by Al Lacy
By the time Deena had the table set and had put supper on, the bleeding had almost stopped.
While they were eating supper, Deena ran her gaze from one foster parent to the other. “Are you going to let me go to school?”
Ralph frowned at her. “There’s too much work to do on the farm. You don’t have time to go to school.”
Her eyes scrunched up with disappointment. A flicker of displeasure skittered across her stony features.
Ralph’s face reddened and the veins in his temples stood out. “You’re not thinking of showing some kind of rebellion, are you?”
Norma and Rex watched Deena closely as she lowered her head slightly and looked down at the table. “No, sir.”
“Good,” Ralph said. “You’d wish you hadn’t.”
Later that night, Deena lay in her bed and wept as she thought of Donna. She had known since she and Donna were very small that identical twins had a special mysterious link between them. Their mother had explained that this link began when they were in her womb, and that the link would grow stronger as they grew older. She gave them examples of other identical twins who had found that even when they were far apart, they sensed how things were going for each other.
Wiping tears on the sheet, Deena felt that Donna was happy, but she also sensed that Donna missed her very much.
Deena finally cried herself to sleep.
The next morning at the breakfast table, Ralph was giving instructions to Rex about a cleaning job that he and Deena were to do in the barn that morning.
Norma noticed that Deena had tears in her eyes. “Deena, what are you crying about?”
Deena sniffed and wiped tears. “I miss Donna almost more than I can stand. Would you and Mr. Dexter help me to find out where she is? I … I just have to know.”
Ralph snapped, “You’ve got to forget your sister, Deena! I want you to concentrate on fitting into this family.”
“But—but, I can’t forget Donna. I desperately need to find out where she is so one day soon I can go there and see her. I must see her!”
Ralph shook his head vigorously. “Seeing Donna would just make it harder on both of you, especially when you parted again. It’s far better just to face the fact that you will never see your twin again and to concentrate on getting on with your life.”
Deena wanted to say that she had no life—just a miserable existence—but she refrained.
After Deena did the dishes—in spite of her cloth-wrapped hands—she cleaned up the kitchen. When that was done, she stepped off the back porch and headed for the barn, where she knew Rex was waiting for her.
After her first Sunday in church at Wild Horse and having heard the gospel preached in both morning and evening services, Donna Mitchell was under conviction of her lost condition.
That night, after arriving home, Donna and the Talberts went to the kitchen for a snack. Ken sat down at the table and waited quietly for the ladies to prepare it. While Donna was helping Molly make sandwiches at the cupboard, Molly noticed that the girl seemed upset. She put an arm around her shoulder. “Donna, are you disturbed because you’re missing Deena?”
Donna nodded and looked at her. “Yes, Mama, but at the moment something else is bothering me more.”
“What is it, honey?”
Tears filled Donna’s eyes. “Oh, Mama, I know I’m lost and on the road to hell. I want to be saved.”
“Well, you can settle that right now.”
“You sure can,” said Ken, rising from the chair. “I’ll go get my Bible.”
When he returned to the kitchen, Ken found both ladies sitting at the table, waiting for him.
He sat down next to Donna, laid his Bible before her, already opened to John 3. He pointed out once more about the necessity of being born again, then went over the Scriptures that showed that a person is born again by receiving Jesus into his or her heart. When Donna assured him she understood this, he took her to three different passages where the Bible says a lost sinner must repent of his or her sin in order to be saved.
“Let me show you one other verse on the subject, honey.” As he spoke, he turned to 2 Peter 3. “Look at verse 9. ‘The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.’
“Repentance is simple, Donna. It is acknowledging to God that you have sinned against Him and have been an unbeliever, but that now you believe His gospel, and are turning from your sin and the road that leads to hell unto Him. This means a 180-degree turn from whatever religion or philosophy you’ve been embracing and that you are putting your trust in the Lord Jesus and Him alone to save your soul and forgive your sins. Now, according to verse 9, here, if you don’t come to repentance, you will perish. To perish is to go to hell. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good. Jesus said in John 6:37, ‘him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.’ So when you turn in repentance from your sin and unbelief and come to Jesus, He will save you.” He then flipped more pages. “Look over here in Romans 10:13. ‘For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.’ So what do you have to do to be saved?”
“I have to believe that God’s only begotten Son shed His blood and died for me on the cross and turn in repentance to Him, even as the pastor said in both sermons today. I must trust Jesus and Him alone to save me and forgive me of all my sins. I must call on Him, acknowledging that I am a guilty, lost sinner, ask Him to save me, and receive Him into my heart.”
Molly had tears in her eyes. “So what are you going to do now, sweetie?”
A smile spread over Donna’s face. “I’m going to do what I just said I have to do. Will you help me?”
Together, Ken and Molly had the joy of leading Donna to Jesus. Ken then explained that her first step of obedience now that she was saved was to be baptized, as Jesus commanded. He showed her the Scriptures on the subject.
“I’ll walk the aisle next Sunday morning—like that teenage boy did this morning—and tell the pastor I received Jesus as my Saviour tonight, and that I want to obey His first command after salvation and be baptized.”
Both Talberts hugged their foster daughter, telling her how glad they were that she was now a child of God.
“I am too,” said Donna, wiping happy tears from her cheeks.
Ken looked at Molly, then set misty eyes on Donna. “Honey, your mama and I have been talking about it, and we would like to adopt you. We want to give you our name and make you our daughter by legal adoption. How would that be with you?”
Donna’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I would love that! I have come to love you both so very much.”
“Wonderful!” Ken said while Molly kissed Donna’s cheek. “I’ll talk to the judge in town and get things moving toward legal adoption.”
After more hugs, Donna said, “Now that I’m saved, I am concerned for Deena. I want her to be saved. I … I sense that Deena is very unhappy. Mama, Papa?”
“Yes, dear?” said Molly.
“Would—would you take me back to Salina so I could find the Dexter farm and see Deena? I want to tell her about my being saved and see if she will open her heart to Jesus. I also just want to have some time with her.”
“Honey, we certainly want you to see Deena again,” Ken said, “and of course, we’d love to see her saved; but it will be a good while before we’ll have the time to do this. I promise you though, that as soon as it is possible, we’ll take you to see Deena.”
“I understand, Papa, that you are very busy with the ranch. I won’t pester you about taking me to see Deena. Whenever you have the time, it will be fine.”
“In the meantime,” said Molly, “we just need to pray that the Lord will bring Deena to Himself. And we also need to pray that if she is as unhappy as you sense she is that the Lord will take care of the problem.”
“Yes, Mama,” Donna said.
Chapter Twelve
He was on a lofty road of soft dirt, following the telltale hoof-prints along a ridge of blue granite on the side of a mountain, when he spotted them some two hundred yards below. They were getting off their horses beside a creek, where Bostin was sure they would make camp. He was relieved to see that the boy was still with them.
Some three or four hundred feet ahead of him the mountain broke off sharply, offering a magnificent view of the road as it descended into the valley amid towering pines, and numberless deep-shadowed, sunken gorges. Moving the gelding as close to the granite wall as possible, he guided him quickly downward, wanting to stay completely out of sight from Shad Gatlin and Bart Caddo. This was a race with death, for he was sure Gatlin would kill Johnny when he thought he and Caddo were safely out of the law’s reach.
Soon he came to a wide spot, where a stand of pines spread out on the mountain side of the road. He was now within a hundred yards of the spot where the outlaws were making camp beside the creek.
Quickly, Bostin dismounted and led the gelding into the stand of pine trees. He tied the reins to one of the trees, rushed back to the edge of the road, and flattened himself on the ground. Peering over the edge, he observed Gatlin and Caddo as they built a fire while the boy stood close by, looking on. Both outlaws were cautiously glancing up toward the road periodically to see if anyone was following them.
Down beside the babbling creek, Johnny Smith stood over the outlaws, who were now kneeling beside the fire. As Shad Gatlin set a full coffeepot on stones over the flames, Johnny said with a shaky voice, “Mr. Gatlin, won’t you please let me go? I need to get back to Colorado Springs so I can catch the next orphan train. Like I told you before, I really want to find out where my friends were taken so I can catch up to them.”
Gatlin raised his eyes to the boy and gave him a thorny look. “I told you to shut up about askin’ me to let you go. I’m not so sure Sheriff Bostin won’t come after us. You’ve my insurance for gettin’ away, and I’m keepin’ you with us while we’re travelin’.”
Johnny’s face twisted up. “But—but—”
“But what?”
“Well … last night when we camped by that lake, and you and Mr. Caddo thought I was asleep, I wasn’t. I … I heard you tell him you were gonna kill me when you—when you didn’t need me anymore.”
The outlaws exchanged glances over the fire.
“Please, Mr. Gatlin,” Johnny said, “please don’t kill me.”
Gatlin jumped to his feet, his face hardened with irritation. “I told you to shut up! Stop that whinin’!”
“But, Mr. Gatlin, I don’t want to die! Please! Don’t kill me!”
Gatlin’s thick hand lashed out, and he slapped Johnny hard, knocking him down.
Up on the road, Clay Bostin felt his blood temperature rise when he saw Shad Gatlin slap the boy and knock him to the ground. Gatlin stood over him, swearing at him, and sent a swift kick to Johnny’s ribs. Johnny let out a cry and Gatlin swore at him again, telling him to shut up.
Bostin clenched his teeth and promised himself that Gatlin would pay for that. He considered the possibility of closing in on the campsite in the middle of the night and taking them by surprise, but quickly changed his mind. Those two outlaws were crafty and cautious. They no doubt would trade off keeping watch all night. He dare not try to slip up on them and fail. Johnny’s life depended on it.
At that moment, Clay heard his horse whinny. He looked around and saw a large male cougar standing on a towering boulder above the horse, hissing and swishing his tail. The horse knew the mountain lion was about to pounce on him and was straining at the reins, attempting to free himself from the tree.
Instinctively, Clay whipped out his revolver and cocked it. Suddenly he realized if he fired the gun, the outlaws would hear it and know that someone with a gun was up on the road. Gatlin just might kill Johnny even though he couldn’t be sure it was the sheriff. He was sure that he and the horse were too far away for the outlaws to have heard the whinny, but they would hear a gunshot.
“Lord,” he said, as he eased the hammer down and slid the gun into its holster, “help me to know what to do.” Abruptly the idea came to him that possibly he could frighten the cougar away if he threw a rock at him. He knew it was in cougars to instill as much fear into their prey as possible before they attacked. The beast was working this ploy at the moment, watching the horse pulling at the reins in an attempt to escape. But the ploy had almost been played out. He swished his tail faster, hissed louder, and went into a crouch, ready to pounce.
Clay picked up a fist-sized rock and hurled it at the cougar. The rock struck the big cat’s right ear. He let out a howl, shaking his head.
Clay threw another rock and hit him in the head again. The cougar howled, pivoted, leaped off the boulder, and disappeared.
Clay rushed to the horse, untied the reins from the tree, and swung into the saddle. He rode down the steep road, keeping out of sight from the campsite beside the creek below. Soon he came to a spot where he could make camp in the dense timber above the road. He guided the gelding up the sharp slope until he was clearly out of sight from the road and dismounted. Just above him to the east was a lofty peak that stood head and shoulders above the others in view.
There was a small stream cascading down the mountain, which Clay figured probably flowed into the creek below. He let the horse take a good drink, then sat down beside the stream and read a chapter from the gospel of John. Returning the Bible to the saddlebag, he sat down again on the bank of the stream, ate cold jerky and hardtack, and drank from his canteen while the sun was lowering from sight behind the massive peaks to the west. All the while, he kept an eye out for the cougar, but the big cat failed to put in an appearance.
By the time Clay had finished his simple meal and removed the saddle from his horse, evening was on the rugged land. Moments after the other peaks had quit reflecting the sunset sky, the towering snow-covered peak to the east continued to glow as if from some internal light, retaining a faint flush as darkness was falling.
Clay lay down in his bedroll and watched the peak until it finally was swallowed by the night, which set in with its dead silence. The only sound at all was the soft breeze that stirred the limbs of the pines and birches about him. The stars were now showing their light against the velvet black sky above.
Suddenly the silence split to the cry of a wolf somewhere a bit higher than where he lay. It rose strange, wild, mournful—not the howl of a prowling beast, but the wail of a male wolf, crying out for his mate.
Clay’s thoughts went to Mary. “I love you, sweetheart,” he said. “I miss you too.”
Then he spoke to his Father above. “Dear Lord, please take care of Mary. Keep her safe from all harm, and bless her as she stands beside me so faithfully. It’s no easy task being a lawman’s wife. And Lord, give me wisdom as I trail those outlaws. I must find a way to circle around in front of them and take them by surprise. Help me to do it just right, and please protect Johnny Smith in it all.”
When he had finished praying, he let his thoughts go to his pursuit of the outlaws once more. He knew he must act quickly. There was the distinct possibility that Shad Gatlin would soon think he was safe, then kill Johnny and ride on with his friend.
He fell asleep praying once more, asking God to help him rescue the boy and take the outlaws into custody.
During breakfast on the Dexter farm, Ralph chomped a biscuit, swallowed it, and took a sip of coffee. “Rex, I want you to give the chicken shed a good cleaning today. And when you’re done, make sure you put new straw down.”
Rex nodded without
comment.
Ralph took another sip of coffee and set his stern eyes on Deena. “And after you’re through with the housework, girl, I want you to help Rex at the chicken shed. It’s a big shed. Even with two of you, it’ll be a full day’s job. I’ve got work to do on the corral fence.”
Norma looked at her husband. “Honey, there’s quite a bit of housework to be done today. It might be best if Deena not handle a shovel and a pitchfork quite yet.”
Ralph frowned. “It isn’t going to take all day for her to get the housework done, I hope. Besides, her blisters are just about healed now, aren’t they?”
“They’re a lot better, yes, but I’m afraid if she works with Rex at the chicken shed, they’ll get worse again.”
Bothered because Norma was taking Deena’s part for the very first time, Ralph shook his head stubbornly. “I want her out there helping Rex no later than right after lunch. No arguments.”
Deena thought she detected a mixture of frustration and fear in Norma’s eyes. She was amazed that Norma had spoken up in her defense.
Norma set warm eyes on Deena. “I’ll help you with the housework, dear, so you’ll be ready to pitch in with Rex at the chicken shed this afternoon.”
Deena nodded silently.
That evening, as Norma moved about the kitchen, she glanced periodically out the back window. She was expecting Deena to come from her work with Rex at the chicken shed and help her with supper.
While Norma was setting the table, Deena crossed the yard and stepped up onto the back porch, unnoticed by her foster mother.
There was a small table on the back porch that held a plain porcelain pitcher and washbowl. This was where Ralph and Rex washed up before going into the house for a meal.
Deena poured the cool water into the washbowl, then leaned over it and splashed the refreshing water on her face, dousing the left cheek repeatedly. Taking up the towel that hung on a rack above the table, she carefully patted her face dry, taking particular care with the left cheek.