With a fatherly smile, he watched the move, unbothered, “Does killing come so easy?”

“Evil men don’t abide laws, and pacifism is rare,” he relayed, but saw the boys give the Elder a wide birth.

“Living by the sword will surely end with you dead upon such,” he sniffed. To one boy he beckoned, and laid a gentle hand on a shoulder. Lad grimaced, though hid it. “Be not irresolute in your work,” he squeezed a shoulder, “or we will spend another night…in Penance.” The boy nodded, nearly groaned.

Cassidy frowned, “I need to speak to you.”

“I have no need or desire to speak with a man such as you,” smile hollow as contempt rose to his eyes. “Mister Bullock, you’ve wasted your time.”

Sad eyes of Tabitha remained in Cassidy’s heart. “I saw the Covenant Tree,” he said.

“It is indeed beautiful and the symbol of our compact,” returned Arnold.

“Lightning struck it,” offered the bounty hunter, and the Elder stilled. “Word is that happened the day Dermot died,” he added, but eyes, blue as dawn over the desert, watched him.

The boy yipped in his grip, and Arnold released him. “I’d heard Tabitha had spoken to you,” a chill froze the words, yet thawed. “We should speak inside, where the impressionable are unlikely to be misled.”

Inside of the home, where few tread, was very opulent despite the exterior’s promise. Taken aback, Cassidy’s eyes studied the room. Every amenity available to a cattle baron was set about. The belief of modest life was absent here. More expensive items were displayed with a religious contempt, though lurked a hint of fascination. In the center of the room, beside the Sulky Hills’ bible, was a horseman’s whip. The bounty hunter felt a chill, and pitied the boys outside.

“You…have an interesting home, Arnold,” ventured Cassidy.

“Mister Morgan or just Morgan,” the Elder corrected, face stern.

He eyed him for a moment. “Very well, Morgan it is,” he returned, but kept hands open, so they would not turn into fists.

“Whatever you have to say, Mister Bullock,” he laced his fingers, “please make it brief. I have a lot to attend to, and boys need a firm hand.”

“I don’t know what Obadiah told you,” he growled, “but there is no way he told you everything.”

“Mister Bullock,” jeered Arnold, “I and the other Elders know about the Langston family, and they were murdered by their son. The young man committed a horrific act, and then took his own life.”

“Obadiah,” stammered the bounty hunter.

“Told us he was in town,” hard eyes surveyed him, “when the boy killed his parents, and you saw him here at the time.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“How was he involved?” His features grew evermore severe, “You just vouched for his innocence.”

“HE,” his voice raised, but he pressed lips together. Truth slipped past in a mire of instinct, though words failed him. “He is a bad man,” groaned Cassidy.

The Elder of Sulky Hills studied him for a long moment. “I have no patience for foolishness,” he said tone flat.

Cassidy thought of Tabitha, “The Covenant Tree is quite grand.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “it binds the three houses together, for we must be vigilant against evil. We’ve purged all sin, yet I keep it out of our youth, boys need guidance.”

Cassidy turned his head to keep the grimace hidden, “It is dying.”

“SILENCE,” snapped Arnold, but he held his breath, and then let out a slight sigh. “The tree shall be saved. We’ll save our souls! The Revival of Carnisvale will cleanse them, this place.” Away his hard gaze wondered.

“I thought that your faith would shield you,” the bounty hunter said.

“You have no idea of what you speak,” he stepped away. “We are good, because of the Covenant.”

You’re only righteous, when you act righteous, Cassidy thought; yet, he held the personal philosophical musing to himself. “Strange that lightning would strike the Covenant Tree,” eyes, blue as the dawn, held the Elder’s gaze, “the day Dermot died.”

Veneer of righteousness cracked, hard eyes lost, yet hardened. “Tabitha feels responsible, as does others, and she was to marry him.”

“Other women were jealous,” he said, “he was admired.”

“Yes, he was fair,” distant, Arnold breathed, “but he was troubled as a child. He and Theodore were close, even then.”

“Is that why he wears that scarf?”

“An indulgence,” he whispered, “but we were unable to persuade him to relinquish it or Theodore’s memory. Tabitha came to me, and I went to his father Griswold. None of us knew he would,” he shook his head, “we didn’t know it would end in tragedy.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

“We’re all to blame, I think,” fearsome will receded to leave a man withered inside.

“I know you’ve known that preacher longer, and I’m a stranger,” he said, “but would you consider, at least, postponing the Revival?”

“We must be cleansed, Mister Bullock,” groaned Arnold low. “I must protect the soul of my town.”

“Whatever Obadiah has promised you,” Cassidy said gently, “it isn’t salvation.”

“Please leave,” he turned away, “it is the only way to heal us, the town, and the Covenant Tree.”

Though the bounty hunter tried to speak further, the Elder walked away. Bewildered, Cassidy stepped back out onto the porch, and the boys scattered. Air was denser. Stench of rot clawed at the nose.

Perhaps, Cassidy wondered, it would be better to speak to Theodore Griffith. The younger are less set in their ways, and will see reason, when the inflexible will not. Tabitha returned to his mind. Sulky Hills’ Elders had secrets, enough to fear for their souls. Better with a gun than words, Obadiah already had an advantage, and he’d been pouring venom into their ears for at least a year. Into the mind, the false preacher’s face swam with mocking grin. “He knew I would come,” he swallowed, and shook off a shiver.

As the bounty hunter traveled to Elder Griffith’s house, he considered the web, which was weaved about the town. Obadiah, who would talk a Saint into sin, was using Dermot as a pry bar. His death had cut deep, and they associated it with the Covenant Tree. He sighed, “He has got me at a disadvantage.” The man’s suicide was at the heart of this, so he would press Tabitha’s brother on his childhood friend. Maybe, hoped the bounty hunter, he could at least soothe the wound, and delay or stop the Revival.