Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 3)

VII.

The stagecoach rolled to a stop, belching a small volcano’s eruption of dust high into the air which then cascaded in a dirty mist onto the numerous onlookers.

Julie Weber was the first to disembark. As she placed her foot onto the step, a man wearing a badge reached out his hand, and she took it to steady her descent.

“Welcome to Abilene,” the man said.

“Thank you.”

“I’m Marshal Hickok. I’m guessing you’re Miss Weber, the new school teacher.”

Julie nodded. “That’s right.”

“Come with me, Miss Weber. Let’s get through this crowd.”

Wriggling through the throng, Julie followed Hickok until they stepped up onto the sidewalk. Several men in the crowd caught the pieces of luggage that the driver threw from the top of the coach. “Those are mine,” she said, pointing.

When all the baggage had been unloaded, the driver yelled to Hickok, “Marshal, can I talk to you a minute?”

Hickok turned to Julie. “Will you excuse me?”

“Of course.”

Hickok stepped off the sidewalk and through the crowd to the side of the coach where the driver had climbed down and stood on the street.

Julie took in the town. This was the raw West, and everything showed it: the dusty street, the austere wooden buildings, and the bizarre excitement of townspeople over the arrival of a stagecoach.

She glanced at a dusty young man sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. He was staring ahead blankly, his mind seemingly far from the hubbub of the crowd. His scraggly hair fell in dirty strands from beneath an oversized cowboy hat.

The other passengers had already disembarked, and the crowd had broken into smaller groups, gathering around the newly-arrived travelers. After a time, however, the crowd began to disperse. Splintering into threesomes, couples, and individuals, they headed off in various directions.

The driver of the stagecoach climbed up and once again took his seat. He snapped the reins and the coach jerked

ahead, kicking up a dust cloud that relentlessly pursued the vehicle even as the coach turned a corner and disappeared.

Julie watched the few men left standing in the street. Marshal Hickok was nowhere in sight. As long minutes passed, she told herself to remain patient. Surely the Marshal had not forgotten her. Or had he? Perhaps he had been called away on urgent business.

Julie’s trip had been long and hard. She was eager to get settled, to wash up, and to change into more comfortable clothes. Furthermore, she felt irritated she had traveled by stagecoach in the first place! The hardship of the journey was a lesson she would not soon forget. ‘In the future, I travel only by train!’

Before long, even the few men in the street had meandered off. Now she was completely alone with her three suitcases and a hat box.

Julie shifted her weight onto one leg and placed her hand on her hip. Unconsciously, she began tapping the ball of her foot on the wooden-plank sidewalk. She lowered her eyelids and scanned the entire length of the street, first left then right.

Finally she drew a deep breath in through her nose and then exhaled through her mouth. ‘Okay, that’s it. I don’t care if he comes back or not!’

She glanced around. The only other living entity she saw was the dusty young man sitting on the sidewalk edge.

“Excuse me, young man.”

She waited a moment. The young man held a small tree branch that he struck on the street in an erratic rhythm that told Julie his mind was still far adrift.

“Excuse me, young man.” Her tone was sharp.

She saw the young man turn his head slightly, as if the firmness of her voice had finally penetrated the fog of an aimless mind. He turned and looked at her. His blank expression told her he had heard the words but he had not applied them to himself. He turned his head even further to see whether or not someone else was present.

Julie stood as patiently as she could until the young man finally asked, “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes I’m talking to you.”

The young man sat erect. Then, like the uncoiling of a compressed spring, he leapt up onto the sidewalk. He took off his hat and held it by the brim at his waist. In a rich alto voice, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Julie’s jaw dropped. “Why, you’re a girl!”

“I’m Charli Benton, ma’am. And I can ride and shoot better than any boy around. And that’s with a pistol or a rifle. Makes no nevermind to me!” The girl put her hat back on and drew the six-shooter from her holster. Effortlessly, she twirled it vertically and then horizontally. In a quick circular motion she brought her arm back to her side and twirled the gun into the holster.

Not knowing quite what to think, Julie finally said, “That’s very impressive.”

“Aw, that ain’t nothing.”

“Forgive me for calling you a young man.”

“Aw, I wish I was a boy. Nobody pays attention to no girl.”

Julie blinked several times. She was about to speak when Charli stepped forward.

“You need help with these?” Without waiting for Julie to answer, Charli picked up two of the suitcases. “Where ya staying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, there’s only two choices. The Merchant’s. It’s nice. But the better deal is Spencer’s Boarding House. Nothing fancy, but old lady Spencer keeps the place clean, and it comes with three squares a day. It costs about half as much.”

“Okay, I’ll take the boarding house.”

“You won’t regret it, ma’am.”

“Call me Julie. I’m Julie Weber. I’m going to teach school here.”

“Oh, so you’re the new teacher. Yeah, old lady Somerset quit almost a month ago.”

“She quit?”

“Quit; retired. Same thing.”

“What have the school children been doing for the past month without a teacher?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean they haven’t been attending school?”

“Nah. Kids around here only attend school anyway ‘cause their folks want them out of their hair. Till they get old enough to do chores.”

“Well, we’ll have to see about that!”

“Got big ideas, huh? Well, you’ll see how it is. Right now, let’s get you over to old lady Spencer’s.”

As Julie and Charli crossed the street, they passed an elderly man crossing in the opposite direction.

He tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, Miss. Hello Charli.”

Charli said, “Hello Mr. Barnes.”

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Charli muttered, “That’s old man Barnes. He runs the stage depot. He’s a son-of-a-bitch. Why the other day—”

Julie stopped abruptly. “Now wait just a minute, young lady! As a teacher, I can stand your double negatives until you’re taught, or until you choose to speak, proper English. As a woman, I’m appalled at the disrespect you show your own womanhood. But as a Christian, I absolutely will not tolerate disrespect for God with your profanity! Do you understand?”

In a reflex reaction, Charli dropped a suitcase and raised her arm and shoulder as if fending off one of many violent blows of the past.

Witnessing the girl’s involuntary display of vulnerability, Julie was filled with compassion. Before she could speak, however, Charli tilted her head and opened her eyes, glaring at Julie. The girl hesitated only a moment before she threw the other suitcase to the ground. Then she began to stomp off.

“Wait. Don’t go.”

The girl’s walk evolved into her characteristic swagger that propelled her along without the slightest hesitation.

Julie’s heart felt the fall of each of Charli’s steps as she watched Charli walk away. She had offended the girl and she felt stinging remorse. But there was something more. Feeling herself choke up, finally she said, “Charli, I need a friend.”

Charli turned her head, listening with an ear over her shoulder. After a few more steps, she stopped and closed her eyes. Julie’s words had settled on a sensitive part of her heart that she had ignored for too long. When she turned around, she looked Julie in the eye. “You want to be my friend?”

“Yes.”

“Then take back what you said.”

“I can’t, Charli.”

“Why not?”

“Because friends tell each other the truth. But I take back the way I said it…and I take back my self-righteous attitude. I had no right to judge you.”

Charli stood perfectly still, pondering the strange woman before her. She had never heard anyone speak the way this woman spoke. Although she could not claim she understood everything the woman said, the woman’s tone and facial expression appeared unquestionably genuine. The woman had touched an emotionally tender part of her core. Still, she was wary of the possibility of another tongue-lashing. “I don’t let nobody boss me around.”

“Charli, I propose an agreement.”

“Agreement?”

“I’ll agree never to talk down to you again. In exchange, I would like you to agree to refrain from profanity.”

“You mean stop cussin’?”

“Yes.”

Charli thought for several moments. Deep within, she knew she too needed a friend: someone with whom she could share confused feelings that churned inside a troubled heart; someone she could trust. “I spose I could stop cussin’.”

Julie stepped forward and held out her hand. “Friends?”

Charli stood looking at the woman’s graceful hand with perfectly manicured fingernails. After a moment, Charli rubbed her own dirty sun-browned hand on her shirt. Then she reached out and the two shook. “I guess it’ll be alright.”

VIII.

Spencer’s Boarding House sat on a corner on the east side of town. The house was a freshly-painted two-story building with a front yard bordered by a white picket fence.

When Julie and Charli arrived at the front gate, an attractive woman in her late thirties was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. After looking up, the woman placed a ribbon between the pages of the book she had been reading and laid the book aside. Then she stood up and smoothed the front of her dress with her hands.

As Julie and Charli opened the gate and started up the short walk, the woman said, “Hello Charli. Who is this with you?”

“This is my friend, Julie Weber. She’s the new school teacher.”

“Hello Miss Weber. I’m Faye Spencer. Are you looking for a room?”

“Yes I am. Your boarding house comes highly recommended.” Julie smiled and glanced at Charli.

“You’re in luck, Miss Weber. The best room I have was vacated just last week.” Faye turned and called out, “Andy. Will you come out here, please?”

A boy of about ten years old opened the screen door and walked out onto the porch. As he continued down the few steps and out onto the sidewalk, Julie noticed the boy walked with a slight limp. A younger girl walked out of the house behind the boy.

“Miss Weber, this is my son, Andy, and my daughter, Amie. Children, say hello to Miss Weber. She’s the new school teacher.”

The little girl curtsied and the boy said, “Hello Miss Weber.” He stepped forward and took the suitcase and hatbox from Julie.

“She’s going into the big room, Andy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Come with me,” Faye said. “I’ll show you the house and then you can get settled into your room.”

As Julie stepped onto the porch, she noticed the book Faye had been reading was the Bible. “Oh, are you a Christian, Miss Spencer?”

“I’m struggling with it. I want to believe, but when I honestly examine my feelings I’m not sure I always do. Do all Christians feel that way?”

“I’ve never found a good answer to that question, Miss Spencer. The best I can do is to ask you a question: Do you believe the sun is going to come up tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Does the sun’s rising depend on how you feel about it, or can you rely on the sun to come up regardless of what you feel?”

“I can rely on the sun regardless of what I feel.”

“That’s right, Miss Spencer. Each day dawns simply because the sun is what it is. In the same way, we know Jesus Christ is who He is. In other words, instead of relying on feelings that change as easily as wind scatters the leaves, we keep on relying upon Him.

“As we continue to hear and read the Gospel, our thoughts and actions, as well as our feelings, align more and more with the truth of His Word.”

Faye smiled. Then she noticed everyone had stopped and was watching her. “Oh, look at me! Where are my manners? Let’s get you settled. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

“I always have time to talk of our Lord, Miss Spencer.”

“Call me Faye.”

“Alright Faye, but you must call me Julie.”

IX.

In 1873, Denton, Texas, was a humble settlement with a population of less than four hundred residents who were mostly farmers. The town, however, did have a small bank.

The youthful Gary Blanchard was the teller at the bank. He was a rather short fellow with chestnut-brown hair and blue eyes. A personable lad, he took great pleasure in serving the small number of customers who regularly conducted business at the bank.

Blanchard was up at dawn as usual. He lived with his parents and was responsible for the early-morning and evening chores on the small farm just outside of town.

As Blanchard spread feed on the ground, the chickens clucked vigorously amid perfectly placed pecks upon those of lower order. Then he walked into the small barn and milked the family’s only cow, which had calved in the early spring.

As the sun climbed higher in the east, it lit the sky into an azure and pink tincture that promised a winsome spring day.

Done with the morning chores, Blanchard entered the house and washed his face and hands. Then he changed into his work suit. Finally, he combed his hair, paying particular attention to the unruly strands of a front cowlick.

He walked into the outer room and kissed his mother on the cheek.

“Let me look at you, son.”

He obliged by standing erect and slightly lifting his heels off the floor, hoping to compensate for an embarrassingly insufficient stature.

“You’re a handsome boy.”

He turned to his father who was seated at the table. “See ya later, Pop.”

“Have a good day, son.”

When Blanchard arrived at the bank, he spent the first forty-five minutes dusting counters, emptying trash, and sweeping and mopping the floor.

By nine o’clock, he had finished counting the cash drawer and had recorded the dollar amount on the shift sheet. Then he walked to the front door and unlocked it.

Through the window in the door, he noticed several men running along the street. He opened the door and stepped outside. He had never witnessed such commotion!

He heard someone yell, “Fire!”

He looked in the direction of the livery stable. A mammoth undulating mass of smoke rose above angry flames that blazed against the sky that had promised such a lovely day.

Suddenly, he felt the point of a gun in his back!

TO BE CONTINUED

Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 2)

IV.

The tall stranger with eyes as dark as midnight stood motionless. He did not speak.

Deputy Mitchell felt his face flush red. The stranger was deliberately ignoring him.

Slowly, the tall stranger lifted his gaze.

Deputy Mitchell felt the stranger’s steady intent look as if an icicle had pierced his heart. He had never seen eyes so black, so completely devoid of emotion, so very cold.

Then without a word the stranger turned his back. After a calculated pause, he took a step toward the entrance of the saloon.

Deputy Mitchell felt an explosion of rage within him. He raced forward and grabbed the stranger’s arm to swing him around.

The instant his hand touched the stranger, the stranger whirled and drew his pistol in a flicker. The cocked weapon came to rest one inch from the bridge of the deputy’s nose.

Deputy Mitchell had no time to react. He stood staring into the black hole of death of the stranger’s gun.

The stranger allowed ample time for the deputy’s heart to hiccup and for the deputy to realize that, on any other occasion, the error would have been fatal.
“Lose the gun belt.”

Deputy Mitchell took a cautious breath. He reached down, unbuckled his gun belt, and let it fall to the ground.

“Now, take the badge off your chest and drop it on the ground.”

Deputy Mitchell felt his jaw tremble. His gaze again fell upon the barrel of the stranger’s gun. He unpinned his badge and dropped it to the ground.

“Now, step back. Turn and walk slowly. Tell Marshal Hickok I want to talk to him.”

V.

Riley burst into the Marshal’s office. “Mitchell’s in trouble!”

Hickok, who was seated at his desk, sprang to his feet. Riley turned and began running toward the Alamo Saloon. Hickok ran right behind him.

Halfway to the saloon, they spied Deputy Mitchell walking toward them. Both men stopped. Deputy Mitchell glanced at the two men and then he lowered his head.

Riley exclaimed, “Are you alright, son?”

Without looking up, Deputy Mitchell said, “Yes, I’m alright.”

Hickok immediately saw that the deputy was wearing neither his badge nor his gun. He pressed his lips together and drew a breath in through his nose.

“What happened?” Riley asked.

“I’ve never seen a man draw so fast.”

After a long silence, Hickok said, “Well, where’s he at? The saloon?”

Deputy Mitchell nodded.

“Come on. Let’s go get your gun and your badge. Riley, you go back to your shop.”

Hickok led the way and the deputy followed. After a few steps, Hickok turned. “Son, if anything ever happened to you I would blame myself. If you thought this fella was trouble, why didn’t you come and get me?”

“I thought I could handle it myself. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I hope you don’t believe that. I don’t. It’s your pride, son, that makes you reckless. After you collect your badge, hand it over to me. You’re suspended. Wait a week. Then come in and we’ll talk. If your attitude has changed, you can have your badge back. Understand?”

Deputy Mitchell nodded.

Hickok pointed to the badge on his chest. “This badge, son, is not about the rule of Mitchell. It’s about the rule of law. It does not serve us. We serve it.”

Deputy Mitchell continued to hang his head.

“Now, who is this fella?”

“I don’t know. He rode in earlier. Never seen him before.”

They walked to the spot where Deputy Mitchell’s badge and gun lay on the ground. Deputy Mitchell hesitated.

“Well, pick them up.”

Deputy Mitchell picked up his gun belt and strapped it on. After he picked up his badge, he held it out and Hickok took it.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“Yes, come in. You may have to point him out to me. But I doubt it.”

When the two entered the saloon, the buzz in the room fell to a hush. The tall stranger who sat in the back corner did not look up.

Glimpsing the faces of the usual crowd, Hickok followed the men’s guarded glances to the back corner.

“Stay behind me, son.”

Deputy Mitchell followed Hickok to the back corner of the saloon. The tall stranger looked up when Hickok and the deputy reached the table.

“Marshal Hickok. Right?”

Hickok immediately noticed two things. First, were those eyes as dark as midnight. Second, both hands were under the table. Was the stranger holding a gun aimed at his heart?

“Yes, I’m Hickok. You assaulted my deputy with a deadly weapon.”

“I was the one assaulted, Marshal. I plead self-defense. Several people in here saw the incident. Under oath, they would have to testify to that.”

Hickok heard the ring of truth in the stranger’s words. “What are you? Some kind of lawyer?”

“I’m no lawyer, Marshal. But, like you, I know something about the law.” As the stranger said the words, he brought his hands above the table. They were empty. Casually, he lifted his glass and sipped whiskey.

Hickok felt his stomach muscles relax a bit.

“May I ask you to join me, Marshal. I have business to discuss.”

“Business? What kind of business?”

With a leg under the table, the stranger pushed out a chair for Hickok. “You can sit down, too, Deputy. I have nothing against you.”

One side of Hickok’s mouth tightened. He glanced at Deputy Mitchell and nodded. Both men sat down.

“Who are you and what kind of business are you talking about?

“First, Marshal, can I offer you a drink?”

“No thanks. Let’s get to it.”

“Alright, Marshal, but this may take a while. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

The stranger glanced up. Hickok’s expression had not changed.

“Okay, Marshal. My name is Abe Jackson.” As he said the name, he pressed his index finger vertically to his lips. Then he reached up with his left hand and pulled the vest away from his heart.

Hickok was staring straight at a Texas Ranger badge.

Hickok blinked. Then he nodded. “That explains a lot.”

“Like I said, Marshal. I have business to discuss. You see—”

Hickok held up his hand. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”

VI.

Parson Sam Blane pushed away from the small desk in his room. Cupping his hand above the chimney globe on the oil lamp, he blew out the flame. Already it was morning.

He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids. He had spent most of the night in study and prayer. Then he had returned to writing: polishing old sermons, developing new ones, and finally he had had time to work on his manuscript.

Several members of the Abilene congregation had asked him to write an exposition on St. Luke’s Gospel, and he had been happy to oblige.

Ironically, Abilene itself had been named for a verse in the Gospel of St. Luke. The story goes that in 1860 the people of the Kansas territory foresaw the coming of statehood. About then in Dickinson County where Abilene is located, a contest developed over the selection of a county seat.

A man by the name of C.H. Thompson laid out a town site on his land east of Mud Creek. He hastily constructed several log houses to give the appearance of a town. He then asked his neighbor, Tim Hersey, to give the new town a name.

Mr. Hersey referred the matter to his wife. Mrs. Hersey found a reference in Luke 3:1 that speaks of the “tetrarch of Abilene.” She decided that “Abilene,” which means “city of the plains,” would be appropriate, and so the town was named.

Over the years of traveling from town to town, Blane had made Abilene the hub of his activities. He received his mail at the town’s post office and he kept a room at the Merchant’s Hotel.

Now, at the beginning of a six-month sabbatical, Blane was grateful for the opportunity to engage in concentrated study. The hiatus would also afford him time to recuperate from the rigors of constant travel. Finally, he hoped to gain a fresh outlook on his service to the Lord.

Blane stepped to the bed and sat down. He kicked off his boots and lay back. He had spent the entire night awake and he needed a few hours of sleep. After his nap, he planned to spend the afternoon at the site where a new church building was under construction. He enjoyed visiting with the other congregation members who were helping to build the church. Also, he found the physical exercise of construction labor invigorating.

Before long, Blane was dreaming. He stood on the edge of a cliff. Suddenly, the rock crumbled beneath his feet, and he fell straight down. Tumbling, tumbling. His fear vanished when the speed of his fall began to decrease. He was able to lift his head and soar horizontally above the valley floor.

He landed gently on his feet in a meadow. He heard the birds’ staccato warbles and he smelled the scent of pine trees. He turned and saw his wife, Sarah. She wore a shimmering white dress and her hair flowed in the wind.

They sat together in the plush green grass. She played her guitar and sang for him. Suddenly, her guitar turned into a baby wrapped warmly in a soft blanket.

“Shh,” she said to the crying child, and the infant became calm. Sarah extended her arms, holding the baby out for Blane to take into his embrace.

He reached for the child but Sarah and the child drew away. He stepped forward, but again the two drew away. He began to run toward them. But they quickly withdrew until at last they disappeared.

He called but they did not answer. He sat down and began to weep. He wept as he had when he was a very young child, holding nothing back, crying uncontrollably. A sharp tapping noise caused him to turn his head. For a moment, he was outside himself, seeing and hearing himself weep. The tapping noise grew louder and more insistent. Again he turned. He turned. He turned. And then he was half awake.

A series of sharp knocks came at the door to his room.

For a moment, he could not determine where he was. The knocks came again. He turned and looked. Then, not knowing whether or not someone was there, he said, “It’s open.”

Deputy Mitchell opened the door and stuck his head in. “Parson Blane?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Marshal Hickok sent me to fetch you. There’s something important you must hear.”

“What is it?”

“It’s best you come with me. I’ll wait for you.”

“Okay, let me get my boots on and splash some water on my face.”

VII.

When Blane and Deputy Mitchell entered the Alamo Saloon, Deputy Mitchell said, “Follow me. They’re over here.”

Blane saw Hickok and another man sitting at a table in the back corner of the saloon. When Blane and Deputy Mitchell reached the table, Hickok said, “Hello Parson. Sit down. I want you to hear what this man has to say.”

As Blane sat down, Hickok said, “Parson, this is Abe Jackson.” Hickok lowered his voice. “He’s a Texas Ranger.”

“Parson,” Jackson said, “you ever hear of Frank Stayton?”

“Frank Stayton? No. Like most everybody, I’ve heard of Gil Stayton, a professional gunfighter. But I’ve never heard of Frank Stayton.”

“Gil is one of Frank Stayton’s sons. You remember the man you turned over to Marshal Hickok last summer?”

“How could I forget? Wade Caldwell.”

“You also killed his brother, Clem, in self-defense.”

“That’s right, Mr. Jackson. But when it happened I didn’t know Wade and Clem were brothers.”

“Well, Wade and Clem were brothers by blood. But they were raised by Frank Stayton. Like Wade and Clem, most of the Staytons are wanted by the law. Dead or alive.

“You want a drink, Parson? I want to lay this out from the beginning.”

Blane settled back in the chair. “I could stand a good cup of coffee.”

Deputy Mitchell said, “I’ll get you one.”

Jackson drew in a breath. “What I’m about to tell you, Parson, I want you to keep to yourself as much as possible. My intention is to bring the Staytons to justice, and I don’t want anyone tipping them off. If word gets around about this, my job will be a lot harder. Understand?”

Blane glanced down and then back at Jackson. “Okay.”

“You see, Wade and Clem were raised by Frank Stayton from the time the two boys were infants.” Jackson took a sip of whiskey. “Old man Stayton took the boys in after his sister, Bessie Caldwell, died. Tom Caldwell, Bessie’s husband, had been killed earlier in a bar fight in El Paso.”

Jackson finished off the whiskey in his glass. “To Frank Stayton, Wade and Clem were his sons, just like the rest of his sons.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I’m afraid you’re in a lot of trouble, Parson. You killed Clem and brought Wade in and he was hanged. The Staytons will be out for revenge. They won’t stop until they hunt you down and kill you.”

“But you said it yourself, Mr. Jackson. I acted in self-defense.”

“To Frank Stayton and his sons, that doesn’t matter. You’re responsible for the deaths of Wade and Clem. A few years back, Toby Stayton was run over by a wagon and died. It was purely an accident. But within a month, the driver of the wagon was found with his throat slit. That’s the way the Staytons operate. They won’t rest until you’re dead.”

“But that’s ridiculous!”

“And here’s the bad news.”

“You mean that’s not bad enough?”

“I’m afraid not, Parson. The bad news is that Frank Stayton had twelve sons!”

Blane closed his eyes and shook his head. “Are you telling me there are twelve brothers who are out to kill me?”

“Wade, Clem and Toby are dead. That would have made nine brothers plus Frank himself. But less than a week ago, a bounty hunter, named Royce Lee, turned over the corpse of Al Stayton, one of the middle sons, to the Marshal in Fort Worth. That probably means the Staytons are traveling north.

“It’s a stretch to imagine Royce Lee could have picked off Al Stayton if Al was riding with the entire clan. I’m guessing Al was alone. It could be that Frank Stayton is leading only part of the family and plans to join up south of here with the sons who sometimes ride alone.

“One thing’s for sure. Sooner or later they’ll show up. As warped as it is, it’s like a code of ethics with them: An eye for an eye and all of that. When they come, they’ll want blood.”

“But why now? Wade was hanged almost eight months ago.”

“My guess is they were waiting for the weather to break.”

Deputy Mitchell returned to the table and placed a cup of coffee in front of Blane.

Blane looked down at the rising steam from the black liquid. “Thanks.”

Hickok glanced at Jackson, “You know, of course, you’re out of your jurisdiction.”

Jackson lifted the whiskey glass to his lips and realized the glass was empty. He set it back on the table. “I’m perfectly happy, Marshal, to turn any of the Staytons I run across over to you. If we happen to capture a few, we can extradite them. These men have committed enough crimes in Texas to hang a hundred men. But I doubt that will happen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they won’t give up without a fight. Besides, Marshal, before it’s over, you may be glad I’m here. You’ll need all the help you can get when they show up.”

Hickok gulped down the last of his whiskey. “But you’re only one man. How are you going to round up all these Staytons?”

“I can’t guarantee anything, Marshal. That’s why I’m warning you and the Parson. But I’ve been after these men a long time. Now I have precisely what I’ve needed all along.”

“What’s that?”

Jackson looked at Blane. “Bait.”

Blane glanced down. His coffee was getting cold. “So I’m the cheese in the trap.”

“Can you handle that gun you’re wearing, Parson?”

“I’m fair.”

“I’d advise you to get a lot better in a hurry. They’re after you, Parson. They may come at you one or two at a time, or they may come at you all at once. But on that day, you better be in good standing with your Lord.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Parson Sam Blane in Hope (Episode 1)

I.

His horse at full gallop, the tall stranger with eyes as dark as midnight rode in an arrow-straight line toward Abilene.

In the black of night, the stranger felt the persistent rhythm of the animal’s long, swift strides. Keeping his head down, the brim of his hat partially guarded his face from the brisk, chilly wind.

After more than a mile, he reined in and the horse slowed to a steady lope. After another mile, the stranger reined in, again. The animal slowed to a walk, and both horse and rider relaxed a bit.

The stranger’s trail had been hard and very long. Genuine urgency had quickened the relentless pace of the trip. Still, the stranger had been careful to stay within his own endurance limits, as well as within those of the high-spirited beast beneath him.

The stranger smiled briefly in approval as the darkness over the plains began to lift. He saw the sun’s fiery red reflection off of high, wispy clouds in the east.

The stranger always welcomed the precise moment when the sun peaked over the horizon. This morning, he especially anticipated the dawn that would bring warmth to what had been a chilly night.

The rays of the sun crawled along the ground, gradually engulfing the grasslands in yellow-gold light and banishing the darkness that had shrouded the stranger’s trail. Even now, in the wee hours of the morning, he felt a tinge of the sun’s soothing warmth. He stretched his arms and shoulders and straightened his back, causing him to sit a bit taller in the saddle.

He kissed at the air and lifted the reins, “Get up.”

The horse accelerated to a trot. When the animal felt a touch of spurs, he continued to accelerate to a canter.

The horse kept the easy pace for nearly half an hour. When his master reined in, he came to a halt, enjoying the flush of hot blood to his legs and chest.

To the north, the stranger could see Abilene. He sat still in the saddle for several minutes, allowing the animal to catch his breath.

The tall stranger with eyes as dark as midnight scanned the entire landscape to the east and to the west. When he twisted in the saddle and looked behind him, he visually scanned slowly and deliberately. Nothing moved.

He pulled the six-shooter from his holster and checked the load. Then he holstered the weapon and again lifted the reins. “Let’s go, boy.”

Although he had never been to Abilene, he had prepared thoroughly for the trip. Now, on a spring morning in 1873, the tall stranger with eyes as dark as midnight reviewed what he knew about the town.

Abilene, Kansas, was a town in transition. Its history was that of a rip-roaring cow town with a reputation for wild lawlessness. Two major events, however, had recently occurred that had dampened the town’s turbulent disposition.

The first major event was the relocation of the shipping terminal for the longhorn cattle drives from Texas. Wichita was now the primary shipping center.

Abilene’s loss of the prosperous cattle business was due in part to its accelerated growth. As Abilene and the surrounding area had become more populated, grazing lands became scarcer. Also, many of the settlers objected to the pasturing of the great herds in the vicinity.

The primary reason, however, for Abilene’s loss of the cattle trade was the completion of the Santa Fe Railroad facilities at Wichita. Now the stronger competitor, Wichita had shipped about 80,000 head of cattle in 1872 alone.

From 1867 to 1872, Abilene was known as the “Cowboy Capital.” More than three million head of cattle had been driven up from Texas on the Chisholm Trail.

By 1871 as many as 5,000 cowboys were often paid off during a single day. This circumstance led to the town’s deserved reputation as a rough-and-tumble town of the West. Now, however, the cattle drives to Abilene had ended.

The second major event that contributed to the taming of Abilene was the appointment in 1871 of a no-nonsense, 33-year-old Marshal named James Butler Hickok.

Whereas Abilene had been wild and rough in the recent past, now, in early 1873, the town was seeking its equilibrium. Although still untamed at times, Abilene, nevertheless, had begun to mature and settle down.

The tall stranger with eyes as dark as midnight continued to ride toward Abilene.

II.

Some women who fit the mold of what society terms “pretty” quickly learn they can have their desires met easily. Sometimes their demands on others, therefore, tend to increase until they become arrogant and impossible to please.

In this sense, being “pretty” is a curse, because the circumstance tends to produce the attitude that what one receives is an entitlement, rather than the product of one’s efforts

No one would ever deny that 23-year-old Julie Weber was pretty. Her smooth complexion, high cheek bones and huge blue eyes caused men to peer longingly. Her 5’7” frame had curves in all the right places and her long, naturally blond hair had caused many men to turn and stare.

But Julie Weber had never given in to the temptation to become arrogant and impossible to please. Instead at an early age, she had given her heart, mind, and soul to Jesus Christ. She cherished the divinely inspired words of St. Paul when he wrote in 2 Corinthians; Chapter 5 and Verse 15: Christ died for all so that those who live would not continue to live for themselves. He died for them and was raised from the dead so that they would live for him.[1]

“So, tell me, pretty lady. Where are you headed in this godforsaken country?” The words spewed out of the elderly man’s mouth like bad whiskey.

“Sir,” Julie said, “I would appreciate your calling me ‘Miss Weber.’ And whether you know it or not, God can be found in every part of this country. If you look at it in the right way.”

The elderly man cocked his head back and waggled it from side to side. “Well, aren’t we Miss Prim and Proper!”

The stagecoach rolled over a pothole in the trail and all four passengers were thrown up and down in their seats.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband, Miss Weber,” the woman sitting beside the elderly man said. “He was shot in the head in the war and the bullet is still lodged there. He suffers from terrible headaches. He drinks to ease the pain.”

Julie shifted her gaze to the elderly man, who held a flask in his hand. Unable to help it, she tried to see a scar, or mark, or wound where the bullet had entered. No scar, however, was visible. She concluded the wound was either under his hat or in the back of his head.

“How terrible,” she said. “I apologize if I sounded snippy.”

A slight smile came to the thin lips of the elderly man. He touched the brim of his hat. “I apologize for being so familiar, Miss Weber. However, if I may ask again: Where are you headed?”

“I’m on my way to Abilene. But ever since I got on this stagecoach I’ve been wishing I had taken the train. I had the notion I would see more of the countryside by coach.”

“Well, take a look out the window, Miss Weber. See the rolling plains? Now multiply that by thousands, and that’s what this country is like.”

Despite herself, Julie could not help but smile. She nodded, “Yes, I see.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I could have seen all I needed to see from the train, huh?”

The man sitting beside Julie glanced at her and asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Weber, why are you traveling to Abilene?”

“I’m going to teach school there.”

“Oh, that’s right. Bonnie Somerset is retiring.”

The stagecoach rolled over another pothole and again all four were bounced up and down.

“I don’t know about that,” Julie said, straightening her hat. “I answered a classified in the newspaper and they hired me.”

“Yes, that’s it. Bonnie is retiring. She’s quite old, you know.”

“Tell me about the school and the children, won’t you?”

“I don’t know much about the school. The wife and I were never blessed with children.”

“I see. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay with me, Miss Weber. But I feel sorry for my wife, Agnes. She always wanted children. I suppose that’s part of a woman’s nature: the desire to be a mother.”

“Yes, that’s true for me. Children are so precious. But it’s a big responsibility, too. It’s up to the parents to help form the minds and hearts of their children. What’s the old saying? ‘As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.’”

The man turned and looked at her curiously. “That sounds about right.”

“I think it’s important to educate the young mind. One must encourage a young person’s vision of how to fulfill his potential by contributing to society in a positive way. Don’t you agree?”

“Miss Weber, I believe you will make an excellent teacher for our school.”

Julie blushed. “Thank you. But I must confess, this is my first teaching assignment, and I’m a bit nervous.”

“Miss Weber, I wouldn’t worry about a thing. I think you’ll do just fine.”

III.

Marshal Hickok had just finished his second cup of coffee when Deputy Mitchell opened the door and stuck his head in. “Morning round is complete, Jim. Everything’s fine. I’ll be over at Riley’s. He said he got a shipment in of those new Colt pistols. I want to take a look at one.”

“Don’t forget,” Hickok said. “That new school teacher is coming in on the stage today. We want to show her a nice welcome.”

“Yeah, she’s probably as old as dirt and looks just like it!”

“You mind your mouth, son,” Hickok said sternly. “Get on over to Riley’s if you have to. Then get right back. I’ve got some paperwork for you to do.”

“Okay, Jim. Thanks.”

Deputy Mitchell was a young man not yet twenty years old. He was tall and slender and he wore his coal-black hair slicked straight back. He was left-handed and a fast draw. Hickok, however, was careful to keep a tight rein on the lad, because the deputy tended toward recklessness. For Deputy Mitchell, the badge on his chest was a symbol of power that the young man too often used to bolster his ego.

With time and experience, Hickok figured, Deputy Mitchell would learn to respect the authority behind the badge. He had counseled the lad on that very subject numerous times. Still, Hickok worried about his protégé. In this town, there were just too many ways a man could get killed.

Deputy Mitchell was about to enter Riley’s Gun Shop when something made him stop and look.

Seeing Deputy Mitchell through the window, Joe Riley walked out. “Come to see one of those new Colts?”

When Deputy Mitchell did not answer, Riley turned to see what had caught the young deputy’s attention.

The horse’s hooves puffed the dust on the main thoroughfare. The stranger who sat tall in the saddle was unconcerned with the stares of several onlookers, including Deputy Mitchell and Riley.

“Who is that?” Deputy Mitchell asked.

“Never seen him before.”

The words were exchanged while both men continued to watch the rider.

“Gunfighter?” Deputy Mitchell asked.

“Somehow I don’t think so. Could be, though.”

“I think I’ll find out.”

Riley put his hand on the deputy’s arm. “Careful, son. Something tells me he’s dangerous.”

Deputy Mitchell turned his head and looked down at Riley’s hand on his arm. Seeing this, Riley said, “I mean it, boy. Be careful with this fella. Understand?”

“Take your hand off my arm, Joe. You’re giving me the willies.”

“Why don’t you let Hickok handle this?”

“I can handle this,” Deputy Mitchell said indignantly.

“Son, you still got a lot of learning to do. I’m going to get the Marshal.”

Deputy Mitchell pulled his arm out of Riley’s grasp. “There’s no need to bother the Marshal!” Then he turned and walked along the wooden-plank sidewalk. All the while, he curiously watched the stranger.

At the Alamo Saloon, the stranger pulled up and dismounted. He was tying his horse to the hitching rail when Deputy Mitchell crossed the street.

At twenty paces, Deputy Mitchell called out, “Can I help you, stranger?”

The stranger lowered his head and stared sideways at the ground. Deputy Mitchell walked up to a spot where, had he taken another step, the stranger would have been looking at his boots.

The stranger did not speak, did not move.

Deputy Mitchell was confused by the stranger’s lack of response. “I said, can I help you?”

Again, the stranger did not speak, did not move.

“Hey, Mister, I’m talking to you!”

TO BE CONTINUED

Comment on HOPE (Episode 1)

Some people are awestricken when they look out upon the Earth, the Moon, and the stars. They point to the idea that life is the creative work of an all-powerful and majestic God. Others, like the elderly drunkard in the story, see the world as gray and bleak. Their attitude proclaims that life inspires no meaning, no enthusiasm, and no beauty. Yet, the Earth, the Moon, and the stars are the same.

What accounts for the difference in perspective between those who see the world as an infinite display of wonder and those who view the world as a vast, undifferentiated wasteland?

Logic says that, since the external world is the same, the difference between the two views must lie within the individual.

When we meet someone who always seems to grate on our nerves, we tend to blame the person. If the person, however, actually possessed the character trait of grating on people’s nerves, then everyone who came in contact with that individual would feel irritated. We know, of course, that someone who happens to irritate us also gets along perfectly fine with some others. The difference? Again, the distinction between how we react to an individual and how someone else reacts to the same individual lies within us.

That which specifically determines how we experience the world, others, and all of life is our beliefs. Beliefs structure experience. When someone irritates us, for example, the root cause of our irritation is not the person. Rather it is the belief we hold about the person. To change our reaction to the person, all we need do is change the belief within us that causes our irritation toward that person.

The elderly drunkard in the story saw the endless plains as “godforsaken.” Julie Weber saw the same endless plains and
declared “…God can be found in every part of this country. If you look at it in the right way.”

So, what is the right way to look at the Earth, the Moon, and the stars, and others, and life itself? To put it another way, what beliefs should we adopt and hold dear so as to structure our experience of life in the right way?

If you were to look to me to give you the answer, you would be making a big mistake. If you were to look to other people to give you the answer; similarly, you would be making a big mistake. Only when you look to the true source of life, He who created it, will you find the right answer. Fortunately for us, the Creator of all things has chosen to reveal himself in his Word, the Holy Scriptures as contained in the Bible. "The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs to the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. The one who comes from heaven is above all.” John 3:31 (NIV)

God’s Word has the power to instill and to strengthen true faith. Faith in God, when it is an abiding belief within, structures the right experience of all of life. That’s why Julie Weber was able to announce without reservation that “…God can be found in every part of this country….” The rock-solid, abiding faith within her heart spoke the words for her. “…those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart….” Matt 15:18 (KJV)

So then, what is the right way to experience the Earth, the Moon, and the stars?

Ps 89:11
11 The heavens are yours, and yours also the earth; you founded the world and all that is in it. (NIV)

Heb 1:10
10 And, Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands: (KJV)

Let us, therefore, always be conscious of the fact that when we observe the beauty of nature it is something even more than what it appears to be. It is, in fact, the observable evidence that proves there is the God who created it.

Heb 11:3
3 By faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that the things which are seen were not made of things which are visible. (NKJ)

And, as to others (even those who remind us of our belief that such people irritate us), we can view them for who they truly are: either children of God, or those who are in dire need, because they have not repented and accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.

Matt 7:12
12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets. (NIV)

Luke 10:27
27 He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"
(NIV)

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[1] New Century Version

Parson Sam Blane in Faith (Part 8: Conclusion)

XXV.

By noon, Blane could not stay in bed any longer. He was concerned about Faye who had not returned from her search for Claude. The children had not been fed. And he needed to check on Wade who was tied up in the barn.

The pain in Blane’s lower leg was excruciating. Even the thought of moving it made him wince. Finding a way to become mobile in spite of the pain, however, would at least lend comfort in knowing he was doing something.

He turned to the little girl who was sitting in a chair by his bed. She had posted herself between him and Andy, ready at beck and call, to furnish any need either he or Andy may have had.

“Amie, do me a favor. Stand up and slide the chair over here.” As he spoke, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

The little girl stood up. “What are you going to do?”

Feeling his lower leg begin to throb in pulsating waves of pain, Blane breathed heavily in and out. For a moment, he could not speak to answer the girl. After a moment, however, he said, “I’m not sure, yet.”

As Amie slid the chair next to his bed, he took hold of the seat and turned it away from him. Then he placed one hand on top of the chair’s back and his other hand at his side.

“Now sit down on the chair, Amie. That way it won’t tip when I stand up.”

When the girl’s weight had anchored the chair to the floor, he used the back of the chair for leverage. Slowly, he raised himself into a standing position, holding most of his weight on his good leg. When he finally straightened himself, he placed both hands on the back of the chair and stood motionless for several moments. His lower leg came alive with a fiery pain that caused him to feel dizzy and weak.

“Are you alright, Parson Blane?” the girl asked.

The sound of her voice caused him to open his eyes and glance at the girl. “Yeah, Amie, I’ll be alright in a minute.”

After the initial shock of the pain had subsided, he began to accustom himself to the throbbing agony. He asked the little girl to stand up. Then he slid the chair forward a few inches. Holding his weight with both hands on the chair’s back and ever-so-slightly on his wounded leg, he hopped forward until his weight was again on his good leg.

Several more times, he inched forward. Then he pushed the chair a slightly longer distance and was able to increase the length of each painful step.

Amie, who had watched with great interest, stepped alongside him. She placed one hand on her hip and asked, “Now that you’re up, where are you going?”

Blane was so amused by her gesture and tone of voice that he almost chuckled. The girl was obviously upset at having lost her position of being in charge of him.

Before answering, Blane thought for a moment. Then he said, “Amie, I would like your opinion about something.”

His words totally disarmed the girl’s attitude. An adult wanted her opinion about something!

“You and I,” Blane continued, “want to be as much help to your mother as we can, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then how do you think we can best do that? Well, let’s see. Do you think you can find something to eat for you and Andy? And me, well, how about I go out to the barn and check on the man tied up in there. After that, we will have to plan what to do next. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Blane watched the little girl’s eyebrows rise and her face break out in a wide smile. “Yes, Parson Blane. I think that’s a good idea.”

“Good. Let’s get busy!”

Blane made his way to the front door. When he opened it, he saw that the rain had slowed to a drizzle. But also the ground was muddy. He closed the door from the inside and swung the chair around so he could sit on it to rest. “Amie, would you fetch my boots?”

The little girl had been preparing sandwiches smeared with apple butter.

“Yes, Parson Blane, I’ll get them.”

When Amie handed Blane his boots, he sat them on the floor. He slipped into one boot with the foot of his good leg. Then he realized the top of his other boot would rub against his wounds. “Amie, I need a knife so I can cut this boot.”

The little girl retrieved a knife and held it up. “Here’s a knife.”

“That will work. Thank you.”

After Amie handed the knife to Blane, he cut the stove pipe of the boot off at the tongue area below the cuts Wade had made. As he did, he lamented the fact he was further ruining a good pair of boots for which he had paid $1.19. They were made of fine leather and had served him well for the past three years.

He stood up and swung the chair around to use again as a crutch. Then he opened the door.

When he stepped outside, he noticed the mule tied at the hitching rail near the barn. Immediately, he knew Faye had returned. But where was she?

Scanning the area, Blane concluded Faye must be inside the barn. And that could only mean trouble!

Now, in his haste, he inadvertently put more pressure on his wounded leg. He immediately recoiled at the pain. Whereas he had been debating whether or not to muddy the chair to cross the yard, or perhaps to hop on one leg, the pain told him to use the chair. Additionally, he would be less likely to lose his balance while hobbling across the soggy ground.

Hurry as he might, however, his progress was very slow. As he drew near to the barn, he heard Faye’s voice. She had begun to scream at Wade.

When Blane opened the barn door, the light of day streamed in. There, before him, Faye stood, pointing a pistol at Wade’s temple.

Faye turned her head and looked at Blane.

Wade cried, “Help me. This woman is crazy. She’s gonna kill me!”

“Don’t do it, Faye,” Blane said.

Still watching Blane, Faye said, “You shouldn’t be up and about on that leg.” She continued to hold the gun to Wade’s head. “This man killed my husband. Now, he’s going to get what’s coming to him!”

“Claude is dead?”

Faye nodded. “Cut with a knife across his stomach.” She turned back to Wade. “You left him there to rot like an animal. Even his feet were bare. What did you do? Steal his boots?”

“No,” Blane said. “Clem did that. I remember when he walked his horse to the water trough. He walked like his feet were hurting. And I’ll bet that extra rifle Clem had tied to his saddle belonged to Claude, too.”

Wade was shaking. “Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. Clem did it! I begged him not to kill an innocent man, but he did it anyway.”

“That’s a lie,” Blane said flatly. “There was only one knife between you and Clem. And it belongs to you.”

Faye cocked the hammer on the pistol.

“You can’t kill him, Faye. That would be murder.”

“Are you going to try to stop me?”

“No,” Blane said. “But if you kill him your soul will be linked to his for the rest of your life. You will be guilty of murder. Then what will become of your children? They need their mother.”

Faye stood motionless. Finally, she said, “Well, he’s not going to get away with it.”

“I’ll turn him over to the law. He won’t get away with it.”

After a long moment, Faye uncocked the hammer and lowered the gun to her side. The gun slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. Then she stepped around in front of Wade and slapped him hard across the face.

She turned and walked toward Blane. “Come on.” She placed her arm around his waist and Blane put his arm across her shoulders. Together they made their way to the cabin.

XXVI.

For the first few days when she wasn’t preparing meals, Faye stayed mostly to herself in her room. Occasionally, Blane would see her late at night. She would come into the room and check on Andy, speaking softly to him. Then she would sit in the chair beside Blane’s bed. “Do you need anything?” she would ask.

He could see she had been crying. Invariably her hair was a mess, and she looked tired and worn out.

Blane spent the days mostly in bed, allowing his leg to heal. Twice daily, he took food to Wade in the barn. The routine continued for more than a week.

Then, late one night, Faye came into the room and sat in the chair beside his bed.

“Faye, I want you to come to Abilene with me when I leave in a few days.”

Faye tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you and the children can’t stay here. You can’t work the farm alone and Andy should be checked by a doctor. You need people around you and a place where you can buy supplies.”

“You mean I should leave my home?”

“I know a woman in Abilene who will take you in and give you time to establish yourself. You can sell the farm and have money to provide for your children.”

“No, Sam. I couldn’t possibly leave. It’s simply out of the question.”

“Faye, you have no choice. You’re out here in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know how Claude and you were able to manage so far away from civilization. Andy needs to be in school. Amie should have started school already. You can put the farm up for sale in Abilene. Let someone else have it. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

“Sam,” she said. “I’ve been thinking. Would you stay on here and manage the farm? I promise I will provide for all your needs.”

Blane blinked hard.

“It wouldn’t be that bad, Sam. We could build a life together. And you’re so good with the children. We could be happy here. I know it.”

“Faye, you don’t know what you’re asking. I have work to do for the Lord.”

“Oh, you and your ‘Lord’! You may not love me now, Sam. But time will change that. We could live as husband and wife. You would be happy here.”

Blane sat up. “Faye, I can’t be with a woman who is not a Christian.”

Faye straightened in the chair. “Why not?”

“Don’t you know? The Bible says, ‘Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.’ It is one thing for two people to be married already. But to choose such a situation from the beginning is entirely different.”

“What do you mean?”

“When one person is a Christian and the other is not, it’s like two apples in a barrel. One apple is spoiled, which will spoil the other.”

Faye turned her head away. “Are you comparing me to a spoiled apple?”

“Yes, I am. Your soul is lost. I pray for you, Faye, that the Lord will soften your heart so you will seek Him.”

Faye stood up. “I will never leave my home!”

XXVII.

The days passed. Blane’s leg grew stronger.

After the night Blane and Faye talked, Faye had changed. Every morning she was up at dawn. She habitually wore pants and blouses instead of dresses. She spent the mornings cleaning and fixing up the cabin. In the afternoons, she rode the mule out to the fields and returned with fruits and vegetables. Occasionally, Blane heard her chopping wood in the yard. Despite her efforts, however, the work grew harder and the farm began to show signs of neglect.

Each night she returned to the cabin, exhausted and dirty. Recently, she had caught a cold, and Blane could hear her coughing at night.

Finally, after a time, Blane awoke one night and saw Faye sitting in the chair beside his bed. Her eyes were full of tears, and her face was pale and smudged with dirt.

In a monotone, she asked, “Did you say you knew a woman who could take us in?”

XXVIII.

Late in the morning on the fourth day of travel, the rickety wagon crested a small rise. Blane pulled in the reins and the mule ambled to a halt. In the distance, Blane and Faye could see Abilene.

Amie was sitting beside Andy in the wagon. Surrounding the two children were several, small trunks that held the few, meager possessions Faye had brought along. Tied up securely, Wade sat on the Black who was tied to the back of the wagon.

After a few moments, Blane snapped the reins and the mule plodded ahead. For Faye and her children, Abilene represented a new start in life. For Blane, the town represented the end of a long journey that had challenged his strength and his wits as a man. For Blane, as a child of God, the ordeal had tested and strengthened his faith.

THE END

Dear Subscriber,

This episode concludes the Series, entitled Faith, of The Wild West Adventures of Parson Sam Blane.

The next issue will begin the Series, entitled Hope.

Thank you for your continued support. God bless you.

--Steve

Comment on Faith (Part 8)

Each individual is responsible for his own actions. He is also responsible for his own reactions when others cause harm.

In the story, Wade murdered Faye’s husband who was the family’s sole means of support. Faye’s first reaction was the intention to seek revenge by killing Wade.

Jesus taught that we should love our enemies. Whereas our (lower) natural instinct is to pay back in kind the harm that has been done to us, God commands us instead to bless those who persecute us. Why? Because when we repay our enemies with harm, we, ourselves, perpetrate evil.

We also, therefore, incur the consequences of the sin we commit. Should someone murder my brother, for example, and I, in turn, murder the murderer, it is I who will go to jail or be executed. The law does not justify my crime regardless of the reason. Likewise, sin has no justification.

Although most of us will never face such a grievous event wherein a loved one is murdered, Christ’s commandment applies to all circumstances, great and small. When someone is rude to us, for example, how do we react? Are we rude in return? Or do we instead say a quick prayer for a blessing upon the person who has offended us? If we do the latter (or if we act in any way that conveys kindness), we act/react as an instrument of God’s love and not as a pawn of instinctive hostility.

Our reward may not come from our offender when we show kindness as our reaction to an offense. In fact, we do not show kindness to receive a reward from our offender. We show kindness for three much more important reasons.

First, Christ commanded it, and Christ’s commandments are always for our benefit. When we obey God, we show Him

we love Him. Obedience is a form of love. It demonstrates to our Father that we trust Him and that we want first to please Him, not ourselves and not others.

When we stand before Christ and give an account for all our actions, our acts of kindness will be counted in our favor.[1] God’s favor is a greater reward than any offender can offer.

Second, our loving reaction to an offense “heaps burning coals” on the head of our offender. In other words, we are to remain compassionate and loving and allow our offender to experience God’s judgment. “God is just: He will pay back trouble to those who trouble you and give relief to you who are troubled….” 2 Thessalonians 1: 6-7 (NIV). We, however, are not to revel in the thought that God will take revenge for us. Rather we are to imitate Christ when on the cross he said, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”[2]

Finally, who are we to judge others and demonstrate our condemnation by acting rudely? When we condemn others, we condemn ourselves. That is because we ourselves have committed the same sins for which we condemn others. Let us lift our minds and hearts above such petty pursuits. Let us focus instead on the glory and majesty of our Father who has seen fit to sacrifice his Son so that we might have eternal life in Paradise with our risen Lord and Savior.

Rom 12:17-21
17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody.
18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.
19 Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord.20 On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head."
21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (NIV)
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[1] Matt 12: 36-37, cf. 2 Cor 5: 9-10 (NIV)
[2] Luke 23: 34 (KJV)

Parson Sam Blane in Faith (Part 7)

XX.

Blane believed that every man has a sixth sense. Call it by whatever name, but something inside a person can warn of danger as it draws near.

As he drew nearer to Clem, Blane figured Clem’s sixth sense sooner or later would awaken him. It was crucial, therefore, to act before Clem was drawn out of his sleep. Still, Blane had not decided just how to render the two men helpless. That is, until Blane almost tripped over a piece of wood. The piece of wood was about a foot long and perhaps two inches in diameter.

Blane picked up the piece of wood. Quickly, he took one step forward and unceremoniously struck Clem over the head. As Blane hit him, he wondered if he should have hit him harder.

Clem, however, immediately slumped and began to fall backwards. In one motion, Blane caught Clem’s collar with his left hand and plucked up the Winchester with his right. All the while he kept careful watch on Wade. The man never moved.

Holding Clem’s collar, Blane quietly lowered him to the ground. As he did so, he used his right hand and arm to bring the Winchester up, trained directly on Wade.

When Clem was flat on the ground, Blane stood up. He took a few short steps to retrieve his six-shooter. Withdrawing the pistol from the holster, he quickly examined the gun. As far as he could tell, Wade had never touched it.

Wade lay on his left side, half-covered with the blanket. His right hand lay near his six-shooter which lay on the ground beside him.

Blane stepped securely on the barrel of Wade’s gun. Then he crouched down and placed the cold, hard point of his revolver on Wade’s temple. Wade flinched as he felt the metal. In a hoarse, shaking voice, he cried, “Don’t shoot!”

What Blane had not expected was that Wade’s cry stirred Clem out of unconsciousness. Clem sat up and shook his head. Seeing Blane, Clem went for his gun.

Blane shouted, “Don’t!” But Clem had untethered the thong on his holster and continued to draw his pistol in one sweeping motion. The man was surprisingly fast.

Blane aimed and fired. The bullet pierced Clem’s heart. As Clem crumpled to the ground, Blane heard the man’s final sigh.

While Blane was busy with Clem, he could feel Wade’s desperate attempts to free the gun from beneath his foot. But Blane’s weight firmly anchored the gun to the ground. Then he felt the blade of a knife slice his shin.

Blane’s reflex caused him to move his foot off of Wade’s six-shooter. But now, Wade’s right hand held the knife while his left arm was still beneath him. Wade could not grab his gun without releasing the knife.

Blane looked down to see Wade making another lunge. The knife cut him again. This time lower on the shin and deeper.

Blane brought his pistol up and took aim at Wade’s head. When he cocked the hammer, Wade shrieked, “Wait! Here’s the knife! Here it is!”

With a shaking hand, Wade tossed the knife to Blane’s side. “Just don’t shoot!”

“Turn onto your belly!”

Wade turned onto his stomach.

“Keep your legs straight. Extend your arms and hold yourself up.”

Wade did as he was told.

“If you move from that position, I will kill you.”

“You’d shoot an unarmed man?”

“As a rule, no. You’ve qualified as an exception.”

Blane kept his gun pointed at Wade, watching him carefully. Blane’s leg was bleeding profusely, but he could not think of that now. He kicked Wade’s revolver out of reach. Then he picked up a rope that had been tied to Wade’s saddle.

“Now, let yourself down and put your hands behind your back.”

When Wade complied, Blane tied Wade’s hands behind the man’s back. Then he stood him up and walked him to a wooden column. There he tied Wade up, wrapping the rope around Wade and the column from his neck down to his ankles.

“I can’t move!”

“That’s the idea.”

When Faye had heard the shot, she ran to the barn. Looking through a space in the boards, she watched until Wade was securely tied up. Then she hurried into the barn.

When she saw Blane’s pant leg soaked with blood, she gasped. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.”

XXI.

With a clean cloth, Faye held direct pressure on the wounds on Blane’s leg. After several minutes, she relaxed the pressure and examined the cuts. Both wounds began to bleed again. She quickly reached for a fresh cloth and applied more pressure.

“He got you good,” she said. “That bottom cut is to the bone.”

“You’re going to have pour whiskey over the cuts and sew me up.”

“It’s going to hurt real bad, Sam.”

“I know. But let’s get it over with.”

When the bleeding finally had slowed enough, Faye drew in a deep breath. Then she generously poured whiskey onto the cuts.

Every muscle in Blane’s body tensed tightly from the pain. Grimacing, he breathed quickly in and out.

With genuine concern, Faye asked, “Are you alright?”

Still grimacing, he nodded. “Yeah, now, pour whiskey over the needle and thread and sew me up. Apply some of that bark mixture onto a clean cloth. Put the wet cloth onto the wounds and then wrap my leg with a cloth that’s dry. I’m going to lie back and catch my breath.”

When Faye had completed the procedure, she asked, “How do you feel?”

Without opening his eyes, he said, “Thank you, Faye.”

XXII.

Just before dawn, Faye awoke and began to dress. She picked out a wool blouse, pants and a vest. When she sat down on the bed to pull on a pair of boots, Amie, who had slept beside her, awoke.

“Where are you going?” the little girl asked.

“I’m going to look for your father. Now, you listen to me. I want you to take care of your brother and Parson Blane until I get back. Will you do that?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“One more thing. You mustn’t go into the barn. There is a very bad man tied up in there. If you were to go into the barn he would try to trick you into setting him free. But he must stay tied up for now. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am. I understand.”

“Good. I’ll put on a pot of coffee for Parson Blane before I leave, and I’ll fix breakfast when I get back. Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

She leaned over and kissed Amie on the cheek. As she did, she heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. A storm was coming.

XXIII.

When Blane awoke he turned his head to see two wide eyes watching him intently.

“Well, hello, little girl.”

“Hello, Parson Blane. Do you want some coffee?”

“Coffee? Yes, that would be nice.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Blane felt a terrible soreness in his lower leg. He sat up and massaged the sides of his leg with both hands. He glanced at Andy who was watching him from the other bed.

“How you doing, son?”

“I’m doing okay. You were moaning in your sleep all night long.”

“Did I keep you awake?”

“A little. But I didn’t mind. Ma said you were hurt real bad.”

Blane straightened, sensing something was wrong. “Where is your mother?”

“She went looking for Pa.”

All of Blane’s senses were alert now. He heard rain battering the roof. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. Immediately, his lower leg began to throb.

He hesitated a few moments in that position and the pain intensified. He tried to stand up but immediately he fell back into a sitting position. Finally, he swung his legs back onto the bed. He placed a couple of pillows under his leg to elevate it. The throbbing pain lessened only slightly.

Amie walked into the room, carrying the coffee pot and a cup. She set them on a small table beside the bed.

“How long has your mother been gone?”

“She left right before the rain started. She told me to take care of you and Andy until she comes back.”

“Amie, there’s a tree limb in the barn that would make a good crutch.”

Before Blane could say another word, Amie said, “Mommy told me not to go into the barn. She said there’s a man tied up in there.”

Blane nodded. Faye’s warning to Amie had been a good idea. “That’s right, Amie. Good girl.”

Blane searched his mind. There must be a way for him to get up and move around. Then he carried the logic a step further. Even if he could find a way to become mobile, he could not leave the children alone. Faye’s looking for Claude, however, made him apprehensive. Whatever she would find, Blane figured it would be far from pleasant.

XXIV.

The rain had begun to come down in sheets whipped by a strong, southwesterly wind. The sky was dark with thick, cumulus clouds ranging low over the plains. Great streaks of lightning arced across the heavens. Frequently, the angry, white fingers of electricity stabbed at the ground in the distance.

Faye felt the water-soaked wind relentlessly pelt her face and hands. Although she wore a slicker and a rain cap, her clothes beneath were already soaked and she was terribly cold. Again and again, she wiped the rain from her glasses and her eyes. Mostly, she kept her head down against the wind with her gaze focused on the ground. When she occasionally looked up, she could see only a few feet in front of her.

She sat steady on the ambling mule whose secure plodding was Faye’s only comfort. Occasionally, she cried out, “Claude!” But the storm eagerly swallowed up
the sound of her voice in the whir and the howl of a savage wind.

One by one, she checked the places where Claude would have worked the small fields. Her search, however, was erratic and she could not be sure she had covered the area thoroughly. Yet, there was nothing to shelter a person from the elements. The closest stand of trees was almost a half mile away bordering a small stream in the opposite direction of the cabin. Claude had to be here somewhere!

Again, she called his name.

She felt warm tears come to her eyes. As they streamed down her cheeks they quickly mixed with the cold rain.

She lowered her head against the rain and the wind and watched the animal’s hooves sink into the mud, one step after the other. A lonely feeling of abandonment engulfed her and she began to sob even more.

Again, she called her husband’s name, but her voice had grown hoarse and weak.

Suddenly the animal stopped. She kicked the mule with her heels. “Come on! Get up!” But the animal would not budge.

She raised her head to see what had caused the mule to stop. Startled, she cried in a low voice, “Claude?”

TO BE CONTINUED

Why Did God Allow It To Happen?

This is for you, Diane.

The other day, you asked why God would allow a spider to bite your younger daughter’s leg. You said the doctors wanted to amputate. But you demanded instead that they heal the leg. Your daughter now has lost part of the tissue from her leg and owes the hospital tens of thousands of dollars.

Tears were in your eyes when you asked why God would allow such a terrible thing to happen. My sterile reply at the time was, “I can’t speak for God.” But, now, allow me to try.

Over years of study, one principle continually stands out for me. It is to be thankful to God in all circumstances. God did not bite your daughter on the leg. A spider did that. Still, God is present in life in everything that happens. He was there when you demanded that your daughter’s leg not be amputated. He was there when your daughter’s leg was finally healed. And, he was there when his Son hung on a cross.

Regardless of what happens in our lives, we can always thank God. Why? Because you and I received the better end of the bargain. We received God’s unmerited favor (Grace) instead of what we should have received.
For our sins against God and against our fellow Man, we should receive eternal punishment in Hell. That’s what I deserve, that’s what you deserve, and that’s what your daughter deserves.

God, in his mercy, however, sent his only Son to pay the penalty for our sins. Jesus Christ became the ransom for our transgressions.
Here is what we did to the only man whoever walked the earth and did not sin. We mocked him, we spit on him, and we beat him. We put a crown of thorns on his head. In front of an angry mob, we paraded him to a place called Calvary. Then we nailed his hands and his feet to a cross. Between two criminals, we executed him, Roman style. And we yelled, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!”

But that was nothing in contrast to what God himself did to His own Son on our behalf. While Jesus hung on the cross, God took my sins and your sins and your daughter’s sins and everyone else’s sins and poured them into Christ’s body. Jesus became our sins, so much so, that God could not look upon his own Son. When Christ felt his Father turn away, he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

While Jesus was suffering and dying for us, we huddled at the foot of the cross and flipped coins to see who would get his clothes. Even after his death, you and I pierced his side with a spear so that his blood poured forth.

And what did the sinless man say about his murderers? “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

Finally, after Christ had risen, one of his own disciples said, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.”

So, a week later when Jesus appeared among the disciples, he told Thomas to touch the wounds. Then Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
Jesus replied, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

So, you see, you and your daughter and I got the better end of the bargain. For that, we ought to fall on our faces, weeping, and call out praise and thankfulness to our Father...who thought it better to sacrifice his only Son than to allow us to experience the pain and suffering of eternity in Hell.

Now, God promises this: When you turn from your sins and instead trust in, and rely on, Me, through Jesus Christ, you shall have what is contained in the promise itself; that is, forgiveness for your sins, peace in your soul, and life everlasting in Paradise.

In all circumstances in life, let us remember, dear Lord, to be thankful for what we receive, instead of receiving what we deserve. In the precious name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Someone Must Pay the Price

Allow me to speak further on the subject of why God allows bad things to happen to people.

Let’s go back to the beginning when God created the first man and the first woman. The first principle to remember is that God made Adam and Eve with free will. God did not want robots that walked the earth as automatic machines. He wanted living souls with whom he could commune. He loved us then and he loves us now with a perfect, divine love that never changes.

The closest parallel we can understand is the love between a mother and her child. The mother loves the child. She is bonded to the child as no one else can be. Even when her child causes her anger and grief, the mother continues to love the child. The mother’s greatest gift from the child is when the child says from the heart, “I love you,” and then shows that love by obeying the mother’s words.

Now, the mother is much wiser than the child. The mother has lived many more years and has accumulated much more experience in life. She, therefore, is able to instruct her child in ways that will keep the child safe from harm. Should the child disobey, he puts himself in danger. But like his mother, the child is a creature with free will. He is not bound, as a robot, to obey his mother. He may, indeed, choose to act in a manner that may bring harm or even death.

After God created Adam and Eve, he gave one command: “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.”
A mother’s first desire is to keep her child safe from harm. She tells the child, “You must not run into the street.” Her unspoken words continue, “For when you run into the street, surely a car will hit and kill you.”

We all know what happened in the Garden of Eden. Tricked by the serpent, Eve ate of the forbidden fruit. Then she gave some to her husband who was with her and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked. They covered themselves with sewn fig leaves and HID FROM GOD.

Adam and Eve had disobeyed God. It was the first sin. It was the Fall of Man. Man’s heart had been corrupted by a free will decision to disobey God. And Man’s impulse, ever since, has been to HIDE FROM GOD.

Hiding from a right relationship with God, however, causes extreme torment for the individual’s soul, which was created to commune with God. Only when the corrupt heart of the individual is converted by means of God’s grace through faith in Jesus Christ[1] will the individual find lasting peace.

At the time of the Fall, what was God to do? His human creations had invoked upon themselves the curse of death; that is, they had nullified their original state of eternal life. They had also lost their state of innocence. They now knew both good and evil. And at Satan’s prompting, they had chosen evil.

Adam and Eve had effectively changed their own nature. They, in effect, had become children of the devil, rather than children of God. Not only that, but all the offspring for all generations to come would be the product of the corrupt seed. They would have the same depraved nature. Everyone would be, and is, born into a state of condemnation (inherited sin). [That’s also why Jesus, the Messiah, in order to be perfectly sinless had to be born of a virgin.]

So, again, what was God to do? His heart was broken. Just as a mother would grieve for her child who had run into the street and was killed, God grieved to no end over the loss of the loving relationship he had had with Man. Perhaps, he, indeed, should have created robots instead of living souls with free will. But that would have defeated the whole purpose! How satisfying is it to hear a robot say, “I love you”?

In his agonizing grief, God saw that the earth was filled with wicked people whose every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually.[2]

Just as a judge cannot erase the penalty for murder committed by one person against another, God’s righteousness cannot allow him to erase the penalty for Man’s sin.

Someone must pay the price.

But no man on earth could have served as a satisfactory sacrifice, because all had sinned and come short of the glory of God. One sinful person cannot be sacrificed for another sinful person. No, what was required was someone who had no sin at all. A spotless lamb had to be sent to the slaughter in order for the offering to accomplish its end.

And in raising his head from looking upon the earth, which was filled with Man’s wickedness, God’s gaze mournfully came to rest on his precious, only, sinless Son.

Every individual is born with inherited sin and is, therefore, condemned from birth to eternity in Hell. Additionally, the sins we commit during our lives exceed the number of grains of sand on all the beaches in the world. There, however, is one, and only one, way out: Jesus Christ.

John 3:18
18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only Son.(NIV)

Acts 4:12
12 “…Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved."
(NIV)

Ever since Adam and Eve misused their God-given free will, Man has lived in a world of good and evil. Of Adam’s first two offspring, Cain and Abel, one murdered the other. This is the world we live in.

During one occasion, God had become so angry that he decided to end the entire human race. Only one man found favor with God. So, God sent a flood that killed everyone and everything that breathed, except for Noah and his family. This also surely broke God’s heart. Afterward, he said he would never send such a flood again.

But even on the arc, sin showed itself in one of Noah’s sons.[3]

Now, the question: Why does God allow us to continue to live in this world where the lusts of the flesh and the interests of the self and the guiles of the devil seem to reign supreme?

First, let’s recognize what this life is. In a sense this life is not life at all; that is, it is not true life. True life is what comes after we depart this world.

This world and this life combine to establish the PRELUDE to true life. During this prelude to true life, there are two kinds of people: those who are saved and those who are lost. For a long time, I was among the lost. Now, I’m among the saved. Had I died or had the world come to an end while I was lost in this life, I would have remained lost for eternity.

True life, the way God intended it from the beginning, has no end. There is no death, no disease, no suffering, no strife, and no harmful spiders that bite and cause sickness. All creatures live at peace with one another.

Life in the current world, however, is fraught with evil, danger, disease, and spiders that cause sickness. That is because this world has been utterly corrupted by sin. Everyone and everything in this world lives under the curse brought on by Man’s disobedience to God.

Is it a stretch to say that a person’s sickness due to a spider bite is ultimately due to Man’s sin? Absolutely not! Sin produces consequences, whether the effects manifest as weeds in a wheat patch, sickness from a spider bite, or eternity in Hell.

But then, God is supposed to be a good God. Why would he allow a precious daughter to be harmed so severely? The answer is God allows the world to operate as it does because he IS good. He is long-suffering; that is, he is patient. He will allow the condemned and the saved to live side by side until the world, as we know it, ends. Then he will sift the weeds from the wheat. Should he do it early, he would cut off those who would be saved. Thus, he will first ensure the Gospel has been preached to the ends of the earth. Then when all the other events which must take place have occurred he will come again as King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Still, God is present everywhere. He was with the precious daughter when the spider bit her. I dare say that, because God is merciful, he mitigated the circumstances of the daughter’s affliction. I believe that, left without God, the daughter would have lost her leg or possibly died.

So then, what is our lesson? First, we must repent of our sins, surrender to Christ, and become one of his own. The primary job of the lost is to get saved. The primary job of the saved is to spread the Gospel so those who are lost receive the means by which they must be saved. Salvation comes by God’s grace through faith in Jesus Christ. So, how does one gain, and/or strengthen his, faith?

Rom 10:17
17 So faith comes by hearing [what is told], and what is heard comes by the preaching [of the message that came from the lips] of Christ (the Messiah Himself). (Amplified Bible)

The word of Christ is the Gospel; that is, the good news that Christ has taken away the sins of the world. Through his sacrifice, salvation is bestowed upon everyone who believes that this truth applies to himself personally. The world will pass away. But the Word of the Lord will never pass away. Read all about it in God’s personal revelation of himself in the Holy Bible. The Word as contained in the Bible, in itself, has the power to save. Simply take it to heart.

The only remaining question is whether or not one uses everything that happens in life to strengthen his faith. Does he use the good times and the calamities to draw nearer to our loving Lord? Happiness is not about getting what one wants in life; it is about being happy with what one has and what one gets. But there is something that transcends happiness. It is the lasting joy of knowing Christ.

With Christ as my Lord and Savior, I can endure absolutely anything. The worst life can do to me is kill me. And then all my troubles are over forever…for on that day, I will meet my loving Lord face to face. Until then, I will offer up into God’s hands whatever suffering I may experience. And I will always remember that whatever troubles I experience in this life are nothing in contrast to what my personal Lord and Savior sacrificed for me.

No, the troubles of this life can touch me no more. For I am a living, loving child of Almighty God through the completed work of Jesus Christ.

Christ has won the victory for me!

Thank you gracious Father through Jesus Christ. I will glorify you forever. Amen.

[1] Genesis 9: 20-27
[2] Genesis 6: 5
[3] The individual’s heart must be reborn through faith in Jesus Christ because only Christ paid the penalty for the individual’s sins.