A Flicker of Hope by Buckskin

Word count 782

His Brother’s Keeper Challenge. No beta, all mistakes are mine.

Father Phillipe Montero clutched the crucifix and beaded chain in gnarled fingers as he prayed for the people in his village. How many times had they suffered through the terrifying raids that left them crippled with fear as they witnessed the atrocities committed on them, atrocities bearing the mark of death? They had no weapons to aid in their fight, only shovels, sickles, and hoes; the poor farmers wouldn’t have known how to use weapons even if they had them; they were a peaceful people, and they knew what was about to happen — it was inevitable. But they didn’t want to give up; Montero saw their eyes burn with frustration; the pride was there, but they lacked the know-how.

The raids lasted for only three days… this time, and they knew the torment would return. Their village was a source of supplies and food; the renegade Rurales’ incessant attacks depleted their stores, leaving them barely enough to survive. The village men died, were murdered, or wounded, and the women suffered a worse fate. Many orphans had kept Father Montero busy trying to keep them alive. There was no one in the village that had not been affected in some way by the ruthless assaults. And those assaults continued.

Until now.

Two weeks ago, they came out of the mountains that cut the village off from the rest of the world. It was a desolate place; few knew of their existence… except the Rurales. They knew; they held the village captive to serve their greed — their depravity. But no more.

Two weeks ago, things changed. And as Montero now watched the two men, one tending the other, wounded in the battle with the Rurales, he knew it would be different now. It would be better.

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At first, they were nothing but a smudge on the horizon, hazy figures distorted by gossamer desert heat. Who were they, and what did they want? But as they entered the village, they presented no threat. Not to the village, only to the Rurales, and that was to be the final chapter for the renegades.

All the men asked for was water and a place to rest for the night. They treated the villagers with respect, polite in their questions, and expressed their sincere thanks when offered a meal. It was clear they were not like others that came to the village.

Father Montero smiled, recalling their reactions hearing of the trouble forced upon the farmers and their families by the marauding Rurales. They said nothing as they listened, but the looks they exchanged sparked an idea in the Padre’s mind that they were planning retaliation, and retaliation it was!

The men disappeared for three days, making Montero wonder if he had pegged them wrong; had they run out thinking the small village was not worth their worry? But when, days later, they returned with supplies and weapons, the Padre, with his hopes confirmed, knew help had finally arrived. Although a man of peace, Montero was no fool — there would be a fight the next time the Rurales came, and it was sooner than anyone anticipated.

Montero had never had the honor of meeting Johnny Madrid before, but as he watched Madrid and amigo Val Crawford prepare for the upcoming battle, he was filled with renewed hope for the future of the village and its people.

The Father had to chuckle when he asked where the supplies had come from; the grin between Madrid and Crawford was contagious as they told him they’d stolen everything from the Rurales. Stealing — it was the eighth commandment and this time, Father Montero condoned it, and he didn’t regret it. He never would. His village and its people were saved because of these two men.

They fought valiantly for the people, and the villagers fought as they never had before. This time, with help from two strangers, they had battled the enemy and won, and Montero was proud of them — was proud for them!

He watched as Johnny lifted Señor Crawford to help him drink, then tenderly helped him to settle on his pallet of blankets. He stayed close when the fever flamed in the night, cooling him down, wiping away the sweat as it beaded on the parched hide, and talked in gentle tones. Amigos. He was his brother’s keeper.

They had saved the villagers, brothers of the heart — and in turn, the villagers gave them a place to rest and fed them, and kept them strong.

They were all their brother’s keepers.

And Father Montero smiled. His prayers had been answered.

~end~
March 2023

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