Whack! Whack! Whack!
Aunt Lu buried her meat cleaver into a slab of beef and took a break, just long enough to spot Charlie and the Reverend carrying Jane’s sleepy carcass into the lobby.
“Good God Almighty,” Lu said as she met them. “Is Jane alright?”
Jane interrupted her snoring long enough to sing to herself.
“John Brown’s body lie a-molderin’ in the grave! Something, something’s marching…marching on…”
And she was out again.
“About as good as she ever is,” Charlie replied.
“Mercy,” Aunt Lu said. “She does like to start celebrating early doesn’t she?”
“Not sure she ever stops,” Charlie said.
Aunt Lu returned to her cafe. Charlie, with his arms locked underneath Jane’s armpits, and the Reverend, with his hands grasping Jane’s ankles, slowly carried their cargo upstairs, being careful to not bonk her head along the wall on the way.
“Is Miss Jane a believer? the Reverend asked.
“Pardon?”
“Have you ever heard her invoke the word of the Lord?” the Reverend inquired.
“She takes the Lord’s name in vein just about every hour on the hour,” Charlie replied. “Does that count?”
“Not as such,” the Reverend said. “But I do hate to see Miss Jane in this condition. I wonder if I could appeal to her with the good book?”
Upon reaching Jane’s room, Charlie sneaked one hand into Jane’s vest pocket, snagged her key and unlocked the door.
“You’re welcome to try,” Charlie said. “I fear she may just tell you where to stick your good book though, Reverend.”
Charlie and the Reverend hoisted Jane onto her bed.
“Many I have reached out to with the word of the Lord have done just that,” the Reverend said. “But once in a great while I’ll find that someone listens. Those people make my work worth it.”
Charlie struck a match and lit a candle, providing the room with dim illumination. He tugged on one of Jane’s boots until it was off, then did the same with the other. He set the footwear down neatly in a corner, then covered Jane up with an old, tattered blanket.
The Reverend looked around the room. There were no decorations, or pictures, or even much in the way of furniture. Just a bed, a table, and lots and lots of empty glass booze bottles…and one book.
“Perhaps Miss Jane is more pious than you think?” the Reverend asked as he held up the book.
Printed on the cover were the words, “Holy Bible.”
Charlie smirked, took the book from the Reverend, opened it up and pointed to some writing scrawled across the front page.
“For Jane,
May you pay more attention to this than I did and become all the better for it.
J.B. Hickok, 1868”
“Lovely gift,” the Reverend said as he set the bible down. “Certainly she must be a believer if she has held onto it all these years?”
“She’s um…very loyal to Bill,” Charlie said.
Jane shifted about. “Bill?”
“Shhh,” Charlie said. “Its ok.”
“Does Bill….need my help?”
“No,” Charlie said. “He’s fine. Go to sleep, now.”
Charlie waited a moment until Jane was out.
“Miss Jane looks rather peaceful like this,” the Reverend said.
“Yes,” Charlie replied as he blew out the candle. “Shame she’ll soon open up her mouth and ruin it.”
Bookshelf Battle 