sure to get it all typed up for you.

I type myself, Byron interjected, So you won’t need to type my sermons.

That’s wonderful. Pastor wrote his out in his own shorthand. It wasn't bad because I got used to it after 40 years.

My goodness, is that how long you worked for him?

Oh, I don’t know. I never really figured it out, but about that. I was just a little kid when I started here! She giggled.

I’ll try to get them to you by Tuesday. Don’t you have a mimeograph machine to do the bulletins?

Oh my, no! I just type them up myself.

Really? Byron was impressed. How many do you type up?

About 200.

200 each week! Good grief! Byron was amazed. That’s a lot of typing!

Oh, I’m used to it. After the first couple, they almost type themselves. There’s usually not much going on around here anyway. That reminds me, this is Monday. We will need to figure out what we’re going to do this Sunday.

Hmm, you’re right. I’ll think about it and have something for you tomorrow. It won’t be that much, really. When’s the last time that they had a service?

Pastor’s funeral was about three weeks ago. Katherine answered, looking at the calendar. The regular service was the Sunday before, July third.

Byron was thoughtful. Almost four weeks.

I’ll show you the particulars of this cook stove and stuff later. So, unless there’s something else right now, I’ll finish the things I started. Okay?

I can’t think of anything. I’ll bring my car around and start unpacking. I promise to think about the service this week. I think Mr. Munson was going to tell the council about the meeting tomorrow night.

He might be too busy. Would you like me to do it?

That might be a good idea. Thanks Katherine.

Byron brought his Chevy around to the south side of the church. While he was moving the car, he started muttering aloud. God, I never thought I’d have to haul my dirty socks 50 miles to wash them! Would You be looking into that remote cannibal island? And what is with those people in town? That Munson is downright cantankerous! But I have to thank you for Katherine. She seems like a wee angel. If she hadn’t been here, I’d probably be well on my way back to Minnesota by now!

He backed the car up to the old, rickety steps, got out and opened the trunk. He stopped for a minute and looked around. His shiny new Chevy was now all dusty, parked next to a faded old farm truck, in the middle of nowhere, beside a church badly in need of every kind of attention. He could work from morning until night for three months just to get the repairs done without even thinking of doing sermon.

He shook his head and sighed, Well, I’d better quit thinking and get to work.

Then he glanced at the outdoor privies with their peeling paint and started to laugh. This place is certainly not the level of the Greek Orthodox, but guess You never said it would be easy. Next time, God, I ask You for a place that needs me, don’t listen to me! I don’t know what I am talking about. I wasn’t thinking it would need me quite this much! He grinned, shook his head again, and started taking things out of his trunk.

Byron was putting the last of his suitcases in the back of the closet when there was a knock at the door of the PPQ. He turned as he closed the heavy walnut closet door, Come on in.

Katherine opened the door and went over to the bed that was now made except for the pillow cases and bedspread. She took one of the pillows and began to put the case on it. Byron was on the opposite side of the bed, took the other pillow and began to put the case on that.

Looks like you’re pretty well moved in.

I think so. After a few trips up and down, I think I may be getting the hang of those steps! I got almost everything put away. Don’t have that much. I travel light.

I see that. She laughed as the put her pillow in it’s spot, as did he. Together they covered the bed with the quilt. Let’s go take a look at the stove.

In the coal room, she took some kindling from a pail and went to the kitchen. They’ll be bringing out a new load of coal next month. Maybe sooner if it ever gets cold. Now the only thing you need the stove for is cooking and warming water.

She opened the door on the front of the stove and shook the grate. The ashes fell down into the ash bin and she scooped it into the pail.

"I should’ve gotten this ready this morning, but Fritz, --I mean, Mr. Munson, didn’t seem to know if you were coming today or tomorrow.

I talked to him last week and we had decided on today. Maybe he misunderstood.

Katherine raised her eyebrows. I doubt that, but no matter.

Byron thought he understood, I was taken back that he was surprised about my age. He had all the paperwork for a couple weeks and talked to the seminary.

Selective Memory! Oh, by the way, I got in touch with all the board members, or their wives. They hadn’t heard anything about your arrival, but they all seemed genuinely pleased to be invited to the meeting tomorrow night. They’ll all be here. I hope it’s okay, but I think their wives will be here, too.

That’s great! Thanks, Katherine! Byron smiled, feeling somewhat encouraged.

As she picked up the ash pail, Byron shook his head and took it from her. They went up the stairs with Byron following.

The ashes have to be hauled right up and through the sitting room. That’s a bad thing. Katherine sighed, If you aren’t careful, you can make quite a mess.

Byron nodded in agreement as he went outside and they walked the fifty yards to the ash dump.

Be very certain that the ashes are all out, especially when it’s this dry. A little wind and one live ember could burn half the county. We’re prone to prairie fires when it’s so dry. She stopped walking and looked at Byron. And what do you do when you see a prairie fire?

Byron thought a second, Ah—ring a general alarm!

That’s excellent! Katherine praised, Are you good with directions?

Fairly, let’s see. Byron looked around and pointed, That way is north?

Right again! You’re a good student! Katherine went on, What is the story on the windmill over on there?

Byron answered It belongs to Munson. We can use it to water the cemetery, but it’s undrinkable for humans.

Three out of three. Good work.

Is this part of the foundation of the house that burned? Byron asked as they dumped the ashes into what seemed to be part of an old basement.

Yes, Katherine explained. This ash bin used to be the old root cellar.

Do you know if the foundation is still good? I mean, could the house be rebuilt?

I don’t know. I doubt it was ever considered. Let me ask Lloyd, my husband. He would at least know who to ask. I’ll keep it under wraps, so we won’t mention it on the phone, she said, giving Byron a warning look.

No rush. I have plenty of things on my plate before we get that far.

The two walked back to the church in silence, both lost in the thoughts of all that needed to be done. As Katherine opened the door to the office, she noticed the thin edge of cloud on the southwestern horizon.

Looks like we might get a storm again tonight. Our storms usually come from the southwest. We’ve had a lot of them this summer. Katherine and Byron entered the office and stood looking out the window. Wind, dry lightning and so on… of course, very little or no rain.

Turning to her desk, Katherine continued, Well, young man, I’m going to head for home if there isn’t anything else you need help with right now.

No, there isn’t. I can’t thank you enough for everything today. If you hadn’t been here, I’d probably be half way back to Minnesota by now!

Munson has caused many to cringe in his day, but I am pretty sure you’d have stuck it out!

Byron opened the door and walked Katherine to the old truck. The little lady boosted herself into the cab and then rolled down the window. If you need anything give me or Lloyd a call, two longs and a short. You can just say you’re looking for something like a report or whatever, and we’ll come right over. You don’t say over the phone what the real issue is.

Rubberears.

No, Rubbernecks! Katherine giggled. You’ll do fine. See you tomorrow, about eight. Okay?

That’ll be great. Have a good evening.

Byron waved as the faded red farm truck pulled out of the yard and Katherine waved back. Byron stood transfixed until the last bit of dust from the truck was no longer visible on the horizon. Shaking his head, he said aloud, Okay, God. Let’s go see what else you have in store for me.

6

•

The First Night 

Byron spent the evening exploring, first outside and then in. He walked through the shelterbelt to assess the damaged trees. At the back of the church, he noticed that the drop off that Katherine had mentioned off the east end of the sitting room was quite dangerous. The door that had once opened onto the verandah, now opened above a seven foot hole that looked like it had been made with a machine of some sort. There were some loose rocks and a few broken concrete blocks strewn about the bottom of it.

Pretty treacherous, he mumbled to himself.

Byron walked around the outhouses, which were more sorely in need of repair than noticed at first glance. Paint alone could not cure their problems. Byron walked down to the cemetery. Aside from being extremely dry and the surviving plants needing care, it was in pretty good shape.

Byron shook his head and put his hands on his hips, surveyed the entire church grounds from the center of the cemetery. Sad, when the best place in the whole yard is the cemetery!

Byron shook his head and started back toward the church. A new grave caught his attention. The headstone read, Pastor Leo Erhardt, 1878-1955, Our Beloved Pastor.

Byron stood there a while, lost in thought. A gust of wind brought him back from his trance. Then he noticed the ominous clouds had been moving in from the southwest, now filling at least a quarter of the sky.

Back in the church, Byron checked the sanctuary and said his prayers. Then he checked to make sure everything was secure and closed the office. He went to the kitchen and made himself another bologna sandwich. His bread slicing skills were definitely lacking. His sandwich was so thick on one side, he could hardly get his mouth around it and so thin on the other, he could hardly keep the mayonnaise in. He wolfed down the sandwich and grabbed a few cookies. The dishes would have to wait. He checked the fire in the stove and then adjourned to the PPQ.

He sat at the writing desk and began to make a list. The list grew longer and longer as he thought of things that needed his attention. Soon, he was depressed and tired, so he washed up and went to bed.

The bed was very comfortable and felt good after the long day. The light was not very bright, but it was enough to allow Byron to read a bit from the book of James. He was sound asleep before he finished reading a few verses.

A horrendous crashing noise jolted Byron from his sleep. As he sat up, there was a large flash and a popping sound. The electricity went out. Byron could hear the wind lashing against the building. There was also a ripping and tearing noise that he could not identify, followed by tremendous jolt that made the entire building shudder.

He jumped out of bed and landed on his right ankle, twisting it. He fell forward on the sprained ankle and his chin hit the hardwood floor. He could feel the warmth of blood from his chin as he rose precariously to his feet. He rummaged frantically through the drawer of the bedside table until he found the flashlight, The building was creaking in the wind as he limped in the direction of the door.

He pulled the door open and made a beeline for the steps, all the while overwhelmed by the thunderous cracking and creaking of the surrounding storm. He made it to the stairway in two moves.

He stepped on the bottom step with his injured foot and on the broken step with his good foot. It broke through the decrepit wood and jammed into the jagged crack. He fell backward and knocked his head on the concrete floor. The flashlight rolled out of his hand and into the coal room. Byron struggled to get himself upright. Then he pulled his foot out of the broken wooden step with both hands. It was now scratched and bleeding. He staggered up the stairs without the flashlight.

Forgetting the low beam, he smacked right into it, cracking his right eyebrow and cheekbone. He almost passed out and had to sit on the stairs before he could regain his equilibrium to continue. Another loud tearing tremor made the building shudder gave Byron the incentive to get upstairs. By then, he was quite disoriented.

At the top of the stairs, he pushed the door open and tripped out onto the floor of the sitting room. He sat there a minute and then gingerly stood up. He again heard an ominous scraping sound on the north side of the room and the howling wind. Byron needed to check what was crashing against the building. He could barely make out where the furniture was in the unfamiliar room between the lightning bolts. He opened the sitting room door and stepped out.

7

•

The Long Day 

Before he opened his eyes, Byron was flooded with many sensations, the most prominent of which was pain. He felt wet and smelled mud. He could sense the warm sun and a moving shadow. He squinted to see, but was only able to partially open one eye. He heard a meadowlark in the distance and then heard Katherine.

Just lay still. I’ll get Lloyd to help, she said. Just stay there and be still.

‘Like I could move anywhere,’ he thought wryly to himself. He had not moved when Katherine returned a few minutes later.

I caught Lloyd before he left the house. He’ll be right over.

Byron tried to answer, but could not. Katherine was kneeling by the top of the hole and talking to him in a calming voice. Don’t worry. Lloyd and I’ll get you out of there. You’ll be okay. Don’t worry.

Byron was not as certain of that as Katherine. Byron closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, he was aware of someone in the hole with him. A tall gangly fellow was leaning over him. Pastor Ellison?

Byron mumbled, Yah.

I’m going to help you sit up, okay? the man said while gently nudging Byron’s back.

Groaning, Bryon sat up. The pain was agonizing, especially in his rib cage.

Lloyd said, We can sit a minute until you get your wind. You just sit here a minute.

Byron was grateful for that. After a minute, he began to move his legs to try to get himself upright. The dirt in the bottom of the hole was muddy and it created a slippery mess. In a few minutes, they laboriously managed to get Byron in standing position. He leaned against the edge of the hole. It was about seven feet deep where Byron had landed but the bottom sloped up and away from the building. That enabled Lloyd to help him slowly walk out. Once out of the hole, they sat on the ground and looked over the mess.

Katherine was there with a pan of warm soapy water and a soft cloth. When he got the mud and blood off his face, he could see better.

The back door to the sitting room was still swinging open. He was in his pajamas, covered in mud and badly beaten up. They stopped what they were doing and looked around.

Then Lloyd smiled, So, how does the other guy look?

All three started to laugh. Byron’s laugh was thwarted by the sore ribs and the cuts on his lip and chin. With some effort, they managed to get Byron into the sitting room and then downstairs. Lloyd pulled the sitting room door shut, relocked it and went downstairs to help Byron. Byron noticed that Lloyd was stifling a grin.

"What?’ Byron asked.

"Well, there’s blood