Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (6 page)

“I’m terribly sorry!” Benjamin reached out a hand to steady the fellow.

The man recovered quickly from his initial surprise. “Think nothing of it.” He smiled pleasantly.

“I was not watching my step. My mind was elsewhere.”

“No harm done.” The man proceeded to the desk and addressed the clerk. “I’m here to see if a shipment has arrived for me. Reverend Ezra Bancroft.”

Benjamin had not yet exited, and when he heard the man’s name, he stopped short and turned back.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said boldly. “Did you say
Reverend
Bancroft?”

“I did, sir.”

“My name is Benjamin Sinclair,
Reverend
Sinclair.” He thrust out his hand and was relieved when Bancroft took it warmly.

“A fellow man of the cloth! What a blessing!” Bancroft had a large mouth, so when his lips parted in a grin, it very nearly went from ear to ear. He was an older man, at least past fifty, with thin, graying hair, pink skin, and pale gray eyes covered with a pair of wire spectacles.

“I wondered if this town had a church,” Benjamin said.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a church. I have been here only a few months, and there has been neither time nor money to build. We meet on Sunday in a saloon.”

“How terrible!”

“I am grateful to God that at least one day a week such a place can be washed with His presence.”

“Yes, yes. I suppose that is a way to look at it.” Benjamin didn’t know what more to say. He thought of Rebekah and wondered if this man had a wife. That would truly be a godsend. But even if the man was a minister, he was still a stranger, and Benjamin was reluctant to foist his troubles upon him.

Yet, if not this man, who? Benjamin swallowed his pride. “Sir, that is, Reverend Bancroft, I . . . I have a problem. . . .”

“Please, Reverend Sinclair, we have only just met, but we are brothers in Christ. If I can be of any assistance to you, I will gladly do so.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say. . . .”

“Tell me your problem.”

Benjamin would never cease to marvel at the wondrous provision of God. Reverend Bancroft did indeed have a wife, and eight hours after meeting Bancroft at the steamship office, Martha Bancroft delivered of Rebekah a small but healthy baby daughter. Rebekah wanted to name the child Leah. Benjamin knew the name meant “weary” and thus wanted to protest in favor of something more hopeful, but his wife looked so pale and weak that he did not have the heart to argue. Perhaps, too, that name would always be a reminder of the sacrifices made for the cause of Christ.

Then, as if the Bancrofts had not been generous enough, these people whom the Sinclairs hardly knew invited them to stay in their own home while Rebekah recovered.

“A hotel is not the place for a newborn babe and mother,” Martha Bancroft said cheerily. She was a plump, rosy-cheeked woman whose only fault Benjamin could find was that she talked a great deal.

“I insist you bide in our home as long as need be.” Bancroft winked at his wife. “Mrs. Bancroft has longed for new folks to talk to, haven’t you, dear? And another woman! There are so few respectable women in town that this is truly a gift of God.”

“I am anxious to complete my journey.” Benjamin had told the minister of his call to Texas.

“Commendable indeed! But you will do the work of God no good if you succumb to exhaustion.”

“Your wife should have at least a week, if not two, for proper recovery, especially with an arduous journey still ahead of her.” Mrs. Bancroftfs” words were not a suggestion, they were practically an order.

In any case, Benjamin knew Rebekah would need some rest. When Martha Bancroft had extended the invitation, he had glanced at Rebekah, and she had actually been smiling. He hadn’t seen her smile since leaving Boston.

The town of Natchez was divided into two distinct regions. The respectable part of town lay up on a hill. Below this, mostly centered on the waterfront, the more disreputable area flourished. The Bancrofts had a four-room frame house between these two places. Ezra explained that he did not wish to be too far removed from the people who most needed his ministry. He came from Maryland and, like Benjamin, had set out to minister in Texas. But when he came to Natchez, he had seen such great need that he and his wife had decided to tarry there for a time.

“So you will not go to Texas?” Benjamin asked.

“I will see what comes. I expect God will let me know in the fullness of time.”

“Yes, I am sure He will.” Benjamin found Ezra to be a solid Christian man even though he was not a Methodist like Benjamin. As long as they avoided doctrinal discussions, he believed they would get along well.

That first night, Mrs. Bancroft put out a fine meal. Though her children were grown and married with homes of their own back East, she said she could not break the habit of cooking for a full family. However, nothing was wasted because there always seemed to be guests at their table. Benjamin was impressed with the Bancrofts’ hospitality.

The Sinclairs had not eaten so well in weeks, and Benjamin had to caution Micah twice at the table about greed and gluttony. The boy would have eaten more than both grown men combined if allowed. When pie and coffee were served, Micah dug in as though still starved.

“Micah,” Benjamin rebuked, “you have had enough to eat.”

“But I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. Leave the table. In fact, you may go outside and reflect upon proper deportment when dining with civilized people.”

“But—”

“Now!”

With a fleeting look at the slab of apple pie on his plate, Micah skulked away.

“He’s a growing boy,” Ezra said.

“Grown enough to learn how to behave.” Benjamin waited until Micah had left and closed the door behind him to add, “I suppose it is not entirely his fault. We have spent too long on the road, living in barely human conditions. You can see why I am anxious to reach Texas and get settled in a proper manner.”

“Surely you don’t think you will find much civilization in Texas.” Ezra leaned back contentedly in his chair and sipped his coffee. His wife fixed a tray of food for Rebekah, who was resting in the guest bedroom, and took it to her, leaving the men alone for a time.

“Do you know much of the region, Ezra?” Benjamin tasted the coffee. It was the best he’d had since leaving Boston. The pie was delicious also.

“Only what I hear. But I am in a fairly good position to gain information. Few come or go from Texas without passing through Natchez. Why, I have even met Stephen Austin himself.”

“Indeed! What can you tell me about him?”

“He’s a good man, entirely dedicated to his colony in San Felipe. The last I heard, however, he had been imprisoned by the Mexican government.”

“I did not hear of this. Do you know why?”

“Apparently he went to Mexico to lobby for the statehood for Texas, which has been part of the state of Coahuila. But the Texians have grown weary with the distance they must travel in order to accomplish official business. At any rate, it appears as if an official believed Austin was attempting to foment revolution.”

“I didn’t know this.” Benjamin fell silent, wondering what kind of situation he was about to step into.

“May I ask, Benjamin, how you came to choose Texas as your destination?”

Benjamin welcomed this question, especially with his brief moment of doubt. It would be good to recall his initial vision.

“I had hardly even heard of the place two years ago,” he began. “That was when my younger brother, Haden, decided to travel there. He returned to Boston a year later to put his affairs in order with the intent of going to Texas permanently. He tried to encourage me to join him. His stories of a vast, wide open land were enticing, I admit. I’m afraid both my brother and I inherited a bit of the wanderlust from a seafaring grandsire. I was far more successful in repressing it than my brother, who has been traveling all about the country since he came of age.”

Ezra smiled indulgently. “But there is indeed something alluring about a new land where miles upon miles have never been seen or touched by mankind.”

“I would not be swayed by such a frivolous notion,” Benjamin stated, but he often wondered if he had been so influenced. It served no good to admit to it anyway. “I had a wife and young family to consider, as well as a thriving parish.”

“But you did set out for Texas. . . .” Ezra prompted, surprisingly with more curiosity than ire.

“I did, but not of my own will.”

“I do not think it would be such a terrible thing for a man to seek adventure. That certainly would not negate the call of God. Where would the world be if some of God’s people were not given an adventurous spirit?”

Benjamin cocked an eyebrow at this unorthodox thinking. “Of course that may be, but I assure you I received a true call from God.”

“I don’t doubt it, my boy.”

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Benjamin steered it to a more desirable topic. “Ezra, I have learned many things about the land of Texas, but because my brother is not a God-fearing man, he had little to say about the spiritual state of things. Do you know anything of the Mexican attitude toward the Protestant church? I have heard they have begun to show more tolerance.”

“Officially that is not the case. Some Mexican officials turn a blind eye toward the activities of Protestant missionaries. But the Catholic Church is the sanctioned religion of Texas and will remain so as long as Texas is part of Mexico. Protestant ministers continue to operate secretly. And I must be honest with you, Benjamin. The Mexicans are especially intolerant of you Methodists. You . . . uh . . . it is their impression that Methodists tend to be a bit more emotional than some of the other faiths, and thus are perceived to be more threatening to the Mexican government. There are also more Methodists in Texas than other Protestants.”

Benjamin’s bishop had informed him about the situation with the Mexican government, but he now could see there was probably a great deal he had
not
been told. The call for missionaries, coupled with Haden’s enthusiasm about Texas, had worked Benjamin’s zeal into an almost feverish pitch. He had asked very few questions, believing God would cover and bless him no matter what. Of course the Methodist missions board had not wanted to lose a zealous missionary by burdening him overmuch with the facts.

Now he could see the error in that judgment. Too much information could never hurt, and it certainly was not going to dampen his resolve. This seemed as good a time as any to broaden his knowledge and appease his curiosity.

“Is it true that Americans in Texas have had to convert to Catholicism?” he asked.

“It is the only way for them to own land.”

“How appalling! Certainly they don’t
practice
that . . . faith?”

“When the risks of practicing Protestantism are so great—”

“That is no excuse!” Benjamin cut in fervently. “To deny their faith over a few grains of dirt! Why, the first-century Christians risked their very lives to follow Christ.”

“Well, even if they were willing to take such a risk, most must wait months before they see any minister, whether it be Catholic or Protestant.”

“It seems to me all these people need is to be reminded of the expediency, indeed the utter urgency, of professing Christ. They have forgotten that their very souls hang in the balance.”

“Perhaps . . .” Ezra sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “There are those who might argue that Catholics also profess Christ.”

“It is a dangerous apostasy,” Benjamin countered with conviction. “Dangerous because, like that other vile apostasy, Mormonism, it mingles evil doctrine with enough truth to fool many. I cannot abide the worshiping of more than one deity as Papists do. I believe one of my main missions in Texas will be to break the pope’s bondage of the people. If it means ending up in chains, then so be it.”

“The only way to free Texas of Catholicism, I believe,” Ezra put in rather blandly, “would be to break free of Mexico altogether.”

“I believe you are right, Ezra. Texas independence should be the top priority of all God-fearing men!” Benjamin surprised even himself with his impassioned response.

“But, Benjamin, you’ll do neither God nor the independence movement any good if you end up in a Mexican prison. I say, tread lightly around the Mexican government. The slim chance that you might convert one is not worth it. You would win a small victory only to lose the entire war.”

“I will try to proceed in the wisdom of God.”

Ezra nodded but did not appear to be convinced. Benjamin suspected that the man, well-meaning though he might be, had had his convictions dulled by the godless surroundings of the frontier. It certainly had been known to happen in some cases. Benjamin vowed such would not happen to him.

CHAPTER

8

B
ENJAMIN TOOK HIS LEAVE FROM
Ezra and went to see to his wife’s well-being. She was lying comfortably on the bed, Isabel snuggled up next to her asleep, and the new baby in her arms. Rebekah was awake, and Benjamin leaned down, kissed her lightly on her forehead, then peeked under the infant’s blanket.

“She is a beautiful child,” he said gently.

“Yes, she is.” A smile twitched upon Rebekah’s pale lips.

“You were very brave,” he said, “not only in your time of travail but during the whole trip. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“God strengthened me.”

Benjamin pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down. “He strengthens us both as we seek His will.”

“Indeed . . .”

He ignored the lack of conviction in her voice. She was tired. She had been through a lot. “We are on a mighty mission, Rebekah. I have just spoken to Reverend Bancroft about Texas. He has some knowledge in this matter, and he has convinced me more than ever that there is enormous need where we are going.”

She only nodded.

He went on. “The field is ripe and ready for harvest. Remember my dream, Rebekah? It is surely coming to pass. I am the workman sent to the field.”

“You need not waste your breath trying to convince me,” she said dully.