“This shepherd,” Jude said, looking over the crowd, “who is he? Why, he’s the Lord Jesus Christ! Just like the shepherd in the story left to find the lost sheep, Jesus left His home in heaven to find His lost sheep! I imagine His Father said, ‘Son, those humans that we made—they’ve all wandered away from the fold. Every one of them is going to die and go to hell if somebody doesn’t bring them back!’ And I expect the Lord Jesus answered, ‘Father, I love them too much to let that happen. I’ll go down there myself and get those lost sheep!’ And He took off his royal robe and laid it to one side, and He took the golden crown off His head. And while all the angels watched, He left the glory of heaven! Stepping down from star to star, He came to a stable in Bethlehem, and there He became a little baby. And the one who had had a heavenly Father but no earthly mother, now had an earthly mother but no earthly father!”
Lola was fascinated by the account of Jesus leaving heaven. She unconsciously leaned forward as Jude continued.
“But who was the poor lost lamb in the story?” He looked around and smiled a little. “Well, I reckon that was me, folks. I was the one who wandered away from the fold. And it was you, too, and every man and woman who ever lived. We all left God and went into the wilderness. I wouldn’t want to tell you the things I did when I was a lost man. I was a wicked man—a lost sheep! But Jesus found me, Praise the Lord! He came down and washed me in the blood and forgave all my sins!”
Jake Kilrain said, “Amen!” and Jude began to speak more fervently. Lola clenched her hands tightly together as he quoted many scriptures and shared several illustrations. He read one scripture, “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God,” that burned into her heart so strongly she would have left had she not feared calling attention to herself. She sat there waiting for him to finish so that she could get away, promising herself that she’d never come back.
Finally Jude lowered his voice. “How can we get right with God? That’s the big question. Well, Jesus is looking for you. He’s still the Good Shepherd. But you have to want Him like He wants you. That’s what it means to be saved, friends. When we admit we’re sinners, and when we ask God to forgive us—that’s when Jesus goes to work. He comes into our hearts, making them all clean, and then every day we get up and say, ‘Jesus—don’t let me stray off! I’m one of your sheep, so please keep me safe.’ ”
Then Jude continued, “Some of you are lost sheep this morning, just like I was. And maybe some of you are pretty miserable. If you want Jesus to forgive all your sins, wash you white as snow, and walk with you all the way to heaven—why, He’s ready! We’re going to pray now, and all you have to do to get right with the Lord God is just kneel down and ask Him to save you. Turn from your sins—then believe in Jesus, the Good Shepherd.”
Lola was suddenly caught between two great desires; her first impulse was to get out of her seat and run out of the room. But something was pulling at her—and she was afraid of it. She wanted to fall on her knees and pray, but her heart was filled with fear. There had been no war in her spirit when she had knelt before the statues in the little church in Mexico. Her hands trembled and her legs were so weak that she could hardly stand. Tears began filling her eyes, so she closed them quickly, trying futilely to ignore the emotions that pulled at her.
Moments passed, and she was aware that some were kneeling. She looked across the room to where her father knelt beside a young man and took that opportunity to leave. Jake Kilrain, seeing her turn to go, said, “Come back again, Miss Lola.”
She fled the room, almost running, and the bright sunlight blinded her as she stepped out of the dim light of the church into the street. Quickly she made her way back across town and entered the front door of her saloon with a gasp of relief. Shep and Maureen were sitting at a table eating sandwiches.
Shep said, “Hey, Lola, come and have some lunch,” but she shook her head and left the room without speaking.
“That’s odd, ain’t it now?” Shep murmured. He looked at Maureen, “I reckon Lola’s a little upset.”
“She told me she was going to hear her father preach.” Maureen turned her gaze to the doorway where Lola had disappeared. “She looked pale. I wonder what happened?”
Shep shook his heavy head. “I’d say she got too much hell-fire-and-damnation talk—but her pa ain’t in that line.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully, then mused, “Maybe she’s got religion. I’ve seen some who took it that way.”
Maureen thought about that, then shook her head. “I hope not, Shep. If she got religion, she’d have to close this place down. And I’d be back at the Wagonwheel again—or maybe worse.”
Yancy looked across at Maureen, thinking of how she’d come to work at the Union Belle. He’d found her on the street one night, knocked unconscious by some man. He’d picked her up and carried her into the Union Belle, where Lola had cared for her until she was well. She never dared to mention the name of the man who’d beaten her, but when Lola asked her to stay and work as a waitress, she’d accepted eagerly. She had worked hard, and though many men approached her, she had shown no interest at all.
Now Shep said, “Maureen, you ought to get married. This is no life for you.” He surprised himself, for he had decided long ago to let people do what they pleased. But there was something in Maureen’s quiet face that drew him, so he added, “Plenty of men would be interested.”
“I already know what men are interested in.” Maureen had an oval-shaped face, and her features were pretty, rather than beautiful. There was a playful spirit in her that she covered with a rigid manner, as if afraid to let that part of her show. Shep had noted it, however, and so had Lola, who had said once, “Shep, someone has hurt that girl so bad she cries on the inside.”
Now Yancy saw that Lola’s observation was correct, for Maureen’s lips were tight as she added, “I was excited once when a man was interested in me—but that was a long time ago, Shep.” She shook her head in an angry motion. “Now all I want is to be let alone!”
Shep said carefully, “Why, you can’t crawl into a hole and live small, Maureen!”
“It’s better than getting stepped on.”
Her words were as bitter as the angry light in her eyes, so Shep kept his answer brief. “Not all men are bad. But I guess you’ll have to learn that for yourself, Maureen.” Then he looked upstairs toward where Lola’s room was located, adding, “But I agree with you on one thing—I hope Lola don’t get religion. I’d have to go back to bouncing for Cherry if she did!”
After a while, Lola came down and Yancy could tell she was depressed. Her face was pale, and when he asked, “You feel all right, Lola?” she simply nodded.
But later that afternoon, she grew more talkative and mentioned that she had been to church.
“Good sermon?” Shep asked.
Lola shrugged her shoulders, and he saw that she was having trouble. “I guess so.” She paused, then added, “It bothered me some, Shep.”
“I guess good preaching does that, Lola. And your pa is a good one.” He studied her, then asked innocently, “You think you might join the church?”
She shook her head immediately. “No, not me.” She looked around the barroom, and there was a sadness in her dark eyes. “I guess this is where I belong, Shep. At least I know this world. Not a lot of happiness in it—but I’m safe.”
Shep bit off the end of his cigar, lit it, then said, “Know what you mean. I thought of getting religion more than once, myself. But what would a fellow like me do then, Lola?” He reached over and patted her shoulder awkwardly with his huge hand in an attempt to cheer her.
“Don’t worry about it, Lola. I guess we’ll come out as well as most.”
Her eyes looked unhappy. “Not much satisfaction in life, is there, Shep?”
He blew a puff of blue smoke at the ceiling, then said, “It sure beats the alternative!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Showdown at Fort Sanders
Cheyenne was coming awa
ke for another roaring night as Mark rode in along with Jeff and Dooley. They guided their horses down the street, threading their way through the flood of shouting men until they reached the hotel. Mark dismounted, but the other two kept their seats.
Dooley watched Winslow slide from the saddle, noting that he moved slower than usual. “You reckon you can keep out of trouble long enough for me to fill up my mouth at the cafe?” he asked. He gave Driver a sly wink, adding, “You shore done lost a step, Captain. Why, back when you was in the war, it wasn’t nothing for you to walk the company down to its ankle bones!”
Mark gave a quick grin. He face was etched and lined with fatigue—the week-long trip along the right of way had been hard on all of them. “I was younger then,” he replied. “I’m going to wash up and sleep the clock around. Put my horse up, will you?”
“See you tomorrow,” Driver said, and the two turned their horses toward the stable, leading Mark’s tired mount along. An hour later both of them pushed their way into the Wagonwheel and bellied up to the bar.
“Why don’t we go to Lola’s place?” Driver complained.
“We can go there later,” Dooley nodded. “I’m feelin’ a mite touchy, Jeff. And Lola runs such a high-toned place, I’m scared to chew tobacco or spit in there. Anyway, I want to see what the talk is—and this is the place to do it.”
“All right,” Driver nodded, “but I’m going over to the Union Belle to eat pretty soon.” The two of them lounged at the bar, listening to the conversations around them and letting the fatigue dissolve. Neither of them drank much, and it didn’t take them long to pick up on the latest gossip from Cheyenne. Driver finally motioned to Dooley and the two of them started for the door.
Lou Goldman had been sitting at a back table with Dent Conroy, watching the pair. As they started to leave, he got to his feet and made his way across the crowded floor, intercepting them. “Driver, you can drink your liquor someplace else from now on.” He had not forgotten that Driver had pulled a gun on him, and had primed himself to make the man crawl.
Driver halted, turned to face the gunman, and said, “I’ll drink where I please, Lou. You know that.”
The wiry frame of Goldman tensed, and several men scurried out from behind him. Goldman was a sinister figure with his white hair and pale hazel eyes, but Driver didn’t flinch. He had heard stories of the man’s skill with a gun, and while he was not afraid, he grew very watchful.
“You can do your drinking at the Union Belle,” Goldman said. He grinned and taunted Driver, “You been runnin’ around after Lola like a love-sick kid. Everybody knows that.”
“Keep your mouth shut, Goldman,” Driver returned at once.
Goldman grinned more broadly. It was the kind of situation he liked, and he gave a look around the crowd. “Why, you boys see what he’s doin’, don’t you? He’s trying to pick a fight with me. Now I don’t stand for that—besides, everybody knows what kind of a woman Lola is.” He watched Driver’s lips tighten, and added, “Why, I can tell you about Lola. She . . . !”
“Goldman! You’re a dog!” Driver said. His left hand hovered over the gun at his side, and his eyes narrowed. The music in the bar broke off quickly, and the place was filled with sudden movement as men scrambled to scurry from behind the two men.
A silence fell on the room, and once again the people of Cheyenne waited for trouble. There was no doubt about Goldman’s intentions, for he was rigid and ready to draw. But he drew the moment out, saying, “Well, boys, there it is. Driver just won’t have it any other way. Go on and make your pull, you joker! It’ll be the last thing you ever do!”
“Hold on, Lou!”
Cherry Valance appeared from behind Goldman. He put himself between the two men. “Get out, Driver.”
Goldman protested in a stern voice, “Cherry, don’t interfere!”
“I’m the boss, Lou,” Cherry shot back, then said, “Everything’s under control folks—you can go back to what you were doing. Start up the music, Larry!” The band broke into a lively tune, and as the crowd, deprived of action, turned to other things, Valance said, “Come on, Lou.”
Goldman followed him sullenly, watching as Driver and Young went out the door. He threw himself down in a chair, slammed his fist on the table and cursed. “Why didn’t you let me nail him?” he demanded.
Valance was cool as he sat down. His smooth face was unruffled as he began to deal himself a hand of solitaire. “Because I don’t want to get Winslow stirred up. If you shot his man, he’d pull the place down inside an hour.”
“I can handle Winslow!”
“You can handle Driver, maybe, but Winslow’s another story.” He lifted his eyes to glance across the room. “As long as he leaves us alone, we’re all right. But if things break, I want Winslow to go first, not Driver or anyone else!”
Cherry sat there idly for the next hour until he saw Hayden enter. Getting to his feet, he went to meet him. “Come to my office, Ray,” he said quietly. “Got something for you.”
Hayden followed him and when they were alone, Cherry pulled out a bottle and motioned to a chair. “Have a seat, Ray—and a drink.”
“All right.” Hayden was wearing an expensive suit, and there was a new diamond stickpin in his tie.
“How were things in Boston?” Cherry asked, taking a drink.
Hayden drained the glass, picked up the bottle and filled it again. “Busy. Things are a mess for the Union. Brigham Young is giving them some ultimatums. It looks like either Dodge or Reed will have to go deal with the old goat.”
“What’s their schedule look like?” Cherry demanded. “Wallford’s gone someplace, sniffing around, but he’ll want to know what you’ve got as soon as he gets back.”
“Depends on what happens when Durant and Dodge lock horns. Did you know Grant’s coming to referee that meeting?”
“No.”
“Fact. He’s on his way to Fort Sanders now. Reed and Dodge are there, and Durant rode out on the same train I took.” He studied Valance, then said, “I need some cash.”
Cherry walked over, opened his safe, and came back with an envelope. “Wallford said to give you this. He wants to know the possible trouble spots up ahead. I think he’s got the idea of planting troublemakers in the crews.”
Ray stuffed the bills in his pocket carelessly, then got up. “Guess I’ll play a little poker.”
Valance smiled. “Better go see that lady of yours first, Ray. I’d bet she wouldn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Hayden laughed. “Make her wait, Cherry. Women love a man who won’t give in to them.”
He left the room. “Fool!” Valance muttered as he went back to close the safe. He knew that Hayden would lose most of the money he had received at the poker table; he always did. He and Wallford had agreed to pay him well for that reason.
After they had left the Wagonwheel, Jeff and Dooley shouldered their way along the packed street to the Union Belle. The place was crowded, so they took a table over against the wall. Dooley eased back in his chair, noted that Lola was dealing blackjack, then said, “Well, Jeffrey, that was somewhat of a tight squeak. That Goldman was primed and set to fire.”
“Wonder why Cherry stopped it?” Jeff asked.
“He ain’t ready for the balloon to go up, son. It wasn’t no act of charity, not that sucker! Now Goldman ain’t got no sense. Why, if brains was dynamite, he wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose! But Valance is slick—and tough, too. Puttin’ him down would be like putting a wildcat in a croaker sack.”
Driver sat there, listening idly to Dooley ramble on, but his eyes kept returning to Lola. Dooley noticed the direction of Driver’s gaze, but said nothing. Finally Lola rose from the table to join them. Both of them stood up as she took her seat, and as they sat down, she said, “Jeff, I just heard about the trouble you had with Lou Goldman.”
Driver shook his head and smiled. “No trouble, Lola.”
“That’s not what Bob Horton said.” Lola’s lips were pressed ti
ghtly together as she added, “He said that you got into a row with Goldman over me and that there would have been a shooting if Cherry hadn’t stopped it.”
“Why, Lola, it wasn’t—”
“Jeff, listen to me,” Lola said intently. “Don’t try to keep men from talking about me—especially Goldman. Don’t you realize he was just using that for an excuse to get even with you?”
“Maybe so,” Jeff admitted. “But I won’t tolerate that kind of talk about you.”
Lola leaned back and studied Driver. He was an attractive man, his dark features regular and rugged. There was a stubbornness in him she admired, and a sense of humor as well, but she wished that he would not pursue her so doggedly. She sought for a way to tell him it was hopeless, but nothing came to her. Finally she shook her head and gave up. “Where have you all been for the last few days?”
“You bring her up to date, Jeff,” Dooley said, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go play me some cards.” He left the two and went to the poker table, where he played a leisurely game. He won a few dollars, but his mind remained on Jeff Driver. He watched the two talk, then Driver finally got up and left the room. Hate to see him riding for a fall, Dooley thought as he left the table. But it’s plumb clear that Lola’s not got him on her mind.
He encountered Shep Yancy, and the two talked for a while. “Town’s pretty much wide open,” Yancy said. “I been expecting Mark to put a stop to some of it, but he ain’t.”
“Been gone for a week,” Dooley nodded. “Maybe he’ll take care of that chore now he’s back.” He yawned and said, “I’m so tired you could scrape it off with a stick!”
“Go on up to my room,” Yancy said.
“Don’t want to put you out.”
“I’m leaving as soon as we close down. Going over to Benton.”
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