two national ones had arrived first, their cameras covering all that was transpiring on both sides of the road.
Crossing the street, Caitlin thought she felt a blast of heat flushed out of a furnace slam into her. It seemed to radiate off the protesters, turning the air hot and prickly as they continued to chant. The sky was cloudless, the heat building in the fall day under a sun that felt more like summer judging from the burn Caitlin felt on her cheeks.
Caitlin recognized the leader, William Bryant Tripp, from his wet-down hair, skin flushed red, and handlebar mustache, and angled herself straight for him across the edge of the field that gave way to a drainage trench the width of a massive John Deere wheel loaderâs shovel. The trench created a natural barricade between the Beacon of Light Church members and what might as well have been the rest of the world, while the big Deere sat idle between towering mounds of earth set farther back in the field.
âSinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die!â
âMr. Tripp,â she called to the leader over the chants. Heâd stepped out of the procession at her approach, smirking and twirling the ends of his mustache.
âItâs Reverend Tripp,â he reminded.
Caitlin nodded, trying to look respectful. âThereâs people grieving a tragic death across the way, Reverend, and Iâd ask you again as a man and a Christian to vacate the premises so they might do so in peace. Youâve made your point already and I believe you should leave things at that.â
The smirk remained. âPeace is what this church is all about, Ranger, a peace that can only be achieved if those who debauch and deface the values of good honest people like us repent and are called out for their sins.â
âGays had nothing to do with putting that brave boy in a coffin, sir. That was the work of a bunch of cowardly religious fanatics like the ones serving you here today.â
The smirk slipped from Trippâs expression, replaced by a look that brushed Caitlin off and sized her up at the same time. âWeâre breaking no laws here. So Iâm going to ask you to leave us in peace.â
Caitlin felt her muscles tightening, her mouth going dry. âYou have every right to be here and Iâm here to protect your rights to peaceful assembly as well as the rights of the Chauncey family to bury their son without a sideshow. The problem is that presents a contradiction itâs my duty to resolve. And the best way to do that is to ask you and your people to simply leave in a timely fashion.â
Tripp shifted his shoulders. He seemed to relish the threat Caitlinâs words presented. âAnd if we choose not to?â
âYouâve made your point for the cameras already, sir. Thereâs nothing more for you to prove. So do the holy thing by packing up your pickets and heading on.â Caitlin gazed toward the protesters thrusting their signs into the air in perfect rhythm with their chanting. âUse the time to paint over those signs, so youâre ready to terrorize the next family that loses a son in battle, Mr. Tripp.â
Tripp measured her words, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. It made a sound like crushing a grape underfoot. Caitlin could feel the sunâs heat between them now, serving as an invisible barrier neither wanted to breach.
âItâs Reverend Tripp,â he reminded again.
âI believe that title needs to be earned,â Caitlin told him, feeling her words start to race ahead of her thoughts.
Tripp stiffened. âThis church has been serving Him and His word since the very founding of this great nation, Ranger. Even here in the great state of Texas itself.â
âThose other military funerals youâve been picketing from Lubbock to Amarillo donât count toward that, sir.â
âI was speaking of our