----NOTE: Sister Clemintine's player couldn't join us, so she's covienantly sick 
to her stomach, sleeping it off at the Steward's house.We all decided to go to 
town together.------------------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Just on the near side of one of the town's many little covered bridges, all
  sturdily built in the old New England style, stands the home of the 
  Brooksbridges. It's a small house, just on the banks of the green Pierce 
  River, with a line of laundry out front that looks like its been sitting out 
  a few days to many. The clothes have gone past dry to stiff, and past stiff 
  to bird dungy. Out back you can see a little dock with a fishing boat tied 
  too, the ropes looking so dried and corded that you know its been at least a 
  month since the boat's been out.

Sister Chase has been pretty quiet and mulling on her thoughts the whole way
  here, catching a glimpse of Abby now and again. She's pouring over the 
  argument she had with Abby back at the Steward's house, chewing on 
  strawgrass, and wondering if maybe Clem got sick because of all the tension. 
  She walks with an easy, loose-kneed gait, low hips and a comfortable cant to 
  her shoulders. By the time they get to the Brooksbridges, she's almost 
  surprised to find herself having got anywhere.

Sister Abigail looks at the laundry and has to physically restrain herself from
  marching over there, pulling it off the line, and giving it a good cleaning. 
  Instead, she turns to Hannah. "Isn't there anyone in town looking out for 
  these folks? This just doesn't seem right."

Sister Abigail sighs, shakes her head, and squares her shoulders. "I suppose
  it's our job, then."

Sister Hannah shrugs. "I think there's more going on than the Steward wanted to
  say. Shall we go see how they are doing and offer our blessing?

Sister Chase follows Abby's comment to look down the line, a furrow wrinkling
  up on her brow at the sight. "That's a sin, that. I hope they's OK."

Sister Abigail nods, frowning slightly. "Well, Sister Hannah here gives a
  lovely blessing. And between us I hope we can put things to rights." And with 
  that, Abby marches toward the door.

Sister Hannah follows on Sister Abigail's heels.

Just as you're coming up to the house the front door opens, and out onto the
  porch comes a woman in her mid 30's, looking hen-pecked and tired. She's got 
  the tight bunned hair of a life-long single, the kind who has given up on 
  ever attracting a man, and the tighter drawn lips of a woman who has long 
  since given up on smiling. She starts when she sees the three of you, then 
  flushes a high color up her pale cheeks when she sees the coats. "Sisters! 
  Welcome!"

Sister Chase flashes an easy smile. "G'day Sister. The Brooksbridges in?"

The woman nods and then stops and shakes her head, then stops and lets out a
  long slow sigh. "Yes, I mean... I'm Hester Brooksbridge. My parents are here, 
  but they're quite ill." Her hands flutter at the edge of her apron, not quite 
  knowing where to go. She looks at Abby's perfect attire, then at the laundry 
  out on the line and quickly looks at Chase. "Are you here about my parents?"

Sister Hannah says "Yes, the Steward mentioned they wanted a blessing"

Sister Abigail approaches the woman and puts a comforting hand on Hester's
  shoulder. "You must have quite a time of it, trying to care for them. If it 
  won't harm you none, come on in and have a cup of tea, and let us set things 
  to rights around here for a bit. You look like you could use a few minutes 
  off your feet." Abby finishes up with her warmest smile.

Sister Chase nods reassuringly. "We sure is, Steward Felkerk siad they were
  mighty under the weather. We couldn't rightly pass by without stopping in for 
  a spell."

Hester nods once, "Yes sister, I'm sure they are wanting that. I mean, the
  Stewarad he's blessed em twice this winter past, but it isn't the same as a 
  Dog's blessing, no indeed." She smiles at Abigail when the younger woman 
  touches her, some of her shame falling off her like a sack full of wet rice. 
  "Well then, won't you come in?" With that she turns back in and opens the 
  door, then pauses there a long moment. 

Finally she turns around, her color high in her cheeks, "Um, they're sleeping
  at the moment, actually. Could you sisters come back in a few hours? They 
  usually wake.. um... around dinner time."

Sister Chase looks at the door, the woman, then at Abby, and senses, that she 
  understands what's going on. "Sister Abigail.... maybe you and Sister Hannah could 
  help with the washing? Looks like Sister Hester here could use a hand."

Sister Abigail looks at Chase in astonishment, then her face breaks into a
  genuine if somewhat stunned smile. "What a good idea, Chase! Why don't you go 
  collect the washing from the line? Sister Hester, just have a seat right here 
  in this porch chair. I'll tiptoe in and collect the tea things and you can 
  have yourself a rest without needing to wake your parents while they're 
  resting."

Sister Hannah nods and looks to Sister Hester "we would enjoy helping you out

Hester's hands tighten down on her apron and she stands solidly in the door.
  "No. I... that is... they really shouldn't be woken. It's very bad for them." 
  She flushes higher, looks on the verge of tears. "Yes, I know you want to 
  help, so please, sisters, please come back in a few hours. Around sundown."

Sister Chase gnaws on her lip a mite, and as Abby looks like she might be
  moving in to do that wiz of a talking thing she does, Chase rolls up her 
  sleeve, shifting her rifle to strap over her shoulder and behind her back. 
  She starts to take the laundry down from the line, getting her hands mucky 
  and soiled, but folding the clothes carefully, as if she didn't notice the 
  dirt that piles up on people's lives at all.

As Chase gathers the laundry Sister Hester fidgets in the doorway, but shows no
  sign of moving. "Thank you Sister," she says, voice coming too fast, "Why 
  don't you just leave that down on the step I have to wash it again can't 
  bring it in like that oh no I need to get the smell out and next time I'll 
  remember and thank you but just leave it down there that's nice and thank you 
  so much." She's nearly in tears now, her voice getting more jittery by the 
  second

Sister Abigail takes a step forward, putting her hand on Sister Hester's
  shoulder and looking the other woman right in the eyes. "Sister, I can see 
  that something's wrong here. I know you want to take care of things here 
  yourself, and I can see you have the strength to do it, if you have to. But 
  you don't have to, Sister. Whatever's wrong here, we're here to help. I'M 
  here to help." She smiles at Hester, not letting the other woman avert her 
  gaze. "Any kind of trouble is easier to bear when you don't have to do it 
  alone."

Sister Hannah looks, for just an instant, as if someone hit her in the gut

At Abigail's touch Hester just about jumps out of her skin. She starts back and
  looks between Chase holding the laundry and Abigail standing there with 
  sincerity and a smile, and looks like she's going to start sobbing. Her 
  shoulders fall and she looks down at her feet, "Sister, I don't doubt you. I 
  know you are wanting to help, and I know you're good people. I trust you."

Sister Abigail takes Hester's elbow, ushering her to the rickety porch rocker
  with a respectful gesture, almost that of a daughter for a mother. "You just 
  sit down for a bit and tell me what's wrong, and I'll do what I can to set it 
  right. Chase, why don't you go find a place to set that laundry?" And Abby 
  sits down next to her, looking sympathetic.

Sister Chase comes up the stairs with the basket on her hip. "Don't you worry
  'bout a thing, Sister, why don't you let me just go on in and make up some 
  lemonade?"

Hester looks back over her shoulder into the house, then back at Abigail. "I
  promise, Sister, I'll let you help, I won't try to do it alone anymore. But I 
  need a few hours please. Just a few hours, and then I'll do whatever you 
  want." She gets lead to the rocker and then jumps up as Chase walks to the 
  door, and quickly slams it closed. "Just a few hours sister, please."

Sister Abigail looks at Hester, puzzled,

Sister Chase blinks, and her hips square at the sound of the door. She looks
  from the woman to Abby, cocking up a brow.

Sister Abigail says "Sister, you know that this must sound a bit strange to us.
  If you don't want us in the house now, can't you at least tell us why?"

It's obvious the woman means what she says. You can all see that she trusts
  you, wants and needs your help. And yet she's standing there trembling with 
  her hand on the door and a slightly hysterical look in her eyes.

Sister Chase says "Sister Hester, you're worrying me, you surely are." She
  faces off in front of Sister Hester, and uses her height to the advantage, 
  looking her narrowed eyes down her nose at the woman. She drops the basket of 
  laundry at the woman's feet and says evenly: "Stewart Felkirk sent us on to 
  do God's business, and I aim to get it done."

When Chase comes in close like that, Hester reaches back and grabs onto that
  door handle like she isn't sure if she is holding it closed, or if it is 
  holding her to the spot. Worn and tired as she is, she still has a farmer's 
  daughter's hands, all sinewy and strong as the Word of the King. She says, 
  voice shakey, "I... I... I just... it isn't good for you to go in right yet, 
  sister. I know what I'm talking about, I've been taking care of my sick folks 
  for like a year now and I know what is best for them and you know I want your 
  help but sometimes help has to come at the right time and oh.... Please. I 
  know you want to help, so just let it alone."

Sister Chase scowls into a moment of doubt and looks sidelong at Abby. Just
  like that, just looking at her, everything's all right, and she's fortified 
  again. She squares her shoulders and stands her ground.

Sister Abigail sighs, shaking her head. "Sister Hester, I know how hard you've
  worked. It's plain for anyone to see that you've done all you can taking care 
  of your parents, and I can tell how difficult that's been for you." She bends 
  down and picks up a handful of dirty laundry, meditatively turning over the 
  soiled shirt before looking back up at Hester with a surprisingly determined 
  gaze. "But you aren't in any fit state to judge right now. And that's that."

Hester just stays there, hanging onto the door. Only now she starts to cry,
  tears slowly leaking down her face. She just shakes her head at Abby, mutely 
  resistant.

Nobody says no to Abby. Chase steps in and takes the woman firmly by the arm.
  She takes a breath and pulls at her to clear the doorway. "Step aside, 
  Sister. We're Dogs, and we've come in the name of the King of Life. Let no 
  door be barred to us."

Sister Chase is a strong woman, but Hester's grip ain't coming easy. So when
  Chase pulls harder it nearly yanks them both off their feet, and still 
  Hester's hands don't move. Then, when Chase comes to yank harder, Hester 
  makes a sound that you've all heard before -- the sound of a woman in fear 
  for her bodily safety, and she round abouts with her elbow and smashes it 
  right into Chase's face.

Sister Chase is faster than a rattlesnake as her hand whips up to catch the
  woman's elbow and buffet her bodily back against the door, nearly growling. 
  That's a danger sign right there. The girls have seen Chase worked up, 
  they've seen her angry, they've seen her rash, but they've never seen her as
  coiled and ready to spring as she is right this moment.

Sister Abigail looks horrified for a moment and stands stock-still for a
  moment, paralyzed. Then she's moving, stepping between Chase and Hester, 
  pushing them apart. Her voice snaps out in the same tone your mother used 
  when telling you to take your hand off the stove. "Both of you. THAT'S 
  ENOUGH."

Sister Abigail's voice cracks sharp as a whip. "Whatever's wrong in that house,
  is it worth lifting a hand against God's Watchdogs?"

When Abigail steps in and shoves, Hester was already starting to recoil in
  horror at what she had done. That, combined with the sudden shove, sends her 
  off balance and she reels back into the door, her head slamming into the 
  frame so hard that it rips a long chip out of the old wood. Blood smears all 
  the way down as Hester sinks to her knees, still holding onto the door handle.

Sister Chase blinks and gasps and drops down to her knees in front of the
  woman, ripping off the sleeve of her shirt and pressing it against the 
  woman's head. "Abby, you near cracked her skull open. We don't need to get in 
  the house that way. The woman's tired and frightened, and obviously a little 
  spent. We might try and push through the door, but we shouldn't be breaking 
  it down."

Sister Abigail pales and tries to go down on one knee to help Hester, then
  takes a single step back at Chase's words. "I - I - I was trying to stop you 
  from shooting her, you unspeakable savage," she says with cold, precise fury. 
  "Now get out of the way and let me see to Sister Hester. Whatever's wrong 
  here must be bad wrong if it's led to this."

Sister Hester mewls weakly, pulling at Chase's hand, "Don't... please don't let
  her. Please... I don't..." she starts to sob, blood and tears running down 
  her too pale face.

Hester then looks at Abigail and says, "Why did you have to hurt me? Is it so
  urgent? Now my parents are sick and I'm bleeding, and how is this helping?"

Sister Abigail looks down at the blood on the doorpost, then at Chase kneeling
  over the fallen woman. She feels the sweat on her palms, the pounding of her 
  heart, smells the thick scent of spilt blood. "How *is* this helping?" she 
  says softly, almost as if musing to herself. "How is this helping," again, 
  this time stronger. "How is this helping?" This time it's like a trumpet 
  call, Abby raising her head and looking down at the bloodied woman on the 
  floor. In her red coat it seems almost as if she herself is clad in blood. 
  "Sister, it's not for you to tell me what's helping. You're a Sister of mine, 
  and you're in need, and I'll do my duty by you whether you like it or not. 
  You can tell me what's wrong, and I'll stand by you - or you can keep your 
  silence, and you can watch me go through that door, because I don't see any 
  other help for what's making you so frightened that you'd act as you have. 
  Now what's it going to be?"

Before the fury of Abigail, Sister Hester can do nothing but cower. She has no
  words left. She just holds onto that door handle and closes her eyes and 
  holds on some more.

Never really recovered from "unspeakable savage", her eyes are still damp and
  fierce and confused. She never knows what's the right thing, or what's the 
  wrong thing, and to think of it now, she really never has. But here it is, 
  Abby's come to the rescue again. She's come to lead the way. The bloody 
  handkerchief is wrung between her hands in frustration, and the red stain 
  smears over her hand as leans back on her heels from the woman and the door.

Sister Chase looks up at Abby after a long moment, and realizes that she's
  right, and that in many ways it takes a savage to do parts of this job. She 
  realizes that it can be her who gets dirty, or that it can be Abby, and 
  nothing should every stain Abby's perfect, white hands. She tries desperately 
  not to think of the fact that the dirtier she gets the more distance will be
  staked between her and Sister Abigailas she turns to the woman on the porch. 
  She punches her swift and hard, upside the temple in an unspeakably savage 
  blow meant to knock the woman clear unconcious.

Sister Hannah, upon seeing this, turns and flees the scene at a proper walk,
  but a fast one. She heads back to the house where they are staying and sits 
  beside Sister Clementine, keeping her hands busy with knitting she had 
  brought along, alternately praying, fuming, and crying at the loss of the 
  image of what Dogs should be.

Hester's head bounces off the door so hard she doesn't even have a chance to
  scream. And as her hands fall off the door and she falls to the floor, the 
  door opens and you see right into her house. It takes only a second to 
  realize what she was hiding -- the sixteen smoked hams hanging in a row, the 
  two turkeys, the new oven, and all the other things far to wealthy for this 
  house.

Sister Chase can't stand to look at Abby after the blow. Before the head even
  stops rocking, she reels to her feet and off the porch heading around the 
  side of the house.

Sister Abigail looks down at the bloody, unconscious body at her feet, stunned
  - then looks around to realize she's alone.

Sister Chase lands on her hands and knees around the side of the woodshed and
  retches, deep from the bottom of her gut. She vomits, hard, and fast and 
  painfully, tears streaming from her eyes.

Sister Abigail goes down on her knees besides Hester's body and uses the corner
  of her skirt to stanch the bleeding. Without looking up, she calls for 
  Hannah's help - but when it doesn't come, she goes on with the dirty work the 
  others have left her to clean up.

-------------- Meanwhile, back at the Steward's ------------------------


Sister Hannah is sitting in a chair near Sister Clementine, knitting, keeping
  an eye on her and ready to help her should she need it. Occasionally she 
  pulls her handkerchief out and dabs at her eyes, sighs deeply, and shoves it 
  back up her sleeve. Even though she's keeping an eye on Sister Clementine, 
  it's clear her mind is somewhere else.

There is a rap at the door, followed a moment later by the presence of Steward
  Felkirk, carrying a big bowl full of steamed rice and some plain toast. 
  "Hello Sister, I heard your fellow Dog was ill. The wife sent me with this." 
  He sets the platter down on the bedside table and looks at the sleeping Clem 
  for a moment, then from her up to Hannah. "But unless I miss my guess she's a 
  might less in trouble than you. Pains of the body pass, those of the soul 
  don't."

Sister Hannah says "thank you for your trouble, and please thank your wife,
  too, for her kindness and thoughtfullness"

Felkirk smiles and nods to Hannah, "I'll pass those thanks on to my wife, don't
  you fear. She loves to take care of the Dogs, says it pays back all those 
  folks who used to take care of me when I was a Dog." He gets a chair from the 
  corner of the room and puts it down at the foot of the bed, straddling it and 
  looking at Clem's sleeping face. "Is this your first town sister?"

"Yes, it is." Sister Hannah is too polite to refuse a direct
  question, but she quickly changes the topic: "You used to be a Dog?"

Felkirk nods, "Yep, for three years."

Sister Hannah says "that's a long time; it must have been hard." She sits down
  and begins knitting again, having stood when he came in the room. She's 
  trying to direct conversation away from herself."

Putting his big rancher's hands on his knees, Felkirk nods his head slowly,
  eyes going back up to Hannah. "Hardest years of my life. But not half so 
  hard, I think, as they are being on you. See, I went to be a Dog because I 
  believed I had to. Why'd you go to be a dog? Running to, or running from?"

Sister Hannah says "neither" and refuses to say more."

Sister Hannah sits there knitting, feeling the Steward's gaze on her, but she
  steadfastly refuses to say nothing and he eventually gets up and leaves. 
  However, he was waiting when she returned the dishes to his house....

It isn't just Felkirk that is waiting when she drops the dishes by either. It's
  his wife as well. And while Felkirk goes to get water from the well, it's 
  Sister Felkirk that does the talking. "So dear," she says, "my old goat says 
  that you're having a rough time of it, and that you won't talk to him. Can 
  you talk to me, maybe? Woman to woman?" She lowers her eyes slightly, "Even 
  if I'm a woman without children?"

Sister Hannah looks at her for a second, then slumps down at the table and
  starts pouring out her story, from beginning to end, then her time at the 
  Dogs Temple, then what she just witnessed, and the fact that the world holds 
  nothing good in it anymore, even those who are supposed to fight for it. At 
  some point, Brother Felkirk walks in, and stays in the doorway, listening 
  quietly. Sister Felkirk, hands her a mug of tea and sits down with her. 
  "...And what kind of God lets this sort of thing happen? What kind of people 
  serve him that they would do such things? I thought they were nice! I didn't 
  want to become a Dog, but it's all that was left, and now, now...." She 
  shakes her head, unbelieving.

Sister Felkirk reaches over and wraps an arm around Hannah, pulling the girl in
  near her. The women look remarkably alike, not so much in the face, but they 
  have the same body type, the same hands, the same hair, and the same way of 
  looking out at the world from behind their eyes. The steward's wife looks up 
  at her husband and says, "Tell her, Jeremiah, tell her about us." 

The Steward nods and sits down, "I was in love with my wife before I went to be
  a Dog. I lied to you before -- I went to get away from her, because I wanted 
  to have kids more than anything in my life, wanted to hold a baby in my arms. 
  So I ran." He swallows and looks away, out the window where the sun is 
  starting to go down. "And then I was a Dog three years. In those years I 
  killed six men and two women and one little boy no more than 7 who was 
  possessed by three demons. And I learned one thing, Hannah, that I can never 
  forget. When you are lost and alone and hurting, when your faith is dying, 
  you have to get on your knees and pray. I did, at the end of three years of 
  misery and terror. And the King told me to come home and stop running and do 
  what I should and marry my Christabelle. Because the world is full of terror 
  only when we don't listen, and full of love when we do." He reaches out and 
  touches Hannah on the shoulder, "Pray with us Hannah, and the King will let 
  you know what to do."

Sister Hannah takes hands with the Steward and his wife and they pray together
  for a time. After, she stays and helps make dinner and takes some back to 
  Sister Clementine, feeling somehow better, thinking that there may be hope, 
  yet, if she only keeps faith in God and in those who do God's work.