Oregonal Sin

Harry hadn't slept since the flooding had started. He'd been frantically moving anything and everything he could. Tossing lighter things onto higher shelves, trying to move full barrels of flour and sugar and wheat and oats onto the counter or the stairs. Ignoring his prized trinkets and toys as he tried to save as much food stuff as he could.

Now he sat morosely halfway up the stairs to his flat, dirty, exhausted and trying not to cry as he stared at the remains of his tattered kingdom.

Harry had just received a fairly sizeable shipment of supplies. Really, it was two shipments in one because the first had been delayed by weather. Sturdy wooden crates were lined up on the boardwalk next to the store waiting to be hauled, one by one, inside.

"I swear, this is going to take me all day," Harry muttered as he came outside for another crate. He paused, frowned, and counted.

The Blackwood House opened its doors -- though not literally, considering the cold -- to everyone Christmas eve. It was a tradition her father and mother had started the second year they'd been in town and something Liz looked forward to every year.

All the rooms and parlors were open except the guests' private sleeping areas and the kitchen. Even the garden had been cleared and swept, benches free of snow for the moment, if guests wanted a bit of fresh air or someplace more private to talk.

The house was decorated to the hilt with greens, candles, berries, and a large tree in main dining room. That room also featured a buffet spread with food and treats that Liz had been working on for weeks. The pianoforte had been moved into the main parlor and every guest was encouraged to take a turn if they wished.

In one of the smaller parlors there was a table with small gifts for each guest -- they could pick at random or have Liz's father, who presided over the room, suggest one for them. Her brother and sister-in-law had claimed the main parlor to hold audience while Liz herself floated quietly from room to room, making sure everyone had a good time and a full plate.

Dan came into the saloon, in his preaching clothes. Spotted Gemma and came up to the bar, solemnly.

"I was hoping to pay Ryan a visit. As his pastor," he said quietly.

It was a little more than a month since Beth had been to church. She didn't have the courage to try for a Sunday service, so it was Monday that found her wrapping a shawl over her dress for decency as well as warmth before going out. Nervous and alone, eyes darting from side to side, and keeping well clear of the smaller streets and alleys, it was a moment of huge relief when she finally slipped inside the church and found it empty.

Beth went into a pew about halfway up the aisle, settling down carefully, folded her hands, and prayed. Prayed for Mr. Moriarty's pupils sick with the flu, and for Ryan to keep on recovering well. Prayed for her own children to come through it, and (slightly guiltily) that she might have enough work real soon that she could afford a new dress so she could go see them again.

Once she was done, she kept her hands folded and eyes closed, simply soaking in the peace of the church until the sound of footsteps brought her eyes wide open, heart tripping over in startlement as she recognized the preacher coming through. "Sorry, Brother, I didn't mean no...I'll be goin', then."

Jack was clutching his case all too tightly, standing in the dust of Corvallis' town square. Fresh off the boat and didn't he just look it, something of the little lost boy about him despite his age and stature, his head low even as his eyes drifted from building to building, trying to get his bearings. No point trawling the streets looking for the church on his lonesome, not if he could just muster up the effort of asking someone for directions. He turned his head as he saw someone step out the door of one of the buildings, seeing enough people in the room he'd just left before the doors swung closed to decide it was good a place as any to ask for help. Straightening slightly, he walked over to the building, close enough now to hear the sound of conversation within. What would his momma say, seeing her boy stood on the threshold of what was unmistakeably a saloon? She'd have choice words, that was for sure. Steeling himself, he stepped inside, casting his gaze about, sticking out like a sore thumb already without even trying.

The air was a little cooler than might have been ideal for an outdoor gathering, but hovering in the low 60s, it wasn't so bad.

There was a tent set up in the yard beside the church, a few tables put together, to make a long row, and chairs. Brother Dan has announced the last couple of weeks in church that there would be a pot luck today, everyone invited. No preaching, just community dinner. Now it was up to everyone else to show up. With food, if they wanted to and could.

It wasn't often Dan came to the saloon, for any reason, but he'd told Beth he'd talk to Gemma about time for the social, so he would. He debated for a good long while, and then went in his collar. Hopefully that would clear up any question of him sneaking around for the saloon's services. Might make a few people uncomfortable, but he wasn't gonna preachify, so that was between them and God, he reckoned.

Then he went to call on Miss Teller. Walked right up to her with a polite smile, and asked her like a *lady*, "Miss Teller, can I beg a moment of your time?"

Beth had, for once, struggled hard to stay awake during the service. No reflection on the sermon, just a late night, or lack of any kind of night after working, but she was dressed respectably enough, glad to rise from the back pew at the end of the service to join the slow file out of the warm, stuffy church to the sunshine outside.

She hesitated to offer her hand to Brother Daniel, though, pausing to bob him a shallow curtsey instead. "Fine sermon this morning, sir."

Dan carried a rocking chair out his shop and on the small porch in front it. He'd made it himself, nothing fancy, but sanded smooth and dark stained. He grinned and settled into it so he was watching people on the main street

"There we go, display of goods and sociable to boot," he remarked, waving.

Fine clear afternoon. Late summer, early autumn, well clear of noon, the town square was busy with folk running errands, going about their business, meeting up...whatever it was they felt the need to do on a sunny weekday afternoon.