XIV.
The last man in the posse heard only the gurgling of the water as his horse reached the middle of the stream. He did not see the puff of smoke from the rifle barrel rise as a tiny cloud from a low sturdy branch on one of many trees along the bank.
What happened in an instant played in his mind slowly and without comprehension of the fatal reality. At first, the high-pitched whirring sound was an irritation. His mind finally asked, ‘What is that?’ He had never heard such a sound and it was quickly growing closer and louder.
He had just glanced up when he heard a thud and felt pressure in his chest like someone poking him with a finger. When he looked down he saw his shirt torn open and covered with blood. Even now the dark red fluid spouted forth like a fountain. Something strange and white and jagged stuck out of his chest. As the day quickly turned to night, his last thought was that he was looking at part of his own breastbone.
The first man in the posse turned his head when the sound of the shot tumbled across the stream basin. Looking back he saw the man who had been shot fall off his horse into the water. Then he felt something bite him in the back of the neck. Another rumble roared across the stream. As he fell off the horse, he grabbed his throat with both hands until everything within him went limp.
Already Marshal Watson and Amos had drawn their rifles from the scabbards and had leapt to the ground. Placing a knee on the ground, Marshal Watson raised his rifle and fired again and again at the puffs of smoke from the trees on the opposite bank.
When the middle man in the posse heard the rifle fire and saw the leader splash into the water, he yanked on the reins in an effort to turn his horse. The horse reared suddenly and the man barely hung on. As the horse splashed down on all four hooves, the man pulled hard on the left rein to turn the horse’s head. Simultaneously, he felt a bullet penetrate his thigh and he screamed in terror.
Feeling spurs dug deep into his hide, the horse struggled against the current to reverse direction. Then suddenly the reins went limp and with the sound of another rifle shot he felt the weight of the man slide off the saddle.
As Marshal Watson fired in rapid succession at the trees across the stream, from the corner of his eye he watched the men of the posse fall one by one into the water until none was left in the saddle. In the span of less than a minute, the men in the stream had been slaughtered.
A shot rang out from the opposite bank and Marshal Watson saw a spatter of mud fly up in front of him. He took careful aim at the lingering puff of smoke from a tree on the far bank and fired. Then he quickly jacked the lever and pulled the trigger again. The hammer fell with a metallic click. He was out of ammunition.
In anger, he threw the rifle onto the ground and stood up. He yelled as loudly as he could, “Come on, you scoundrels!” He pointed at his nose. “Right here!”
Amos shouted, “Marshal, get down!”
Marshal Watson continued to stand defiantly.
Slowly, the sound of the rushing water crept into Marshal Watson’s consciousness. One minute, five of his men were there; the next minute they were dead and gone. Another minute passed. Then another. He began to realize the last shot had already been fired.
XV.
Marshal Watson pulled up the reins and the horse came to a halt. He dismounted and studied the ground. Then he crouched and placed a finger into the imprint of a horseshoe.
The sun had dipped below the horizon and only dim reflected rays lit the western sky. Marshal Watson stood up and glanced at Amos who sat in the saddle, his arms crossed and resting on the saddle horn.
“They’re still traveling north. I’d guess they’re a couple of hours ahead of us if they haven’t stopped for the night.”
Amos nodded. “What do you want to do?”
Marshal Watson slowly looked around. The light was fading rapidly. “We’d better set up camp.”
“Okay, Marshal.” Amos sat up in the saddle and began to dismount.
“Wait a minute, Amos.” The Marshal stood silently for a moment. “When I was a kid I used to go to a place near here. Would you mind if we rode a little further? I’d like to make camp there tonight.”
“Sure, Marshal. Whatever you say.”
Marshal Watson mounted his horse and led off. Amos followed. After a while, they began ascending a ridge. “Amos, at the top there’s a small grassy area that will make a good campsite. In the morning, we’ll have a beautiful view of the valley floor. I spent many nights up there when I was a youngster. I’ve always considered it a special place.”
“Sounds good to me, Marshal.”
At the top of the ridge, the two rode through a stand of trees. The night had come alive with the peculiar sounds of insects calling for mates. An owl hooted. The temperature had dropped a few degrees and a soft breeze caressed their faces. Before long, they came to the open grassy area.
Amos looked up at the night sky. He had never seen so many stars, each trying to out-twinkle the other. “This is a great place, Marshal!”
“This trail is the only way in, so I think we’ll be safe up here. Let’s gather some wood and make camp.”
An hour later, both men were sitting on their bedrolls near the fire. They had stripped the horses and had staked them in the grass between themselves and the tree line. The horses would alert them if anything approached, be it man or beast.
When coffee was ready, Amos stood up and poured a cup for the Marshal and one for himself. Marshal Watson had just finished cleaning his
“Careful, Marshal. It’s hot.”
When Marshal Watson had finished loading the rifle, he jacked a shell into the chamber. After gently lowering the hammer, he placed the rifle on a separate blanket within easy reach. He picked up the cup and sipped. “That’s good coffee, Amos.”
When Amos did not reply, the Marshal glanced up. Amos was reading a book. “Whatcha readin’?”
“It’s the Bible, Marshal.”
“Oh.” The Marshal took another sip of coffee and looked up at the countless stars against an endless sky of black velvet. “I guess if there is a God, he must be pretty smart and pretty big, if he made all that.”
Amos glanced over. He saw the Marshal gazing up at the sky and he looked up too. “I find it quite humbling. Don’t you?”
“Tell you the truth, Amos, I’ve never thought about it much. In my line of work, seems like I’m always seeing bad people causing bad things to happen.” He glanced down. “Like today, for example. Five good men murdered in cold blood. I don’t know how a God who is supposed to be good could let that happen.”
“That’s easy, Marshal: holy God; sinful man.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when God created us, he gave us free will. Right from the beginning, we’ve been misusing that free will…each person trying to be his own god.”
“Seems like God made a mistake then, handing out all that free will.”
Amos chuckled. “No, Marshal. God is not at fault for the way we misuse our free will. We are to blame for our mistakes. God is love. He is pure and holy…and perfect. He gave us free will because he wanted a loving relationship with people who could truly love him back. He doesn’t force us to love him.”
“Seems like it would be a lot better if he did.”
Amos was silent for a moment. “I know you’re not married, Marshal. In fact, I’ve never seen you courting anyone. Seems like you always keep to yourself. You ever love a woman?”
“Me?” Marshal Watson glanced at the flickering yellow and blue flames. “I was in love once.”
“Did she love you back?”
After a moment, Marshal Watson nodded. “Yes, she loved me back.”
“Now, do you see? What kind of love would it have been had you somehow forced her to love you back?”
“I guess you’re right, Amos. It wouldn’t have been love at all.”
“That’s the way God is. He loves you and me with a love bigger than that sky up there. And he wants us to love him back. But we must do it with our free will. Otherwise it isn’t love at all.”
Marshal Watson raised the cup to his lips and sipped the coffee. After a few moments, he glanced up. Amos had returned to reading. “But how can you love something you can’t see?”
Amos placed a finger between the pages and closed the Bible. “That girl you loved…do you still love her?”
Marshal Watson nodded. “I’ll love her till the day I die.”
“What happened to her, Marshal?”
“I was young, Amos. I left my home town to make my way in the world. But it wasn’t my plan to leave her. I was going to go back for her…and I did. But too much time had passed. She had married another man.”
“But you still love her?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t see her anymore, yet you still love her. That’s because your love for her is in your heart. That’s the way it is with God. We carry our love for him in the heart. It’s just as real as the love you have for that girl. Except there’s one difference.”
“What’s that?”
“God will never let you down.”
“Oh…she wasn’t to blame, Amos. It was my fault. It was me who let her down…though I sure never meant to.”
“Whoever’s fault it was, Marshal, the point is your relationship ended. How can you trust something that doesn’t last? That’s the problem with everything in this world. Nothing and no one lasts forever. That’s the difference between a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and a relationship with anything created.”
“Are you saying not to have relationships with people because the relationships will not last?”
“No, I’m saying to start with the right relationship to God; that is, adhere to, trust in, and rely on the truth of his Word. Your personal relationship with Jesus Christ will last forever. Then you can have the right relationships with others, loving and serving them while they are present and appreciating God for the gift of having known them when they are gone.”
Marshal Watson glanced up. “Amos, let me be honest with you. I’ve never felt like I’m a good enough person to have a relationship with God.”
“No one is good enough, Marshal.”
“Well, how do you get it then?”
“It’s a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes. You see, God loves us already. He loves us with perfect love. It’s so valuable it can’t be earned, or bought, or bargained for. So, to receive it you must accept it as a gift.”
Marshal Watson furrowed his brow.
Amos looked over. “That’s what I meant when I said it is ‘humbling.’ It’s like how you feel when someone gives you a gift. You didn’t earn it and there’s nothing you can repay. You just have to accept it and that makes you feel humble. At least, it does me anyway.”
“I think I know what you mean. I had a sheriff a while back give me that
“Humble.”
“Yeah, I felt…humble.”
Marshal Watson was silent for several minutes. Amos returned to reading, turning slightly to better catch the light from the fire, which was slowly burning out.
“I always thought if there is a God that good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell.”
Amos closed the Bible and set it on the blanket next to him. The light had grown too dim for reading. “Man cannot save himself. Only God can save us. That’s because we can’t be good enough or do enough good things to pay the penalty for our sins.”
“The penalty for our sins?”
“Yes. The penalty for our sins is death and damnation.”
“Is that what the Bible says?”
“Yes, it is. But the good news is that God has already paid the penalty for everyone’s sins by sending his only Son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross.”
“Does that mean everyone is going to heaven?”
“Everyone who receives Christ as his personal Lord and Savior, yes.”
“But those who don’t?”
“Well, let’s put it this way. If you had rejected the rifle as a gift from that sheriff, would you have it now?”
“No.”
“That’s right. Same with those who reject Jesus Christ. They don’t have the gift of salvation.”
“So that’s why some go to hell.”
“Yes. You see, someone has to pay the penalty. You can pay it, or you can accept Jesus’ payment on your behalf.”
“If it’s that easy, seems like everyone would accept what Jesus did to pay for our sins.”
“Ah, but remember how we misuse our free will? We try to be our own god.”
“Yeah, I guess I’ve been doing that.”
“We all start out that way, Marshal. Think of how a baby must be taught to share. Each person worships himself, so to speak. But we sure miss out on a lot when we do. And without Christ as our Lord and Savior, we wind up in hell, paying the penalty for the wrong we’ve done.”
“Yeah, but how do you know all that is true? Sounds like a fairy tale.”
“When you are willing to accept the gift of salvation…I mean, truly ready to turn from your sins and turn instead to God, God will give you the faith to accept the truth. Then it becomes personal. Until then, it does sound foolish…especially to the so-called wise.”
“I don’t know, Amos. I think I’m a lost cause. I’ve always been the way I am. I’m too old to change now…and like I said, I’ve done too many bad things in my life.”
“God has more forgiveness than you have sins, Marshal. And the Bible says, ‘Today is the day of salvation.’ It’s only too late after you die. Then you begin paying that penalty we were talking about.”
“You’re talking about going to hell again, aren’t you.”
“Yes, I am. Just like it would violate your sense of justice to let those outlaws go free; God, who is perfect justice, will exact punishment. And it lasts forever.”
“So that’s why Jesus died? To pay the penalty for me?”
“That’s right, Marshal. Believe that, and God gives you new life that restores the relationship Mankind had with God in the very beginning. And now it’s a personal relationship between you and Him. Once he’s truly your Father, you will naturally want to please him by being as good as you can be. In that situation, you’re not trying to save yourself by being good, because you’re already saved. Instead you’re being good because you love and appreciate God as the perfect Father he is to you. That’s the difference between Christianity and every other religion. All other religions and all philosophies devised by men teach that you must do something, like being good, to be saved.
“Also, when you are saved the Holy Spirit takes up residence in your heart. Jesus called the Holy Spirit the ‘Comforter.’ The Holy Spirit not only provides solace, he guides the believer into all truth. It’s hard to do evil when the Holy Spirit is always exerting subtle, but divine, pressure to obey God’s Word.”
“But men wrote the Bible, Amos, not God.”
“Men wrote it down, but God is the author. God inspired men to write it down because we can understand what other men say. God wanted us to have a written record of his laws and promises. But he also made sure the men didn’t make any mistakes when they wrote down his Word. That way we can trust it.”
“So everything in the Bible is true?”
“Absolutely. His Word has the power to save the lost and it comforts those who already believe. His Spirit is alive in the passages of the Bible.”
“So that’s why you read it so much?”
“Here. Let me show you. Hand me that stick you were using earlier for the fire.”
Marshal Watson handed the stick to Amos.
Amos stuck the stick into the fire and stirred up the coals. The flames blazed up with a whoosh. “That’s what reading the Bible does, Marshal. It stokes the fire of faith inside our hearts and it reminds us how much God loves us.”
Marshal Watson was silent for several minutes.
“I don’t know, Amos. I think the church is full of a bunch of hypocrites.”
“Why are you worried about what’s in the hearts of others? Where you’re concerned, God looks only at what is in your heart. The individual Christian knows he is a believer. And the Lord knows those who are his. As for hypocrites in church, seems like the best place they could be. There’s always the chance that good Gospel preachin’ will rub off on them.”
Marshal Watson smiled. “Well, it’s something to think about. Thanks for explaining it.”
“My pleasure, Marshal.”
The two fell silent for several minutes. The glow of hot coals reflected off their faces as each man was absorbed in his own thoughts. Marshal Watson lifted the coffee cup to his lips. The cup was empty. “I think I’m gonna turn in. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Marshal Watson lay back on the bedroll. For a long time he stared at the night sky. Then he pulled the blanket up to his chin, rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes.
XVI.
Amos felt someone vigorously shake him. Startled, he opened his eyes.
“Amos…Amos! I want to accept Jesus!”
Amos drew in a long breath. Then he sat up. The sky was still dark and the fire had completely burned out. Still, the starlight allowed Amos to see Marshal Watson clearly.
“I want the new life, Amos. What do I do?”
“You’re telling me, Marshal. What you do is tell God.”
Marshal Watson sat back. “That’s all there is to it?”
“That’s all you have to do. God will do the rest.”
“But I’ve never talked to God before!”
“That’s okay, Marshal. Do the best you can. It’s not so much the words. It’s what’s in your heart.” Amos leaned back on his elbow, rubbed his face, and yawned.
“Amos, will you help me?”
Amos sat up. “Sure, Marshal, I’ll help. Let’s bow our heads. Now repeat after me: Heavenly Father, I am sorry for all my sins. Forgive me and wash me clean. I accept your Son, Jesus Christ, as my Lord and Savior, and I believe in my heart that you raised him from the dead. Thank you, Father, that you have saved me. Amen.”
XVII.
Brighter than a sparkling diamond, the first beam of light rose above the horizon and seemed to momentarily sit on the line where the land meets the sky. Then the second and third beams popped above the horizon, followed by four more, then sixteen, then two hundred and fifty-six, and so forth.
After a few minutes, Amos felt the slightest warmth touch his cheek. The black of the inside of his eyelids began to turn red. He opened his eyes and lay still for several moments. He heard a horse cropping grass and birds chirping in the trees beyond.
He sat up and raked his fingers through his hair. Then he turned and glanced at Marshal Watson who was still asleep.
Amos turned over onto his hands and knees and then sat back on his legs. He took the coffee pot from the fireplace and poured it out. Then he filled the pot with water from his canteen and added fresh coffee grounds.
He started a fire with dry kindling and small dead branches. Before long the coffee was boiling happily over the flames.
He stood up and stretched. Then he walked over and checked on the horses. He talked softly and patted each of them affectionately on the neck.
The sun had become a burning globe, playing peek-a-boo through the stand of trees. He walked back to the fire and checked the coffee. Just a bit longer.
He rolled up his blankets and tied them to the back of his saddle that lay a few paces from the fire.
Amos recalled the night before and the long talk he had had with the Marshal. Then he remembered that the Marshal had awakened him in the middle of the night. Amos closed his eyes and said a special “thank you” to his heavenly Father who long ago had made his whole life worth living. Now, at last, the Marshal too would experience the Lord’s joy and peace.
He knelt down and poured himself a cup of the freshly-brewed coffee. Gingerly, he sipped the hot liquid. There was nothing quite like the first sip of good coffee early in the morning.
“Marshal, you plan on sleeping all day?”
TO BE CONTINUED
