Upon seeing the mob, Rev. Chapman and Father Cisneros stopped abruptly, smiles disappearing from their faces. Amos Martin, now standing eyed them intently. The Parson came up to my right side, just a little behind me and inquired, “Miles, what’s going on here?”
“Mr. Martin is lookin’ for his daughter. He claims she’s been kidnapped.”
I couldn’t see the parson’s countenance, but something in it must have triggered Martin. He lunged for the preacher, thrusting me aside, grabbing him by the collar. “Preacher! Where’s Agatha?” he near screamed.
By this time, Mateo had come up to grasp one arm of Martin and I had been able to gain my balance and took hold of his other one and we pulled him away from the parson. Martin has gone crazy-mad.
“Now, Brother Martin…” he began but was interrupted.
“Don’t ‘Brother Martin’ me. Do you know where she is?” he blasted, spittle coming from his mouth.
Rev. Chapman straightened his shoulders, then looked Martin square in the eye. “I do.”
Martin’s eyes widened in fury as he tried to lunge for the preacher again. This time, Mateo and I were ready and he couldn’t break our grasp. “You have no right to hide her from me!” he exclaimed in rage.
“From the way you’re acting, I had every right. Agatha is of age and is now married to a fine, hard-working man,” came the calm, but firm answer from Rev. Chapman.
“I’ll have it annulled!” he proclaimed still trying to break away from us.
From another quarter, Sheriff Gold shouted. “Why don’t you all go home. This doesn’t concern you, and it’s too cold out here. This was a legal marriage of two adults. There is nothing you can do about it.”
A voice from the crowd hollered out, one I didn’t recognize. “Are you telling us that she wasn’t kidnapped?”
“No more than you kidnapped Mary those years ago,” retorted Charlie with humor in his voice trying to lighten the mood.
“Amos,” started in another man. “You told us she’d been kidnapped.”
Some of the air had been taken from Amos Martin, he seemed to have calmed down some, but I was afraid that it was burning and boiling inside ready to pop. He sort of growled when he replied, “She was, she wouldn’t have gone of her own accord, not with one of them bean-eaters. She wasn’t raised that way.”
There was some mumbling and bickering in the crowd, I heard someone say that he was going home. Most of those gathered began to move away with only a few standing with Martin. Father Cisneros had moved up to stand beside the parson.
Martin must have felt our grip relaxing for he burst out in wild fury striking the priest in the face knocking him down, then wrapping his meaty hands around the throat of Rev. Chapman. I was in no position to bring the Greener to thump in on the head, but Mateo was quicker. Lightning quick he drew his pistol and shoved his hard under the chin of Martin, hard enough that I heard his teeth clatter. He pushed up with the barrel lifting Martin to his toes.
“Release the preacher!” he ordered through gritted teeth. Cocking the gun, he repeated, “Release him, I won’t say it again!”
Martin took Mateo to heart, but gave him a stare filled with daggers as he stepped back. Glaring at Mateo, Martin barked, “This ain’t over, bean-eater!” Then turned toward two men of the cloth. “I’ll find them, and when I do she’ll be a widow right quick like!” He spat toward the feet of the two men of God. “I’ll burn out that barrio if I have to!”
Mateo released him, then pushed him back. “You have a gun, let’s take care of this now…”