Everyone walked out on the front porch as they got ready to leave. The sky was clear blue and for a February day it was mild. Could the radios be in the car? He walked over and checked under the driver’s seat.
Maria came up beside him. “What are you looking for?”
“Those GMRS radios.” He continued to look while talking. “Remember, we used them in Alabama?”
“I remember. They’re in the back of the car.”
Walking toward the rear of the vehicle he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He opened the rear and immediately saw the three pistols, including the pink Ruger, taken after the gunfight at the church. He had forgotten about them. They’ll be good for trade or additional security. He paused as the killing in the church lobby flashed through his mind. The woman was killed. Sure it was self-defense, but it should be investigated. Aren’t these guns evidence? Should I turn them over to Hoover? He smiled grimly. Didn’t Hoover shoot some looters? Was there any inquiry of that? No one seems to want any bother about the barn shooting. He was certain there would be none about the church shooting, but still it seemed wrong to keep the weapons. In the end, he decided to hold on to them until he could talk with Hoover. He picked up two pistols, leaving the pink one alone. It was senseless, but that gun gave him a bad feeling, he didn’t want it in the house.
Caden was about to tell Maria she was wrong about the radios when he spotted them in the corner partially under the seat. Clutching them and the pistols he walked over to his father. “These transceivers will be good for keeping in touch around the farm. We can trade the weapons for things we need, but keep them until I clear it with the sheriff.”
Soon he was driving the three ladies to the church just outside of Hansen, where he had been baptized as a teen. As he passed over the creek on the main road he looked for the red-haired kids who often fished there, but was disappointed.
He had good memories of friends, cookouts and ballgames while in the youth group, but it had been ten years since he set foot in the building. He struggled to recall the last time he had been in any church other than for a wedding. It wasn’t that he was an atheist or even an agnostic, but in his hell-bent pursuit of a career he had little time for God. However, if it made the women in his life happy, he was willing to go and even smile.
The church, a large, white, wood-frame building that dominated the top of a hill, was just ahead. They followed a horse-drawn wagon full of people into the parking lot. There were a dozen cars parked in front, but as the church bell tolled most people came by foot. At the edges of the parking lot three horses were tied to trees. The wagon pulled up close to the front door. Kids jumped from the back as a couple of adults disembarked more slowly, then the man led the horse and wagon to a tree in a grassy lot beside the building.
As they entered the sanctuary, Caden’s thoughts were far away, recalling a hayride with the youth group as a teenager. The morning sun, shining through a large stained glass window, warmed his face and brought his attention to the present. The congregation stood and sang a hymn acapella. He looked back at a corner where he once sat with young friends and recalled summer camp and the Boy Scout troop that the church sponsored. He took in a deep breath as if trying to suck in the atmosphere so full of light and life that it washed away the darkness of the previous weeks.
His mother selected a pew near the middle of the sanctuary and the rest of the family followed. Caden stood silently, holding Maria’s hand. He didn’t know the words of the song they were singing, but he liked the sound.
A couple of hymns later, a middle aged man walked to the front as the congregation sat.
“Good morning everyone. For any new people, I’m Jim, an elder here at Hansen Community Church. Before we get started there are just a few announcements.” He paused to look at his notes. “Dave, the owner of the farm supply store, donated a greenhouse to the church. We’re going to use the large area behind the building for growing vegetables this spring. We need help assembling it and to put up a security fence. If you can assist, sign up at the desk just outside the sanctuary. Also, if you know where we can get more greenhouses, let us know.”
Good idea. Caden recalled seeing one along the freeway behind the burned-out home of a friend. There are probably more. We need to find a way to use things that no one claims.
Jim continued his announcements, “…and if the power stays off, like it has this weekend, the Doran’s will need help at their dairy and are willing to pay in milk, butter and cheese. Several farmers have told us that, if gas stays in short supply, they will need help with spring planting and probably harvest. They are willing to pay in food. That sign-up list is also out at the desk.”
Caden continued to think about greenhouses and other equipment the community might be able to find and gather. Suddenly he became aware of a different voice. An older man now stood at the front of the congregation.
“…will never forget those terrible events of less than a month ago. Many of us have lost family. Most of us know someone who died. The nuclear fires have tested the nation and our community. The aftermath of those terrible days continues to test us and they will be with us for years to come, but like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego of old, our nation has been through many fires and we have come out of it with our faith intact.
“God did not bring this wickedness down on us; He is not the author of evil. What we have seen is evil, in all its forms, working against the will and the plan of God.
“Much that was good has been burned away and lost, but like metal forged in flame, what is left behind is stronger than before that dark day. Now, as it says in Revelation, we need to, ‘wake up, and strengthen what remains.’ Our work isn’t done and the path will not be an easy one, but we need to take on this yoke and move forward. We have a community to rebuild and a nation to restore.”
Caden nodded inwardly. He had never put it into words, but strengthening what remained seemed an appropriate description of what he had been trying to do since he returned home. He stood with others as the music played and in that moment it seemed the struggle to save Hansen was a burden they all shared equally, but more than that, it was as if his own personal burdens were shared by everyone in the congregation. His mother would call what he felt the Holy Spirit. Caden wasn’t sure, but it felt good to be there. The next time he had the chance he would come willingly.
The sun was just past its zenith as Caden, Maria, Lisa and his mother, stepped from the car near the barter market. Lisa retrieved the cooler with the milk and eggs the family would use for trading and together they walked toward the bustling swap meet.
The library was surrounded by tables and stalls. The mixture of these with colorful tarps, smoke, music and lots of people gave the park a third-world bazaar look. As they neared, he saw Sheriff Hoover talking with two deputies off to one side of the square. “I’ve got to talk to Hoover. I’ll catch up with you,” Caden said to the ladies. As he approached, the deputies departed into the market.
After exchanging greetings, Caden got right to the point. “I have three pistols my men and I took from a shooting at the church by the freeway. Do you need them for an investigation?”