Chapter 11: THE JESUIT

Adelaide sat flanked by her children in the tiny chapel listening to the short, balding man. The priest wore an unadorned, somber black frock, his long fingers clutching a well-worn Bible that had seen better days. A sizable wooden cross dangled from his neck, clicking softly against the wooden pulpit each time he leaned forward.

"Jesuit," Adelaide's mind recoiled.

She had been raised Baptist, her father having left the Catholic religion long before she was born, or so she had been told.

What was she doing sitting in a decidedly Catholic church?!

Peering about her, the small room was mostly filled with rugged men, several children, and even fewer women. The frontier was not an easy life for women, many perishing in childbirth or Indian attack Adelaide assumed, wishing she'd paid more attention to history. It would come in handy now.

The little man gripped the chiseled pulpit, and leaned forward with an intensity in his eyes.