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〃Mr。 Ludwig；〃 Pendergast said。 〃There's a group of gentlemen in the far corner…？〃
Ludwig looked in the indicated direction。 Four or five men in bib overalls were drinking lemonade and talking amongst themselves in low voices。 Rather than joining in the applause； they were looking in the direction of Chauncy with narrowed eyes。
〃Oh； that's Dale Estrem and the rest of the Farmer's Co…operative；〃 Ludwig replied。 〃The last of the die…hard holdouts。 They're the only ones who haven't sold out to the big farming conglomerates。 Still own their own farms around Medicine Creek。〃
〃And why don't they share in the town's good feeling？〃
〃The Farmer's Co…op holds no truck with genetically modified corn。 They fear it'll cross…pollinate and ruin their own crops。〃
Ridder was now introducing the man from Kansas State to select knots of people。
〃There are several other introductions I'd like you to make； if you would；〃 Pendergast said。 〃The minister； for example。〃
〃Of course。〃 Ludwig scanned the crowd for Pastor Wilbur； finally spotting him standing alone； in line for turkey。 〃This way。〃
〃Tell me about him first； if you please。〃
Ludwig hesitated； not wishing to speak ill of anybody。 〃Pastor Wilbur's been here for forty years； at least。 He means well。 It's just that 。 。 。〃 He faltered。
〃Yes？〃 said Pendergast。 Ludwig found the man's gray eyes focused on him in a most unsettling way。
〃I guess you'd have to say he's a little set in his ways。 He's not really in touch with what's happening； ornot happening； in Medicine Creek these days。〃 He struggled a moment。 〃There are some who feel a younger； more vibrant ministry would help revive the town； keep the youngsters from leaving。 Fill the spiritual void that's opened up here。〃
〃I see。〃
The minister raised his head as they approached。 As usual； a pair of reading glasses was perched on the end of his nose； whether or not he was reading anything。 Ludwig figured he did it to look scholarly。 〃Pastor Wilbur？〃 Ludwig said。 〃I'd like to introduce Special Agent Pendergast of the FBI。〃
Wilbur took the proffered hand。
〃I envy you； Pastor；〃 Pendergast said。 〃Ministering to the souls of a munity such as Medicine Creek。〃
Wilbur gazed benevolently at Pendergast。 〃It is at times a fearsome responsibility； being entrusted with so many hundreds； Mr。 Pendergast。 But I flatter myself that I've shepherded them well。〃
〃It seems a good life here；〃 Pendergast went on。 〃For a man of God such as yourself； I mean。〃
〃God has seen fit to both bless me and bring me trials。 We all share equally in the curse of Adam； but perhaps a man of the cloth shares more than most。〃 Wilbur's face had assumed a saintly； almost martyred demeanor。
Ludwig recognized that look： Wilbur was about to spout one of his prized little scraps of poetry。
〃Alas；〃Wilbur began；〃what boots it with uncessant care； to tend the homely； slighted shepherd's trade？〃 He looked through his reading glasses at Pendergast with evident satisfaction。 〃Milton。 Naturally。〃
〃Naturally。Lycidas。 〃
Wilbur was slightly taken aback。 〃Ah； I believe that's correct； yes。〃
〃Another line from that elegy es to mind：The hungry sheep look up and are not fed。 〃
There was a brief silence。 Ludwig looked back and forth between the two men； uncertain what； if anything； had just passed between them。
Wilbur blinked。 〃I…〃
〃I look forward to greeting you again in church on Sunday；〃 Pendergast interjected smoothly； grasping Wilbur's hand once more。
〃Ah； yes； yes； so do I；〃 Wilbur said； the note of surprise still detectable in his voice。
〃Excuse me！〃 The booming voice of Art Ridder； amplified； again cut through the babble of overlapping conversations。 〃Ladies and gentlemen； if you would all be so kind； our guest of honor would like to say a few words。 Dr。 Stanton Chauncy！〃
All around the Fellowship Hall； people put down their forks and turned their attention to the little man in the seersucker suit。
〃Thank you；〃 the man said。 He stood erect； hands folded in front of him like he was at a wake。 〃My name is Stanton Chauncy。 Dr。 Stanton Chauncy。 I represent the Agricultural Extension of Kansas State University。 But of course you know that。〃 His voice was high； and his manner of speaking was so crisp and precise that his words were almost overarticulated。
〃The genetic enhancement of corn is a plicated subject； and not one that I can readily elucidate in a venue such as this；〃 he began。 〃It requires knowledge of certain disciplines such as organic chemistry and plant biology that one could not expect a lay audience to possess。〃 He sniffed。 〃However； I will attempt to impart the most rudimentary of overviews to you this afternoon。〃
As if of one mind； those who had gathered in the Fellowship Hall appeared to slump。 There was a collective exhalation of breath。 If they had hoped to hear praise heaped on their town or their Sociable； or even…dared one hope？…word of Chauncy's impending decision； they were sadly disappointed。 Instead； the man launched into an explanation of corn varietals so detailed that the eyes of even the most enthusiastic corn farmer glazed over。 It almost seemed to Ludwig as if Chauncy wastrying to be as boring as possible。 Whispered conversations resumed； forkfuls of mashed potato and turkey gravy were slipped into furtive mouths； small streams of people began moving back and forth along the far walls of the hall。 Dale Estrem and the Farmer's Co…op crowd stood at the back； arms folded； faces set hard。
Smit Ludwig tuned out the droning voice as he looked around the hall。 Despite everything； he appreciated the small…town atmosphere of the Sociable： its homespun provinciality； and the fact that it brought the munity together； even forcing people who didn't like each other to acknowledge the other and be civil。 It was one of the many reasons why he never wanted to leave…even after his wife had passed away。 A person could not get lost in Medicine Creek。 People were taken care of； nobody was forgotten； and everyone had a place。 It wasn't like that in L。A。； where old people died unloved and alone every day。 His daughter had been calling a lot lately； urging him to relocate nearer her。 But he wasn't going to do that。 Not even after he closed the paper and retired。 For better or worse； he was going to end his days in Medicine Creek and be buried in the cemetery out on the Deeper Road； beside his wife。
He glanced at his watch。 What had generated these thoughts of mortality？ He had a deadline to make； even if it was self…imposed； and the time had e for him to go home and write up the story。
He made his stealthy way to the open doors of the hall。 Beyond； late afternoon light illuminated the broad green lawn of the church。 The heat was unbroken as it lay over the grass； the parking lot； and the cornfields like a suffocating blanket。 But despite the heat…and； in fact； despite everything…a part of Smit Ludwig felt relieved。 He could have fared a lot worse at the hands of his fellow townsfolk； he had Maisie； and perhaps Pendergast； to thank for that。 And on a less selfish note； he'd be able to write an upbeat piece about the Sociable without dissembling。 It had started with a certain grimness； he felt： a sto