Parson Williams was a fine, upstanding fellow who would give you the shirt off his back if need be.
But the Parson kept a secret that, if it were to ever be revealed, would rock the congregation to its foundation.
“Come along, Titus. It’s time we get on to Ms. Willoughby’s place and our supper,” said the Parson one Sunday afternoon.
The horse picked up its pace, and soon, they were cresting the hill and heading down into the valley.
The Parson tied the steed at the gate, walked to the front door, and knocked.
“Good afternoon, Parson Williams. It is such an honor to have you visit for supper. Would you like to come in?” asked the matron.
The Parson removed his hat and entered the home, grinning ear to ear. The meal went as planned, but the matron, surprised by how little the man ate, asked. “Was the meal not up to your standards?”
“No, the meal was fine. I was waiting for dessert,” said the Parson.
“I’m afraid I did not make any this day,” replied the matron.
“Quite the contrary, you’ll do fine,” said the Parson, then drew out his straw.
Farmer Fitzgibbons found the woman lying on the floor and feeling very weak. “What in tarnation happened to you?” asked the farmer.
Ms. Willoughby couldn’t remember a thing after the Parson said his goodbyes and rode home. The doctor found nothing unusual except a small circular mark on the back of her neck.
After a few days, the woman was right as rain. Soon, another older woman found herself in a similar predicament.
“Could the Parson be carrying some bug that makes these weak females ill and faint,” the Sheriff asked. He sent the doctor out to his place to give him a check-up to be sure.
“Welcome, doctor. How may I help you?” asked Parson Williams.
The doctor explained the straight goings with the two women and asked if he could examine him.
The Parson was all too happy to oblige. “Everything checks out, so I guess I’ll let you get back to God’s work,” said the doctor.
As the doctor left, he looked through the open storeroom door and cried out in horror. “What have you done?” said the doctor.
Parson William walked up behind the physician with straw in hand. Moments later, the doctor was out like a light on the floor.
When the doctor failed to arrive at the Sheriff’s office, he rode to the Parson’s place. He found the doctor fainted in an empty building.
“Doc, you alright? Where is the Parson?” asked the lawman.
The doctor stood, brushed the dust off his trousers, and said. “The Parson was already gone when I arrived, so I thought I would look around. I must have tripped and knocked myself out.”
A few weeks later, a new Parsons arrived and informed the congregation that Williams had moved on. He explained that this was the routine of circuit preachers.
Old Doc noticed he, too, had a circular mark on the back of his neck. He discarded it as having happened when he fell at the Parson’s place.
The Sheriff had his suspicions but kept them to himself. “There’s no reason to stir a hornet’s nest when they’re sleeping,” he would say when asked about the Parson.
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