Race with Death

by Gilbert, Morris

  She said no more, and all Savage could do was say, “I’m glad for you, Ellen. I’ll be at this number if you need me—or if I’m not here, get Catlow at the police station.”

  And then he hung up and lay down on the bed. The sun was shining through the window, and it fell on his face. He was too weary to do more than put his hand across his eyes to shield them. He lay still, his brain racing and every nerve tense. He discovered that his jaw was tired from being clamped and deliberately forced himself to relax.

  He was more alone than he’d ever been, it seemed.

  The silence of the room became somehow frightening, for in it he began to think of terrible things—things about Dani. He pressed the back of his hand against his eyes until they hurt.

  And then he whispered, “Oh, God—! Don’t let her die!”

  It was the first prayer that Benjamin Davis Savage had prayed since he was ten years old.

  16

  A Message for Ben Savage

  * * *

  Savage came out of the bed instantly, the knock on the door breaking into the silence of the room. Picking up the Colt he’d placed on the nightstand, he moved to the door and stood to one side of it before asking, “Yes—who is it?”

  “Me, Mr. Savage—Leon Williams.”

  “Just a minute—” Savage stepped to the bed and put the gun under the pillow, then went and opened the door. Williams stood there, his face sober and somewhat strained. “Come in, Leon,” Savage said. He stepped back, and when the black man had entered, he shut the door before asking, “Any word about Miss Ross?”

  “Well, suh, not what you might call a word,” Williams responded.

  Savage, noting the small man’s hesitation, frowned. “What does that mean—not what I might call a word?”

  Williams came to a decision, nodding his head slightly. “I got a word from the Lord for you, Mr. Savage.” Williams held up his hand, palm outward, as disappointment touched Savage’s face. “Now, I know you ain’t a man of faith, but God sometimes uses men who doan even know him to do his work. Why, when God was gettin’ ready to send his people back to their homeland, Israel, he used a heathen king called Cyrus. And he said, ‘I girded thee, though thou hast not known me.’” Williams’s voice rolled a little as he quoted the Scripture, and Savage knew that if he had lifted his tone, he would have awakened the hotel!

  “Sit down, Leon.” Savage waited until the smaller man took a seat, then seated himself on the bed. “Tell me about it,” he said quietly. He said nothing of how he’d been brought to prayer for the first time in years but waited to hear what his visitor had to say.

  Williams cleared his throat, clasped his hands, and said slowly, “After you told me about the trouble Miss Ross was in, I couldn’t get it off my mind—I purely couldn’t!” He shook his head, looking at Savage with compassion in his eyes. “That happens to me sometimes, Mr. Savage. I get burdened for some poor soul, and I jes’ can’t shake it off! Sometimes it’s somebody I see—like maybe a man who checks into the hotel. I come to his table and he orders breakfast.” Williams spoke slowly, deep in his chest, his eyes half closed. “He don’t look like he need help—maybe got on a diamond ring and a fine suit. But God whispers, Leon—pray for that man! And from that moment, Mr. Savage, I weep in my spirit for him.” He looked up at the man who was watching him and said, “I reckon you think that’s crazy, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.” Savage was moved by the simplicity of the man who sat before him. “I wish more people were like that.”

  Williams didn’t speak for a moment, but he was pleased. His eyes lit up and he said, “I think one day pretty soon, you’ll be doing that kind of thing, Mr. Savage.” He nodded as if he knew a fine secret, then he shrugged his thin shoulders. “Well, like I said, as soon as you told me about the trouble Miss Ross done got herself in, a burden for her came on my soul.”

  “I’ve got one myself, Leon,” Savage nodded.

  “Yes, suh, I knows dat. I seen it in your eyes.”

  Savage ducked his head, asking quickly, “What about a word from God for me?”

  “It didn’t come right off,” Williams said, his eyes thoughtful. “I got a chance to git off by myself so I could focus on God. Went up to one of the vacant rooms, and I fell on my face before the Lord. And Mr. Savage—” he said solemnly, shaking his head, “I reckon every devil in Baton Rouge come to that room! It wasn’t no fight against flesh and blood—no, suh! It was a battle against principalities and wickedness in high places! The devil told me I was crazy! He told me to stop making a fool of myself ’bout somethin’ that wasn’t none of my business!”

  “I can’t really understand all that, Leon.”

  “I knows you can’t, Mr. Savage, not right now.” Williams put his eyes on Savage, adding, “The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God. But one day you will understand!”

  At one point in his life Savage would have smiled in disbelief at such statements—but he didn’t find it amusing now. “I hope so,” he said slowly.

  Williams continued, “I pled the blood of Jesus over that woman, and told the devil to leave her alone. He was right persistent, old Slewfoot, but in the end he had to run. Ain’t no devil can stand against the Lord Jesus!”

  Savage was listening intently to Williams. Afternoon had passed into dusk, and the city lights glowed in the falling darkness, throwing their rays inside the window. He could hear the sound of traffic, muted and far-off, but he leaned forward, asking, “What happened then?”

  “It got real still, Mr. Savage,” Williams whispered. He leaned forward, his face tense and expectant. “I waited and waited. Sometimes we get in a hurry, but God ain’t in no hurry. I done learned that when I done all I can, it’s best just to wait on God! And then it come—as clear a word as this unworthy servant evah got from God, Mr. Savage!”

  Williams shut his eyes, and his head swung slowly back and forth. “I never cease bein’ amazed that the Almighty God will lower himself to speak with a piece of flesh like me! But he did! He did!”

  Tears ran down the small man’s cheeks, and Savage, who had seen fakes and charlatans by the score, knew that these were real!

  “I don’t know what it means, what God told me to tell you,” Williams said. “And you might need to do a little waitin’ yourself, Mr. Savage. Sometimes the Lord uses dark sayings. He done said, ‘It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter.’ So I can give you the word from God, but you will have to search it out for yourself.”

  Savage felt almost afraid. He had never believed in such things, and now he was being confronted with a situation that demanded either faith or outright disbelief. Reluctantly he nodded. “What was it, Leon?”

  “The Lord said for me to tell you, ‘You don’t need to hunt anymore—the answer you seek, you already have been given.’”

  Savage stared at Williams. He had expected more! “Is that all?”

  Williams nodded reluctantly. “You’re disappointed. But you mind what I said about seekin’ out the things of God. He don’t cast none of his pearls before swine, no, suh! I think he tests us that way—like if you really want to help Miss Ross, you’ll do anything. Now, you ain’t a man who’s afraid of much, Mr. Savage. I can see that. And if it was a matter of going up against guns and knives, why, you’d die before you quit—ain’t that the truth?”

  Savage nodded slowly. “Yes, Leon. I’d do that for her.”

  “Well, now, you done left that behind,” Williams said, almost sternly. “This is a battle in high places—against the power of evil itself. And there’s only one way a man ever wins that battle—and that’s by faith!”

  “Don’t have much of that,” Savage muttered.

  Williams said nothing, but suddenly he stood to his feet. Before Savage knew what he was doing, the black man had put his hands on Savage’s shoulders. The touch startled Ben, and he started to rise, but with a surprising strength, Williams held him in place—and
then he began to pray.

  It was unlike anything Ben Savage had ever experienced, that prayer. It was simple enough, lacking eloquence and rhetorical flourish. Williams began to praise God, naming the qualities of the Almighty. Then he began to pray that Savage would be a broken man!

  “. . . he won’t never be a whole man, Lord, until he’s been broken, so break him! That life in him, that strength, it’s got to die before he can be the man you want him to be! Even Jesus had to die, so that sinners like me could live! Every seed’s got to fall into the ground and die before it brings forth life! He’s hangin’ on to his own strength, Lord, but I’m asking you to break him down so he ain’t got no strength! He ain’t got no show, Lord God, in the flesh! He can’t help that poor woman, and he can’t help himself! But I know that you can save him—and you can show him how to save that woman he loves so much! So give him faith, Lord, faith to believe in you . . .”

  As the words rolled over him, something began to happen inside of Savage. He had always been a strong man, priding himself on his strength. He had taken his beatings, but he’d never quit, never given up. Every problem that came to him, he’d put his head down, gritted his teeth, and run right at it.

  But as Williams prayed, from deep inside somewhere, a hard knot began to form, and as clearly as words carved in brass, he knew the truth: You’re not going to win. You’re going to lose. You’re not strong enough to handle this thing. So you will either have faith in God—or you will lose all that is precious to you!

  Savage began to tremble and was so shaken by the thing that had come to him that he didn’t even know when Williams removed his hands, didn’t even hear the final words of the preacher, or the soft sound of the door closing.

  Ben wanted to run, but he could not get to his feet. He began to tremble, his hands shaking so badly that he clasped them together to try to control them.

  And then he began to weep.

  He had never cried much, even as a child. He’d learned to clamp down on his emotions, to fight off anything that threatened to destroy the wall he kept before the world.

  But now, the wall was crumbling. He felt the hot tears, and without conscious thought, he slipped to his knees. Placing his hands on the bed, he buried his face in them and was swept by the release of grief that followed. He tried to hold back, but then something inside him snapped, and it was like a dam breaking!

  He began to utter great sobbing, choking gasps, and his shoulders shook as though he were being twisted by a giant’s hand. He didn’t try to pray, for he didn’t know how. He heard no voice, but he was aware that he was being dealt with by no less than God. Finally he slumped to the floor and lay there weeping for a long time.

  Eventually, the wild storm of grief began to pass, and in its place came a quiet sensation. He lay there, not moving, not wanting to move. He had been so tense that the relief that swept over him was like coming out of a storm into a quiet harbor.

  Then he began to pray.

  He prayed for himself, for in that moment, he saw his need of God. He saw the waste of his past life, and for some time, he spoke to God, asking for forgiveness. And then he waited. As he lay there in the darkness, he began to remember the Scriptures Dani had spoken to him over and over. He had not realized how powerful the Scriptures were, nor how she had made them a part of his mind.

  But they were there:

  Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.

  He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.

  This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.

  The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

  Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.

  For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.

  As Ben lay there, it seemed that he could almost hear Dani’s voice speaking these and other Scriptures. They came slowly, and all spoke of Jesus Christ.

  Finally that passed—and Savage knew he was standing at the crossroad of his life.

  He knew he would either say yes to God and call on him for mercy—or he would say no and live the rest of his life not knowing God. He had no proof, but it was as if God were saying, I’ve spoken to you. I’m asking you to trust me, to have faith in me. Now—what will you do with my son, Jesus?

  Savage began to feel a dark shadow of doubt rising—one he’d lived with for most of his life.

  And with that shadow beginning to close in, he made his choice.

  “Oh, God—” he whispered. “I’m afraid—afraid of lots of things! But most of all—I’m afraid I’ll miss everything if I don’t come to you right now! So I’m asking you to take me just like I am! I can’t be good enough—but I’m asking you to clean me up and let me be a Christian!” He began to weep, but softly this time, and he shook his head. “Save me, God—for I’m asking it. And I ask it in the name of Jesus!”

  As soon as he prayed that prayer, Savage began to grow very quiet. He’d heard of people shouting when they found God, but it was not like that with him. He came off his knees and stood to his feet. His knees felt weak, so he sat down on the bed. His thoughts had been wild and uncontrolled, but now they seemed to be very quiet and regular.

  He sat there for a long time, and finally he began to pray, this time aloud. He told God how weak he was, but said, “I’ll serve you as best I can. But I won’t be able to do a thing—not unless you help me. I don’t know anything much about the Bible—and I can’t seem to learn it. You’ll have to teach me how to study it.”

  He was not at all self-conscious as he sat there in the darkness praying. He would have felt foolish a short time ago, praying aloud, but now it seemed natural and somehow, very right.

  Finally, he walked to the window and looked outside, thinking of what he had done. And without effort of any kind, a memory came to him. He remembered something that he had heard Bejay Guidry say about Dax Fontenot:

  He told a friend of mine that Lady Detective .38 she carries won’t help her if she don’t stop poking her nose in his business!

  Savage’s back suddenly grew rigid. He stood there, thinking hard, and then whispered aloud, “Fontenot couldn’t have known the gun Dani carried was a Lady Detective—not unless she showed it to him—and Dani never showed that gun to anyone!”

  He stood there thinking hard, and came up with only one conclusion. “It has to be Fontenot! The only way he could have known what kind of gun she carried was if he took it away from her!”

  And then he thought, It’s just like God told Leon—I already had the answer!

  He moved quickly, retrieving the Colt from under the pillow and shoving it into the shoulder holster. He put on his coat, then dialed the number of the station. When he asked for Lieutenant Catlow and was told that he was off duty, he said, “Tell him that Savage called—and that he was going to talk to Dax Fontenot.”

  He hung up and dialed Ellen. As soon as she answered; he said, “I think I’ve got a lead, Ellen. Tell Sixkiller if I don’t call in a few hours to hunt up a guy named Dax Fontenot.” He paused, then added, “I want to tell you, Ellen—I gave myself to God tonight.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Ellen began to weep but said through her tears, “Go find her, Ben!”

  Then he hung up and moved to the door.

  But when his hand touched the knob, he stopped short.

  I may have to use a gun on Fontenot!

  And then he knew more about the struggle Dani had had—the difficulty of serving God when it involved using force.

  But he suddenly thought of how the message from God-delivered by Leon Williams—had been true.

  “God, I can’t think you’d help me figure out where Dani was unless you wanted me to help her—”

  He stood there in the darkness, doubt creeping over him—and then he threw it off. “Lord, you know best. I think you want me to go to Dani, and I’m asking you to let me get her free without killing anybody!”


  He waited for one moment, and when the doubts seemed to flee, he stepped outside and closed the door. As he got into his car and headed for Annie’s Place, he seemed to hear Ellen’s voice, echoing:

  Go find her, Ben!

  17

  Escape!

  * * *

  Dani Ross was a woman of deep emotions, but they lay buried beneath an orderly surface. Years of training as an accountant had brought this to her, and she had fallen into the habit of treating life’s problems as she had treated problems in her earlier profession.

  “When you’ve got things that don’t add up in the books,” she had often said, “all you have to do is go over them. The answer is there—you just have to find it.”

  But this swamp was not a set of books. It operated on a far different set of laws than those that controlled accounting processes. Here life and death were close together. There was no “answer” when a thick-bodied cottonmouth moccasin sank his fangs into your calf and pumped his venom into your bloodstream. Gallons of white-out would not allow a second chance. Nor could you show a bull gator the error of his ways with a chart of figures if he seized you and started pulling you into some dreadfully deep den!

  “There has to be a way to get out of here,” Dani said forcefully. “This is a big bayou, but people come here to fish and hunt. Planes do fly over.”

  She began to wonder how she might attract the attention of someone who came close. Make a fire, a smoke signal? A grim smile touched her lips as she argued aloud, “Have to burn the cabin down—and then what if nobody noticed? Not a good idea, Ross!”

  She eyed the span of open water and considered trying to make it to solid land. “Not too deep in spots—” she said slowly. “Maybe go from one tree to another.”