Brother Willy's Traveling Salvation Show
Brother Willy’s
Traveling Salvation Show
W. Scott Mitchell
Copyright 2013
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Table of Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Other Books By W. Scott Mitchell
FORWARD
Scott is a young man haunted by his past and Michelle is a young woman haunted by her future of uncertainty. They have been together for years, but never as a couple in love. Their families believe the destiny of the young couple is obvious, while needing only a push in the right direction. Enter stage left the team that makes up “Brother Willy’s Traveling Salvation Show”.
In a style typical for Mitchell, a casual subplot of political corruption is woven into the fabric of the novel. Also typical for Mitchell, the reader is denied a clear path or direction that the novel will take, thus leaving the outcome all but certain. For reasons discovered late in the book, Scott has a personal determination to fix all the “broken girls” he encounters along the way to fulfilling his “destiny” to be with Michelle.
Michelle, like Scott accepts the conventional wisdom that she and Scott must be in love with each other as they have been friends for over ten years. She is a modern young woman raised with a pack of brothers who taught her to be assertive to the point that she sometimes loses sight of her direction in life. She willfully plays along with Scott’s assertion that he is an amateur Sherlock Holmes until both face a problem without a solution and complicated by mystical impossibilities.
Melissa Armstrong
Chapter I
James Whitney, the son of a wealthy North Carolina industrialist, entered college on a legacy admission granted by the institution as a favor to James’ father for his many financial contributions.
James made his way through the college to earn a degree in political science. Despite his average performance in school, he was somewhat talented in the area of politics. Unlike his industrialist father, he felt a sense of history as he walked through the halls of the Rayburn Office building in Washington D.C. It was in this building that James worked for Congressman Milton T Snyder who represented a congressional district in western North Carolina.
Once again, James secured his position in Congressman Snyder’s office because of his father’s influence and campaign contributions. James was a young man who was loyal to the Congressman, although he often silently disagreed with Snyder’s political stands on various issues. Being given the title of “political director” and “press relations manager”, James often found himself on the inside of many high level discussions.
Having been with the Congressman for almost four years, James had gone from college to a high-ranking position without the benefit of understanding the real world outside of Washington. Having moved up quickly, he was somewhat impressed with his position and enjoyed being on the “inside”. One skill he had yet to master was the ability to understand the value of keeping inside information confidential.
It was a beautiful spring day in early May, when Congressman Snyder called for a late Friday afternoon meeting with James. As James sat across from Congressman Snyder, Milton began to speak. “I will be leaving on Wednesday for Saint Lucia as part of my Caribbean fact finding initiative. I don’t want to publicize this trip but if anyone should ask, I am going to see how we can lift those poor people out of poverty through economic development.”
James looked down at his legal pad as he was taking notes. “Who else will be going on this trip?”
“Since Rachel is my chief of staff, she will be going. When you book my flight, I will fly out of Washington and she will leave from Asheville. We will meet in Atlanta, so make sure we are on the same flight out of Atlanta.” Milton demanded.
James was somewhat awkward with his response. “Congressman, I am already getting a few questions about your relationship with Rachel. This could blow up in your face if word gets out.”
Milton leaned back in his seat as he considered his options. “The best way to stop someone from catching you doing something is to announce what you’re doing. If there is no surprise, then there is no news. Do a press release tonight and try to hit the Saturday papers when no one is paying attention.”
James was going to make one more effort to persuade Milton Snyder to reconsider. “The press is watching you closely and discretion in this matter is worth considering.”
Milton smiled as he responded. “I appreciate you looking after my interest, but I’m not worried about it. I represent a district that has a combined IQ only slightly higher than a butterfly. If I say the word Jesus using three syllables, they think I am announcing the second coming. Let’s face the facts. My voters have the attention span of a dead frog. Half of them don’t even know my name and the other half could care less.”
James continued to make notes. “As long as you are aware of the press scrutiny, then I’ve done my job.”
Milton Snyder leaned forward. “We have another year before the next election. If something blows up, then I know a church leader who will publicly forgive me. I’ll put my wife on stage, say I committed a horrible unforgivable sin, and then ask the voters to forgive me and they will.”
“Are you sure Mrs. Snyder will stand on that stage with you?” James asked.
“My wife loves the power, influence, the parties, and the trips to the White House every Christmas. You can damn well take it to the bank that she will be on that stage with me. Without me, she goes back to slopping pigs on some hog farm in North Carolina.” Milton replied.
James left the Rayburn Office Building shortly after five o’clock. He arrived at the Starbucks on Pennsylvania Avenue where he and other staff members frequently met after work. While sitting at a table, he shared his concerns about Snyder’s trip with another staff member. Unknown to James, he was also sharing his information with a member of the press sitting at the next table.
With a high degree of arrogance and reckless disregard, Congressman Snyder and Rachel left for their steamy five-day stay in Saint Lucia.
Chapter II
Like most small towns in the south, East Kings Ridge was almost indistinguishable from all the other small towns they visited. Business districts were measured in blocks rather than miles. There would always be a hardware store, a women’s clothing store, a local drugstore, at least two lawyers' offices, a small furniture outlet, and some type of locally owned eating establishment, all scattered along Main Street. Typically, there would be several vacant storefronts in various states of disrepair. There were usually at least two churches for each denomination and sometimes more.
On the outskirts of town, there was normally a used car lot with the owner wearing a plaid coat and sunglasses while standing outside under an awning awaiting the next customer. Brother Willy contended there were many reputable used car dealers, but conceded there were also many dealers who would “swindle their own mother out of her last dime”
in order to make the sale.
Oddly enough, it was the less than honest dealers that so often attracted Brother Willy’s attention. In fact, Willy often said the dealers with questionable ethics provided the inspiration for him to organize “Brother Willy’s Traveling Salvation Show”. Willy made the argument that he could sell any car so long as he had a few cans of spray paint and one can of deodorant. With his booming voice and a genuine smile, he would explain his thoughts. “If I make it shine and smell good, then sooner or later somebody is going to pay top dollar for it.”
Everyone knew Willy was not actually talking about cars. He was making the argument that people are looking for something they don’t have, but feel they need. He knew people would be willing to give up something if they thought they could get something better in return. In this particular case, he assumed people would gladly give up money if they had an opportunity for salvation. What made his concept interesting was the fact that he never actually defined what salvation might be.
They traveled everywhere in a convoy which consisted of Willy’s 1985 black Cadillac, a motor home, and a twenty-eight foot box truck towing a Coachman travel trailer. Mrs. Bessie rode with Willy in the Cadillac, along with several wigs and boxes of makeup. The car was always cleaned and polished to perfection before Willy made an entrance in the town.
Michelle and Scott were next in the convoy driving the motor home and were the newest members of the organization. Michelle recently became the business manager after having taken over those duties from Bessie Lou. Scott had been given the title of general manager while knowing that Willy directed the operation in its entirety. Scott was unsure why he was given the title, as he carried out a wide assortment of jobs in the organization.
Following Michelle and Scott were Joe and Hank. They drove the U-Haul truck and were, for lack of a better description, the stage managers. They carried folding chairs, tents, tables, a confessional booth, lighting equipment, and a sound system that would satisfy most rock and roll bands.
Several years ago, Hank installed a generator system on the truck that could provide enough electricity to power the entire operation. The generator would allow us to operate in a cow pasture, parks, or in a desert should we so desire. Being self-sufficient was no minor consideration given they often set up shop at the old fairgrounds and in parking lots in various towns.
Brother Willy was perhaps the most interesting member of the party. His name was actually William Broughton and he spent much of his life in New England working with a computer services company. He was fluent in Spanish and could hold his own when speaking Chinese, which he learned while being overseas with his company. His job and training had made Willy a most perceptive man.
He had the ability to analyze people in a very short time, almost appearing to know their very thoughts. Willy also had the ability to establish an instant sense of trust with people he met along the way. Willy had no formal religious or psychological training, yet was quite comfortable with his abilities in both fields. Being a very easy man to talk with, even strangers would open up to him, disclosing their darkest secrets.
Perhaps his appearance was part of the reason people were drawn to him. His wavy white hair framed his face and his wire-rimmed glasses drew attention to his trusting blue eyes. Scott assumed that if Willy had a white beard and red coat, he would look much like Santa Clause, although not quite so heavy. His choice of suits made him appear respectable, but never overpowering.
“Bessie Lou” was actually Betsy Broughton and had been married to William for almost forty years. The name Mrs. Bessie was only used when they were on the road and was a name she did not openly endorse, except when she was on stage. She had taught music at a small private college in Vermont for almost twenty-five years. Her skills on keyboard instruments were obvious, but Scott was astonished by her ability to play classical music on the violin. Betsy was not only musically talented, but also had an intense interest in reading a wide variety of subjects.
William and Betsy lived on a thousand acre farm outside of New Bern, North Carolina and were very similar to each other in many respects. They both embraced the roles they played with the “Salvation Show” and were outstanding performers. Betsy was someone who Scott considered an elegant and graceful woman. William was well-traveled, educated, and shared Betsy’s broad range of interests. Watching the two of them make their transition from their normal personality to their onstage persona was nothing short of amazing.
Joe and Hank had other obligations beyond being just stage managers for the “Traveling Salvation Show”. Joe had attended college at NC State University where he majored in agriculture. With that experience, he had taken on the responsibility and oversight of the Broughton farm operations. Joe was in his early fifties and the years in the sun had taken a toll on his skin. He loved the outdoors and when time permitted, he would take his wife Anna horseback riding on overnight trips while spending several days removed from civilization.
Hank was cut from a different mold than Joe. Being in his mid forties, Hank often said he needed to decide what he was going to do when he grew up. Hank had tried college in his younger days only to hear a different calling. In his early thirties, he had tried marriage, but his ex-wife also heard a different calling. It would be safe to call Hank a man of free spirit. He had grown through his youth playing in rock and bluegrass bands. While on the road, Hank was the expert in lighting and sound for the show.
Hank and Betsy got along like a brother and sister act. Betsy taught Hank to appreciate classical music and Hank inspired Betsy to use her violin to play bluegrass. Both Betsy and Hank had great musical voices and used those talents to bring down the house when they performed in small towns.
Becoming a member of the Traveling Salvation Show is not a job one acquires by application or resume. Actually, Michelle was responsible for Scott becoming a part of this most unusual organization.
Chapter III
Michelle and Scott met for the first time when they were in the seventh grade. When they met, she was not a full-blown ‘tomboy’ but she certainly had some of those tendencies, or at least Scott thought she did.
During the late summer before beginning seventh grade, the school held tryouts for the male students who wanted to play baseball. Scott and many of his male friends came at the appointed time in hopes of making the team. Much to his shock, Michelle also showed up to try out for the team. Apparently, Michelle was also the first girl ever to show up at Westover Junior High for baseball tryouts and the coach obviously had no idea how to handle the situation.
Scott was standing at home plate putting on the catchers gear when one of his friends poked him in the ribs. His friend was determined for Scott to see Michelle walking toward the dugout where most of the team hopefuls had gathered. Just like most seventh grade boys, they were interested in baseball and girls. Like most of his friends, Scott was not especially knowledgeable about either. They therefore quickly reached the conclusion she was lost as she made her way down the third base line.
The coach stood in front of the dugout reading the list of names who had signed up to play. Michelle showed no sign of hesitation as she walked up and stood beside the coach. He looked up from his clipboard and pointed to the school building. “Cheerleading tryouts are in the gym.”
Michelle’s voice was quiet but persistent. “I came to try out for baseball, not cheerleading. After a few moments, he again turned his attention to her. “Girl’s softball tryouts are next Tuesday. Jones, you are on first, Franklin you are on second, Casten is at third, and McDaniel is at short.”
Michelle cleared her throat and replied, “I came to play baseball, not softball.”
At this point, the coach turned at looked at Michelle expressing his displeasure without saying a word. He called out before he turned away, “Peter, take the mound”.
With that said, he walked over to the bleachers to hold what Scott assumed was a consultation with another teacher. They looked back at Michel
le several times, as they continued to talk. By the time the coach had finished his conversation, the boys in the dugout were making every disparaging girl playing baseball joke they could think of. Scott had left the plate and was walking down the first base line when the coach returned.
Scott stood a few feet away as the coach spoke to Michelle. “This will have to go before the school board. Since you are already here, put on a helmet and grab a bat.”
While Scott returned to home plate to warm up the pitcher, Michelle put her glove in the dugout, picked up a helmet and a bat, then started toward home plate. For the first time, he could see in her expression a sense of reluctance. She stood several steps behind the batters box taking practice swings as the pitcher made his last three warm up pitches. The coach signaled for Scott to come to the mound for a conference with the pitcher. Their conference consisted of the coach telling them to treat her as they would any other player. He also suggested they throw junk on the first two pitches and see if they could strike her out. He assured them she would swing at anything.
As Scott walked back from the mound, he could see an expression of determination mixed with a suggestion of reluctance. As he got close to the plate, Scott muttered under his breath so no one but Michelle could hear him. “Don’t swing at the first pitch. Let it go by.”
Scott crouched down in the catcher’s position as she approached the plate while listening to Scott as she spoke in a condescending voice. “I know how to play baseball.”
Scott’s response reflected his displeasure with her tone of voice. “That’s good, but I know what he is going to throw and you don’t. Look low and away.”
She touched the end of the bat to the plate and then pulled the bat over her shoulder. Peter threw the first pitch making it hit the dirt before it crossed the plate. She did not attempt to swing at the ball. Scott stood and threw the ball back to Peter and offered her a second piece of advice. “He will come inside next time so watch out.”