The Iron Wagon

by Al Lacy

  When they arrived at the reservation, the lieutenant had his men flank the wagon on both sides as he trotted his horse just ahead of it. Paul drew rein as several Apache warriors moved up and signaled for the wagon and the soldiers to stop.

  The lieutenant greeted the warriors in a friendly manner. “I would like to talk to Chief Windino.” Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he saw the chief coming toward him. Apache women and children were also gathering around the soldiers and the wagon.

  Full of fear, the outlaws in the wagon’s cage stared at the Indians.

  The crowd looked on as Chief Windino welcomed Lieutenant Armendall. From his saddle, the lieutenant pointed at Paul. “This young man would like to talk to you, Chief Windino.”

  The chief nodded, then moved toward the wagon. He gazed up at Paul and said, “Please come down so we can talk.”

  Paul smiled at him and quickly hopped to the ground.

  Chief Windino stepped up to Paul, smiling. “I must ask, are you related to chief United States marshal John Brockman of Denver, Colorado? You look so much like him.”

  Paul nodded. “Yes, I am Chief Brockman’s son, Paul. My father told our family of how he had saved your life last April when you had been bitten by a rattlesnake.”

  “He certainly did, and because your father saved my life, I feel much warmth toward him.”

  Paul told the chief about finding the parents of Miss Lisa Martin on the road where they had been attacked and shot by some Apaches. He then informed the chief that Miss Lisa’s father, barely alive, had told him that he heard Chief Windino tell his daughter that he was taking her to his reservation. After telling him this, Mr. Martin died.

  “I see,” Windino said, a sad look on his dark face.

  Paul’s brow furrowed. “Chief, is Miss Lisa here on the reservation now?”

  “She is. Miss Martin has not been harmed. At this moment, she is in one of the wickiups with two older women who are trying to console her over her parents’ death. She thought, of course, that her father was already dead. I’d planned to deliver her to a U.S. Army base soon. I will take you to the wickiup right now so you can meet her.”

  Paul noticed that several of the Apaches who had gathered around were eyeing the men inside the cage on the iron wagon. Chief Windino followed Paul’s gaze. “Who are the men in the cage?”

  Paul quickly told Chief Windino the story of the condemned outlaws and how he was taking them back to the prison at Yuma, from which they had recently escaped.

  Windino nodded and rubbed his chin.

  “Chief Windino, I’ve come to see if Miss Lisa will let me take her with me on my way to Yuma rather than your taking her to an army base. And after the outlaws are delivered to Yuma Prison, I will take her with me to Denver, find her a home there, and see that she is taken care of.”

  The chief smiled. “Deputy Paul Brockman, I commend you for being willing to do this for the young lady. Come. I will take you to meet her.”

  Moments later, Paul waited outside the wickiup the chief had entered. He could hear Windino telling Miss Martin about Deputy Paul Brockman being there and why.

  When the chief finished telling the story, the flap that covered the wickiup’s opening was pulled open. The lovely blond-haired, blue-eyed Lisa Martin stepped out behind the chief. Two older Apache women remained at the opening, looking on.

  The chief stepped to one side, allowing Lisa to get a full look at Paul. As she drew up close to Paul, a smile graced her drawn features.

  Seeing her grief and almost feeling it himself, Paul took a step closer to her and clasped both of her hands in his. “I am so very sorry, Miss Martin, for your loss. I am here to help you in any way I can. I heard Chief Windino tell you that I am willing to take you to Denver with me after I deliver the outlaws to the Yuma Prison and that I will find you a home there and see that you are taken care of.”

  Lisa remembered her plea to God, asking Him for help, and a smile curved her lips. “You are an answer to my prayers.”

  Paul’s heart fluttered at Lisa’s presence and her words.

  Lisa took a brief moment to explain why she and her parents were moving to San Diego, then wiped tears from her eyes. “My parents are now in heaven with the Lord, Deputy Brockman, and it is because of your father’s preaching that they became Christians, as well as myself. And now, here you are, Deputy Brockman, offering to take me to Denver, find me a home, and see that I am taken care of.”

  “You can call me Paul, Miss Martin.”

  Lisa found her heart beating quicker as she talked with Paul. “All right. Then you can call me Lisa.”

  “All right, Lisa. Then you will let me take you with me, first to Yuma, then home to Denver?”

  “I sure will!” Lisa wiped away more tears from her eyes. “Never have I felt so alone in all my life. I have been asking the Lord to help me, and now He has. I’ll try to never be a problem to you. And any assistance you can give me in finding a place to live and some kind of employment will be greatly appreciated.” Lisa’s eyes were sincere as they looked into Paul’s eyes.

  “It is my pleasure to be of help, Lisa. Finding you a place to live or a source of employment won’t be a problem. Having you with me on this arduous journey will be a true blessing. While I’m driving the iron wagon with five outlaws in its cage, it will be great to have you to talk to. And we can get to know each other better.” Paul gave her a cheeky grin, and Lisa smiled back.

  “Lisa, we’ll have to stop at Phoenix on the way to Denver, since I was filling in there at the U.S. marshal’s office for the wounded man in charge, federal marshal Danford Pierce.”

  “Oh, you were?” said Lisa. “I knew about his being wounded in some kind of battle with outlaws.”

  “Yeah. The outlaws that wounded him are the ones I’m taking back to Yuma.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, good! Paul, I am excited about going to Denver with you. I would love to become a member of the church in Denver where the Brockmans are members.”

  “Well, that will be no problem. And you’ll love Denver’s First Baptist Church as much as you love your church in Phoenix.”

  Lisa nodded, then put a finger to her temple. “Just before Chief Windino put me on his horse to bring me to the reservation, he asked if I had belongings in my family’s wagon. I told him that I did, and he had one of his warriors get my leather bag of clothing out of the overturned wagon and carry it on his horse for me. I’ll need a few moments to go back into the wickiup and get it.”

  Paul felt his heart banging his rib cage as he kept his eyes on the beautiful Lisa Martin while she was talking. “Sure. No problem.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Already feeling a strong attraction for Lisa Martin, Paul Brockman glanced at the Apaches still gathered around them and let his gaze settle on Chief Windino briefly. Then he turned back to Lisa. “Before we head for Yuma, I want to have a talk with Chief Windino in private.”

  Lisa nodded. “Of course. I’ll go back into the wickiup and get my bag. You can find me right here.”

  Chief Windino stepped up to Paul. “It would be nice to have a private talk with you before you leave, Deputy Brockman. My wickiup is just a short distance from here. Please come with me.”

  Lisa watched Paul walk away with the chief, then turned and found that the two older women were still at the opening of the wickiup. One of them smiled and, knowing some English, she said, “You can come in and get your bag of clothing, Lisa.”

  Paul followed the chief inside his wickiup. There he saw a small table with two crude wooden chairs. Windino pulled one of the chairs back and invited Paul to sit in it. The chief then sat opposite him and said, “What is it you wish to talk to me about?”

  Paul leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “My father told me he had talked to you about receiving the Lord Jesus Christ as your Saviour while showing you many Scripture passages on the subject, most of them being underlined so they were easy to find. He told me you said you c
ouldn’t leave the Apache religion because of your being a chief and the head of this reservation. My father said he gave that Bible to you and asked you to read it.”

  Windino nodded. “Yes, he did, and I have read those underlined passages many times, along with many other Scriptures.” He paused and took a short breath as his eyes filmed with tears. “Deputy Brockman, I want to be saved. I want the Lord Jesus Christ as my Saviour. I realize now that if I cling to the Apache religion, when I die, I will go to hell. Would you help me?”

  Paul’s own eyes filled with tears. “My Bible is out in the iron wagon, so could we use yours?”

  Windino smiled. “We sure can!” He left his chair, hurried to a small, old chest of drawers, opened the top drawer, and took out the Bible John Brockman had given him.

  As Windino returned to the table, Paul asked him to sit beside him. The chief handed the Bible to Paul, then moved his chair beside Paul’s and sat down.

  With Windino looking at the pages, Paul went over some of the marked passages, making sure the chief clearly understood them and that he believed Jesus Christ was the only way of salvation, which was purchased for him on the cross of Calvary when He shed His blood, died, was buried, and arose from the dead in three days.

  With this totally clear, Paul had the joy of leading Chief Windino to the Lord. The chief wiped tears of joy from his cheeks.

  “My father is going to be so happy when I tell him you’re now saved,” Paul said. He showed the chief in the Bible that his first step of obedience to the Lord, now that he was saved, was to get baptized.

  “You should go to Phoenix and visit with Pastor Alex Duffy at First Baptist Church, Chief Windino. Pastor Duffy can help you learn more about your new life in Christ and will baptize you in a church service.”

  Windino assured Paul that he would go meet with Pastor Duffy real soon.

  They left the wickiup and walked to the spot where Lisa was waiting with her leather bag on the ground beside her. As they stepped up to her, Paul said, “I’ve got some wonderful news. Chief Windino just received the Lord Jesus Christ as his Saviour!”

  A big smile spread over Lisa’s face. “Oh, Chief Windino, I am so happy for you! One day we will see each other in heaven.”

  Windino agreed with her wholeheartedly. Then Paul gave the chief a manly hug, saying he was glad that they would get to be in heaven together forever.

  The soldiers were still there. Paul went to them and thanked them for escorting him to the reservation. As the soldiers were riding away, Paul helped Lisa onto the driver’s seat of the iron wagon while Dub Finch and his outlaw companions glared at them between the small openings of the iron straps of the cage.

  After placing Lisa’s leather bag in one of the compartments on the side of the iron wagon, Paul climbed up onto the driver’s seat next to the lovely blonde. Then waving at Chief Windino and the crowd of Apaches standing there looking on, Paul put the horses in motion, and they were soon heading west on the road toward Yuma.

  As the iron wagon topped a slight hill and the reservation passed from view behind them, Lisa turned to Paul. “Will we be in danger while we’re driving to Yuma?”

  Paul nodded. “We very well could be, with vicious Indians roaming about and robbers riding the road between Phoenix and Yuma. I’ve got my Colt .45 in my holster and a rifle down here at my feet, under the seat. I will put them to use if I have to. The main thing for us to do, though, is to trust the Lord to take care of us.”

  A small shiver of fear ran down Lisa’s spine as she thought of her recent ordeal.

  Noting the fear on Lisa’s face, Paul reached his right hand over, placed it on her left hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s remember that we are cradled in God’s hands. We must trust Him to protect us.”

  “I agree, Paul.” Lisa gazed into his eyes. “But I’m only human, and I can’t help thinking of the horrible Indian attack on the small wagon train my parents and I were traveling with and that they were both killed.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she hastily wiped them away.

  Paul squeezed her hand again. “I’m so sorry, Lisa. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling and the pain in your heart. But … but I am here for you, and I will protect you the best way I know how.”

  “How about we pray right now?” Lisa said.

  “Oh no!” came the voice of Dub Finch from the cage behind them. “Not that religious stuff!”

  Paul drew the wagon to a halt and looked back through the small, square openings in the cage straps. “This isn’t ‘religious stuff,’ Finch. This is true Bible Christianity! We’re going to pray now, and don’t any of you interrupt us.”

  Paul put his right arm around Lisa’s shoulders, and as they bowed their heads and closed their eyes, he led in prayer, asking the Lord to protect the two of them all the way to Yuma and then all the way to Denver.

  When Paul closed his prayer in Jesus’ name, a sweet sense of peace came over Lisa’s heart. The five outlaws were staring at them as she thanked Paul for praying and trusting the Lord as he did.

  Paul gently snapped the reins and put the horses back in motion.

  As the wheels of the iron wagon tossed up dust from the dry road, Jack Devlin said, “You two are nothin’ but religious fanatics.”

  With the reins in his hands, Paul looked back at Devlin. “I’m telling you, we are not religious. We are saved and will never go to hell! Heaven is our home when we leave this world because we have received the Lord Jesus Christ as our Saviour. I tried to talk to you men about this the first night we were on the road to Yuma, warning you that if you die in your sins, you will go to a never-ending, blazing lake of fire called hell, but all you did was make fun of me.”

  “Well, if your Christianity is so great,” Dub said, “why did you put us in handcuffs when we left Phoenix, and then the next day you put these ankle chains on us!”

  “That’s got nothing to do with my being a Christian, Finch,” said Paul. “It’s got to do with the fact that all five of you are cold-blooded murderers. You got the handcuffs and the ankle chains because of what you are.”

  “Well, whatever you say, Brockman,” spat Kurt Jagger, “we don’t believe all that Jesus Christ stuff you preached at us! We want nothin’ to do with it. That Bible you believe is full of nonsense! We don’t believe it.” The other four quickly spoke their agreement.

  Paul ran his gaze over their faces. “Well, let me tell you this. Every one of you will find out that the Bible is absolutely true when you hang at Yuma Prison. When you die at the ends of those hangman’s ropes and plunge into the fire of hell, you’ll wish you had listened to me and made Jesus Christ your Saviour!”

  The outlaws said no more to Paul.

  Later, when darkness fell over the desert and they stopped for the night, Lisa volunteered to cook their meal.

  “That’s mighty kind of you, Lisa,” Paul said. “One of the compartments on the side of the wagon contains bacon, beans, and biscuits I bought before leaving on the trip.”

  Paul released the horses from the iron wagon, tied them to a nearby tree, and gave them food and water.

  The prisoners ate inside the cage, and after the meal was over, Paul walked them at gunpoint to a low, bushy spot nearby, where they could relieve themselves. Then he returned them to the iron wagon and locked them once again in the cage.

  Paul thought about having Lisa sleep on the driver’s seat of the wagon, but since he would be sleeping underneath the wagon, this would put her too far from him. Wanting to keep propriety correct yet have Lisa close to him during the night so he could protect her if needed, he placed his bedroll under the middle of the wagon, telling her she could sleep in it. He then made a pallet with extra blankets for himself a few feet away at the rear of the wagon.

  The next morning, as the iron wagon continued westward, Paul, Lisa, and the prisoners suddenly saw a band of eight angry Apache Indians galloping toward them on their horses, whooping their hatred loudly and clutching t
heir rifles in the air.

  Paul lifted his rifle from beneath the driver’s seat with his free hand and cried out, “Lord, help us!”

  Lisa gripped her hands together. “Yes, Lord! Please help us! Those Indians mean to kill us!”

  All five of the outlaws in the cage were frozen with terror but uttered not a word.

  As the wild Indians were drawing closer, a dozen U.S. Army soldiers rode their horses out of a wooded area alongside the road and began firing their rifles at the Apaches.

  Seeing that they were outnumbered by the soldiers, the Indians quickly turned their horses about and galloped away. Lisa breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lord, as did Paul. The Dub Finch gang was obviously relieved.

  Paul stopped the iron wagon, and when the soldiers gathered around on their horses, he thanked them for coming to their rescue. As the soldiers rode on, Lisa wiped away tears. “Paul, I’m glad the Lord saw to it that these soldiers were camped at this spot on the road to Yuma.”

  “Amen, Lisa! We have a wonderful God, don’t we?”

  “We sure do!”

  Paul, Lisa, and the outlaws arrived in Yuma late in the afternoon on Tuesday, October 8. The trip had taken longer than Paul figured because of the interruptions along the way. The one interruption he was so thankful for was when he had to take time to go to the Apache reservation and meet with Chief Windino in order to take Lisa with him—where he also had the joy of leading the chief to the Lord.

  When Paul drove the iron wagon onto the Yuma Prison grounds, Dub Finch and his gang members were looking very solemn. As Paul pulled the wagon up to the guard tower, two guards came through the gate and stepped up to the wagon.

  Paul introduced himself and explained why he was bringing the Finch gang back to the prison.

  One of the guards opened the gate. “Go ahead and drive the iron wagon inside the walls of the prison, Deputy Marshal Brockman.”