And so it was that Sunday rolled in. Jake was in his finest shirt, lovingly ironed that morning by his wife Molly. Their children stood bathed and beaming, the perfect image of cherubic beauty. Stephen was there, his wife Alma standing by his side. Indeed the whole town was there, filing into the pews and awaiting the Reverend. The weather was hot, and the reverend kept the sermon short, for the heat normally bothered the worshipers in the stifling church building. His this Irish accent bellowed through his weekly reading, bouncing around the whitewashed wooden walls and into the ears of the whole town. The only problem was that this week, the town was rather distracted. It was not that they had no interest in Mathew’s gospel, or the Reverend's message that asked the people of the town to do as Jesus did, and resist the temptation faced before him, even in the face of such hunger in the desert.
It was just that the young lady from the saloon was distracting them. But this was a distraction by proxy, for as the town had gathered at the church, she has remained simply in the saloon. It was her absence that has led the congregation to distraction, and by the end of the sermon not one of the congregation could recall any of the sermon recounted to them, such was the strength of whispers, accusations and gossip that had run through the pews on the hot June morning. Even after the service, as they all took lemonade and the children played in the courtyard, the gossip had brought an infamy about this mysterious woman, even before anyone even knew her name or purpose.
Now this infamy had a simple result, for that evening, nearly all the men filed into the saloon, now with a viable subject about which to converse. Some surmised that she must have been ill, and that the warm season was not treating her well. And when she did not descend they all left, certain that this indeed must be the reason to explain her absence from Church.
Another many days passed, and one cool afternoon Jake sent Jacob with an order for nails and some timber into the town. He knew that Jacob, being younger at just eighteen would most likely mill about with the other negro's on similar errands in town. He knew equally well that Jacob was partial to a brief game of dice with them if the opportunity arose, but on this occasion he had no choice, since Abraham had fallen ill with heatstroke. Jacob was partial to the moments of pleasure that a slaves life would yield him, and being more inquisitive and more cock-sure than his older brother, had a lower threshold for temptation. So when he noted the now notorious young lady, taking a walk in the shade down by the stream, he was could not resist the chance. He skipped his way down until he was level with her, deciding that if no one else in the town would talk with her, he would have the guts to be the first.
"Mighty hot for a stroll if you excuse my for sayin'," he ventured by way of small talk. He grinned with such disarming mischief and good humour that she could not help but break into a smile herself.
"I make it a point never to talk about the weather," she replied cutly but still smiling, "for the weather comes about every day, and as such is never novel enough to warrant thought. And besides, if one remain a prisoner of the heat, then one might not leave the house for near enough two months at this time of year." He voice was refined for the most part, but at moments seemed to be affected with a twang of a country girl made good, not that Jacob noticed. Having dropped in step with her, he was now distracted by her full and prominent busom, elevated by the tight whalebone corset, and showed off the curve of her round hips beneath. The light, white dress she wore gently brushed the golden earth as she walked, staining the edges.
"Well...I s'pose....," he managed though his eyes were making a sinner of his soul. They walked on a little in silence. She was untroubled by his presence. The warm wind rushed and blew a ghostly life into the surrounding trees, their leaves caressing one another in the afternoon sunlight.
"Ma'm," he asked, suddenly taken by a bout of shyness. "The town's all talkin' and well...." he paused, at a loss as to the phrasing of such a delicate subject with someone wholly unknown to him. She smiled broadly, sensing his sudden awkwardness. "Yes?" she said encouragingly. He summoned the courage, and yet it was the courage of a child about to take a spoonful of medicine. "Why wasn't you at church on Sund'y?" he blurted. "Was you ill?" he added, almost to excuse the boldness of the preceding question. They walked on in silence, until it became excruciating. Jacob's nerves got the better of him, and he began babbling just to fill the overwhelming silence, "..'cause o' the folks is sayin' that you is sick wit' summin' and the others thinkin' that you is a heathen..." She stopped walking, the simple action cutting his words short. She turned to him slowly and gazed into his boyish face. Beads of sweat were gathering on his brow, glistening in the sunlight, as he looked back at her. "What do you think?" she asked quietly, her breasts gently rising with her breathing. The distraction was too much for the teenager, who had already lost his train of thought. "Er...um...I...I...," he managed, until she raised a slender white finger and placed across his full lips. "Bring a present for Ms. Clarissa this evening and I till tell you all about what I was doing," she whispered, leaning into him, so that her firm breasts touched his chest gently. He sensed the sweet smell of fine soap rise from her finger tip. After what seemed like an eternity she removed it and, replacing it with a soft and slow kiss from her perfumed lips. "Now you better be on your way," she said, staring at him with only the faintest semblance of a smile. He turned, his heart pounding in his chest so loud he was sure it could be heard across the water. After a long gaze over his shoulder, he began to bounce back up to the path into the town centre.
....to be continued.....
