As per your requests, now serving up another dose of Frivolous
Folklore...
he long, black train
rumbled through the Alberta countryside and stopped on the
outskirts of the tiny town of Namao. Now the three hundred and
seventy six good folk of Namao were used to hearing the
rumbling thunder of the CN pass by their town each day, but
were not used to the train having any business in their tiny
town.
Thus, the day that the dark, mysterious train pulled up to Namao,
nearly all three hundred and seventy six residents of the tiny town
noticed, not to mention most of the surrounding farmers within
earshot of shrill brakes of the train. The visitor was unexpected,
but welcomed with open arms. When the townsfolk realized that the
guest was a preacher of the Word, they immediately opened their
humble homes and welcomed the mysterious man and his crew.
Brother Steele claimed to be from Texas, although his eloquent
speech suggested a more refined upbringing than your average Texas
Joe. His demeanor was charismatic, his appearance was clean cut,
and his message was charmingly sincere. Inside the freight cars of
his train was a large tent, an ebony pulpit, an altar, and the
necessary supplies that the local men were happy to assist in
unloading and setting up. For this unexpected visitor cared enough
about the souls of Namao that he had ventured 2000 miles to share
his message.
By the time that dinner had been served, and the evening chores
were completed, nearly everyone in town was heading down to the big
tent in the wheat field behind the local church. Even old, crippled
Frank Bellamy, who hadn’t left his home in seven years, was carried
down to the tent on the hopes that this preacher was a purveyor of
miracles. His brother Ed, who carried the cripple over his
shoulder, vowed he would “lower Frank from the roof of the tent if
that’s what was needed” to solicit a healing.
Brother Steele had a bellowing voice. It was demanding yet
soothing, forceful yet compassionate and compelling yet curious.
Most of all, it was the biggest event Namao had seen since three
years earlier when Premier Brownlee came up from Edmonton to
campaign for the United Farmers of Alberta.
Brother Steele forcefully informed the folks of Namao that they
had invested in the way’s of the world, and that their material
possessions had led them astray.
“I challenge you” preached the reverend, “to separate yourselves
from your worldly possessions for one sole night”.
His preaching was compelling, emotional and fearsome at the same
time.
“Bring your most valuable possession to the tent, and leave it
here tonight. On my word, I will guard your goods, bless them, and
your fortunes will multiply. For those of you with enough faith to
part with one worldly possession, for one lone night, will be
thankful that you have done so!”
When the preacher dismissed the townfolk, they quickly returned
home. Betty McCallister found her mother’s emerald brooch from
Scotland. She would part with this for one lone night. Eddie King
had little of value aside from a “rainy day” jar of six dollars.
Even seven-year old Sadie Wilson was convinced to part with her
doll for one summer evening. They all returned to the tent, placing
their possessions on the altar.
Darkness fell on Namao, but the local minister, Reverend Mark,
couldn’t ignore the ominous feeling in his gut. He was slightly
angry at this traveling preacher who had waltzed into his town,
usurping his role. But his true concern was that Brother Steele was
a con artist. Sleep was difficult for the good reverend, and he
decided to head over to the tent to keep watch on the possessions
of his flock. Reverend Mark was shocked to see that the tent was
almost completely dismantled!
The altar was long gone, and the ebony pulpit was being loaded into
the freight car of the train. The reverend’s intuition was correct.
Brother Steele was a sham, and he had a duty to his people to save
their possessions. Silently, he crept into the sleeping car of the
train. The car was dark but beautiful; mahogany paneling, velvet
cushions, and beautiful ornamentation. He noticed Brother Steele
sleeping quietly in a large bunk at the back of his train. Steele
appeared unaware that his henchmen were busy working hard to pack
up his tent before the dawn broke. Moreso, he was unaware that his
scam had been discovered by a lone reverend.
The good Reverend Mark then noticed a box near the feet of Brother
Steele. Carefully, he grabbed the container and replaced it with
another similar box that he had brought with him. He quickly took
the valuables home to the church manse, and locked them in a
closet. Soon, he heard a dark rumbling and knew that Brother Steele
was leaving Namao. The long, black train pulled away from Namao
without so much as a whistle, careful not to awaken the sleeping
townsfolk. br>
It was a little down the line when Brother Steele awoke. He was
curious to see what goodies and valuables he had pilfered from his
latest small town heist! He grabbed the container at his feet, not
noticing that it looked different, and was much smaller than he
remembered.
He opened the lid, and cursed when he looked inside. A note
read:
“May the wrath of the people,
and the wrath of God, judge you and your heinous wrongs.”
He ripped the paper, and threw it on the floor. The container had
only a few worthless trinkets inside; a pencil, a notepad, and a
few small items. He tossed the container from the window of the
train in fury, for he knew that when that long, black train stopped
in the next village, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police would be his
hosts. He had fooled three hundred and seventy five good souls of
Namao. But the fatal flaw to his plan was the one who could not be
swindled, the good wise Reverend Mark.
Can you find Brother Steele’s container? It’s still there.
Thanks to my brother UBCCacher for the excellent suggestion for
this version of “Frivolous Folklore”. Trains, stories, country
music, geocaches, and a good sermon are all things he enjoys, and I
hope this tale lives up to his suggestion!
