The Silver Star

by Gilbert, Morris

  They all moved toward the porch, and as soon as Priscilla’s feet touched the first step, her mother came out the door. Priscilla ran up and threw her arms around her, and Hope whispered, “I’m glad you’re here, dear.”

  “How is he?”

  “Much better, thank God!” Hope’s face was wan with strain, and she said, “Cody just left, and your uncle Tom went home to get some rest. Both of them have hardly left the house since the accident.”

  “What does the doctor say?” Peter demanded.

  “He almost gave up hope—but last night your dad took a turn for the better. It was from God—no other way to explain it.” She shook her head, wonder in her eyes. “He’s been waiting for you. He’s been asleep, but he’ll wake up soon.”

  They all filed in, and Serena whispered, “You go ahead, Cass. I’ll keep the children.”

  “I’ll wait outside, too,” Jason said. “This is just for family.”

  “He’s been asking for you, too, Jason,” Hope said. She smiled sadly and said, “He’s missed you something terrible. You mean a great deal to him. More than you know, I think.” She saw Jason’s face change, then he turned and looked blankly at the bunkhouse across the way where he had spent so many years as foreman of the ranch.

  Hope led the three into the room. Moving over to the bedside, she whispered, “Dan, the children are here. Are you awake?”

  Dan’s eyes fluttered and then opened. His gaze swept the four gathered beside his bed, Priscilla standing beside her mother, and his two sons on the other side. His face was pale, but he smiled and his eyes were clear. “Never should have sent for you,” he protested. “You’ve got more to do than fiddle around with me.”

  Priscilla leaned over and kissed him and brushed back her tears. For a moment she was unable to speak. “Oh, Dad, I’ve been so afraid!”

  Looking up, Dan saw her tears, like diamonds in her eyes, and whispered, “I guess it’s all right to cry a little bit.” He turned and looked at the two stalwart sons of his and said, “It’s all right for men to cry, too. I do it myself sometimes, you know.”

  Cass leaned over and squeezed his father’s shoulder. “Dad,” he whispered brokenly and then stopped. He could say no more.

  Peter took the hand that was lying on top of the comforter and whispered, “We got here as soon as we could, Dad.”

  All three of them were so relieved at their father’s improved condition. Throughout the whole trip, they had all faced the same fear. Can we get there before he dies? Now that they saw the big man clear-eyed and out of danger, their emotions choked them all up. They wanted to express their relief, but it took some time. They stood beside the bed for a short time, then Hope shooed them out, saying, “Plenty of time to talk—he needs to rest now.”

  But Dan was not finished. “I’ll bet you broke every law in the book with that fast car of yours,” he said to Peter.

  “Sure did,” Peter tried to smile.

  “Didn’t Jason come with you?”

  “Yes,” Cass answered.

  “He’s outside, Dad,” Priscilla said quickly.

  “Go get him—and Serena, too.”

  “She’s keeping the children,” Cass hesitated.

  “Bring them in, too.” He waved Hope’s protest away, saying with a sly grin, “I’m a sick man—and deserve to have my own way.”

  “All right, but just for a minute,” Hope said as she left the bedroom and went to get the rest of the family.

  Dan greeted Jason warmly, then Serena and his grandchildren. He looked around the room and said drowsily, “Shame a fellow has to get piled up to get his kids to come and pay him a visit. . . .”

  “I’m right glad to see you doing so well, boss,” Jason said, clearing his throat, then he wheeled away and left the room with his head down.

  Dan dropped off to sleep, and then the rest of them left the room for the time. When they were outside Peter said, “What happened, Mom?”

  “There was a drunken driver. Your father was driving the buggy, coming in after dark from town. I don’t think the driver ever saw him. It killed the horse, and your father took a bad blow.” Peter’s face hardened, and his mother saw it. “I know you love cars, son,” she said, “and it wasn’t the car. It was the whiskey that did it. I wouldn’t have you feel bad about this because you like automobiles.”

  Dan slept well that night, and the next afternoon he insisted on getting out of bed and putting on his pants—but Hope put a stop to that. The doctor had ordered him to stay in bed a few more days, and she was going to make sure he did. He growled but at least won the right to have visitors.

  Priscilla sat beside him for some time. She was glad to see the pleased look on his face when she told him about her decision to leave the acting world. “Dad, something’s happened to me. I’ve been worrying for a long time about what the theater means, and it’s all right for some,” she hesitated, then leaned over and whispered, “but it’s not for me.”

  Dan’s eyes opened wide and he smiled broadly. It made him look younger then, and almost healthy. “I’m so proud of you, Priscilla. Don’t worry about anything now. When you put God first and follow His will for your life, He will take care of the rest.”

  Priscilla shared a warm smile with her father, and a deep peace that things would turn out right filled her heart.

  “You know that Jason saved my life?”

  “Peter told me all about it.” He looked at her fondly and said, “He’s a good man, Priscilla.”

  Priscilla had not formulated her thoughts, nor her emotions, but ever since Jason had thrown himself on top of that wild animal, throwing his life away to save hers, she had thought steadily about it. She could not help making comparisons between him and the other men who had pursued her. She knew that neither Eddie Rich nor Todd Blakely would even think of risking their lives to save hers. She squeezed her father’s hand and said, “I . . . I guess I was all mixed up, Dad—with all the world of the theater, and the glamor of it. I guess I got my fill of it.”

  Dan smiled again. He was very tired but he said, “You’ve made me very happy, daughter. That makes me feel like the family is all right. Peter still needs the Lord. I’m trusting God to save him, and I’m praying that you’ll help him, you and Cass.”

  “I’m coming back to the ranch,” Priscilla said. “I’ll never go on the stage again!”

  Tears filled Dan’s eyes and he said, “That’s . . . good to hear, Priscilla. It’s what your mother and I have been praying for!”

  ****

  Later in the day, Dan insisted he had to see Jason. Hope found him outside leaning against one of the pillars that held the slanting roof up. “Jason, Dan wants you.”

  Slowly Jason looked up with an odd expression in his eyes. He hesitated so long that Hope had to insist. “Come along now, don’t be so slow.”

  When Jason Ballard entered the sick man’s room, he found Dan Winslow sitting up in bed drinking a tall glass of lemonade. “Haven’t been babied like this for a long time, Jase,” Dan smiled. Motioning to the rocker beside the bed, Dan said, “Got two things to say to you.” Setting the empty glass down on the oak table beside the bed, he carefully took a deep breath, then released it. “I’m getting old, Jase.”

  “Don’t say that,” Jason quickly replied. “You can still outwork most of these young fellows who think they’re tough as leather.”

  “Maybe so, but Hope and I have been talking—and what it amounts to is that I’m stepping down from most of the work. Can’t say as I mind it. I’d like to take a long vacation to Los Angeles and visit with Cass and our grandchildren. . . .”

  Jason Ballard listened as Winslow spoke of his plans, then a shock ran through him as the owner said, “I couldn’t do this—step down, I mean—unless I had a good man to take over. And you’re the man to do it, Jase.”

  “Me! Why, Mr. Winslow—!”

  Waving his hand to cut off the tall puncher’s protest, Dan said, “Hope and I have been planning it for quit
e a while. We were just waiting for you to get back from California before we said anything. Will you take it on, Jase?”

  “I’d be proud to work for you, Mr. Winslow. I always have been, but—”

  “What’s wrong?” Winslow’s quick glance told him that Ballard was uncertain. He waited and asked, “Can you tell me what’s bothering you, Jase? Maybe I can help.”

  Ballard lifted his eyes to Dan Winslow and said abruptly, “I’m pretty low on the limb, I guess, sir. Never been so miserable in my whole life!” Rising from his chair, he paced the floor like a caged beast and his words tumbled out. “Something’s been eating at me for a long time. I can’t get rid of it—and I know it’s God.” Abruptly he wheeled and came to sit down. His hands were trembling, and he held them up, laughing shakily. “Look at that! I’m not fit to run a ranch—or anything else!”

  For a long moment Dan let the silence run on, then he reached over and picked up the thick black Bible on his table—the same one that Hope had read for days while he was unconscious. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to see you come to this place, Jase,” he said, his eyes filled with pleasure. “I remember when you first came here. You were as wild a boy as I ever laid eyes on! But there was something in you that I saw and liked from the start. But sometimes a man has to come to the end of his tether before he’ll let Jesus Christ into his life. I was the same as you, but the day I called on the Lord—that was the day everything changed for me.” He opened the Bible and read, “ ‘All have sinned and come short of the glory of God. . . .’ ”

  ****

  Hope grew worried about Jason’s long visit. “He’s been in there with Dan long enough,” she muttered. She opened the door and stepped inside—then stopped dead still. Her eyes took in Jason, whose eyes were red with weeping, but who had a broad smile across his face. She turned to Dan, questioning him with her eyes.

  “It’s all right, Hope,” Dan said quickly. He turned to the tall man who sat beside him, adding, “Jason’s just joined the family of God!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A New Time

  As her father recovered with a swiftness that amazed Dr. Rayburn, Priscilla found herself strangely free from all the burdens and cares she had faced at Imperial Pictures. She knew Porter would be furious with her for not coming back to complete the serial, but she hoped that deep down he would understand. There were plenty of other young women in Los Angeles anxious for an opportunity to take her place. Edwin would find someone else, someone he could mold into the kind of actress who was willing to do whatever he wanted on the big screen. She was certain she had made the right decision to stay. Something about the spacious horizon of the plains seemed to release her spirit, and each morning she found herself riding the trails that led to the low hills bordering the ranch. The long silences out in the open land were soothing to her after the hubbub of the world in New York City and Los Angeles. The warm rays of the sun and the smell of earth and the vigor of life soaked into her and revived her. She also rejoiced in the conversion of Jason Ballard—though he seemed to keep to himself a great deal. Her father said, “He’s sorting out some things, Pris. He’ll come around.”

  Finally she became aware of one element that was missing from her return to the ranch. At first she could not put her finger on what it was—but a week after Peter, Cass, and Serena had returned to Los Angeles, she spoke to her mother about her future. The two of them were sitting on the front porch watching the clouds skim over the hills. After a long pause, Hope said, “You seem restless, Priscilla. Is anything wrong?”

  “Oh no, Mom,” Priscilla said, staring off in the distance.

  Hope turned her gaze on her daughter, and after studying the girl’s expression, she asked, “Do you miss all the excitement of Los Angeles? I know the ranch isn’t very thrilling after being a star.”

  Quickly Priscilla shook her head, answering, “It’s not a good life—not at all. Why, I can’t think of more than two or three actors or actresses who are really content. They’re all worried about being done out of a juicy role—or about getting old. I’m glad to be out of it,” she said firmly.

  “I’m glad, too, and your father is happier than I’ve ever seen him. He has all sorts of plans to set afoot when he gets all healed up.” She rocked back and forth slowly, but something seemed to be troubling her. She started to speak, then changed her mind and shook her head doubtfully.

  Sensing her mother’s concern about something, Priscilla asked, “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yes, there is. What did you start to say?”

  “Oh, I was just wondering what you’d do with yourself now. Do you have any idea what kind of work you’d like to do?”

  Priscilla turned restive, and rising to her feet, she said briefly, “I haven’t thought much about it. Something will turn up. I’m just going to wait on God’s direction this time.”

  Priscilla patted her mother’s hand and assured her that something would work out. Then she left the porch and strolled over to the corral. Her mare trotted up to her, and she saddled her, then stepped into the saddle and rode out, raising a cloud of dust. The muscles of the mare bunched under her, and Priscilla leaned forward, urging more speed. Her hair flew out behind her, and she felt a rush of exhilaration as she sped over the dry earth. Reaching the line of trees that marked the downward slope of the ranch, she slowed the horse, then sat balanced in the saddle as the mare picked her way down to the creek that bubbled over small stones, making a pleasant sound.

  Dismounting, she tied her animal to a slender cottonwood sapling, then sat down beside the brook. Darkness was coming on and she listened to the sound of a cow bawling far off in the distance. After that the silence seemed to cover the earth, and as the sun dropped lower, falling behind the distant range of mountains, she clasped her knees and hugged them. This was the thing she’d missed most in Los Angeles—the privacy that was never there.

  For a long time she sat still—so still that once a dog fox came trotting briskly down the bank of the stream sniffing around. He shied at her horse and took a detour. He never saw Priscilla and passed within ten feet of her. She could see the bright glitter of his eyes and the gleam of his white teeth as he came by.

  Overhead the sky turned a dark azure tinged with pink at the horizon, and a few pinpoints of light began to glimmer. Finally it grew so dark that she knew she must ride home. With a sigh she rose and started for her horse—but at that moment a shadow appeared. At first it was just a blur, but it was moving toward her. Fear leaped into her heart, but then she heard her name called and a wave of relief washed over her.

  “Priscilla?”

  “I’m here, Jason.” Priscilla stood still as Jason approached her in the long shadows that had fallen. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Looking for you. Your mother is worried.” He bent over to peer at her face, then added, “She was afraid you might have gotten thrown.”

  “Not very flattering, is she?”

  “Never was a horse couldn’t be rode—”

  “Never was a rider couldn’t be throwed,” Priscilla finished the old saying. “You told me that enough back when I was giving you a hard time.”

  “Sure did. You still remember that?”

  Smiling, Priscilla said, “Of course! I remember all the times I drove you crazy. I don’t see how you put up with me. You should have roughed me up.”

  “Did that once, too,” he said, then laughed.

  “Yes, you did, didn’t you?” She felt strange and did not know why. All of the restlessness that had bothered her lately seemed to stir now, and she asked in a low voice, “Jason, what are you going to do?”

  “What I’ve always done.”

  “You’re going to stay here on the ranch?” Suddenly a gladness welled up within her. “Are you going to work for my father?”

  Ballard nodded, then said, “I’ve been talking to your father a lot lately. He and your uncle Tom have been talking about combining
their ranches into one big one—and a good one, too. The two of them came to me with an offer yesterday I couldn’t refuse. They want me to manage the spread when it’s combined. I told them they should give it to Cody and Laurie, but they already have one as large as this one will be, and they said they didn’t want to take on any more.”

  “Oh, Jase, that’s wonderful!” Reaching out her hand, Priscilla caught Ballard’s arm. Looking up at him, she exclaimed, “You’ll do so well at it. You always were the best foreman in all of Wyoming!”

  “Don’t know about that,” Jason answered, acutely aware of her touch on his arm. “Might be a better one in China or someplace like that.”

  As he spoke a coyote yelped, then began to make a mournful howl that carried across the plain. The two paid no heed, and for a time they stood there, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally Jason asked casually, “What about you, Priscilla? What will you do?”

  “I won’t go back to making movies—that much I know!”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Yes!”

  A sigh of relief escaped from Jason’s lips. “Your dad told me so—but I thought he might have misunderstood you. Be hard to give up all that, won’t it?”

  “Not really. I thought it was what I wanted—but lately I’ve been looking at what that life is all about, and I don’t want it.”

  “I’m mighty glad to hear it, Pris.”

  She warmed at the old name he’d called her long ago. “Would you like to know when I decided to leave the movie business?”

  “When was it?”

  “When I was locked in the cage with that lion. I thought that beast was going to kill me—and that I would die before I’d find out what kind of life I wanted. And then you jumped down from that cliff and saved my life. I was so afraid for you, but ever since that moment, I’ve known that I had to find some other way besides the movies to make a living.”

  Her words held Jason Ballard still—so still that Priscilla finally said, “Jason—”