A New Beginning
© 1997 by Michael Phillips
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Ebook edition created 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-2953-3
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To the Reverend Sam Kleinsasser, from whose early life Christopher's story, much of it factual, is drawnâPastor who baptized me, Mentor who nurtured me, Friend who loved meâa man whose character and worldwide ministry constantly remind me that
all
men and women, whatever their background, can be used mightily by our Father.
Chapter 4. Christopher's Quandary
Chapter 5. Funeral at Dutch Flat
Chapter 10. Passing On of a Legacy
Chapter 12. Christopher's Half of the Decision
Chapter 13. Christopher's Story
Chapter 19. A Vision for Ministry
Chapter 22. Leaving the Rock by the Side of the Road
Chapter 23. What Comprises Faith?
Chapter 24. Who's Watching Your Faith?
Chapter 26. What Is God's Purpose?
Chapter 27. How Is It Achieved?
Chapter 28. What Is Christlikeness?
Chapter 31. An Unexpected Caller on a More Unexpected Errand
Chapter 34. A Most Wonderful Question
Chapter 36. Franklin Royce Surprises the Whole Town
Chapter 37. A Hard Day in Town
Chapter 38. Learning to Be a Pastor's Wife
Chapter 39. The Freight Company
Chapter 40. Looking Toward the Future
Chapter 41. What Is Going to Last?
Chapter 42. A Permanent Legacy
Chapter 45. Two Kinds of Obedience
Chapter 46. Good Tears and Goodbyes
Two Changes
If life didn't contain change, I don't suppose it would be very interesting. Change is the thing that brings about decisions. Decisions call for choices, and without choices to make a person can't grow.
The only trouble is, most of the time it's the
difficult
changes and the
hard
choices you face that make you grow the most. It's not easy to be happy and thankful sometimes when circumstances bring change. You might look back later and realize you grew and matured through them, but at the time all you can think of is how hard it is.
The first change to come into our lives didn't have to do with me. The second one did.
My brother Zack took the job as the new sheriff of Miracle Springs. That was the first one.
We women didn't like the idea too much. But Pa and my other brother Tad and Uncle Nick thought it was great. It was obvious Pa was mighty proud of his son. He and Uncle Nick would joke with each other about coming West to get away from the lawâand now they were living under the same roof with the law! Before Zack even had the badge pinned on his vest, Tad was already talking about becoming his deputy. All my stepmother Almeda and my sister Becky and I could think of was the danger a sheriff might have to face . . . and a deputy too.
“There's nothing to worry about,” Zack kept saying. “Simon hasn't had to use his gun since the gold rush days.”
“Zack's right,” Pa added with a laugh. “Why, he told me himself that he has to oil his gun to keep it from rusting up! Sheriffin's an administrative job these days.”
I don't think Almeda was convinced.
Zack took over the job right after Christmas, with the beginning of the new year 1868. Simon Rafferty, the old sheriff who had just retired, still came into town from his ranch almost every day just to make sure Zack got off to a good start. He made it clear that Zack could call on him any time if he needed help with something, and that made it a little easier on all of us.
The other big change about to come to the Hollister-Braxton home in Miracle Springs had to do with my new husband, Christopher Braxton, and me. The Braxton half of the clan was planning to pull up stakes and leave the Hollister half to itself again. And this time I wouldn't be on the Hollister side of the fence, but the Braxton side.
Christopher and I waited until two weeks after Christmasâfor the season to pass and for Zack to get situated in his new jobâbefore telling the rest of the family what Christopher felt the Lord was showing himâthat we were to leave Miracle Springs and return to the East. We would be making plans to leave California early in the spring.
We made the announcement one day at supper. After Christopher finished, everyone sat stone-faced and absolutely silent. I was looking down at my plate. None of my family could believe what they'd heard. The silence went on for several minutes. No one took another bite.
At last I heard someone start to cry softly. I knew it was Becky, and I glanced up.
“But . . . I don't
want
you to leave again, Corrie,” she said in a forlorn tone.
“We have to do what the Lord wants,” I said, trying to be brave and sound spiritual, but my voice trembled. It was what I thought I
should
say, though the words felt rather hollow. I didn't want to leave Miracle Springs either.
“I missed you so much the last time you were gone,” Becky added. “Who will I have to talk to?”
I didn't know what to say. I glanced helplessly at Christopher. After he had become such a friend to Becky, and after the long talk he and I had had with her a few months earlier about being content not being married, it seemed now we were about to abandon her. I know that's how it appeared to Becky, anyway, and neither Christopher nor I were anxious to say something like, “The Lord will provide you someone,” which could only sound rather superficial in her ears. It's all well and good to give someone advice, but then you have to back it up, and I know it must have seemed to Becky that we weren't going to back up ours.
“You can talk to
me
!” suddenly piped up Ruth enthusiastically from her seat beside Becky. It was silent for just an instant. Almeda smiled, and even Becky saw the humor in it and now laughed lightly through her tears.
“Certainly,” she said, putting her arm around my eleven-year-old half sister. “How could I have forgotten? Thank you, Ruthâof course I shall talk to you.”
Ruth beamed as though she had solved the whole world's problem. Everyone was glad for the diversion in the conversation. A little more laughter followed, and the subject of our leaving did not come up again. But I thought it strange at the time that Almeda didn't say something further. Maybe she could sense how hard the whole situation was for me.
Neither was it something Christopher and I talked much about in the weeks that followed. We just gradually made preparations. He wrote to San Francisco for ticket information and I began thinking of what we should take. We didn't have muchâjust our clothes and quilts and dishes and a few pieces of furniture we had collected to furnish the little bunkhouse on my family's property where we lived. But we would need at least some of those things to start our new life in the East. So I started saving containers that came into the Hollister Supply Company, our family business, to box and crate up our things.
Jesse Harrisâthe former outlaw who'd been wounded outside the house the previous fall and had been with us convalescing ever sinceâhad been taking his meals at the table with us for several weeks now. That was another big change that happened, partly in our lives, but mostly in Mr. Harris's life. He'd never been part of a group of people who acted like a
family
. The closest thing he'd ever known was the Catskill Gang. But even though those men rode together, they were still out for themselves.
Mr. Harris couldn't get used to the way we all shared together and prayed about decisions. He had changed a lot since asking the Lord to be part of his life, but it was hard for him to understand what all the fuss was about Christopher and me leaving. He'd always done whatever came into his mind to do.
The New Sheriff
By the end of the year, Mr. Harris had recuperated from his wounds enough to get up and move around pretty good. It had taken longer than Doc Shoemaker had figured it ought to. He said it was probably because Mr. Harris wasn't very fit in the first place, drinking so much and not eating well. So we did our best to get as much healthy food down him as we could, and of course not a drop of alcohol passed his lips. By Christmas he'd put on probably ten or fifteen pounds and his face showed some color.
No one talked much about it, but we all knew that eventually something was going to have to happen because there were still warrants out for his arrest. Pa had been spending lots of hours alone with Mr. Harris in the bedroom where he lay. None of the rest of us heard any of those conversations, but they were ones Mr. Harris sure never forgot, because he'd often later refer back to one thing or another that Pa'd told him.
A few days after Christmas Sheriff Rafferty came to see Zack. They spoke quietly amongst themselves at one end of the sitting room. When Sheriff Rafferty got up to leave, all I heard him say as they approached the door was, “You sure?”
“Yep, I'll handle it,” replied Zack.
As soon as the sheriff was gone, Zack went into the bedroom.
“How you feeling, Mr. Harris?” he asked.
“Near like new, young Hollister. These women o' yers takin' mighty good care o' me.”
“That's what I want to talk to you about, Mr. Harris,” said Zack. “You know it's near time you were leaving.”
“YepâI reckoned it was coming sooner or later.”
“You know what that means?”
“Don't worry, son,” said Mr. Harris. “Your pa an' me, we done talked all about it. Bein' accountableâthat's what your pa calls it. I reckon he's right too. I know I gotta own up t' my past and pay fer the wrong I done. If I'm gonna git my life straightened around, ain't no time to waste doing things like I used to. I know well enough where my new home'll be soon's I leave here.”
Zack nodded, and they talked a little more.
So it turned out that Zack's first job as sheriff was to transfer Mr. Harris from our house to the jail in town. That's what Sheriff Rafferty had come to talk to him about, offering to do it before the first of the year if Zack wanted. I think he halfway expected trouble. But knowing the man he had shot well enough by this time, Zack said it would not be a problem and that he would handle it alone. I think Zack needed to carry out this first assignment for the sake of his own confidenceâand to show the people of Miracle Springs that he was prepared to be their sheriff, whatever came his way.
On the second of January, Zack loaded Mr. Harris into a two-seater buggy, then the two of them set off for town. Zack was now wearing the badge on his vest and his gun on his hip, which I still couldn't get used to. But he didn't take any extra precautions with Mr. Harris, like handcuffs or tying his hands or anything. Even writing that sounds funny, because in the months he had been in our house Mr. Harris had become our friend. Yet still, as he and Zack rode off, with Pa and the rest of us watching them go just a little bit uneasily, there was still no way around the fact that the one man was a sheriff and the other was an outlaw who had come to town in the first place vowing to kill both Zack and Pa.
But Mr. Harris really had changed. Nothing happened, and they made it to town just fine.
But something else
did
happen, and it wasn't that much later either.
No one expected anything so dramatic so soon. Sheriff Rafferty hadn't encountered a dangerous incident in years, and within Zack's first month, he almost . . .
WellâI should tell you about it as it happened.
I was at the supply companyâwhich most of us still called the freight company from its days as the Parrish Mine and Freightâfor the day, both working and gathering up some crates and boxes in the wagon to take home for packing. I had just loaded one of them up into the back of the wagon when I saw a stranger ride up and dismount in front of the Gold Nugget saloon down the street. The first thing I noticed was that his horse and saddle weren't cared for. A lot of men don't own much of anything, but at least they keep their horses brushed and their saddles oiled.
I shuddered when I saw him. I could tell he was a bad man. I don't like to say that about anyone God has made. I don't suppose anyone is
really
bad through and through because God says we're made in his image. But from the look on this man's face I didn't see too much left of whatever goodness of God's image might have once been in him.
He walked into the saloon and I went back into the freight company.
I'd just about forgotten about the incident. Ten minutes or so passed. Suddenly I heard yelling outside.
“Hey, you in there!” called a loud voice from the street. “Yeah, inside the jail. . . .”
The instant I heard the word
jail
, my heart leapt into my throat. I dropped what I was doing and ran to the window. There was the man I had seen, now standing in the middle of the street facing the sheriff's office!
“I'm talking to you, Sheriff! I'm calling you out,” yelled the man in an angry tone. “You got my partner in there in your jail, and I want him.”
A second or two of silence followed. My eyes were as big as saucers. I was terrified but didn't know what I could do. I didn't even think to pray. I just stood there at the window hoping Zack wouldn't come out.
But slowly the door of his office opened. Zack walked slowly out onto the board sidewalk, then stopped, just looking at the man. There was still that holster and gun at his side, and I liked it less now than ever!
“Jesse Harris is your partner?” asked Zack calmly.
“Ain't the name I knowed him byâbut you got him in there all right. I heard. An' you either bring him out t' me, or else I'll have t' go in there an' git him myself.”
“I'm afraid I can't do that, mister,” said Zack.
The man laughed.
“Where's the sheriff, deputy? My business is with him.”
“I'm the sheriff.”
The man laughed again, this time with cruel derision in his tone.
“Come on now, son, before you git yerself hurtâjust let my partner go and you can run along home.”
“I told you before, I can't do that.”
“Yer just a blamed kid!” the man said, still laughing. This was going to be easier than he'd thought! “Who's gonna stop me?”
“If I have to, I will.”
Suddenly the man's laughter stopped and his face took on a deadly expression.
“Now look, kid, I ain't got all day.” As he spoke his fingers began to inch imperceptibly toward his gun. I saw his fingers twitching ever so slightly.
Before I knew what I was doing, I opened the door and ran out.
“Zack!” I screamed.
“Get back, Corrie!” shouted Zack. His voice was different than I'd ever heard it. Even as Zack spoke to me, I saw that he never took his eyes off the stranger. His face was calm but his eyes had a squint to them, and I knew he was watching the man's hand.
I stopped in my tracks, terrified for what might happen. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a few people creeping out of the stores and saloons up and down the street. We'd heard about things like this, but there'd never been so dramatic a showdown right in the middle of Miracle Springs.
“Come on now, kid,” said the stranger, “I don't wanna have t' kill you. But I don't aim t' leave this two-bit town till I got my partner, one way or another. Now bring him out, I tell you, before I have t' get rough with you.”
Zack didn't say a word. Not a muscle on his body moved.
Suddenly the man went for his gun.
I screamed and ran toward them.
It was all over in a second or two. Only one shot rang out, dust flew, several yells and shouts sounded, and within seconds the street filled with thirty or forty people running forward into the street.
Nobody had even seen Zack's hand moveâthat's how fast he'd drawn his gun. The gunfire I'd heard was his. The stranger lay writhing in pain in the middle of the street, shouting out obscenities. A crowd gathered around him as Zack now approached. The people stood back to let him through, looking at him with a sudden new awe and respect, as if they'd never seen him before.
Nobody had any idea Zack was so fast with a gun!
I wanted to run up and throw my arms around him for sheer joy. I'd been afraid he was going to get shot. But I stopped myself, all at once seeing him differently, like the rest of the folks I suppose. I realized he wasn't just my little brother anymore. He was the
sheriff
, and I couldn't just go up and hug the sheriff after a gunfight!
“Who is it?” mumbled some of the onlookers.
“Don't know . . . never seen him before.”
“Where'd he come from?”
Zack reached the center of the crowd about the same time Doc Shoemaker did. The man on the ground was holding his right shoulder with his other hand. He realized he was bleeding pretty bad, so he gradually quit swearing and let the doctor take a look at him. Doc stooped down and looked the man over.
“Better get him over to my place,” he said to a few of the men. “Don't want him to bleed to death out here in the street.”
“Send somebody over for me when you got him patched up, Doc,” said Zack. “I'll come over and fetch him.”
“What you gonna do with him, Zack?” somebody asked.
“Put him in the jail,” answered Zack. “As far as I know, trying to kill a sheriff's against the law.”
He turned and walked back to his office. Doc Shoemaker and a couple of the men lifted the stranger to his feet while the crowd slowly disbursed. Nobody talked about anything else the rest of the day, and by evening news of the incident had spread for miles.
I guess Miracle Springs really did have a new sheriff!
