by Darrell Case
Chapter 6
Trees stood like silent sentries in the light of the half moon. The bridge loomed out of the darkness. Beneath it, Adam saw a black gaping hole ten feet from the center support. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the creek.
With one hand on the edge of the hole, he felt as far as he could with his other hand.
Nothing.
He felt in another direction. Still nothing. If he didn't find her soon - he wouldn't let himself dwell on such thoughts. He tried again, his body losing feeling. His hand slipped off the opening. He fought the panic rising in him.
His feet touched bottom. Using as much strength as he could muster, he kicked against the mud. Coming up fast, he bumped his head against the ceiling of ice. Something was in front of him. It was Becky!
His lungs bursting, he breathed in water. No, it was air. They were in an air bubble created by the drop of the water level.
"Help me," the little girl murmured.
Adam was shaking so violently; he had to fight to get the words out.
"It's going to be all right," Adam said, trying to calm the terrified child.
"Becky, are you hurt?"
"No, I just cold," she said through chattering teeth.
"Honey, I want you to take a big breath and hold it. Can you do that?"
Becky nodded. Opening her mouth, she took in a big gulp of air until her dimpled cheeks were bulging. Knowing he only had one chance, Adam said a little prayer and then took a deep breath of air himself. He pulled the little girl to his chest and together they plunged under the water.
As Adam kicked to gain control, the mud covered the water's surface and swirled before his eyes, blurring his vision. Thinking he had made a deadly mistake, Adam was ready to swim in the other direction.
Then he saw a glimmer of light overhead in the opening of the ice. Becky was starting to struggle now. Adam knew her small lungs were out of air. He swam with his free hand, holding Becky tightly with the other. Something was holding him back. He felt the limb of a submerged tree dig into his shin. He could feel it cutting into his leg. Kicking furiously, his pant cuff became hopelessly entangled in the branch.
Glancing up, he saw his mother looking down into the swirling water. He could see her lips moving but he was not able to make out the words. Gathering all his strength he gave Becky a huge push toward the opening.
"Can you see them?" Edna asked, her heart throbbing.
Paul Dobbs, owner of the livery stable, held his lantern high, his face exposing the fear in his heart. His eyes probed the murky water.
"No!" he called out.
"It's been too long," Edna said, choking on the words. Silently she prayed, "Oh God, I'll gladly give him up if you'll bring him back alive."
When Violet had raced into Paul's living room without knocking, Paul had not waited to don a coat or hat.
"Johnny, you run and ring the town bell. Tell everyone we need help at the bridge. A little girl is drowning."
Paul tilted his head, listening. Johnny should be ringing the bell anytime now. Impatiently he shucked off his boots. Just then the bell rang, its clear tones drifted across the hollow sending the urgent message.
Lights winked on in houses in the village and on the surrounding hills. Paul prepared to dive in.
"Look!" Edna cried.
Paul held the lantern near the hole. A small hand was suddenly thrust up out of the water. Leaning over as far as he could, Paul grasped the hand, pulling Becky out of the water, Edna immediately wrapped the shivering little girl in blankets she had snatched from the bed. Shouts echoed across the valley as men ran toward the bridge.
"Becky, are you okay? Did you see Adam?"
The gasping child stared at her with confused and puzzled eyes.
"Reverend Wakefield!" Paul asked desperately. "Did you see the preacher?"
"He the one held me up," Becky said through chattering teeth.
Adam's problems were multiplying by the second. He couldn't get loose from the tree no matter how hard he kicked. Quickly he slipped his suspenders over his shoulders and tore his pants off. Struggling out of them, he swam with renewed vigor for the opening in the ice.
Paul was the first to see him. "Make a chain," he shouted to the others standing on the bank.
They obeyed him instantly. Men linked arms and pulled Adam from the freezing water and across the cracking ice to the bank. Leo Marsh, keeper of the town's lone saloon, was the first to notice.
"Hey preacher, where's your britches?" His belly laugh rolled across the valley.
"I guess I lost them in the water," Adam said, coughing and spitting.
Edna rushed up and draped a blanket over her son. "Never you mind, Leo Marsh. I wouldn't care if he was buck-naked as long as he's safe."
Leading Leo to Christ was one of Adam's most ardent goals.
"Why Leo, it was the only way I could think to get you to the creek to baptize you, but the water is too cold." Adam said with a shaky grin.
"That's for sure, preacher," he roared. That's for sure."
The next morning, Adam stopped at the telegraph office to send his acceptance to Market Street Church. His stance as a hero was evident by the courtesies shown him. When he tried to pay for the telegram, Ben refused to take his money. At the church, a fire burned brightly in the pot-bellied stove.
He had just hung up his coat and hat when Maggie Tuttle burst through the door carrying one of her famous apple pies. She insisted Adam have a piece before it cooled off. Cutting a generous helping, she placed it before him on the small table he used for a desk. At that second, Mary Caldwell entered with a pot of coffee. The two women fussed over Adam for a half-hour, chattering all the while. As if by a secret signal, they abruptly left.
Silence settled over the small sanctuary. After a long session of prayer, Adam was deep in the second chapter of Ephesians. He looked up as a cold blast of air stirred the pages of his Bible.
Without preliminaries, Hank Farrell, chairman of the deacon board asked, "What's this I hear about you leavin' us?" The gruff seventy-year-old strode up the center aisle of the church, snow clinging to his pants halfway to his knees.
"Ben Hasting!" Adam said under his breath. "Should have known he would spread the word."
"Yes Hank, I'm going to Chicago."
"One of them big city churches? Thought ye turned 'em down?" Hank questioned as the thawing snow from his boots formed puddles on the pine boards.
"It was a hard decision, Hank. You're not just my congregation, you're my friends, and I love you dearly," Adam replied earnestly.
"You sure this is what the Lord wants you to do?" Hank asked.
"Yes Hank, I'm sure. I don't want to go, but I must."
"Then I'm behind you one hundred percent and the rest of the folks will be too."
"Thank you, Hank. That means a lot to me," Adam said, hoping his next church would be as good as this one.
"I'm callin' a meetin' for tonight, by creaky. We'll take up a collection, send you off proper like," Hank said, heading for the door.
"Hank. Hank! You don't have to do that," Adam called but Hank was already out the door.
Might as well try to stop a forest fire in August, he said to himself.
The fact that the Higgins lived in abject poverty was apparent as soon as
you walked on their property. There was a tumble-down barn with half of its roof missing. A pole was propped up against the outhouse, holding it up. They had more dogs than kids and they never had enough to eat. The bevy of dogs greeted Adam with a chorus of barking. Adam patted them with one hand while he kept his other high in the air.
"Come in, preacher," Alice Higgins said, stepping aside to let Adam pass. Adam entered, carrying the rest of Maggie Tuttle's' pie.
Laying it on the cluttered table, he asked, "How's Becky?"
"Doc says she best stay in bed three or four days," Alice answered, stirring around behind him. "Here, let me take your coat. We's sure grateful fur what ye did last night," Alice's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what we'd a done iffen iffen we lost her... Thank ye."
She threw her arms around him, squeezing so he could barely breathe. The Higgins were not known to be overly affectionate and Adam was surprised by her actions. As quickly as she grabbed him, Alice let him go. Her cheeks reddened, giving color to her pale face.
"The Lord did it, Alice. I'm just glad she's going to be all right."
Alice waved a bony finger at Adam.
"The Lord did it, but he uses them that's willin'."
"Then Becky came through with no ill effects?" Adam said, breathing a prayer of thanks.
"Only one," Alice chuckled. "Keeping her in bed!"
Adam knocked and entered the small bedroom.
Becky felt like a queen propped up on an array of pillows. She was holding court over the entire house. What a grand day! Violet sat on a chair at the foot of the bed. Her only purpose in life at the moment was to make her sister happy. Tomorrow was another matter.
"Preacher Wakefield!" Becky said. Throwing the covers to the side, she sprang out of bed.
"Whoa, young lady," Adam said. He scooped the little girl off the cold floor and deposited her back on the bed.
"I gotta go help momma," Violet said, excusing herself, "Iffen you need anything, I'll be right in the other room."
"Thank you, Violet." Adam said, smiling.
Becky started to get up again.
"You need to stay in bed," Adam said.
"I know it makes momma feel better, but I don't feel sick a'tall."
"Shall I read you a story?"
"Oh yes," Becky shouted, then added, "Please!"
"Which one?"
The child tapped her chin with a pudgy little finger.
"How about the lion in Daniel's den?"
Suppressing a chuckle, Adam opened his Bible to the sixth chapter of Daniel.
RIVER OF FIRE