The Iron Wagon

by Al Lacy

  “Oh, I see,” Annabeth said. “I remember hearing that Charles and his wife were Christians and members of Central City’s First Baptist Church.”

  “That’s right,” said the doctor. “Mrs. Fawley will be in delivery room number four in just a few minutes. She’s having some serious difficulties. Two hospital attendants are taking Mrs. Fawley to the delivery room, and Dr. Bates is waiting there for her and for you too, Annabeth. I just sent word to him that you will be assisting him.”

  “I’ll go right now, Doctor.” Annabeth hugged Breanna, then hurried out the office door.

  Just as she entered the appointed delivery room, she saw two hospital attendants lifting the expectant mother off a padded cart onto the bed. Dr. Bates greeted Annabeth warmly. “I was very pleased when Dr. Carroll sent word that you would be assisting me. You have helped me deliver babies many, many times.”

  “I’m glad he chose me, Doctor.” She turned her attention to Grace Fawley, who was obviously in a great deal of pain. The baby would be born quite soon.

  As soon as the attendants had helped Grace get settled on the bed, they nodded at Dr. Bates and hurried out of the room with the cart.

  Both doctor and nurse began preparations to deliver the baby. Though Grace was in much pain, she said with strained voice, “M-my husband, Charles, was one of the miners who was killed in the cave-in at the Central City gold mine in August. Th-that’s why he is not here. B-but I will see my husband again in heaven because he was born again, and so am I.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that, ma’am,” said Dr. Bates. “I’m a born-again child of God and so is nurse Annabeth Langford.”

  Grimacing in pain, Grace said, “Oh, I am so glad to know I have people working on me who know the Lord Jesus as their Saviour.”

  “And we are glad to know that you are saved, ma’am,” said the doctor. “Isn’t it wonderful to have the Lord Jesus in your heart?”

  Grace managed to say, “It certainly is,” before gritting her teeth in pain.

  As they worked to deliver the baby, Grace began to hemorrhage. Doctor and nurse worked hastily, doing all they could to stem the bleeding, but it swiftly grew worse.

  Biting down hard to keep from screaming, Grace reached toward Annabeth and grasped both of her hands in her own. Then gasping and pushing down, Grace worked hard to push the little one out into the world.

  “You’re doing fine, Mrs. Fawley.” Dr. Bates tried to calm the nearly hysterical woman but sent a glance to Annabeth with deep concern in his eyes.

  In her extreme pain, Grace’s mind ceased to function properly. “Charles! Charles! Where are you? I need you now! Please come and help me!” Then she moaned, looking agitatedly around the room. “Charles! Help me!”

  Annabeth sponged her head with cool water. “It’s going to be okay, Mrs. Fawley. Your husband is in heaven, remember? You’re in God’s hands.”

  Dr. Bates sought Annabeth’s eyes, his own filled with horror as he did everything possible to stem the red tide of blood.

  In her agony, Grace pushed again with all her might, and suddenly the baby slid into the doctor’s waiting hands. After quickly cutting the cord, Dr. Bates handed the baby to Annabeth and put his attention back on the struggling mother. Her face was ashen, and her eyes were closed as she continued to hemorrhage in spite of all of his efforts.

  As the baby began to cry, Dr. Bates told Grace that it was a beautiful little girl. Grace showed her joy from the sweet news, but the bleeding steadily grew worse.

  He worked on the young mother with great care and deep concern while Annabeth lovingly bathed the crying wee one at a nearby table, talking softly to her. “What a precious little girl you are.” She kissed the top of the baby’s downy head. “Your lungs are good, that’s for sure.”

  Annabeth put a diaper on the baby, then wrapped her in a small blanket. She glanced at the doctor. He met her eyes and slowly shook his head.

  Annabeth gasped softly as she looked at Grace’s pale face. Holding the precious bundle close to her own heart, she made her way toward the bed. Grace lay motionless, her eyes closed. Annabeth stepped closer to the bed. She thought Grace had already passed from this fragile life into heaven. As she looked closer at the woman, however, she saw that Grace was breathing shallowly. Her chest was barely moving.

  Praying in her heart for help and holding the baby tightly, Annabeth leaned over the bed and whispered, “Grace. Grace, can you hear me?” She watched the patient closely, but there was no response.

  The baby ceased her crying, and Annabeth cradled her close and looked lovingly at her. The baby opened her eyes and looked straight up at Annabeth. Tears misted Annabeth’s eyes, and again she prayed, Dear Lord, it appears You are going to take Grace home today. But—but would You please just give her a little more time so she can see and hold this precious child?

  Suddenly awed but ever so thankful, Annabeth saw Grace blink her eyes, then slowly open them.

  “Grace, dear,” Annabeth said quietly, “can you hear me?”

  Watching closely, the doctor fixed his eyes on the new mother.

  Barely perceptible, the ashen-faced woman nodded her head, and her cloudy eyes moved from Annabeth’s face to the bundle she was holding.

  Grace moved her arms, trying valiantly to reach for her baby. Her strength, however, was gone, and her arms dropped back onto her body. She sent a silent plea from her eyes to Annabeth, who understood the heartfelt message.

  Ever so gently, Annabeth placed the now-sleeping child onto her mother’s frail chest and wrapped both her arms around the babe.

  Dr. Bates looked on in amazement at the nurse’s handling of the situation.

  A small, serene smile curved Grace’s lips as she lovingly marveled at this precious miracle. Finally, after taking her eyes off the baby girl, she gazed at Annabeth and tried to form words.

  “What is it, Grace?” Annabeth prayed that the Lord would help her to know what Grace was trying to say.

  Grace’s lips were barely moving as she tried to speak.

  Annabeth leaned down closer, hoping to hear the words Grace was trying so desperately to convey.

  Barely even a whisper came from the dying mother, but Annabeth could make out the words as she said, “You … take … baby … your own.”

  In her heart of hearts, Annabeth knew the meaning of those five words. It was almost as though the Lord Himself had spoken them.

  Dr. Bates stood in stunned silence.

  With tears raining down Annabeth’s cheeks, she wrapped her hands over one of Grace’s hands as it was holding the baby close to her heart. “Yes, Grace, I will love and care for your baby. You have my most solemn promise.”

  Grace lifted her cloudy eyes to Annabeth and slowly gave a brief nod. Then after looking at her dear little one again, she closed her eyes. A vestige of peaceful serenity encompassed her. Annabeth left the slumbering babe in her mother’s arms and stepped away from the bed, giving mother and daughter time alone together. Annabeth felt the miracle God was performing.

  Suddenly, the young mother gasped, glanced upward, then stared at Annabeth and Dr. Bates with wide eyes, and said in a nearly breathless voice, “It’s Jesus! It’s Jesus!” And with a peaceful smile on her lips, she breathed her last breath.

  With tears streaming down her cheeks, Annabeth looked at the doctor, who was silently staring at the smile on the dead woman’s lips. He then met Annabeth’s gaze but remained silent.

  Blinking back her tears, Annabeth gently lifted the slumbering baby from her mother’s lifeless arms. Gazing tenderly at the baby girl, Annabeth kissed her little cheek, snuggled her close in her arms for a few seconds, then placed her in a nearby cradle.

  “This was really something, Annabeth,” Dr. Bates said. “I’ve heard of a few Christians dying and being given a glimpse of their Saviour’s face just as He was about to take them to be with Him. I have never seen it happen until just now.”

  Annabeth nodded. “I have also heard of it happening, Do
ctor. But like you, I’ve never seen it happen before.” She paused. “Bless Grace’s heart. She has now joined her husband in heaven.”

  “Yes. She sure has.” He paused. “Annabeth, I know that you learned in June that you will never be able to give birth to a child.”

  Annabeth nodded.

  “I plainly heard the dying mother tell you to take the baby as your own, didn’t I?”

  Annabeth choked up slightly, stepped away from the cradle, then lowered herself onto a stool. “Yes. And my husband and I recently agreed to adopt a child. We have prayed much, asking the Lord to give us the child He wanted us to adopt when it was His time to make it happen.”

  “Well, from what I saw and heard, I would say the Lord wants you and Whip to take this baby as your own. If there would be any question about it when you apply for adoption, I will most certainly testify that just before she died, Mrs. Fawley told you to take the baby and make her your own. I saw something almost miraculous between the two of you.” The doctor’s gentle expression lent credence to his words.

  “Thank you, Doctor. With all my heart, I will carry out Grace’s wishes. I will go right now to the federal building, and if Whip isn’t out on an assignment somewhere, I’ll tell him the story and bring him to the hospital immediately to see this sweet baby.”

  The doctor glanced at the sleeping baby. “Annabeth, is Dr. Carroll aware that you and Whip are planning to adopt a baby?”

  She shook her head. “No. We haven’t told anyone but the Lord.”

  “All right. While you’re going after Whip, I’ll go to Dr. Carroll’s office to tell him what happened here and that I heard the dying Mrs. Fawley ask you to take her baby and make her your own. Is that okay?”

  Annabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh yes! Thank you, Dr. Bates. That will help us with the whole situation.”

  At that moment, the baby awoke and rolled her little head back and forth and made soft cooing sounds.

  Annabeth slipped off the stool and moved toward the cradle, a smile spreading on her face. As she stepped up to the small table where the cradle was, she looked down at the tiny girl. Her skin was a healthy pink, and her breathing was even and normal. The baby made another cooing sound; then a wee little fist found its way to her rosebud mouth.

  The baby was holding Annabeth in fascination as she stared down at her. Dr. Bates stepped up beside her. “I would suggest you head for the federal building now so you can make contact with Whip right away.”

  She smiled. “Yes, Doctor. I just have trouble taking my eyes off this little doll. I’ll be going now. Would you please take the baby with you when you go to Dr. Carroll’s office? I’m sure Breanna will watch over her.”

  “I will do that, Annabeth. Now, you go find that husband of yours who is about to become a daddy!”

  FIFTEEN

  Whip Langford was coming out of Denver’s gun and ammunition store, carrying a box of .45-caliber cartridges that he had just purchased to replenish his supply.

  As Whip moved down the boardwalk on Broadway in the direction of the federal building, his mind went once again to the big subject in Annabeth’s life and his. “Lord,” he said in a soft whisper, “it will mean so much to Annabeth and to me when You bring about the adoption that we want to see happen. I can tell that my precious wife thinks about it a great deal, though she tries to keep it to herself so as not to put me on edge. She knows I want that child in our home as much as she does. Please, Lord, help us both to keep calm about it until it’s Your time to bring it to pass. Help us to be patient.”

  Whip was crossing the street toward the next block when a young mother came toward him pushing a baby carriage. As they drew abreast of each other, he stopped, looked down at the baby boy in the carriage, then smiled at his mother. “He sure is a cute little guy.”

  The mother drew the carriage to a halt and smiled back, noting the badge on Whip’s chest. “Thank you, Deputy. He looks very much like his father.”

  “I’m sure, little fella, that your papa is very proud that you look like him.”

  “That he is,” said the mother.

  Whip touched the brim of his hat in a gentlemanly manner. “Take care of the little guy.” And he moved on.

  Whip was midway down the next block when he approached a five-story brick apartment building. He heard the shrill voice of a young boy cry out from the balcony of the fourth floor. “No, Becky! No! Get down from there!”

  Whip looked up to see a little girl about three years old clinging to the railing that ran along the balcony. She had light brown hair and was clad in a red and white plaid dress.

  Whip figured that the boy, who looked to be about six or seven years of age and probably was her brother, had just noticed her up on the railing from inside the apartment and was running toward her as he was calling out for her to get down.

  Suddenly the little girl lost her hold and peeled over the edge of the rail.

  Whip dropped the box of cartridges on the boardwalk, and with lightning speed, dashed up to the building and stopped directly below the falling girl. Watching the screaming child descend toward him, Whip braced himself and opened his arms to catch her. By this time, people on the street were looking on with horror in their eyes.

  When the little girl fell into Whip’s arms, he cushioned the impact as much as possible, then held her close to his chest. “It’s all right now, honey.”

  She began sobbing, simply from the fear that gripped her, and as people drew up, he was speaking to her in a soothing tone, and her sobs eased.

  Most of the men and women in the crowd knew who Whip was, and they spoke their commendation to the deputy U.S. marshal for the way he had saved the little girl from death, or at least from being seriously crippled from the fall.

  As Whip held the trembling girl in his arms, the boy who had been on the balcony ran over, followed by a woman with hair that was turning silver. She seemed familiar to him.

  “Deputy Langford.” She ran her gaze between Whip and the little girl in his arms. “I’m Martha Wilson. I’ve seen you and your wife at First Baptist Church on several occasions since I moved here to Denver some three months ago and joined the church.”

  “Oh, yes ma’am,” said Whip. “I knew you looked familiar.”

  “Thank you! Oh, thank you for saving my little granddaughter’s life!”

  Whip smiled. “I’m just glad I was close enough to get here so I could catch her, ma’am. I heard this boy here call out to her when she was up there on the balcony. Her name is Becky, right?”

  “Yes. Becky Wilson. She’s three years old. And her brother’s name is Ronnie. He’s six years old. Their parents—my son, Bill, and his wife, Eunice—are from Santa Fe, New Mexico. They came through Denver on their way to Cheyenne, Wyoming, to visit some friends and left my grandchildren with me. They’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  The grandmother stroked the little girl’s pallid face and spoke words of comfort, telling her that everything was all right now. Becky gave Whip a gracious smile, thanked him for catching her, then reached for her grandmother.

  After talking to Martha Wilson and her grandchildren for a few minutes, Whip picked up the box of cartridges he had dropped and told them he had to get back to the federal building.

  As Whip walked away, he thought about holding Becky in his arms. He thought of how he would like to have a little girl. A few minutes later, when her brother had come toward him with the grandmother behind him, Whip thought, Well, it could be a boy. I just want the child that the Lord will choose for us.

  In the chief U.S. marshal’s office at the federal building, Deputy Darrell Dickson looked up from the desk where he was seated in the front office and saw Mrs. Langford come through the door.

  Dickson rose to his feet and smiled. “Hello, Annabeth.”

  She smiled in return. “Hello, Darrell. Is Whip here?”

  Dickson shook his head. “No ma’am. But he should be back soon. He had some free time, so he went to the gun
and ammunition shop to buy some more cartridges for his Colt .45. I expect him back any—”

  Darrell’s words were cut off as the door opened again and Whip came through the door, holding a box of cartridges in one hand. A grin spread over Whip’s face when he saw his wife. He hurried to her. “Honey, I’ve got something to tell you! I just had the joy of saving a little girl’s life!”

  “Well, I’d love to hear about it, sweetheart,” Annabeth replied, looking delighted. “Then I have something about a little girl to tell you! I need you go to the hospital with me right now. You can tell me about saving that little girl’s life while we’re walking over there.”

  “Okay, but I need to get Chief Brockman’s permission. He may have something he wants me to do immediately.”

  “No way to know,” said Darrell. “The chief happens to be at the hospital right now. He had something he needed to talk to Mrs. Brockman about, so he went over there to see her. After that he has some other stops before he returns to the office.”

  Whip looked at his wife. “Well, sweet stuff, looks like we can head for the hospital.” He looked at Dickson. “Will you put this box of cartridges on my desk, Darrell?”

  Taking the box in hand, Darrell said, “Sure will.”

  As the Langfords headed for Mile High Hospital, Whip told Annabeth about how he had caught little three-year-old Becky Wilson when she fell from the balcony. “Whip, that’s a wonderful story! Now, let me tell you my story.”

  Whip listened intently as Annabeth told him of assisting Dr. Bates at the hospital as he delivered Grace Fawley’s little daughter. Then she explained that as Grace was dying, she asked Annabeth to take the baby for her own.

  Whip’s eyes widened, and his mouth hung open. “Annabeth! Are you going to do it?”

  She took hold of her husband’s hand and pulled him to a stop. “Honey, I am certain in my heart that the sweet little newborn girl is the one the Lord wants you and me to adopt. Grace has gone home to heaven to be with her husband, Charles. The Lord already had this planned, and I have no doubt that He also planned for us to adopt their baby girl.”