The Wages of Sin

1,472 words

The Wages of Sin

It was a cold day in February with winds blowing like the old testament plagues, touching many with suffering. God's servant, Jim Vance, had been reduced to skin and bones, as frail as a mummy when brought into the light, without his wrappngs."

Jim had so many visitors, they came two by two like animals marching to Noah's ark. They talked quietly as Jim lay dying.

"If ever there was a man mean to the bone, it was Jack Caudill. I can remember when he would herd all those kids and hogs and beat both with a stick, all looking so dirty and pathetic, it was difficult to tell one from the other. It was sad seeing a grandfather do that to the orphaned kids." Paul McCoy, Jack's neighbor for years, never approved of Jack's handling of the children. His memory lingered like the spook who was too angry to continue on to the next level.

"Yeah, my daddy said they found him face down in the muck, and he had been half eaten by the hogs by the time they found him. The carnage looked like the offal from the slaughter house." Paul's face was twisted with disgust in remembrance.

"Sad that Preacher Vance can't seem to find peace here at the end. If he doesn't make it to heaven, who could?" He checked on Jim. "His breathing has really slowed."

"Jim hasn't been right since his sister, Laura, visited a few months ago. He even stopped reading his Bible. He loved Laura so much, and a man has to admire that kind of devotion. Where is she, anyway?"

Sarah said, "Her daughter called and said Laura is too sick to visit."

Paul continued quietly. "Tongues wagged and whispers flew across the county as big Jack Caudill picked up the children of his worthless daughter and took them into his home. Big Jack, tall, red-headed, strong and raw boned, was a man of means. He owned a small coal mining operation and a large farm. He drove the kids and grandchildren hard . They did everything from chopping wood to slopping hogs to feeding chickens. They hoed and planted and harvested. Every day started at sun up, and work ended at sun down."

Sarah said, "It's not that Jim Vance didn't do his best to get along with the old man. He obeyed and kept his mouth shut. His grandmother doted on him, saying he was the best kid of the lot. She gave him to Jesus when he was 11, and he never strayed from his course to become a Man of God. He would preach, 'Give up your sin or suffer the pains of a raging hell.' He seemed like John the Baptist and Billy Graham in one little man of average build but with the bluest eyes that could pierce the very soul."

Paul knew that Laura was often in trouble with the old man. It could end up from anything to being starved for a day or two or, perhaps, a beating. Jim said he felt he had to protect her as much as he could. His words were, 'She was little. She was blood.'

What Jim never told anyone was one evening when he was almost 16 years old and Laura almost 12, she begged him for his help. "He messes with me, Jim. He won't leave me alone. He hurts me. Day in and day out I have to try to hide from him, but there's no use. He hunts me down wherever I hide. I just can't stand it any more. There ain't a man alive who will want me as a wife. I'll never be able to have children. What will I ever do?"

Jim was devastated. He prayed and prayed. The thought of Jack's big hands on his sister drove him nearly insane. It was disgusting for a man to lay with his daughter or granddaughter, against nature, an abomination, according to the Good Book. A plot began to form in his mind as he lay in bed night after night.

One day, Jim knew the time was right, Big Jack was driving him to the hog pen with the day's slops. When they got out of the truck, he let Jack walk ahead to the pens while he carried the slop buckets. He put the buckets down and reached for the shovel used to put the slops in the troughs. Instead, he hit Big Jack in the back of the head. Jack went down hard, and Jim hit hit again and again until he was sure he was dead. Then, he drug the body farther between the pens and poured the slops over him. He let the hogs out to eat. God's justice was true. It was fair, he thought. He believed he had completed a holy mission as other men did in the days of old.

The ever-obedient boy ran all the way home. He told the police that Big Jack had clutched his chest and fallen in the pen. There was no reason not to believe him, and the county sheriff declined to investigate after a brief inquest. The wounds had been covered and ingested by the hungry hogs. There was no evidence that would hold up in court in the 1950's.

Life went on and, in time, Jim put the murder out of his mind. Jim became a preacher, and Laura became a secretary and did marry, after all, and had a child. She mellowed with age and lost a lot of her rebelliousness although she would never join the church. His prayers included a wish for Laura's salvation. After all he had done, he felt God would honor his request.

****

The last time Laura saw Jim alive was, she was surprised to see how frail he was. They were alone in the sick room for many hours, and they discussed their lives in whispered tones.

"I never thought I'd make it, Jim, honest to God." She fussed over Jim, plumping his pillow, feeding him ice chips.

"How can you speak of God, Laura, never having known him." Jim coughed but still managed to smile.

"I know how you feel Brother, but what did God ever do for me? The only person who ever helped me was you, and there wasn't much you could do."

"I did more than you know, Laura. I killed him. I beat him to death like he deserved."

"What are you talking about, Jim? He died of a heart attack. Everyone said so."

"I beat him to death and then I turned the hogs out to eat him, the bastard."

"He wasn't no worse to me than to you or anyone, Jim. You know how I was, just onery sometimes. He was, that's all. Everyone knew that."

"It's more than mean to rape a girl, Laura, and my own sister. I could not bear the thought of his filthy hands on you. It was as if you were my Salome asking for his head as she asked for John the Baptist's head."

"Oh, my God, Jim. He never raped me! What made you think he raped me?"

"You told me so. You said he messed with you all the time, that you would never marry or have children. Are you telling me I killed a man for no good reason, Laura? Don't tell me that!"

Laura cried as she tried to explain to Jim that she was afraid the beatings would make her infertile or ugly but that, mostly, she was just feeling sorry for herself. She hated Big Jack, but he didn't rape her. "Oh, my God, Jim."

Jim's eyes seemed to sink back in his head. "Not guilty," he mumbled. "Not guilty. He was not guilty, but I am." Long into the night, he cried and prayed to God to forgive him. He wouldn't look at Laura, and he never spoke to her again, even though she promised she would go to her grave, never telling a soul. "There is no God, Jim, but if there was one, he wouldn't hold it against you. If there was a God, there wouldn't have been a Jack Caudill to begin with."

Jim Vance took no comfort from her words or from any words of others the rest of his days although he lingered on nearly until Spring time. He was buried in the Caudill family plot, not far from Big Jack's grave, which was the proper thing to do, after all.

The End

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