by Al Lacy
“I sure will, boss. You can count on that.”
“I know I can,” John rose to his feet. “Well, my friend, I’ve got to get to the railroad station so I can board the next train to Denver.”
The two men shook hands; then John left the federal marshal’s office and headed down the street toward the railroad station. When he arrived, he bought a ticket for the next train headed for Denver, then went to the Western Union office. He sent a telegram to Paul at the chief marshal’s office in Denver to let him know that his train was scheduled to arrive at seven thirty that evening. John had left Blackie at a Denver stable when he caught the train for Phoenix. He told Paul in the telegram that he would head straight for home on Blackie when he arrived in Denver.
Soon John was back at the railroad station and had boarded the coach to which he had been assigned. He made his way to an unoccupied seat near the rear of the coach, eased onto it, and scooted next to the window. Soon the conductor came through, announcing that the train would be leaving on time. A few minutes later, the train chugged out of Phoenix, heading eastward.
Letting out a sigh, John looked out the window, taking in the beauty of the desert country of Arizona. This has been quite an exciting, exhausting day. He adjusted his position on the seat and leaned his head on the back to rest. As he closed his eyes, he let his thoughts go to Ralph and Laura Webb. Two people were snatched from Satan’s grasp today. What a tremendous blessing, Lord.
Then John’s thoughts went to the day before and the souls that were saved when he preached at the First Baptist Church of Phoenix. His thoughts centered on the Martin family, and a smile curved his lips. What a precious family, Lord. Edgar, Celia, and Lisa. And what a joy to see Edgar burdened so quickly after he got saved for his friends Ralph and Laura Webb and their need of Jesus as their Saviour.
John’s mind then went back to the Martins and their lovely daughter, Lisa. Hmm, what a sweet girl. She’s such a pretty little thing and just the right age for my boy. John shrugged his wide shoulders. But Lisa lives in Phoenix and Paul lives in Denver, and the two have never even met each other. Well, stranger things have happened, and with our wonderful God in control, there’s always a way.
He decided that rather than tell the whole family, he would tell only Breanna more about Lisa so they could take it to their heavenly Father. It may not be Your will at all, Lord, but You did let the thought of Lisa being the one for Paul enter my head.
As the train moved along the tracks heading due east, John continued to meditate on the possibilities ahead in Paul’s life.
When the train was about two hours out of Phoenix, a loud male voice from a few rows ahead said, “You shut your mouth! It’s none of your business if I’ve been drinkin’ whiskey ever since we left Phoenix!”
Looking forward in the coach, John saw a husky man who appeared to be in his late thirties with a whiskey bottle in his hand, standing some six rows directly ahead of him. The big, angry man was looking at a much smaller and older man across the aisle, who was still seated but was looking up at him.
The husky man didn’t notice the conductor entering the coach from its front door as he bellowed at the older man, “One more word outta you about my drinkin’, and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat!”
“Hey!” The conductor hurried toward the troublemaker. “You sit down and be quiet, mister! I want no more trouble out of you!”
Being under the influence of the whiskey, the husky man made a fist with his free hand and struck the conductor solidly on the jaw, knocking him to the floor of the aisle. Women shrieked and men gasped.
A smaller man about the big man’s age left his seat a couple of rows farther up and moved toward him with his fists clenched. “You fool! You’ll get thrown off this train for hitting the conductor!”
“Oh, yeah?” countered the big man and punched him hard, also knocking him down.
“You big bully!” cried out an elderly woman from a seat near the big man.
“Shut up, woman!”
By this time, Chief Brockman had stepped up to the drunk man. “You shut up, mister! Sit down and stay there!”
Anger flushed the man’s face as he caught sight of the badge John wore, and his enormous chest and shoulders seemed to swell even bigger. Rage was mastering him as he said, “You big enough to make me, lawman?” He swung his fist at John’s jaw.
John adeptly avoided the punch and smashed a left to the big man’s jaw that made his knees wobble. John quickly followed that punch with a powerful right to his left jaw, knocking him down and out.
As the crowd in the coach saw the drunk man lying still, they knew he was unconscious. They cheered the man with the badge on his chest who had put the big bully on the floor, out cold.
By this time, the conductor was on his feet, rubbing his jaw. “Thanks, Chief, for what you just did. I’m going to the engineer right now and have him stop the train.” He glanced down at the big unconscious man on the floor, then looked back up at the tall marshal. “Will you help me put him off the train?”
“Sure will,” replied John.
It was just after eight thirty that evening when John Brockman arrived at his ranch, and as he neared the house, he saw that the parlor windows were lit up and the front porch lantern was burning. He could make out the Langford horse and buggy to the side. Bless Whip and Annabeth. They’re here to welcome me home. And I’ll get a hug from Lizzie too!
The tall figure of his son moved down the steps of the porch and raised a hand. “Howdy, Papa!”
Pulling rein, John said, “Howdy yourself, son!”
Paul stepped up close as his father dismounted. “I’ll take Blackie to the barn. That way, you can go on in and visit with everyone waiting for you.”
John smiled. “Okay, son. I appreciate that.”
Father and son hugged each other, then Paul turned toward the house, cupped a hand beside his mouth, and called out loudly, “Mama! Papa’s here!” Paul took Blackie’s reins and headed toward the barn. “See you in a few minutes.”
John walked toward the porch steps. At the same time, the door burst open, and the light shone on Breanna as she came onto the porch with all the others following.
John was welcomed home with a hug and a kiss from Breanna, followed by hugs and cheek kisses from Ginny and Meggie and a hug and a cheek kiss from little six-year-old Lizzie Langford as she told her “uncle John” she loved him. He then was hugged and welcomed home by Whip and Annabeth.
The group headed for the parlor, and everyone chose their seats and sat down. Breanna was next to her husband on one of the two-seat overstuffed sofas. Just as everyone was getting settled, Paul came in and eased onto an overstuffed chair facing his parents.
Breanna turned to her husband. “Okay, sweetheart, we’re all waiting to hear how the services went at Phoenix’s First Baptist Church.”
John beamed at her, then at the rest of the group. “Well, I’ve got some wonderful things to tell you.”
Everyone listened closely as John told about the souls that were saved under his preaching on Sunday, especially Edgar and Celia Martin and their lovely nineteen-year-old daughter, Lisa. “Lisa sure is lovely with blond hair and blue eyes, just like my sweetheart, Breanna.”
John’s eyes kept flicking toward Paul as he was giving this information about Lisa. John explained that the Martins had spent some time talking to him after they were baptized in the morning service.
Breanna was quick to pick up on the way John kept looking at Paul as he was telling about the Martins’ daughter and that there was something going on in his mind regarding Lisa. Guess I’ll just have to wait until John is ready to share it with me, she thought.
John went on to tell them about the joy he had of leading Edgar Martin’s friends, Ralph and Laura Webb, to the Lord and about saving the life of Apache Chief Windino. John told them about giving Chief Windino the Bible and that Windino had promised to read it, especially the passages about salvation, heaven, and hell that
were already underlined.
Tears misted John’s eyes. “I’d appreciate it if everyone would pray that the Lord would use the Scriptures to convict Chief Windino of his lost, hell-bound condition and bring him to salvation.”
They all assured him that they would do so.
“Papa, I wish I could meet Chief Windino,” Paul said. “He sounds like quite a guy.”
“Well, son, maybe someday you and I can go to Arizona and see Chief Windino. He told me I was welcome to come and see him again.”
Paul smiled. “Okay. Maybe someday, huh?”
John grinned. “Yes. Maybe someday.”
Whip looked at his boss and stood. “Chief, you look pretty tired. Annabeth, Lizzie, and I will go home now so you can hit the bed and get some rest.”
The Brockmans walked the Langfords out to their buggy, thanked them for coming, and watched them drive away into the night.
When the family went back into the ranch house, Paul and the girls heard their mother ask their father if he was hungry. When John replied that he was indeed hungry, Paul offered to pray with his sisters as his parents usually did at bedtime so Papa could have something to eat. John and Breanna thanked their son for the offer, then hugged all three and sent them upstairs.
As John and Breanna moved down the hall toward the kitchen, Breanna rubbed John’s back. “Honey, I have some leftover roast beef from dinner. I could make you a sandwich and heat up some potato soup. And for dessert there’s cherry pie.”
John smiled down at her. “Sounds good to me!”
When they entered the kitchen, John took Breanna into his arms. “I missed you so much while I was gone, sweetie. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, John!”
They kissed each other soundly; then Breanna went to work to fix her husband’s late-night meal.
John enjoyed his supper, right down to the luscious piece of cherry pie and hot coffee. He wiped away the last crumb from his lips with his napkin. “You certainly know how to please a tired, hungry man. Thank you, darlin’.”
“My pleasure.” Breanna gave him a tender look.
John drank most of the coffee, then set it down. “Honey, I need to share something with you.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“Well, this may sound strange, but when I was on the train returning home, the Lord seemed to put something in my mind.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“It was concerning Lisa Martin. The thought came to me that Lisa is just the right age for Paul.”
Breanna smiled. “I noticed the way you kept looking at Paul as you were telling all of us about Lisa, and I picked up that there was something going on in your mind regarding her. I told myself right then and there that I’d just have to wait until you were ready to share it with me. So you’re ready now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my sweet, I am. Lisa could be the very young lady that Paul has been asking the Lord to send into his life to become his wife. She’s such a sweet and pretty little thing. I have no doubt that she would be a wonderful wife for our boy.”
Breanna’s brow furrowed. “Honey, I don’t see how this could work out since they live so far apart. Lisa lives in Phoenix, and Paul lives in Denver. How will they ever meet?”
John chuckled. “You know, sweetie, the exact same thought came to me as I pondered the situation. I told myself that with our wonderful God in control, there’s always a way.”
“I can’t argue with that. And since it seems that the Lord put this in your thoughts, I will certainly be in one accord with you in this matter. We know for a fact that with our wonderful God, all things are possible.”
John yawned and stretched out his arms. “I’m really tired. Let’s get a good night’s sleep, but we’ll pray about it together first, okay?”
“We sure will!” Breanna rose to her feet.
John stood too, and after Breanna had placed the dishes and coffee cup on the cupboard, they left the kitchen arm in arm and headed up the stairs.
TWENTY
As the days and weeks passed, Deputy Paul Brockman was proving to be even more of a tremendous federal marshal. He was continuously capturing outlaws and outdrawing well-known gunfighters who wanted to gain prestige by challenging and killing the young son of the famous Stranger, whom they felt they could outdraw and kill because of their greater experience.
The gunfighters all knew that by the code of the West, the law couldn’t touch a man who challenged another man to a quick-draw shootout, since it was considered a fair fight as long as the one being challenged was wearing a gun belt with a revolver in the holster.
On Wednesday evening, May 8, when the Brockman family sat down at the kitchen table to eat supper, John asked Paul to lead them in prayer to thank the Lord for the food. Once Paul finished praying and the family began devouring the meal, John ran his gaze over their faces. “I told you that I’d let you know when I heard from Marshal Danford Pierce in Phoenix about the Dub Finch gang.”
“Did the gang finally start robbing and killing in that part of Arizona, Papa?” asked Paul.
John shook his head. “No. In Marshal Pierce’s telegram that I received this morning, he said there has been no sign of the gang since they were last seen in eastern Arizona in mid-April. He figures they must have just been passing through, heading westward.”
“Well, from what I know about the Finch gang,” said Paul, “they’ll be robbing and killing somewhere in the West soon.”
“No question about that,” John agreed.
Early on Monday afternoon, May 20, Paul Brockman stepped out of the federal building, where he had been in conversation with his father and Whip in his father’s office.
As Paul turned right to head up the boardwalk, he caught sight of a man about his age sitting in the saddle of a white horse across the street.
The man was staring straight at him.
Paul moved on up the boardwalk, keeping the rider on the white horse in mind, and when he was about to cross the street at the corner, he looked back. Both horse and rider were gone. Paul shrugged and moved on.
The next day, when Paul came out of the federal building in the late morning and started down the boardwalk, he saw the man on the white horse again, directly across the street as he was the day before.
The man met Paul’s gaze, then looked away. Paul headed on down the boardwalk. When he was three blocks from the federal building, he suddenly noticed the man on the white horse riding past him on the dusty street. He did not turn his head to look at Paul, but Paul could see him flick a glance his way.
Seconds later, the man pulled the horse to a stop some fifty feet ahead of Paul. He slipped from the saddle and quickly tied the reins to a hitching post. Paul kept up his normal pace. The rider, who had a gun belt low on his waist, stepped up onto the boardwalk, and fixed his eyes on Paul as he was drawing closer.
Paul whispered, “Lord, if this is what I think it is, please help me.”
The mean-looking man stepped directly in front of Paul, who came to a halt. “Deputy Paul Brockman, I’m challengin’ you to a quick-draw gunfight!”
People nearby on the boardwalk stopped, and others who were coming toward the two men hurried to gather around.
Standing some twenty feet from his challenger, Paul frowned. “What’s your name?”
“Jack Chedrick!”
Paul knew the name, and he could tell that many of the people in the gathering crowd knew it also from the way they were looking at each other. Chedrick was a gunslinger well known all over the West. He had taken out many a man who was known to be exceptionally fast on the draw.
“I’ve heard of you,” Paul said levelly, “but I don’t want to kill you. Get back on your horse and ride.”
“I ain’t doin’ no such thing, Brockman! Your old man, when he was known as the Stranger, hunted down my father, Harold Chedrick, in Wyomin’. He captured him and took him to the Laramie County sheriff’s office in Cheyenne. My father was then hang
ed by the law.”
Paul said with an edge to his voice, “Harold Chedrick would not have been hanged if he didn’t deserve it. Only murderers get hanged.”
The crowd was getting larger as Jack Chedrick’s face flushed with anger. Through clenched teeth, he said, “If the Stranger hadn’t hunted my father down and taken him to the sheriff in Cheyenne, he would have lived. Now I’m gonna kill the Stranger’s son to pay him back for it. I’m not gonna murder you. I’m gonna give you a fair chance. Let’s step into the street, and you go for your gun.”
Paul knew that for the crowd’s safety, he had to step into the street. As he did, the well-known gunslinger did the same. Standing in the dust, they were still some twenty feet apart, facing each other.
The crowd whispered that Jack Chedrick was faster than lightning on the draw. They could see that Chedrick was absolutely confident he could outdraw the Stranger’s lawman son.
Paul saw it too and said again, “Get back on your horse and ride.”
The challenger shook his head, showing that he felt insulted by the young deputy’s command. “I told you to go for your gun!”
“Listen to me, Chedrick. If we draw against each other, I dare not just wound you, because your gun could go off and hit someone in the crowd! I’ll have to kill you! Now get back on your horse and ride!”
While the spellbound crowd looked on, Chedrick’s hand suddenly went down for the gun in his holster.
Paul’s hand went down much faster, and in a split second, the street thundered with the roar of his weapon.
Chedrick let out a deep, gusty moan as the .45-caliber slug tore into his chest, ripping through his heart. His face paled as the gun slipped from his hand and he fell backward.
Paul’s father and Deputy Langford came running up, then skidded to a halt, accompanied by a young man named Harley Thayne.
Holstering his gun, Paul looked at his father. “How did you and Uncle Whip know this shootout was about to take place?”
Before John could answer, one of three men kneeling beside Jack Chedrick called out, “Paul! He’s dead! I’m sure he was dead before he hit the ground!”