by Al Lacy
John took the reins in hand. “Thanks for showing us the iron wagon, General. It’s quite interesting.”
“Sure is, General Alden,” Paul agreed.
Then John said, “We’ll look forward to seeing you at church tomorrow.”
With a wide smile adorning his face, Alden said, “I definitely plan to be there.”
Looking down from his mount at Fort Logan’s new commander, Paul said, “General Alden, I am very glad that I got to meet you.”
As John and his son rode away, they looked back toward the fort a few times and talked about how much they liked Major General Ryan Alden.
“It won’t hurt Chance if I put him to a mild trot before we head for home,” Paul said.
“Sure. Chance can’t gallop anymore, but a mild trot won’t bother him. Let’s go!”
TEN
At Central City’s gold mine, Wayne Shelby was forty feet down into the earth, using a steel-headed pick to chip gold from a solid wall of it by the light provided from a flaming kerosene lantern. He was working alone, but he could hear miners in other areas at his level using their picks.
As Shelby swung the pick, his mind went back to his conversation with the chief U.S. marshal in the parking lot at Denver’s First Baptist Church.
John Brockman’s words echoed in his brain: “Please tell me if a man who will lecture against nothing is anything more than a fool.”
As Shelby thought of those ice-edged words, wrath welled up inside him. He stopped swinging the pick and dropped it on the dirt floor of the cave. His face was set in a harsh and furious mold as he shook his fists and growled, “You think because I don’t believe your nonsense about God, heaven, and hell, that you’re smarter than I am, Brockman! Ha!” He leaned down, grabbed the pick handle with both hands, and swung the sharp point of the steel head against the cave wall. When chips of gold splattered from the solid wall, Shelby hissed, “I wish I could whack your head with this pick, Brockman!”
He viciously hit the wall again, breathing hard. “You and your quote from the Bible that the fool has said in his heart that there is no God! You are the fool, Brockman! You’re a fool for believing that Bible and quoting stupidity from it! It’s the wise man who says there is no God!”
Gritting his teeth, Shelby kept swinging the pick against the wall of gold while trying to get John Brockman’s words out of his thoughts.
But the words kept coming into his mind. He could hear Brockman reminding him that he had just preached from God’s Word, warning lost sinners that if they died without repenting of their sins and receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour, they would go to an everlasting, burning hell.
While breathing even harder, Shelby’s own words that he had spoken to John Brockman then came back to him: “So you’re telling me that as an atheist and an unbelieving sinner, I will go to hell when I die, right?”
Brockman’s pointed reply as he lifted up his Bible echoed in Wayne’s mind: “That’s right, but when you hit the flames of hell, you will no longer be an atheist. You will know God exists then! There are no atheists in hell. While screaming in the flames of hell now, they all know that there indeed is a God and that He means every word He says in His Bible.”
Gasping for air in his anger, Shelby stopped swinging his pick, set the top of it on the dirt floor of the cave beside him, took a deep, quivering breath, and let the handle of the pick fall to the floor. He took a few steps to where his canteen was sitting on a rock shelf, and picked it up, unscrewed the lid, and drank several gulps of water. When he’d had his fill, he replaced the lid, then set the canteen back on the rock shelf. Returning to his spot, he bent down and grasped the pick handle with both hands again, and began chipping away at the wall of gold. While doing so, he was thinking evil thoughts about John Brockman while trying to put his mind on some other subject.
When John and Paul arrived at their ranch, the sun was just beginning to lower over the jagged Rocky Mountains to the west. The glaring steel blue sky directly above them was beginning to lose its brightness as the golden sun descended.
Paul was scanning the sky, and out of the endless space came slow-changing colored shadows from the few white clouds riding the wind. The setting sun was turning the valley where the Brockman ranch was located into a soft, red sweep of beauty, and the golden blaze on the rugged mountain peaks seemed to lift them higher toward the sky.
Taking it all in as he and his father rode their horses past the ranch house toward the barn and corral, Paul said, “Wow, Papa! Isn’t that a beautiful sunset?”
“Sure is. Our great God sure knows how to create indescribable beauty, doesn’t He?”
Paul chuckled. “Oh, yes. Like He created Mama.”
John smiled as they drew up to the corral gate. He swung down from his saddle. “I agree wholeheartedly with that, son. There aren’t enough words in the English language to fully describe her awesome beauty!”
As Paul dismounted, he smiled at his father over Chance’s back. “I sure hope when it’s time for me to fall in love and get married that the Lord will give me a young lady with Mama’s kind of beauty.”
John opened the corral gate with one hand while holding onto the reins with the other. “I’ve got a feeling He will do just that, son. Of course, there is no other woman as beautiful as your mother, but I’m sure the one God has for you will be close.”
Paul grinned. “Well, as beautiful as Mama is, close will be good enough.”
When the two stallions had been unsaddled and unbridled and given hay and grain for their supper inside the barn, John and Paul headed for the house. At that moment, the Langford buggy pulled up to the front porch, then passed from view as Whip was drawing rein.
John chuckled. “Looks like your uncle Whip and aunt Annabeth may be having supper with us.”
Paul also chuckled. “What’s new? We all love having them, don’t we? And they love being here.”
“You’re right on both counts, my boy.”
As they drew up close to the back porch and saw that the kitchen windows were wide open, John sniffed the air and sighed. “Mmm-mmm. Smells like your mother and sisters are cooking pork chops.”
Paul sniffed in a breath filled with delicious aromas. “I think you’re right, Papa, and boy, am I hungry! Something about being outdoors in the fresh air and sunshine makes me just ravenous.”
“Yeah,” John said as they moved up the back porch steps. “Me too.”
John opened the door, and when father and son stepped into the kitchen, Breanna was leading Whip and Annabeth into the kitchen from the hallway. Ginny and Meggie were both busy at the stove.
“Well, howdy, Whip and Annabeth!” John said.
The Langfords returned the greeting; then John hugged Breanna. “Are they having supper with us?”
“They sure are,” Breanna replied, smiling. “They just stopped by to spend a few minutes with the girls and me, so I asked them to stay for supper. There will be enough food for all of us.”
John chuckled. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
“So how did it go at Fort Logan?” Breanna asked.
“I’ll tell you all about it during supper,” John said, then gave Annabeth a brotherly hug and Whip a pat on the back. He then went to his daughters at the stove and hugged them both at the same time.
“Time to sit at the table, everybody.” Ginny carried a steaming coffeepot to the table.
The Brockmans and the Langfords sat around the large kitchen table. Heads were bowed, and John led in prayer, thanking the Lord for His great love and wonderful ways and for the food before them.
As soon as he had closed his prayer in Jesus’ name, John started passing the platter heaped with golden-brown fried pork chops, fluffy mashed potatoes, and smooth, creamy white gravy. Followed by the platter were bowls of green beans with chopped onions, pickled beets, homemade applesauce, and a basket of biscuits.
As they began to eat, John looked warmly at Breanna and his daughters and sa
id, “This meal is fit for a king.”
Mother and daughters beamed happily back at him.
“Save room for spice cake!” Breanna admonished John, Paul, and their guests.
“No problem there, Mama!” Paul replied, and John, with his mouth full, nodded, as did Whip and Annabeth.
While everyone was enjoying the well-prepared meal, John and Paul told Breanna, the girls, and the Langfords of their visit with Major General Ryan Alden at Fort Logan.
Everyone was thrilled with the story.
Paul then ran his gaze around the table and said, “I’d like to tell you about the iron wagon Papa and I saw at Fort Logan. I mean, it was really something to see!”
“Well, tell us about it,” said Meggie. “It’s an army wagon of some kind, huh?”
“Yeah, little sis. It’s really fascinating how it is built and what the army uses the iron wagons for.”
“Well, tell us!” Ginny chimed in.
While still eating, Breanna, the girls, and Whip and Annabeth listened closely as Paul told them all the things General Alden had told him and his father about the iron wagons used by the army in the western part of the United States.
Everyone found the description of the iron wagon very interesting. And they were deeply impressed when Paul told them that the iron wagons were used by the army to transport captured Indian warriors to places where they would be held as prisoners by the army.
As supper came to a close, Paul was still talking about the iron wagon. “You know what? That iron wagon so enthralled me that I wish I could ride in one sometime.”
John chuckled. “Well, son, maybe someday you’ll get to ride in one.”
“I sure hope so, Papa.”
On the following morning, when Major General Ryan Alden rode his horse onto the parking lot of Denver’s First Baptist Church, he saw a few people standing beside a wagon and a buggy. He quickly recognized the Stranger and his son, Paul, among them.
John and Paul headed toward him, radiant. The general dismounted at the hitching post where he had stopped and quickly tied the reins to the post.
As John and Paul drew up, they both shook hands with Alden, saying how good it was to see him again. Then John pointed toward the small group of people by the wagon and the buggy. “General, come with us. Paul and I want to introduce you to the rest of our family and to some very special friends.”
Alden smiled as they guided him to Breanna, Ginny, Meggie, deputy U.S. marshal Whip Langford, and his wife, Annabeth. Breanna and the girls as well as Whip and Annabeth warmly welcomed Fort Logan’s new commander to First Baptist Church.
Then the group entered the auditorium. Just inside the door stood Pastor Robert Bayless and his lovely wife, Mary.
Since John and Paul had ridden back into town to visit with the Baylesses on Saturday evening and told them all about Fort Logan’s new commander, both pastor and wife welcomed the general warmly. Paul and his sisters excused themselves and headed for their Sunday school classes.
Pastor Bayless turned to the general. “My wife and I have been told a great deal about you, General Alden. Could I have a few minutes alone with you right now?”
Alden smiled. “Certainly.”
John looked at the general. “Breanna and I, along with the Langfords, will be here in the auditorium for the adult Sunday school class. We’ll save you a seat.”
Alden nodded. “See you shortly.”
The pastor led General Alden to his office, and as they sat on a comfortable sofa together, Pastor Bayless explained that Chief Brockman had told him the whole story of how he had led him to the Lord in Emporia, Kansas, in August of 1867 and that he had been baptized some two weeks later in the First Baptist Church there.
Alden beamed. “That’s correct.”
“Chief Brockman told me that you would present yourself for membership here.”
Alden leaned forward. “That is the plan, Pastor. I assure you that my pastor at First Baptist Church in Emporia will grant a letter from that church to this one recommending me for membership.”
“Well, from all that Chief Brockman told me about you, I will be glad to have you as a member of the church. You just come forward this morning when I give the invitation after the sermon to present yourself for membership. I will ask you to give testimony of your salvation before the church, being led to the Lord by John ‘the Stranger’ Brockman, and you can tell them that you were baptized shortly thereafter at the First Baptist Church of Emporia, Kansas.”
“I will be glad to do so, Pastor Bayless. I know I will be happy as a member of this church.”
After the service, General Alden was welcomed into the church by the members as they passed by him in the vestibule. He was surprised to find four soldiers from Fort Logan along with all the others. Those four told the general that they were very glad to learn he was a Christian and that they were happy he was now a member of their church too.
With a broad smile on his lips, Alden told the soldiers that it was a blessing for him to learn that they were his Christian brothers.
The Brockmans were standing close by, and Breanna said, “General Alden, you are still planning to have Sunday dinner with us, aren’t you?”
“Sure am!”
“Good!” John said. “We’ll all be in our wagon, so you can just follow us on your horse. All right?”
“Sure enough.” The general nodded. “Let’s go.”
Alden followed the Brockman wagon as they drove away from the church, and soon they were in the country, heading west toward the Rocky Mountains.
Letting his horse follow close behind the wagon, the general allowed his mind to drift back in time. The image of his lovely wife floated before him. “Oh, Lila, my love,” he whispered, “how I miss you. Honey, you would love this part of the country, with its majestic mountains, azure blue sky, and tall pine trees. It truly is a beautiful place, and if you were still with me, we could so enjoy life here.
“Of course, where you are now, sweetheart, has to be the most beautiful place of all … heaven! I—I just keep clinging to our life together from the time we met until the Lord took you home.”
Sharply bringing himself back to the present, Alden squared his shoulders and sat up straight in the saddle. “Thank You, Lord, for letting me get back together with the man who led me to You and for bringing me to this warm and friendly church. I am indeed grateful.”
The ride to the Brockman ranch was spectacular on that bright day. There was just a slight breeze, and the air was filled with the perfume of springtime flowers. The magnificent surroundings, including the ranches, the forests, the gurgling streams, and the lakes on both sides of the road occupied the general’s attention as he followed the Brockman wagon, staying back far enough so he didn’t have to breathe the dust stirred up by the spinning wheels.
When they arrived at the ranch, John guided the wagon to a halt in front of the house. “You can tie your horse to one of the hitching posts there at the end of the porch, General.”
Alden smiled. “Will do, Chief.”
As the general dismounted and tied his horse to a hitching post, he was impressed with the neat and trim, two-story house. He noticed the multicolored tulips and crocuses in bloom around the front steps of the porch. “What a grand place, Lila, my dear,” he said in a slight whisper. “You would indeed love it here.”
After John helped Breanna down from the driver’s seat of the wagon and Paul helped his sisters down from the wagon bed where he had been sitting with them, mother and daughters entered the house while Paul and John invited their guest to sit with them on the front porch. They had only been seated for a couple of minutes when Meggie came through the front door carrying a platter bearing three glasses of cool lemonade.
“Gentlemen,” Meggie said with a cute grin that emphasized her dimples, “maybe this lemonade will tide you over until dinner is ready. Won’t be much longer!”
John grinned back at her. “Thank you, Meggie, sweet.” Then taking a
sip of the cool drink, he looked at the general. “While we’re waiting for dinner, I’d like to tell you the story of our Meggie and how she came to be part of our family.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “You mean Meggie wasn’t born into the Brockman family?”
“No, but you’ll enjoy hearing how she became a Brockman.”
“Well,” said Meggie, “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. I hope you like the story, General Alden. I sure do!”
ELEVEN
On the next day, Monday, June 10, in the gold mine at Central City, Wayne Shelby was working alone deep in the mine while Ed Stubler and Charles Fawley were working together by lantern light on the other side of a rock wall nearby.
At one point, when Wayne sat on the floor of the cave beside his burning kerosene lantern to rest for a few minutes, he noted that there were no sounds of Stubler’s and Fawley’s picks striking gold on the other side of the rock wall.
Then he heard Charles talking to Ed about his need to turn to the Lord Jesus Christ in repentance of his sins and ask Him to save him.
Shelby heard Stubler say, “Charlie, I’ve thought a lot about it since you started talking to me on the subject a few weeks ago, but I’m not sure I want to do that.”
“Why not?” came Charles’s voice.
Wayne heard a pause followed by a frustrated sigh. “Charlie, it all seems like fanaticism to me. I don’t want to get involved in it.”
Knowing what a kind man Charles was, Wayne could picture the genuine concern on his face as he heard Charles say, “I’ve already shown you that God’s Word says if you die without being saved by the Lord Jesus, you will burn in the flames of hell forever. That’s not fanaticism. That’s the wise thing to do. If you don’t, then when you’re screaming in the flames of hell for all eternity, you’ll wish you had been saved.”
Hearing Charles Fawley’s words clearly in his private cave, Wayne felt a shiver slither down his spine at the thought of burning in hell forever. He muttered, “The idea of a burning place called hell is nonsense.” He rose to his feet, grabbed his pick, and went back to work, struggling to get the idea of a burning hell, where John Brockman told him he was going, out of his thoughts.