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the congregation. Almost as a body, it rose and went forward, with Liza Stewart leading the procession, and it was good that Liza should lead, Ian thought, because anyone in front of her would have been trampled in her rush to get to the altar. Gabriella sat pat.
    “Are you going forward?” Ian asked the girl.
    “Schoolteachers don’t sin,” she said. “But you go ahead, if you’re a mind to.”
    “I’m a little shy about such things,” he admitted, “but Liza don’t seem backwards. She was pounding leather to get up there, and she don’t seem sinful to me.”
    “A woman can think sinful thoughts,” Gabriella said, “and if my mother’s asking forgiveness for what I think she’s been thinking, well, I never!”
    Ian could almost hear Gabriella’s jaws snap shut with indignation, and he hastened to comfort her. “Gabriella, she can’t even think sinful thoughts out there on the ranch with nothing but them chickens.”
    “You don’t know mama!”
    Brother Winchester was moving among his kneeling flock, bending to whisper words of inspiration and faith to each sinner.
    Ian noticed that his ministrations over Liza were somewhat prolonged, and, in the middle of the church, Ian had a sinful thought regarding the preacher’s motives, but Winchester’s show of forgiveness seemed to soften Gabriella.
    “You can help Sister Liza, Brother Ian,” she said, “by not looking at her as if you were studying her and by not saying complimentary things to her. Help her be strong, Brother Ian, for mama is weak.”
    “Yes’m,” Ian promised, slightly addled.
    “Now, if you wish to go up and join the others, Brother Ian, I’ll understand, but don’t kneel next to mama.”
    It wasn’t shyness that restrained Ian but his schedule. If he went forward and confessed his sins, he might be here until Tuesday and he was leaving Monday morning.
    “No, Gabriella, I come with you and I’m staying with you.”
    Suddenly she reached over and patted the back of his hand, saying, “You are strong, Ian.”
    Even as he thrilled to her touch, he thrilled more to the knowledge that there was something of her mother in Gabriella Stewart.
    After the sermon, there was a brief fellowship period over coffee in the kitchen at the rear of the church. As the ladies gathered in one room to plan picnic hampers and as Liza corraled Mr. Birnie in an isolated corner, the men gathered around Brother Winchester to thank him for his soul-saving effort and for setting their feet on the path of salvation.
    Ian took advantage of the temporary freedom from females to engage the preacher in a theological discussion.
    “For some reason, sir, I feel a powerful interest in this Angel Gabriel. Some of the best people I know are named for him. Where does he hail from?”
    “From heaven, son, out beyond the stars. He’s a powerful man in heaven, an archangel. Some folks think he might have had something to do with Jesus since he was seen calling on Mary just before Christ was born.”
    “Where’d he get the name Gabriel?”
    “Some Hebrew called him by the name and it stuck.”
    “Does the name mean anything in Hebrew?”
    “Can’t say since I’m not a Hebrew. You might ask Abe Bernbaum. He’s a Hebrew.”
    “Is he the little fellow with the big head and the deep voice?”
    “Yes, sir,” the preacher smiled. “He’s Shoshone Flats’ naysayer and woe-bearer, but he’s God’s own tailor, the town’s official tailor, in fact.”
    Suddenly the preacher paused and dropped his head in a meditation so deep Ian felt he might be going to sleep on his feet, but he quickly aroused himself.
    “Brother McCloud, when I was walking among them sinners, the Holy Ghost asked me to give you a proposal in my capacity as town mayor. We’ve got Brother Faust as sheriff, but he’s a little too old and too Christian for a lawman. If you’d consent to abide with us for a while and act as his deputy, I know a young man with your spunk and grit could help