by Al Lacy
“Paul is still having a bit of a problem over the fact that he took another man’s life, which is understandable, especially at his age.”
“It sure is.” The sheriff nodded.
“I still have nightmares at times about the first man I was forced to kill,” John said.
“So do I,” replied Sheriff Carter. “I’m sure all of us in this room know exactly what Paul is going through.”
The deputies all spoke up, agreeing with the sheriff’s statement. One of them added, “And Chief Brockman, all of us will help your son in any way we can.”
John ran his gaze over the group. “Thanks, fellas. I just know Paul will make a good, sincere lawman. But he’s my son first, and at times the apprehension of what might happen to him being a lawman comes to mind. As we both know, Walt, it’s a hard and dangerous job. But I wouldn’t want to be anything else, and neither would Paul, God bless him.”
Sheriff Carter playfully cuffed the chief U.S. marshal on the chin, grinning. “You’ve got a fine boy there, John. I know you’re proud of him.”
John’s heart swelled inside his chest. “I sure am.”
“Paul is going to do all right, and he’s going to be all right, John” said the sheriff. “He’s got his father as an example.”
A bit embarrassed, John’s features tinted. He grinned and shrugged his broad shoulders.
At midmorning the next day, Sheriff Carter was at his desk in his office when he heard a tap on the door. “Yes?”
The door opened, and Deputy Homer Edwards stuck his head in. “Sheriff, Paul Brockman is here to see you.”
Carter rose to his feet. “Send him in.”
The tall young man who very much resembled his father stepped into the office and headed toward the sheriff as the deputy quietly closed the door.
The sheriff rounded his desk and met up with Paul, and they shook hands. “Sheriff Carter, I want to thank you for your generous gifts—the Colt .45, the holster, and the gun belt.”
“My pleasure, Paul. What you did to save your father’s life when that cold-blooded gunslinger was going to kill him was terrific.”
Paul’s features flushed a bit. “Th-thank you, sir. From now on, when I practice the fast draw, as I’ve been doing with my father’s old gun and holster for quite some time, I will use my new gun, holster, and gun belt. And then, sir, I will also use them when I become a lawman!”
Sheriff Carter smiled. “My boy, this makes me very happy.”
Chief Brockman was chatting with Deputy Barry Sotak in the outer office of the federal building when the outside door opened, and Barry and John’s pastor entered.
Both men greeted Pastor Bayless; then the pastor looked at John. “May I talk to you for a minute in your office?”
“Certainly.” John led him into his office. When John closed the door behind him, he gestured toward a chair. “Sit down, Pastor.”
The preacher shook his head. “I really don’t have time to sit and visit, Chief, but I stopped by on my way to make a call on a new family in town that is expecting me. I just wanted to ask you if Breanna is doing well enough that she’s still planning on coming to church Sunday morning.”
“She sure is, Pastor. It might be too soon for her to try both Sunday school and the preaching service, so Paul will bring his sisters to Sunday school, and I will bring Breanna to the preaching service.”
Smiling, the pastor said, “Fine. I totally understand. I figured that might be the case, but I just needed to know for sure. I’d like you to delay your arrival just a few minutes so that when you and Breanna come into the church’s vestibule, the service will already be in progress.”
A puzzled look crossed John’s face. “May I ask why?”
Pastor Bayless grinned. “You may ask, but I can’t tell you. Just do as I ask, okay?”
John chuckled. “Hey, you’re the pastor! Of course we’ll do as you ask.”
Early that afternoon, the chief U.S. marshal was at his desk doing paperwork when there was a tap on his door. Looking up, John called, “Yes?”
The door opened, and Deputy Sotak took a couple of steps into the office. “Chief, there’s a man and his wife in the outer office who’d like to see you.”
“Who are they?”
“Well, sir, they wouldn’t tell me their names. They said to tell you that they met you many years ago when you were known only as John Stranger, and they want to see if you will remember them.”
John chuckled. “All right. Send them in.”
Seconds later, when the couple walked into John’s office grinning, he looked at them inquisitively and blinked in surprise. “Monte Dixon! And … and—well, Jessie, you must be Jessie Dixon now.”
The couple were in their midforties, and John hadn’t seen them for some twenty years.
Monte Dixon had been a deputy sheriff in Butte, Montana, at that time, and John had led him to the Lord. Monte had served under Sheriff Lake Johnson. The Christian young lady’s name was Miss Jessie Westbrook then, and she and Monte were obviously attracted to each other. Before the Stranger had left Butte, he told them he was sure they would end up getting married.
After shaking hands with them, John reminded them of what he had said would happen, and happily they told him he was right. “We got married shortly after the Stranger was there, Chief Brockman!” Monte said.
“Boy, I’m sure glad I was right!”
“We are too!” Monte grinned.
Jessie giggled. “Amen to that.”
John invited the Dixons to sit on the sofa in one corner of his office, and as they were easing onto it, John sat in an overstuffed chair a few feet away.
“Well, Monte, what have you two been doing with your lives?”
“We’ve had the honor of being missionaries in South Africa for fourteen years.”
John’s eyes widened. “Missionaries. Wow! Praise the Lord!”
The Dixons exchanged happy glances.
Monte then talked about the day John Stranger had led him to Jesus. He explained that he had been baptized at the Calvary Baptist Church in Butte, where Jessie was a member, the Sunday after John Stranger left Montana.
The conversation then turned to the mysterious murderer in Butte who had left notes after killing people, calling himself the Snow Ghost. John Stranger had bravely caught the killer, whose name was Layton Sturgis.
Monte told John about his call to preach, his going to Bible college, and the Lord leading them to go as missionaries to South Africa, sent out by their church in Butte. He went on to inform John of the churches he had gotten started in South Africa and of the great number of people who had been saved … adding that if the Stranger had not led him to the Lord, none of this would have happened.
“Chief Brockman, you have a part in every precious soul that has been saved under my ministry.”
“Praise the Lord!”
“We’re on our way to our home church in Butte, Chief,” Jessie said. “But Monte and I just had to stop in Denver to see you.”
“Well, I’m mighty glad you did!”
“Our train to Butte leaves Denver at eight o’clock in the morning,” Monte said.
“Well, you’re going home with me for supper.” John leaned forward in his chair. “I want you to meet my wife, Breanna, and our children, Paul, Ginny, and Meggie. I’ll borrow a horse and buggy from a stable down the street, and you can stay all night with us too.”
Jessie’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure it will be all right with your wife if you just show up with two extra people for supper?”
John grinned. “No problem there. Breanna is used to my doing this kind of thing, and she always has an attitude of ‘the more, the merrier’!”
Jessie’s features relaxed. “Okay.”
Running his gaze between them, John said, “Breanna is a nurse, and several weeks ago she was knocked down a flight of stairs at Denver’s Mile High Hospital by a man who was out of his mind in pain. He didn’t mean to do it. For a while there we di
dn’t know if she would ever walk again, but the Lord, in His goodness, healed her. She moves a little slower and more cautiously than she once did, and she has pain in her lower back quite often, but other than that, she is doing just fine. Besides, both of our daughters are a big help to her, and they are learning from the best cook in the world how to cook.”
John looked at Monte. “Let me get my horse from the corral behind the federal building. I’ll lead him down the street to the stable as we walk together, and you can drive the buggy.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Monte said.
At the Brockman home, Ginny and Meggie had the table set, and chicken and dumplings simmered on the stove. The girls were making a large green salad of homegrown vegetables, fresh from the garden in the backyard. A golden-crusted peach pie cooled on the kitchen windowsill, and supper would soon be ready.
Sitting on a chair at the table and watching her daughters work, Breanna knotted her hands into fists and rubbed her lower back, making a deep sigh.
Meggie noticed this and frowned. “Okay, Mama,” she said with a teasing, bossy tone, “supper is just about ready. Papa will be home soon, and Paul, I’m sure, is just about done with his chores at the barn and corral. You need to rest a bit. Why don’t you go sit on the pillowed wicker chair in the shade on the front porch and give that back of yours some much-needed relief?”
Breanna managed a smile. “Oh, I’m okay, dear.”
“No, you’re not, Mama.” Ginny move to stand beside Meggie. “Now, obey Meggie and me, and go rest till it’s time for supper. The breeze out there is getting cool and will feel mighty good.”
Breanna giggled as she rose from the chair, still rubbing her lower back. “I guess I’ve been outvoted!”
Meggie hugged her. “Yep, you have been outvoted.”
Ginny also stepped up and hugged their mother. “Yes, Mama. It’s time for you to relax.”
Breanna made her way toward the parlor at the front of the ranch house. As she stepped out onto the tree-shaded front porch, she felt a nice breeze blowing. She sat on a white wicker chair, which had a thick, soft, blue and white pillow leaning against the back and an identical pillow on the seat.
She sighed. “Oh, this does feel good!”
Seconds later, Ginny came through the screen door, holding a glass of tea, and set it on the small table beside her mother. “You just enjoy this tea, sweet Mama. Papa will be home any minute now, so you just relax, sit here, sip on the tea, and wait for him. Meggie and I will finish up supper.”
Breanna picked up the glass of tea and smiled up at her. “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll do it.”
Ginny hurried away, and after putting down several swallows of tea, Breanna set the glass on the table. She glanced toward the road, but there was no sign of her husband yet. She eased back in the wicker chair and closed her eyes.
Some ten minutes passed, and Breanna was almost dozing when she heard the sound of pounding hooves on the tree-lined lane that led to the road. John’s home now.
She opened her eyes to see her husband on his horse, but a horse and buggy followed him. Rising stiffly, Breanna moved to the edge of the porch at the top of the steps and waited for John and whoever was in the buggy to pull up.
When they drew up, John smiled at his wife, then dismounted. He went to the buggy and helped Jessie down from the seat while Monte was getting down from his side. Then he led them to Breanna.
“Honey, these are missionaries Monte and Jessie Dixon. They stopped by to see me in town, so I invited them for supper and to stay the night with us.”
Breanna beamed brightly at the couple. “Please, do come in.”
Jessie walked up the steps. “I hope this isn’t a dreadful imposition, Breanna.”
“Oh, not at all! We love company, and it will be wonderful for the children and me to hear about how John met you.”
As John, Breanna, and their guests moved down the hall toward the kitchen, both girls and their brother stepped into the hall at the doorway and smiled.
Breanna introduced Paul, Ginny, and Meggie to the Dixons. “Girls, set two more places at the table for our guests. Paul, these precious missionaries are staying the night with us. Would you go upstairs and open the windows in the guest room so it will cool down with the nice breeze blowing outside?”
“Of course.” Paul hurried to the staircase at the front of the house, then bounded up the stairs.
Monte looked at Breanna. “By the wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen, I’m sure glad John invited us for supper!”
Breanna laughed. “Well, it’s just plain country cooking, but there’s plenty to eat, and I know the fellowship we have will be precious and special.”
Soon, they were all seated around the large table, holding hands as John asked for God’s blessing and thanked Him for their bounty of food and for allowing his friends to visit them.
The next morning, Saturday, John took the Dixons to the railroad station in Denver, and with tears running down his cheeks, he waved good-bye to them as they waved back from the window where they were seated in their coach.
FOUR
On Sunday morning, August 26, Paul Brockman helped his sisters onto the driver’s seat of the ranch wagon in front of the house, then climbed up and sat beside Meggie. Paul snapped the reins to put the horse team into motion. He and his sisters waved to their parents standing on the front porch. John and Breanna waved back, and the children said they would see their parents at church for the preaching service. Then they headed for Denver.
“Whew, it sure is hot today!” Meggie exclaimed as they turned onto the road.
“It sure is.” Paul nodded.
Ginny fanned her face with a handkerchief. “It’s only nine fifteen, and that sun up there in the sky is already making it blistering hot!”
Meggie palmed away perspiration from her brow. “I’m sure glad I’m not going to hell.”
“I’m glad I’m not either!” Ginny still fanned her face with the handkerchief.
“Me too,” Paul said. “Praise the Lord for our salvation!”
Both sisters responded with an “amen!”
Ginny laughed. “Oh well, it won’t be long and winter will be here; then we’ll be complaining about the cold.”
Gripping the reins, Paul chuckled. “You’re so right, sis. We humans are never satisfied. Well, hardly ever, anyway. Just think—when we get to heaven, everything will be perfect, even the weather!”
“There won’t be any complaining in heaven at all!” Meggie said, laughing.
After Sunday school was over at First Baptist Church, Paul and his sisters met in the auditorium at the pew a few rows from the front and just west of the center aisle, where the Brockman family always sat.
When it was time to start the preaching service, the church’s music director opened the service by leading the choir in singing the stirring hymn “In the Cross of Christ I Glory.” He then stepped to the pulpit, asked the congregation to stand, and led them in singing “Brightly Beams Our Father’s Mercy.”
After the song, the crowd and the choir sat down, and Pastor Bayless left his chair. As he walked toward the pulpit, he flicked a glance toward the rear of the auditorium. The six ushers who would be taking the offering stood just inside the double doors. They smiled and nodded at him. This was their signal to let him know that John and Breanna Brockman were in the vestibule and ready to enter the auditorium.
Pastor Bayless reminded the church members of nurse Breanna Brockman having been knocked down a flight of stairs while on duty at Denver’s Mile High Hospital on July 13. This fall was caused by an injured rancher who was out of his mind in extreme pain from broken ribs. The rancher was running down the hall on the second floor toward the staircase, and Breanna was climbing the stairs from the first floor. Just as she reached the top, the rancher collided with her and knocked her back down the stairs, which resulted in Breanna receiving spinal and leg injuries.
The pastor went on. “Shortly after the rancher
knocked Breanna down the stairs, he tumbled down the stairs himself, adding to his own injuries. That rancher’s name is Damon Fortney. His ranch is about twenty miles southeast of Denver.”
Pastor Bayless then pointed at Barbara Fortney, seated next to a big, silver-haired man on the second row of pews to the right of the center aisle. He reminded the church members of how Breanna Brockman had led Mrs. Fortney to the Lord on July 18 when she had visited Breanna in her hospital room. Mrs. Fortney had come to First Baptist Church the following Sunday, walked the aisle during the invitation after the sermon, gave testimony of her salvation, and was baptized.
The church members were smiling and nodding their heads. The pastor went on to tell of how he had the joy of leading rancher Damon Fortney to the Lord in his hospital room on July 14. “Amens” sounded all over the auditorium.
Beaming, Pastor Bayless said, “Damon Fortney has been in the hospital all this time, recovering from surgery, and was just released yesterday.” He pointed at the man seated next to Barbara. “Brother Damon Fortney, would you please stand up so everyone can see you?”
Tall, muscular, heavyset Damon rose to his feet, smiling and looking around at the crowd.
“Just so you know, folks, Brother Fortney is here this morning to be baptized.”
The crowd cheered and applauded; then the pastor looked at Damon. “You may be seated now, dear brother.”
When Damon sat down, Barbara smiled at him, then rose up far enough to plant a kiss on his cheek.
The pastor ran his gaze over the crowd. “Now, folks, I have a big surprise for you. I want to thank the members of this church for the way you have been praying for Breanna Brockman since Dr. Matthew Carroll told us she may never be able to walk again.”
The pastor looked toward the double doors at the rear of the auditorium. “All right, ushers, please open those doors.” With excitement showing on his face, he added, “Everyone rise to your feet, please, and look back at the doors!”
The church members complied with the pastor’s request, and suddenly there were happy gasps and words of praise to the Lord filling the auditorium as John and Breanna Brockman stepped through the doors and stopped, John holding his wife’s right hand.