4

“Regina, you certainly have a green thumb,” Father Nowicki praised, looking over the rectory’s flower garden. “The roses are lovely.”

“Dziekuje, Father,” Regina replied. She carried a basket filled with cut flowers.

Both looked up at the sound of hoofbeats of a galloping horse approaching. Deputy Jed Morrison slid his gelding to a halt in the churchyard.

“Father, rustlers hit the Z Cross last night,” he said. “They shot young Tadeusz Zielinski and Jose Montoya. They’re at Doc Franklin’s. You need to come now.”

“Of course. Regina, please get my sick room kit while I saddle Rosie.”

“Certainly, Father.”

The pastor hurried to the stable, accompanied by the deputy.

“Is anyone searching for those rustlers, Jed?” he asked while saddling his mare.

“Sheriff Musgrave’s got a posse lookin’ for ‘em.”

“Let’s hope they find them.”

Nowicki led his horse outside and climbed into the saddle. Regina met him in front of the rectory. She handed him the small leather case holding the sacred oils, candle, and stole.

“I’ll return as soon as possible,” he said. “Tell Father Jankowski what’s happened.”

“Of course, Father.”

The pastor and deputy put their horses into a lope. Ten minutes later they reined up in front of Doctor Willard Franklin’s office.

“I’ll take care of your horse, Father,” Jed offered.

“Thanks, Jed.” Nowicki dismounted, handed Rosie’s reins to the deputy, then rushed into the office.

“Father. I’m glad you’re here,” Doctor Franklin greeted him. “Tad and Jose are in back.”

“How are they?”

“Badly wounded. They were both shot in the back. I was able to remove the bullets, but their survival is doubtful at best.”

Franklin led the pastor into the back room. The two cowboys were unconscious, covered with blankets. Hank and Betty Zielinski, owners of the Z Cross, sat by their son’s side. They looked up when Father Nowicki entered.

“Hello, Father,” Betty said.

“I came as soon as I heard.”

“We know, and appreciate you being here,” Hank assured him. “I’m not sure what you can do, though.”

“I can pray for Tad and Jose. So can you.”

“Father is right, Hank,” Betty agreed. “If it’s the Lord’s will, they’ll be fine. We can’t lose faith.”

“I’m going to administer Extreme Unction,” Nowicki said. He opened his case containing the sacramentals, removed the stole, kissed it, and draped it over his shoulders.

“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spirtus Sancti,” he began. The pastor murmured the ancient words of the sacrament for the gravely ill over the wounded men, anointing them with holy oil and water. Once he had finished the sacrament, he knelt in silent prayer for a few moments.

Afterward, Nowicki remained with the Zielinskis, consoling and reassuring them. He was preparing to leave when Father Jankowski and Stanley Mazurek arrived.

“How are the boys?” Jankowski questioned.

“In God’s hands,” Nowicki replied.

“And Doc Franklin’s,” Mazurek added. “If anyone can pull those boys through, he can.”

Mazurek paused before continuing.

“Father Nowicki, as you requested, we’ve all been patient. But now, things have gone too far. It’s sheer luck Tad and Jose weren’t killed. My father worked too hard for the land we own. My mother’s buried on it. I’m not about to give it up to anyone. We have to call in the Texas Rangers. Frank Czajkowski is stationed with Company D in Laredo. He could be here in a few days.”

“You’re right, Stanley,” the pastor conceded. “It’s apparent Jack Taylor will do anything to get what he wants, and Sheriff Musgrave is powerless to stop him. But I want to make sure the rest of the parishioners agree with us. Could you ask as many as possible to meet at the church tonight, say eight o’clock?”

“I’ll round up everyone I can, Father,” Mazurek promised.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Zielinski offered. “I can’t do much sitting here. Unless you don’t want me to leave, Betty.”

“No,” his wife answered. “You go on. I’ll stay with the boys.”

“We’ll be back as soon as possible,” Mazurek stated. “Fathers, we’ll see you tonight.”