Short Story--Galeta continued

This is a background story for characters in my novel, The Devoted of Imshalel. (Galeta—gal-eh-tah, emphasis on the first syllable.)

Galeta

     Ian, his team, and an interpreter paid a last visit to Galeta’s two-room house. Neighbors milled about the hard-packed sand outside, eyed the strangers warily, and called into the open doorway using the local dialect. Ian directed the Sango interpreter to speak to them.

     Galeta rushed out garbling an agitated spate of Sango and the Central African Republic’s official language. Ian’s rudimentary command of French proved unequal to the task, and he turned to his interpreter.

     “Ah, awful,” the man said. “Her grandson, her only family, has been killed. Men, three white, two black but not from here. She begs your help.”

     Fael, the one of the four men small enough not to crush the diminutive woman, folded Galeta against his chest. “Tell us what you know, and we shall do what we are able.” Kindness in his voice and gentle arms, he nevertheless exuded hard strength, even ruthless purpose.

     Galeta trusted each of the men and recognized the bond Ian’s team shared. She’d heard stories of their dealings with militants who passed near their village. They’d gone on their way, not stopping to molest the people for supplies and possible recruits. Ian commanded and said nothing to her of the incident. She asked the men into the house out of the shimmering heated air.

     No tears showed on the lady’s set face. The men sat on folding chairs about Galeta. She had quite a collection to accommodate her weekly Sunday visitors. The thick walls kept out much of the sun’s glare. Two narrow windows lighted the main room and illuminated its few furnishings, a small table that held Bibles and hanging about the room, framed, hand-embroidered Biblical texts—the Ten Commandments, the Beatitudes, and I Corinthians’ description of the characteristics of love.

     Neither Liu nor Fael were Christian but could appreciate the sentiments in the samplers.

     “Ofema, my grandson, worked as a courier for a miner,” Galeta said. “A good boy unlikely to question orders. I fear the miner skirted legalities and dealt with unscrupulous men.” Her eyes went hard. “Ofema carried a shipment to Bambari, one man. Even if the buyers wished to steal from him, he was unarmed and no threat. They had no need to kill him. To whom would he complain? The miner would not wish to bring his own illegal activities to the attention of the authorities, nor has he the resources to seek justice.” She turned beseeching eyes on the men. “Will you help me?”

Ian’s answer Monday. Friday—The Point of the Gospel and the continuation of the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus’ teachings on divorce, judging others, and more.