The Sacrifice Read Online Free

his nitro,” Harry Morgan explained. “He never goes anywhere without it. It’s been a lifesaver.”
    Gradually, Reichert returned to normal.
    â€œLet’s get out of here, Dan,” Morgan said. “We’ll go back to my rectory and you can take it easy … I’ll be there to watch over you.”
    â€œNo, no. I want to stay here.”
    â€œIt’s only going to get worse. They’re going to ordain the guy. It’ll drive you up the wall.”
    â€œMaybe, maybe not. Let’s stay and watch.”
    Morgan shook his head. “If you insist.”
    â€œYou know, of course”—Reichert leaned heavily on Morgan’s arm—“that I would give anything to prevent this. I mean, the fact that I want to stay doesn’t mean I approve.”
    â€œI understand, Dan. I understand completely. Why don’t the two of you go over there where there are some empty chairs.” Koesler gestured to the recessed grotto where a religious statue stood. The sight-line wouldn’t be the best. But at least they could sit down, relax—and be more comfortable than they were now.

Two
    Father Koesler watched the two men as they haltingly made their way to the grotto, Reichert leaning on Morgan.
    Their behavior and their reaction to what was about to take place in this church brought to Koesler’s mind the militia movement that was struggling to become popular.
    The Constitution of the United States made reference to the right of citizens to bear arms as members of a well-regulated militia. As Koesler understood it, the militia man considered himself constitutionally correct.
    This present movement attracted people who had serious apprehensions regarding the government. Particularly the federal government as exemplified by the Administration and its bureaus, such as the FBI, ATF, the Secret Service, and so on.
    The more militant among such detractors had formed paramilitary units, complete with firearms, bombs and like weapons. In effect, they considered themselves at war with the authorities of the nation. And, in a sense, they were. No two events would better bear out this situation than the bombing of the government center in Oklahoma City and the Davidian holocaust in Waco.
    This sort of fatal confrontation was kissing cousin to a brand of religious militancy that motivated people who bombed abortion clinics and murdered physicians who performed abortions.
    Koesler had never, to his knowledge, met a militia person face-to-face. Yet he had the feeling that he had, in some sense, just talked to the prototype.
    Reichert and Morgan stood for all who felt similarly about the state of their Church. They were faithful people who were intensely dedicated to a religion that claimed to stretch back to Jesus Himself. Reichert and Morgan had been inducted into this faith more than seventy years ago. For the past approximately fifty years they had been priests. During that time, an event—Vatican II—that took place in the mid-sixties had turned their world topsy-turvy. And they were bitter as bitter could be.
    The analogies between the militia people and Catholic traditionalists seemed to Koesler inescapable. Of course, there had been no extreme violence on the part of Catholic conservatives. Was it possible the movement might fester into such a tragedy?
    Lost in these thoughts, Koesler only gradually became aware that someone was standing next to him and, in fact, had been standing there for some time. Slowly he turned to look at this silent companion.
    It was a priest. At least he was wearing a black suit with clerical collar. A fair assumption would make him a Catholic priest. But, on this occasion, he might just as easily be an Episcopalian. He was bald, with a shadow of facial hair. At about five feet six, he was a dumpy figure, and his clothing was rumpled. The latter condition swung the assumption toward his being Catholic.
    In simplicity, Koesler supposed that an