Beloved Enemy, The (House of Winslow Book #30)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Not me, Taylor.”

  “Why, that’s right, Winslow. You done hit the Glory Road.”

  “Yes, I have, and I hope you will too.”

  Taylor, a small, plump man with a dapper mustache, grinned at him. “Maybe you’re right. Good luck, Winslow.”

  “Thanks, Taylor.”

  “C’mon, Winslow. I got more to do today than just turning you loose.” Prentice grinned.

  “Sorry to be a trouble to you, Officer,” Winslow said. Prentice was one of the more admirable and friendly guards, and he had been a help to Josh during his stay. “I hope your boy gets better. I’ve been praying for him.”

  Prentice nodded his head and grew solemn. “I appreciate that, Josh.”

  They stepped outside and walked to the gate, where Josh found Warden Harlow Jennings waiting. Jennings shook his hand and said, “Good luck to you, Winslow.” He handed him an envelope. “There’s five dollars, and I’ve added a little something myself.”

  “Thanks, Warden. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Warden Jennings shook his head. “Don’t come back. That’s all I ask.”

  “You won’t see me anymore. Not here. But I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  Josh shook hands with the warden, then stepped outside the gate. As he walked toward the waiting bus, the cold February wind cut through his thin shirt. He looked back at the prison and prayed aloud, “God, keep me out of this place and others like it forever!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Homecoming

  Night came early in Georgia during February, and by the time Josh walked the last hundred yards toward the tall two-story house, a sickle moon was already grinning overhead. A dog rose suddenly from the porch and ran toward him, teeth bared and a low rumble in his throat.

  Josh tensed. “Steady now, steady!” he ordered. He had forgotten that his family had a dog now. Kat had written to Josh in jail, describing the strange bluish dog she had found and adopted. But what had she named it? The enormous dog growled again, baring a mouthful of teeth like a great white shark, and suddenly it came to him. “Down, Stonewall,” Josh commanded, then repeated firmly, “Stonewall, down!” The dog’s growl softened into a whine and he slunk away. Josh made his way to the house, thinking, Well, I hope that’s not the reception I can expect from the others!

  As Josh climbed the steps to the porch, he noticed that the front of the house had been freshly painted and that the windows wore new curtains. When he’d left they were still getting the old house into shape, and now it looked as though the work was almost complete. He stopped for a moment and listened. He could hear muted voices inside, which he identified easily. His little sister Kat’s voice was shriller than the rest as she demanded attention. He grinned and put his hand on the door handle, thinking, Kat should have been a boy. She’s more like one than she is a girl.

  As he opened the door, the sound of merriment spilled out, and he moved down the hall, past the parlor to his left and the stairway to his right. He stepped in front of an open door and paused, a lump rising in his throat as he took in his family. They were gathered around the large oval oak table, which was laden with bowls and dishes and glasses. His eyes went first to his father, Lewis Winslow, and he thought, He looks good. I think marriage is going to agree with him. His father was fifty-six now but looked at least ten years younger. He was a few inches shorter than Josh’s six-one, and he looked trim and tan even in the winter. He brushed his gray-tinged light brown hair back from his forehead, and his eyes squinted as he laughed at Kat’s remark.

  Sitting beside Lewis was Missouri Ann. She was taller than Lewis, strongly built and with the clearest eyes Josh had ever seen. He noticed how often her eyes went to his father, and the love she had for him was obvious.

  To Missouri Ann’s right sat Hannah, Josh’s older sister. She was thirty-one now, but like her father, could have passed for much younger. It was hard to believe she had been practically a hermit, for her brown eyes were bright now and danced with laughter, and the overhead lamp caught the reddish glints in her auburn hair. She was not a beautiful woman but had good, strong features and, as Josh well knew, a will as strong as the iron in a railroad track.

  Beside Hannah sat her new husband, Clint Longstreet. He was a tall man exactly Josh’s height, lean and muscular with sandy hair and gray-green eyes. His nose had been broken, and there was a scar on the right side of his chin. It struck Josh that he was almost as battered as his cellmate, Legs Spradlin. He admired Clint tremendously and knew that if it had not been for him, the family would probably have gone to the poorhouse in New York City. Clint was one of those men who was not highly educated but had “country smarts” and was able to do anything with his hands.

  Across from the pair sat Jenny, an eighteen-year-old beauty with dark green eyes and flaming red hair, set off by a perfect complexion. Josh remembered how spoiled she had been in New York, caring only for clothes and good times. But being thrown onto a farm in Georgia, with no resources save what the family could produce, had hewn a strength in his sister that made him proud indeed.

  Josh’s eyes went to Kat, and he smiled involuntarily. At the age of thirteen she looked more like a boy than a girl, at least from her clothing. She was wearing one of Josh’s old shirts, which was far too large, and he suspected she was wearing a pair of faded overalls beneath it. She cared nothing for clothes but loved farming, hunting, fishing, and collecting bird eggs—anything out-of-doors. Josh loved this girl with a special care, and his heart grew full as he saw the goodness and innocence in her fine gray-green eyes, the exact tint as his own.

  Josh stood listening another moment, then stepped inside, announcing loudly, “Fine thing starting supper without me!”

  Josh’s words and sudden appearance electrified the family. They all leaped to their feet and made a wild rush at him. Kat reached him first, nearly bowling him over. He picked her up and hugged her as he felt the others crowding around, thumping him on the shoulders and crying out words of welcome.

  “Well, don’t beat the poor boy to death!” Missouri Ann scolded. She pushed the others aside, big woman that she was, and took Josh’s face between her hands, pulled him forward, and kissed him soundly on the cheek. “Welcome home, son.” She and Lewis would be married soon, but she came often to help with the cooking at the Winslow house.

  Josh’s eyes grew misty at her use of the word “son.” It made him feel odd inside, and he reached out and touched her cheek. “Thanks, Ma,” he whispered.

  “Well, if we’d known you were coming, we would’ve killed a fatted calf,” Lewis said, grinning, “but you’ll just have to put up with what we’ve got.” He winked at Josh, adding, “I’m marrying a poor cook indeed, but I’ll have to make the best of it.”

  Josh found himself pulled into a chair that Clint had dragged in. He looked over the table. “I can see you’re all starving here,” he said with a smile. With pleasure he scanned the platters filled with squirrel and dumplings, pickled okra, butter beans, and corn bread. A pitcher of milk sat at each end of the table, and the smell of fresh-baked bread was rich in his nostrils.

  “What was it like in jail, Josh?” Kat demanded. She had eased herself into the chair next to his and now pulled at his sleeve until he turned to look at her. “Were there any murderers in there?”

  “Some pretty rough fellows, sweetie. Almost as rough as your dog. He about ate my backside just now.”

  “Stonewall wouldn’t hurt a fly. But what about jail?” Kat insisted. “Were there any murderers?”

  “I expect there were one or two.”

  “What were their names? Who did they kill?”

  “Kat, would you please stop asking those questions!” Lewis demanded. “Josh doesn’t want to talk about that.”

  “You’re right about that, Dad,” Josh said. “Particularly not about murderers, but I do want to tell you a few things.”

  Missouri Ann commandeered Josh’s plate and piled it high until it resembled
a miniature Mount Vesuvius. The food was steaming hot, and Josh wolfed it down, talking in between mouthfuls. He finally managed to answer all of Kat’s questions, and more than once Hannah reached over and patted his arm, as if to reassure herself that he was really there.

  “Well, now, don’t eat too much. We’ve got blackberry cobbler for dessert,” Missouri Ann declared.

  “And I picked the blackberries myself last summer. Got about ten million chiggers,” Kat said, nodding. “You should’ve seen me. I had welts all over—even on my bottom.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Jenny scolded. “You’re getting to be a young lady.” But even she could not contain a smile. “I got a few chigger bites myself that day.”

  Missouri gave him a heaping bowlful of blackberry cobbler, then poured rich, thick cream over it. He took a bite and sighed with ecstasy. “I wish my buddies in jail had some of this.”

  “Was the food pretty bad?” Clint inquired. “Some of the jails I’ve been in weren’t fit for hogs.”

  “Oh, the food wasn’t too bad. At least there was plenty of it. But nothing like this, Ma.” Josh smiled at Missouri Ann.

  While he ate his cobbler, Missouri Ann brought him a cup of steaming black coffee, and he sipped it gratefully. “The best meal I’ve had in my whole life, I do believe.” He reached up and patted Missouri Ann’s arm, and she smiled warmly at him.

  “You’d think anything was good after what you’ve been eating,” she said.

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t. I’m a better judge than that.” Josh sat quietly for a moment, then went on, “Well, it’s been tough, but like I told you in my letters, I found the Lord Jesus in there, so it was all worth it.”

  Kat blurted out, “Tell us all about it, Josh. How did you get saved?” she demanded. “Did you cry?”

  Josh smiled slowly. “Yes, I cried, and I may do it again if I start telling you about it.”

  Kat stared at him, her gray-green eyes wide. “But men don’t cry.”

  “Sure they do,” Clint said. “I do it myself sometimes.”

  Kat was amazed. She stared at Clint with a shocked expression. “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  “Next time I get ready to cry,” Clint remarked, “I’ll come and get you. Then you’ll see.”

  Lewis leaned forward. “Some of the greatest heroes who ever lived cried like babies, Kat—men like King David and Beowulf. Nothing wrong with shedding a few tears. As a matter of fact, I’ve shed a few myself. But tell us more about how you got converted, Josh. We’ve read your letters, but I’d like to hear it all over again.”

  “And don’t leave anything out!” Kat cried. “I want to hear every bit.”

  For the next half hour Josh Winslow told how he had found Christ in prison. He ended by saying, “I’m having to learn a little at a time how to follow the Lord, but I’m never turning back.”

  “That sounds so good,” Hannah said. “I knew you’d become a Christian someday, and I’m sorry you had to go to prison to do it, but that’s all behind you now.”

  “Come on, fellas, let’s go into the parlor,” Lewis said, rising. “Let these pesky females clean up the mess we’ve made and do the dishes.” He winked at Missouri Ann.

  “I’ve got half a mind to make you do them,” she said in mock indignation. “You’re settin’ a bad example for your son.” She smiled, however, and nodded. “You go on and bring Josh up to date. Us girls’ll be there soon as we can get these here dishes done.”

  “And I want to hear Amos ’n Andy at eight o’clock,” Kat chimed in.

  “I’d rather listen to Josh than any old radio program,” Jenny said firmly.

  “So would I,” Hannah agreed. “Don’t you tell anything, Josh, until we get back. You just listen, you hear?”

  Josh joined his father and Clint in the parlor. When Josh sat down, he looked at the wood stove, which glowed with a satisfying cherry color, then said, “I’d like to have had that stove in my cell. We nearly froze to death when the cold hit.”

  “It was the worst winter we’ve had in a long time. Wasn’t there any heat in those cells?” Lewis asked.

  “Not a bit. They did give us an extra blanket or two. It didn’t hurt me, though. I didn’t get sick.” And then Josh said, “Tell me all about the place here. What’s been going on?”

  Lewis began giving him the latest news, with Clint putting in a few words now and then. The essence of their report was that things were still pretty bad financially. “This depression is tough. People are hungry and men just can’t find work.”

  When the women all came in, Kat climbed up on Josh’s lap.

  “Hey, you’re not a baby anymore!” he hollered. “You’re a young lady now.”

  “It won’t hurt me to sit on your lap. Now tell me some more about the criminals in the prison.”

  Josh laughed and squeezed her. She was filling out, and he could see the promise of beauty in her youthful face. “I’ll make up some real horror stories to tell you tomorrow. For now I just want to hear about you. What have you been doing?”

  He listened as Kat described her hunt for a woodpecker’s egg, and then she looked up at the grandfather clock and said, “It’s time for Amos ’n Andy.”

  “I guess we’ll have to listen to it,” Missouri Ann said, sighing. “She loves that program.”

  After listening and laughing together over the antics of Amos and Andy, they talked for another hour. Then Jenny played the piano while they sang a few hymns and songs, and Lewis finally said, “It’s getting late. I’ll bet you’re tired; you’ve had a long day, Josh.”

  “Yes, I am pretty tired, Dad.”

  “Well, let’s all gather around and give thanks to the good Lord for bringing Josh back. And bringing him back as a member of the family of God!”

  They all stood in a circle and held hands, Kat and Jenny on either side of Josh. Jenny squeezed his hand after the amen was said. Then she reached up and kissed him. “Good night, Josh. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Kat piped up, “Tomorrow you can get up early, and we can go look for eggs.”

  Josh laughed. “All right—but only if Dad says it’s okay. I know there’s work to be done.”

  “Son, I want you to take a week off and do nothing but what you want to do.”

  “Thanks, Dad. That’s like you.”

  Josh turned and went to his room, accompanied by Missouri Ann. She opened the door and said, “I’m glad you’re home, son.” She hesitated, and he turned to her, noting the troubled look in her eyes. “What’s wrong, Ma?”

  “I … hope you don’t feel bad about me marryin’ your pa. I know I ain’t the woman your real ma was, but I’m gonna do my best.”

  Josh reached forward and put his arms around Missouri Ann. He kissed her on the cheek and smiled directly into her eyes. “You are my real ma. The Bible says two are better than one, and I’ve got two fine mothers.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she reached out and touched Josh timidly on the chest. “You’ve got to help me, son.”

  “Help you? How can I help you, Ma?”

  “I want to learn how to be genteel.”

  “Genteel! Why, you are genteel.”

  “No, I ain’t. I don’t know how to talk right, and I don’t know how to dress. I don’t know how to be with fine people. You know I was raised in the woods and never went to school. I want you to help me.”

  “Dad loves you just the way you are, and so do I.”

  Josh’s words seemed to reassure her. She straightened and laughed. “You go to bed now. I’ll come back tomorrow morning and fix you a breakfast that’ll set you free.”

  Josh smiled, and when she closed the door, he at once began to undress. He was weary, but the excitement of his homecoming had kept him going. Now when he climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over him, thoughts of his future ran through his mind, troubling him, for he could not see his way. There were no jobs to be had, and he had no skills. It was too late for him to go back to college—besides
, there was no money for such things now. He wrestled with the question of what to do with his life until weariness overtook him. He finally prayed a simple prayer and went to sleep instantly.

  ****

  “I always did like to paint,” Jenny said. She dipped her brush into the bucket and carefully applied a layer of gleaming white paint to the clapboards, which had been scraped and sanded until they were as smooth as new wood. “I wish I could make a living painting.”

  Josh was up on a ladder getting the higher parts beyond Jenny’s reach. He looked at the side they had finished and then glanced upward. “We’re going to have to get extension ladders to get the upper story.”

  “Clint painted the front a few weeks ago, but there you could stand on top of the porch. Back here, Clint said we’d have to build scaffolding.”

  Josh had gone fishing with Kat that morning, but after lunch he had joined Jenny in painting the back of the house. She was wearing a pair of worn overalls, as was Josh himself, and both had succeeded in splattering themselves with the white paint.

  “This paint’s pretty expensive, isn’t it?”

  “Dad did some work for Mr. Huntington at the general store. He goes in once in a while and helps him with his accounts. We only buy a few gallons at a time, but it’ll all be done when we get the back finished.”

  Josh climbed down the ladder, set the paint bucket down, and glanced over to where Kat was working with Clint. He had the hood of the truck up, and Kat was right there every time he tried to turn. Josh laughed and said, “Kat’s really something.”

  “She loves Clint,” Jenny said, “and he’s very partial to her. I think sometimes Kat’s jealous of Hannah. She’s jealous of anyone you like too.”

  Josh looked over with a worried expression. “Is that healthy, do you think?”

  “She’s only thirteen, and you and Dad and Clint are the only men in her life.” Jenny suddenly smiled. “That’s all that the rest of us have too.”