Angel Train (6 page)

“I don’t think you’ll have any luck,” Tremayne said and shrugged his shoulders.

Charity hated to see his air of futility. He looked capable, but he was not the kind of a man she could really admire. No doubt he could shoot and fight and do the things Western men were reputed to be good at, but he did not have God, and to Charity Morgan that was a fatal flaw. She rose and said, “I’m going home, Uncle Paul. As soon as I convince our people, I’ll be back.”

As soon as she left the room, Tremayne said, “Warden, is she always like that?”

“She has been ever since I’ve known her, and I’ve known her since the day she was born. She’s a stubborn young woman, and I might warn you of this: If you have any idea of getting out and abandoning them, forget it. I’ll put your name and the names of any who abandon the trip in every town in the West. You’ll be brought back here and given a life sentence for escaping.”

Tremayne seemed unimpressed. “It won’t be any trouble for me. I may have to knock a few heads to enlighten some of the men I’ll be taking. The only thing most of them understand is a bullet or a whipping.”

“I want to tell you this, Tremayne. This girl is very dear to me. My sister and I were very close. I loved her dearly, and I still do though she’s gone to be with the Lord. But my heart is with these people. They’re going to be hard for you to get along with. I couldn’t get along with them.”

“You couldn’t get along with them?” Tremayne was surprised for the first time. “I don’t understand that.”

“They’re very . . . straight laced. There’s even sort of a pride in their humility. They think that society is far too worldly, even religious groups. So they can grate on your nerves. You’ll
judge them to be self-righteous, and I guess there’s some truth to that in some cases. But my brother-in-law, Gwilym Morgan—there’s not a finer man on the earth. You’ll see that in him, I’m sure. He may not be much of a fighting man, but he’s a good man, and his children are fine too. I’ll take this as a personal favor if you can help us.”

The appeal seemed to touch Tremayne. He ducked his head for a moment and was silent. Then he said, “I’ll get the train through, Warden, or die trying.”

“Good man. Now, would you like to meet your new employees?” He smiled as he held the list and said, “I can send for them, and you can meet them in a room here.”

“Trot ’em out, Warden. They need to understand a few things.”

* * *

TREMAYNE STUDIED THE SIX men who stood before him, and a sense of despair brushed against his mind.
These are the men I’m supposed to use? Well, it may work. Maybe the girl is right, and God is in all this.

The room was stark with no furniture except one table and two chairs. The five men Warden Bryce had summoned looked uncomfortable and somewhat apprehensive. They had entered the room to find Casey Tremayne standing there, and he had ignored all their questions. Finally, the door closed, and Jack Canreen said, “What’s this all about, Tremayne?” He was a huge man, six feet two, and weighed two hundred twenty-two pounds. The huge biceps strained the fabric of his prison uniform, and his strength was bull-like. His face was scarred with marks of battles past, and he looked dangerous.

Tremayne studied Canreen, who had only lost one fight, and that had been to Tremayne himself.

“I’ve got a proposition. The warden has made an offer to me, and I wanted to let you men in on it because you may be concerned.”

“What kind of offer would he make to us?” Canreen sneered, doubt and anger in his voice. “What does he want? He ain’t giving something for nothing.”

“I think maybe he is this time, Jack. Let me tell you what’s happened.”

Quickly he outlined the details of his visit with the warden and Charity Morgan. He scrutinized the faces of the men. The three men who stood closest to Canreen were all known for their viciousness. Frenchy Doucett was a small man no more than five feet ten and weighed less than a hundred forty pounds. He was lightning quick with a knife. He wore scars on his neck as the remnant of an old knife fight, and his black hair and brown eyes gave evidence of his Cajun blood.
He’s knifed two men in prison, and he claims to be a good shot
, Tremayne thought.

His eyes moved to Ringo Jukes. Jukes was an unusual-looking prisoner. He was six feet tall, well proportioned with a head of auburn hair. He had dark blue eyes and was a handsome man. His good looks concealed a vicious streak. He could be cruel and had been on more than one occasion. Like the others, he had tested Tremayne and found himself battered so badly that he couldn’t work for a week.

Standing next to Jukes was Al Delaney. He was thirty-eight years old, of average size, and one eye was covered with a black patch. Of the four, Delaney was probably the most decent. He was rough and could take care of himself, but the quality that Tremayne treasured most was the fact that he had handled
mules. That had been his profession, and he would be invaluable on a drive to Oregon.

Tremayne studied these four, and then his eyes touched on Billy Watson, who did not seem to belong with the others. Billy was only seventeen, a slight young man with light brown hair and mild brown eyes. He had been abused by Canreen and others, and it was for this reason rather than for his fighting ability that Tremayne had chosen him. Tremayne realized his softhearted quality, which occasionally showed itself, compelled him to give the young man a second chance. Despite his cynicism, Casey Tremayne knew that Billy was basically good.

He smiled at Elsworth Charterhouse, who smiled back.

He outlined the situation and stated his side of it. “I think most of you fellows are like me. You’d do anything to get out of here.”

“There must be a catch in it, Casey,” Al Delaney said. “I never heard of a prison letting guys go.”

“It’s all conditional, Al,” Tremayne said. “If we get the train through, our pardons will be confirmed. Anybody who runs will be hunted down like a dog by the law and by me. Get that straight right now.”

“Who is this bunch we are supposed to watch out for?” Canreen demanded. “A bunch of preachers you say?”

“They’re Christian people, and I’m warning you right now, Jack. You’ll treat them well, or else I’ll leave my mark on you as I did once before.”

The remark seemed to drop like salt on a wound. Casey Tremayne was the only man who ever bested Canreen in a fistfight. Both men had been bloodied and bruised, but Casey Tremayne had walked away while Canreen didn’t regain consciousness for hours. He still had the scars, and now there was a challenge in his eyes.

“You think you can whip me, Canreen?”

Canreen shifted. “I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in getting out of here.”

“That’s smart, Jack. So I’ll put this to you. Any man who disobeys me, I’ll whip until he can’t walk, and then he’ll work the next day. I won’t bust any bones.”

“What if you can’t whip him?” Canreen demanded sullenly.

“Then I’ll shoot him in the head,” Tremayne said flatly. “Let me add this. There’ll be one rule about these people. You’ll treat them with respect. There will be young women too. You haven’t seen a young woman in a long time. If any of you get out of line with any woman, I’ll cut him off at the neck. There’ll be no trial. I’ll be the judge, jury, and executioner. Can you swallow that, Jack?”

Jack Canreen glared at Tremayne, but he shrugged. “I’ll do anything to get out of here. Even be nice to your preacher friend.” He turned and said, “What about him? He’s not going to help on a drive like this.” He indicated Billy Watson with a nod and waited for Tremayne’s answer.

“I’m taking Billy because he’s going to be a good man. He’s already a better man than you, Canreen.”

“Why, I could whip him with one hand.”

“You probably could, but still you’d wind up on a gallows or shot by a posse. The jury’s still out on Billy. He can be anything he wants to. He shouldn’t have been in this prison in the first place, and I’m giving him his chance. If I catch any of you ragging him too much, I’ll settle it. If any of you set out to discipline him, you get ready to pick your teeth up. Any questions?”

“Why you takin’ the Limey? He’ll be worthless,” Canreen demanded.

“He’s the only one of us who can speak Latin. We might run into some educated redskins.”

“When’s all this going to happen, Casey?” Frenchy Doucett asked.

“May not happen at all. The girl has to go back and convince her friends. I know all you fellows are men of prayer, so you’d better start praying she does, or otherwise we’ll all probably rot in here.” His voice was cynical, and he shook his head. “Don’t count on it. I stopped believing in Santa Claus some time ago, and that’s about what this amounts to. That woman has to convince the psalm singers to trust their lives to a bunch of jailbirds.”

He hesitated. “I don’t believe in miracles, fellas, but maybe this is my only chance out of here so I’m going to have to believe something and this is it.”

ON HER JOURNEY HOME Charity felt oppressed by the enormous decision she had to place before the members of the Pilgrim Way. However unlikely, the circumstances seemed to have been arranged by the Lord, yet the closer she drew to home, the more she was aware that no one but she had ever thought of such a thing. Many people had doubts about making a trip to Oregon under any conditions, and now to put themselves in the hands of a group of criminals seemed like a nightmare.

All the way home, she prayed that God would give her a word. She had determined to fast and pray until God gave her a sense of rightness. She had always been able to find the mind of God concerning decisions. The decision not to marry Charles Campbell had been so clearly outlined from God and placed in her mind that there was never any doubt, but this was entirely different.

She reached home and was greeted with enthusiasm by the entire family who wanted a report on their uncle and aunt.

“They’re both fine, and they send you their love,” she said to them. She hugged her father and said, “He especially wanted me to give you a hug for him.”

“He’s a good man, Paul Bryce. He’s like your mother. They were very close, those two.”

She went to bed that night and slept little. She had not eaten anything, for she believed fasting was one of God’s commandments, especially when there was a decision to be made. All night long she struggled. She thought of Jacob wrestling with the angel and remembered that during that encounter he sustained an injury and limped for the rest of his life.

O God,
she prayed,
show me the way. I know there will be opposition, but I pray even now that You would touch hearts and minds and grant favor and lead us as You led Abraham to a promised land. Prove Yourself, O God, to Your servant and to Your people.

For the next day she managed to avoid eating, and all day long she sought privacy by walking along the river. That evening, when she was on her way home, she felt weary and drained.

I prayed every prayer I know how to pray, Lord, and now I leave it in Your hands. You’ve told us to wait on You and to be patient, and that’s all I can do.
She felt physically exhausted, and the lack of food, no doubt, had something to do with that, but she had discovered long ago that intense spiritual warfare was a debilitating affair and weakened the body.

She had nearly reached home when suddenly she stopped. The spring had come and March was nearly over, but she was unaware of the greenery and the golden leaves coming out in tiny buds. It was as if someone called her name from a far distance, and there on the road she simply bowed her head. Time passed, but Charity didn’t notice. Finally, a verse of Scripture came into her mind. This was not unusual. She knew the Bible so well that Scripture would often come. This time, however,
there was a startling clarity. It was a verse that spoke to one of the pilgrims of the Bible.
Ye have dwelt long enough in this mount.
That was the essence. She recognized the verse but could not place it in context. Hurrying home, she went up to her room, pulled out her Bible, and began to search.

She had a faint memory, and turning to the book of Deuteronomy, she read the first six verses of the first chapter. And then she ran across the Scripture that seemed to leap off the page: “Ye have dwelt long enough in this mount.”

Tears came into Charity’s eyes, and she began to sob. “Thank You, God,” she whispered. “Thank You for your guidance, for I take this as Your word.”

She got to her feet and washed her face. It was not unusual, she knew, for people of the Way to take a Scripture as guidance. It was an enlightenment they believed in. They used the Bible for their spiritual lives as men would use a map to find their way through dangerous territory. The Bible had the truth for them. It was the Word of God, and a peace descended on Charity at that moment. She knew that although there would be difficulties and trials, there would be victory at the end. She went downstairs and found her father sitting in his favorite chair, reading the Bible.

“Pa, I need to talk to you.”

“Sit down, Daughter.” Gwilym looked up and saw the seriousness of her face. “You have a problem?”

“No, Pa. I think God has given me an answer to a problem.”

Gwilym closed his Bible and turned to face her squarely. “What is it, Daughter?”

“Pa, will you do one thing for me?”

“Why, surely, lass.”

“Will you listen to everything I have to say without interrupting, and then after I’ve finished, you can say anything you like and ask me anything you like. Will you do that for me?”

“Why, of course I will.”

The house was empty, another sign this was a propitious moment. Charity began by telling her father about the dream, careful to mention that it had been repeated twice. She told how she had followed what she felt was the right thing in going to see her Uncle Paul, how she had explained the people’s problem, and how that he had listened and agreed to pray that they would find an answer.

Gwilym sat silently, his eyes seeking his daughter’s face. He knew this girl was close to God, as her mother had been and her grandmother before her. He had great confidence in Charity’s ability to search the Scripture and knew that she was at least as devoted to the Word of God as he himself. He did not speak, but when she told him about Bryce’s offer, his eyes widened, and involuntarily he shook his head a fraction of an inch.

Charity saw this but calmly related how they had talked to Tremayne, and her uncle seemed assured these men would help them make the trip to Oregon. She ended by saying, “I have talked to Tremayne, and he is a rough-hewn man. He’s a Western man and knows the country. He knows the Indians. He lived with them for a while when he was kidnapped from his family after his parents were killed. But Uncle Paul says that the parole board will follow his recommendations. I’ve been fasting and praying, Father, and I believe that this is God’s answer. Now, you may ask me anything.”

Gwilym was stunned. He stared at his daughter. The thing he dreaded most was telling her that she had missed God. And still he feared for the future.

“I don’t see, Daughter, how it could possibly be. Even if I would agree to it, the elders and the people themselves would have to agree. You realize what you’re asking us to believe? That a group of criminals and murderers could be the means of our salvation? It seems if God wanted to bring someone to help us, He could do better than that.”

“God moves mysteriously, doesn’t He, Pa?” Charity said calmly. “If you will agree, that’s one miracle.” She smiled and took his hand. “You’ve always been a good father and a good leader to the people. This is the hour of crisis. I believe the Lord has spoken through that Scripture: ‘Ye have dwelt long enough in this mount.’ We know we have to leave, and this is the only way I see us keeping our people together. Will you join me, and we will convince the others?”

Gwilym sat silently for a time, and finally he took a deep breath. “It’s strange, but I’ve been worried sick about what’s going to happen. But as you spoke and gave this Scripture, it seemed to me that God spoke to my own heart. It’s like that storm on the Sea of Galilee when Jesus was asleep. Do you remember? And they came to Him and said, ‘Master, master, we perish.’ You remember what Jesus did?”

“Of course. He got up and rebuked the storm, and it went away, and suddenly everything was peaceful.” Her eyes glowed with delight. “That’s the way with you, is it, Pa?”

“Yes, it is. We both may be deceiving ourselves, but I think I see the hand of God in all of this.”

“Then we’ll go to the people and put it to them.”

“We need to pray more. I know you’ve been praying, but I need to prepare myself. I–I haven’t been a strong leader, Daughter.”

“Pa, you’ve always done a magnificent job of bringing the Word of Life to us.”

“That’s one thing, but this is something else. I feel so unfit.”

“You mustn’t say that. God has put you in your place, and now it’s time to leave this place as Abraham left and as the children of Israel left the wilderness and went to the Promised Land. God is in it. We’ll convince them, you and I.”

* * *

EVERY MEMBER OF THE Pilgrim Way was gathered at the meeting house—more than thirty families. Children were there—some merely crawlers, some at their mother’s bosom. Gwilym had insisted that every member be present for the meeting, but he had said no more.

“What’s this all about, Gwilym?” Karl Studdart spoke in a loud voice, and he glared at Gwilym. “Why weren’t the elders told about this before it was brought to the whole group?”

“I did not call the elders because this is a matter that must be decided by the head of every family. It’s a serious thing, and you will have a chance to question any of it, Brother Studdart. Now I’m going to ask you to listen to my daughter Charity. You all know her for a young woman who has been close to God. She has come to me with something she says God has put on her heart. I will ask her to tell you what has happened, and I will add this,” he said, “I believe that what she has to say is from God, but each man must decide for himself. Charity, come and tell this group what God has been doing.”

Women did not speak often in open meetings, and Charity had expected to be very nervous. But a calm descended on her, and she stood beside her father. “I realize that it’s not customary for women to speak at open meetings, and I would not, except that God has spoken something to me that affects you
all, and you all must hear it. I will be very brief and as clear as I can.”

Charity began to outline the process that had taken place in her life beginning with her concern about the future of the Pilgrim Way and her fears that the fellowship would be scattered. She related her dream, stressing how the dream had been repeated, and then she told how she had acted on the dream. She spoke about how her uncle had listened and had been concerned also about the Pilgrim Way. As she said all this, she was aware that there was curiosity but little else in the faces of the people. But as soon as she related her uncle’s offer to put a group of men at their disposal and that these men were convicts, expressions changed almost instantly. Some faces were filled with anger, others with confusion and doubt.

“I know this comes as a shock to you,” Charity said slowly, her eyes going from face to face. “But when I got back, I fasted and prayed, and God gave me a Scripture. Just one verse, or even part of a verse. It is, ‘Ye have dwelt long enough in this mount.’ I shared this with my father, and we prayed together. We feel it is God’s will for us to go to Oregon, and we feel that God has provided these men to help us make the journey safely.”

“This is foolishness!” Studdart said loudly. He got to his feet and his voice rose. “We are to put our lives in the hands of criminals. I do not—”

“Brother Studdart, you will be seated.” Gwilym’s voice was cold, and he stared at Karl Studdart. It was the first time he had ever challenged anything the big man said, but there was a strength in Gwilym Morgan at that moment, and Studdart was taken aback. He started to stutter, but Gwilym overrode him, saying, “You have heard my daughter’s testimony. I believe what she has heard is the word of God. This
is new to you. We will dismiss without further comment, and I ask each of you to do one thing. Find a place, pray, and seek the will of God. This makes no sense, of course, in the natural, but we are not people of the natural. We are people of God, and if God wants to use these men, it is His right for He is the Lord God.

“You will remember this, however, that God chose a man called Cyrus, who was, no doubt, an idolater and a wicked man, to be a blessing to the people of Israel. Think about that,” he said, “and now I will dismiss you. We will meet tomorrow night at six o’clock. During that time you will be given an opportunity to share your views, and we will make a decision.

“Now,” he lifted his hands and prayed, “God, our Father, we are Your people, and we are helpless like sheep without a shepherd unless You are with us. This is a startling thing, and a thing that arouses unbelief in the heart, but if this is Your will, O God, I pray that You would speak to the hearts of men and women and young people, and that we might be obedient to whatever Your will is. We’re trusting in the name of Jesus. Amen.”

Charity stood still beside her father, and the two watched as the building emptied. Some people were talking loudly and others whispering. Gwilym said sadly, “I fear the outcome of this, Charity.”

“If God is in it, He can speak, and He can change hearts. We’re going to believe God. That’s all there is to it.”

* * *

THE MORGANS TALKED A great deal the following day. The younger girls were excited about making a trip; that was all it was to them. It might have been no more than a trip to
Pittsburgh, which was the farthest they’d ever been away from home.

Evan, on the other hand, had serious doubts. He loved and admired Charity, but he commented, “I think it’s testing God. It doesn’t make any sense at all, Charity, to trust these men. Once they’re out from the walls that hold them in, they can do as they please.”

“They can only do what Casey Tremayne will let them do,” Charity said.

“He’s only one man.”

Charity nodded. “Yes, that’s true, but when you meet him, you’ll see he has a strength that most men lack.”

“You’re trusting a man who tried to commit murder?”

“I’m trusting a man God has put in our way. So show a little faith, Evan, will you?”

* * *

THE MEETING WAS CALLED to order by Gwilym, and he looked out over the congregation. “This is a time for every man who has a feeling about what we’re proposing to say so. Whatever we say, let it be done in Christian charity. If you do not believe this is of God, then you have a right to say so, but I beg you not to do so in anger. We all want God’s will, and though we may disagree, we are still brethren.”

Charity sat perfectly still; her hands were clenched so tightly together they ached. She did not know what to expect, and when she saw Karl Studdart rise, her spirit seemed to go cold.
No, he’s going to fight.