“Expect I better be leaving then.”
“No. We just need to think this thing through. How about I give you enough money to help you get back on your feet? Set yourself up in business somewhere out of state. With that talent of yours, you’ll turn things around in no time.”
Charlie had heard enough and angrily stood up. “You Wisslers think that all you have to do is throw money at a problem and it will go away. Running away from here will never clear my name. Folks will always think I’m guilty and that I’m no better than my daddy. I was hoping my best friend would take my side, but it looks like I was wrong. Sorry to bother you.”
Frank followed after Charlie, apologized for not sounding supportive, and begged him to stay. “Let’s go talk to Uncle John and see what he has to say.”
Reluctantly, Charlie accepted Frank’s offer. He figured at this point things couldn’t get any worse.
“I’ll drive us over there,” said Frank, pointing to his automobile. “Keep thinking about Cilla. She’s been real cool toward me lately and it just seems real strange that she didn’t say a word about the missing money.”
When they arrived at the dairy farm, John and his foreman, Buster Funkhouser, were standing outside the barn engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion.
“This might not be a good time,” said Charlie.
“They always talk like that. Come on.”
John and Buster stopped their conversation when they saw Frank and Charlie coming toward them.
“Hey, Uncle John.”
“Charlie Polk, we were just talking about you,” said John.
Charlie’s heart dropped into his socks thinking that news of his alleged thievery was already getting around. He was relieved when John reached out to shake his hand.
“What’s going on?” asked Frank.
“Some of the cows have stopped giving milk,” said Buster. “We were having a little disagreement over why that might be. John seems to think that I’ve been feeding them wrong. I say that they're too old to produce. Dried up.”
“Let me have a look,” said Charlie, who then turned to walk inside the barn.
The men watched as Charlie strolled from cow to cow and were amused when he started to talking to them as if he had known them all his life. From the opposite side of the barn Charlie called out, “How much exercise do you give them?”
John looked at Buster for an answer. “Let them out for a few hours about every other day.”
“That’s your problem, right there. They need to be let out every day and not for just a few hours. These girls ain’t dried up. They’re just unhappy.”
Although John was pleased with Charlie’s advice, Buster was not. He had gotten caught sluffing off in his work responsibilities. Buster had learned that he could cut corners since John was a relative newcomer to dairy farming.
“Charlie, have you had that meeting yet with the Governor?” asked John.
“No, sir. Can’t say that I have.”
“What can I do for you fellers?”
“Charlie is interested in coming to work at Strathmore,” said Frank.
“Is that right?”
Buster liked Charlie but saw him as a threat. He was well aware of Charlie’s good reputation with livestock. “Got all the help we need around here.”
“Now, Buster. I believe that those decisions are mine to make. How about you get started on getting the cows out to pasture?”
Frank began the discussion on Charlie’s behalf and told as much as he knew about the incident at the Miller farm and then Charlie filled in the remaining details. “I wouldn’t have risked coming here if I wasn’t completely innocent and I know what folks think of my daddy. But I ain’t like him and never will be. Somebody set me up and the good Lord willing, the truth will someday be known.”
John thought long and hard about what he should do. He was convinced that Charlie was the most capable veterinarian in the Valley but now worried about the risk involved in hiring a man who had been labeled a thief. “Charlie, if I do hire you, and I am not saying that I will, then the kind of work that you’ve been doing over at the Millers will radically change. We can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Harry stopping by for you to fix whatever’s ailing their animals. When you work for the Wisslers, you don’t work for anybody else.”
Charlie had heard enough. He had all the humiliation he could handle. “Thanks for your time. Mr. Wissler. Frank, if you’ll just give me a ride back to your house, I’ll be on my way.”
“How about we do this?” said John scratching his head. “I’ll give you a job here working under Buster, but all of your work will be behind the scenes. When visitors come, you need to get out of sight. Me and Buster will be watching you carefully and if there is even the slightest sign of misconduct you’ll get your walking papers. If, in time, we see that you’re on the right path, then we’ll give you more latitude. How about it?”
The gist of John’s offer, from Charlie’s perspective, was grunt work at the bottom of the barrel. He saw the irony in the fact that he was accused of stealing money from Russell Miller, but the only thing that was really stolen was his good name.
“Better take it, Charlie,” said Frank. “Not many folks right now who will be willing to take a chance on you. Take the job and make the best of it.”
Charlie sighed and then accepted the offer. “I’ll just need a little time to find a place to live.”
“Like I said, you need to stay out of sight. We’ll get you a place here.”
Buster cringed when he heard that Charlie had been hired, but he was pleased with the knowledge that Charlie’s work assignments were to come directly from him. His interpretation of John Wissler’s instructions was to keep Charlie ‘out of sight and out of mind.’ He was more than happy to oblige.
Chapter VIII - Rebirth
The Deadline – June 7, 1919
Charlie was on pins and needles. In less than 24 hours, Mable would get her sign from God and he would finally have his answer. He had so much to tell her and he hoped that she had not heard about the trouble he encountered at the Miller farm. Fortunately, according to his limited sources, nobody was talking about it. Even Cilla was quick to change the subject when Frank brought it up, so maybe Russell Miller had second thoughts about his rush to judgment.
His work responsibilities at Strathmore were very similar to those at the Polk farm. The only major differences were that cows were milked by state of the art electric milking machines and, due to the significantly larger herd, there was a whole lot more dung to be shoveled.
Early that morning, John dropped by to announce that he and his brother were headed to Richmond on business and that they would return on Monday. Meanwhile, Buster and Charlie were to try out the new tractor.
With the morning chores finally complete Buster invited Charlie to follow him on the old tractor to cut hay down by the river. As they headed into the field, Buster decided to have a little fun and yelled, “Watch this.” He quickly pulled away from Charlie and rushed up a hill with reckless abandon. Not long after he disappeared from site, Charlie heard a crash and fearing the worst he hurried to see what happened.
Once over the hill he saw the new tractor laying on its side, wheels still spinning, and Buster lying on the ground about twenty feet away. It didn’t take long to assess the severity of the situation. The foreman was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a head wound.
Charlie tore off his shirt and ripped off sufficient cloth to make a bandage then checked again to make sure that Buster was still breathing. Although he was skilled at caring for sick and injured animals, Charlie was ill-prepared to give Buster the medical attention he needed.
He rushed to the barn to get help, but when he could find no one there, he began to panic. Somehow he had to find a way to get Buster to a doctor. Then he saw a farm truck parked by the barn which he concluded was his only hope, but even that presented a problem because the only vehicle he had ever driven was a tractor. No ti
me to worry about that, he thought as he opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.
Aside from a few anxious moments of grinding gears and stopping and starting, Charlie headed back to the scene of the accident. When he got there, he was relieved to see that Buster was still alive. He quickly covered the truck bed with straw and feed sacks and then lifted Buster onto the makeshift bed.
It took him nearly thirty minutes to arrive at Doc Koontz’s office in Mt. Jackson and Buster remained unconscious all the way. Charlie called upon a man standing on the street to keep watch on Buster while he ran inside to get the doctor.
“Was afraid you might not be in the office today,” said Charlie as he led the doctor to the truck bed.
“Made my rounds this morning,” said Doc Koontz.
As the doctor proceeded with the examination, a small crowd of curiosity seekers watched.
“I think I saw him move,” said one of them.
“He ain’t budged,” said another.
“You all pipe down,” said the doctor uncomfortable performing in front of an audience. “Show the man a little respect and be on your way.”
“Can you get him to the hospital in Woodstock?” asked the doctor while applying a proper bandage to his head wound.
“Sure.”
“I’ll call ahead and they’ll be expecting you. Be careful, I hear there’s a powerful storm heading our way.”
Once on Valley Pike, Charlie headed north toward Hand Hospital in Woodstock, the only such facility in the area. Behind him, he could see storm clouds forming over the mountain and the wind was already beginning to pick up.
As he raced toward his destination, he again thought about Mable and her imminent decision. He even said a little prayer and asked God to think kindly of him. Can’t take any more, Lord. Please take away my troubles.
As he pulled into the hospital driveway, he could see a man standing in front of the building, waving in his direction. He stopped the truck, opened the door, and hurried to check on his injured passenger.
“You made good time,” said the man while an assistant ran out the hospital door carrying a stretcher. “We’ll take it from here.”
This was Charlie’s first visit to a hospital and he had no idea what to expect. He parked the truck and stood outside for a while staring at the growing mass of black storm clouds and then he went inside.
“Charlie? What are you doing here?” asked a familiar voice.
“Mama?”
“How did you know about your daddy?”
“What do you mean?”
“They think you’re daddy had a heart attack.”
“I’m here with a fella who got hurt on the farm. First I’ve heard about Daddy.”
“Hey, Charlie,” said his sister, Lizzy giving him a hug. “You want to go see him?”
“One look at me would likely kill him. I’ll keep my distance, thank you.”
A nurse entered the room and asked, “Who’s here with Mr. Funkhouser?”
“That would be me,” said Charlie.
“Follow me, please. Doctor wants to talk to you.”
It occurred to Charlie that this was the first time he had ventured off the farm in the ten days since coming to work for the Wisslers. He was grateful that nobody had pointed him out as a thief.
“Do you know what time it is?” he asked the nurse, counting the hours until Mable got her sign from God.”
“About 4:30.”
“Thought it might be later than that. Looks like nighttime outside.”
“From what I hear we may be spending the night here.”
Charlie hoped that the nurse meant that the staff was required to spend the night. Mable would be expecting him for church in the morning.
The nurse drew back a curtain revealing Buster Funkhouser, who had been cleaned up and was resting in a hospital bed.
“Dr. Blair will be here in a minute,” said the nurse and then she closed the curtain behind her.
That one minute she promised lasted nearly an hour. All the while, Charlie stared at Buster, and from time to time he checked to make sure he was breathing.
Finally, the doctor arrived but made no apology for his tardiness. Charlie told him everything he knew about the incident and then the doctor excused himself and said, “Be back in a minute.”
Not surprisingly, that minute turned into yet another hour which he spent listening to rain pounding on the roof and people discussing the rapidly deteriorating road conditions. It occurred to him that it was strange that he had tried to save the life of the man that his daddy had once tried to kill. Even more curious was that both men were now ailing at the same time and in the same place.
Finally the doctor returned. “Does Mr. Funkhouser have family?”
“Never heard him talk about family. All I’ve heard is that his wife died a long time ago. How is he?”
“He’s hanging on, but barely.”
“So you don’t expect that he’s going to make it?”
“Barring a miracle, no I don’t.”
Charlie recalled his conversations with Buster about his daddy. If the doctor’s diagnosis was correct, then Buster would go to his grave as he had vowed without revealing his secret regarding Bill Polk’s hatred for his son.
The rain continued to pour as did the thoughts in Charlie’s mind, darting from one problem to another: Mable’s answer; Buster’s condition; Russell’s false accusations; his father’s hatred. Maybe it was fatigue from all that thinking or possibly it was the rhythm of the falling rain, but eventually, he fell into a deep sleep.
The Revelation – June 8, 1919
When Charlie awoke, there was only a faint light in the room and he struggled briefly to make sense of where he was. Moments later he saw someone pass by carrying a candle causing him to conclude that the storm had knocked out the power. Suddenly he had an awful sinking feeling when he realized that he had fallen asleep and lost track of the time.
Charlie pulled back the curtain and summoned a nurse. “Do you know the time?”
She held her watch near a candle. “2:15.”
“It’s already Sunday?”
“Sunday, the 8th of June.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“You won’t get far. Valley Pike is flooding and the side roads aren’t any better. The worst of the storm is still to come. They say we haven’t seen anything like this in fifty years.”
“Got to try anyway.”
“It can’t be done. Stay here where it’s safe.”
Telling Charlie Polk that something couldn’t be done was like telling him, ‘go ahead and do it.’
“You leaving?” asked the nurse.
“Going to try.”
“You’ll be sorry, but here, take this,” she said handing him a lighted candle.
Just as he headed out the door, a loud clap of thunder startled him. He looked back at the nurse and she was shaking her head in disbelief. Charlie smiled then proceeded cautiously down the dark corridor that led to the lobby.
The candlelight in the room revealed the silhouettes of other stranded visitors attempting to sleep in very uncomfortable cane back chairs. Among them, he could see that his mother and sister remained.
As he neared the front door, a man whispered to him. “Don’t be opening that door.”
Charlie looked to his right and saw a man stretched out in a chair with the back of his head resting against the wall.
“Ain’t fit for man nor beast. Tried to get out a bit ago. Can’t be done. Might as well grab a chair and wait it out like the rest of us.”
Still not fully persuaded Charlie looked out the window for some sign of hope but there was none. All he could see was darkness and rain droplets on the window. Coming to grips with the severity of the storm he found an empty chair and settled in for the night. “Hope Mable is alright,” he thought and then he wondered how she would know when she heard from God. All he knew was that she was looking for a sign, but she refused to reveal what it was
. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep while the storm continued to wreak havoc throughout the Valley.
Charlie was awakened by the sound of someone talking. “Thought you folks might be hungry. We made up some sandwiches. Help yourself.”
“What time is it getting to be?” someone asked.
“About 7:30,” said another.
The stranded visitors were quick to take advantage of the generosity of the hospital staff.
“This was mighty nice of them,” said Mary Polk when she saw that her son was still at the hospital. “Wondered if you were still here. How’s that fella you came in with?”
“He ain’t no good. It’s just a matter of time. How’s Daddy?”
“Last I saw him he was resting. Doctor said the first 24 hours is the most critical. You should go see him.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“That man you’re here with, believe you said his name was Funkhouser.”
“It’s your old friend, Buster.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Guess I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Your daddy loves you, Charlie. He just has hard ways,” said Lizzy returning with another sandwich.
“Right. And I’m the king of England,” said Charlie as he stood up then walked to a window. “Should have come here in a boat.”
The heavy rain continued and the staff was still relying on candlelight to perform their tasks. A nurse entered the room and made an announcement.
“You are welcome to visit with family while you are here but only two at a time.”
“Come on, Charlie,” said Lizzy. “Let’s go see Daddy.”
“Stop bugging me about that.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” said Mary Polk. “How would you feel if he died and you didn’t have the chance to say goodbye? You’d be sorry for it for the rest of your life.”
“Do it, Charlie. Maybe his condition has put some fear in him and he’ll finally make things right. You won’t know if you don’t go in there.”
Charlie was slow to answer. “Maybe you’re right. Can’t be any worse than what I’ve been through lately.”
In the Valley of Hope Page 25