The Preacher & His Colt
             © 2004 Ken Overcast

     I sure like history. My grandkids think I ARE
history, and I guess maybe they're right. For a
long time I had the mistaken idea that great
historical things only happened in other parts of
the country, but I've come to realize that we're
all living right in the middle of it.
     I had the opportunity to spend a lot of Sunday
mornin's as a kid in the old Methodist Church here
in Chinook with a picture of the founder, "Brother
Van", hanging on the wall. It still hangs there as
far as I know.
     He was a circuit ridin' preacher that came up
the Missouri River to Fort Benton on a steamboat
in the early 1870's. Now there's an old boy with
some history. The name his Ma had given him was
William Wesley Van Orsdel, but that was way too
long and dignified sounding for Montana Territory,
so he was just known as Brother Van.
     It seems he had a natural knack when it came
to gaining friends, and could relate to folks from
every station in life. Charlie Russell was a pal of his
and even painted a picture of him hunting buffalo
with the Blackfeet.... they were his friends, too.
     In fact, Charlie and a couple of his old cowboy
compadres attended revival meetings back in the
late 90's, in the old church that Brother Van
started here in Chinook. One of the cowboys
went on to become one heck of a preacher.
     Charlie didn't seem to "get religion" at that
particular meetin', and although he had a great
respect for the Good Book and those who
preached it, it just might have been his affection
for booze that stood in his way. It's no secret that
Charlie liked a little nip or two on occasion, and
with the Temperance Movement going great
guns about that period of time, he may have
thought that keeping a safe distance from any
real commitment might be a more comfortable
position.
     Carrie Nation was headed around the country
about then with a hatchet; choppin' up saloons
and bustin' up those kinds of places with a
vengeance. She was a formidable force, standing
nearly six feet tall in her sockin' feet. I think
she met with a fair amount of success, too.... that
is until she ran into May Maloney down in Butte.
May was an Irish lady with a substantial build of
her own, and as fate would have it, was
proprietress of a saloon/dancehall combination
along with her boarding house for single girls.
     It seems that the boarding house girls
specialized in short term romance, and neither
they nor Madam Maloney looked too kindly on
an old lady with a hatchet upsetting their little
apple cart. The lady proprietor, in true sporting
house fashion, drug the would-be hatcheteer out
into the middle of Mercury Street by the hair and
gave her a good Irish whuppin', after which Miss
Nation promptly reboarded the train and left for
parts unknown.     
     All of this fuss didn't seem to faze Brother Van.
He was welcomed into many a saloon to preach
while the gaming and drinking were temporarily
suspended and the patrons given a generous
helping of the Good News. The collection plate
frequently contained everything from gold dust
to poker chips, with the saloon owners always
happy to redeem the chips.... often at more than
face value.
     The preacher also volunteered his services as
a scout for General Howard as he pursued Chief
Joseph and the Nez Perce after the Battle of the
Big Hole in western Montana. Who better to guide
the cavalry than a local who had spent several
years galloping around the country on horseback?
     With the Big Hole Battle just over the hill, it
was a pretty scary time for the settlers in and
around Bannack, the first capital of Montana
Territory. The town was barricaded against the
Indian attack they all felt was imminent. The
ranchers and miners from the surrounding area
flocked into the safety of town, and Brother Van,
being the resourceful type, saw all of that able
bodied help and promptly organized a work crew
and began a church raisin'. It sure is funny how
the spiritual appetite of the most reprobate of old
characters suddenly improves when death is
staring them in the face. I played a few tunes in
that old building not too many years ago. The
dreaded Indian attack never came, but that old
church house still stands to this day.
     He was a real church planter, having started
over a hundred congregations across our fair state.
Of course, as things grew he needed more and
more help. On one particular occasion he had in
his company a zealous young preacher from back
East. The young man was preparing to take over
a recently constructed church in Belt, Montana,
and was being introduced around the community.
Brother Van noticed the Catholic Priest coming
down the street in his buggy, and was anxious for
this young associate to meet his old friend.
     After a few pleasantries, the young man, being
young and zealous, made a comment to the Priest
that he felt the Father's fancy driving team and
buggy were a little excessive.
     "But my son," the old priest explained, "my
Parrish is very large, and I have many miles to
travel in a short amount of time."
     "The Lord Jesus made due with the colt of an
ass," the young man sharply retorted.
     "I can't seem to find one.... although I've
searched high and low," the portly old Friar
answered slyly, winking over his glasses at his
old friend, ".... but unfortunately it appears they've
all become Methodist Missionaries."

    Keep Smilin'....
          and don't forget to check yer cinch.

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Ken Overcast is a recording cowboy singer that
ranches on Lodge Creek in North Central Montana
where he raises and dispenses B.S.      
http://www.kenovercast.com - www.kenovercast.com