Battle of Lookout Mountain (6 page)

As he spoke, the two women entered, and he stood. “Well, we men sometimes have to wait for the ladies,” he observed with smile, “but they are worth waiting for.”

Both Lori and her Aunt Mae smiled at the compliment. Drake had a way of saying such things that made them appear not to be flattery but the simple truth.

“Why, thank you, Drake,” Lori said. She was wearing a simple white dress with blue trim at the neck and on the sleeves. The skirt fell to the tops of a pair of dark blue shoes.

Her aunt had on a more serious brown dress, and both women wore hats.

“Well, we’d best be going,” Mr. Jenkins said. His wife took his arm, and he led the way out of the house.

Lori walked alongside Drake, and soon the foursome arrived at a white frame building with a steeple that pierced the sky. It was a well-built, snug church, not large but sturdy.

Inside, Drake saw that the walnut pews were well made. They had been varnished, and they gleamed in the sunlight that poured in through the tall windows running down each side. The floor was solid pine, also highly polished.

The Jenkinses drew attention as they took seats close to the front. Drake would have preferred the back of the church, but he had no choice. Sitting down beside Lori, he felt a nudge and looked back to see an elderly lady with pure white hair offering him a hymnbook.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and smiled at her.

At the front of the church was a raised platform, covered with wine-colored carpet. There was a sturdy pulpit, a table bearing a pitcher and a glass, and two chairs—one on either side of the pulpit. One chair was occupied by a heavyset man, whose face was red from a collar that seemed too tight. This was the song leader, Drake soon learned. The other was the minister, he supposed—a tall, gray-haired, dignified-looking man of about fifty.

The song leader got up. “We’ll now lift our voices in song to the Lord.”

Drake shared his songbook with Lori, which gave him an opportunity to lean closer to her. Despite Rosie’s words about his lack of church-going, he had been to revival meetings and was familiar with most of the songs, for the congregation sang such old favorites as “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.”

Drake’s beautiful tenor rose above the rest of the congregation, almost seeming to be a solo. Admiring looks came from many in his vicinity, and when the song was over Lori whispered, “You have such a beautiful voice, Drake! I’m glad to hear you using it to praise the Lord.”

Her words made him feel a little ashamed.
I shouldn’t be doing this
, he thought.
There are other ways to court a girl. Somehow this isn’t right
.

After the song service, the leader took his seat, and the pastor stood up. His name was Brother Morgan, and he had a pleasant baritone voice. There was little nonsense about him—no stories, no jokes. At once he opened his worn black Bible and began to read from Luke, chapter 15.

Looking up from the Bible, Brother Morgan said quietly but in a firm tone, “Our subject this morning is salvation—something every man and every woman must consider. The Bible from beginning to end states that all men are lost. The book of Romans says that ‘all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ That same book tells us that ‘the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life.’ You all are aware that the Bible speaks of a place of eternal fire. You also have heard me say, many times, that heaven is the place where we live forever in fellowship with God.

“This morning I have chosen one of the most dramatic pictures of salvation in the entire New Testament—the story of the Prodigal Son.”

He settled himself behind the pulpit and began to tell how the young man in the story had deliberately thrown away his inheritance. He painted vivid word pictures of what it meant to go away from God.

Drake had not planned to listen and at first had been more conscious of Lori’s sitting beside him than he was of the sermon. However, he soon found himself caught up in the preacher’s message.

Brother Morgan told how the young man began to go wrong. Here he drew on his imagination and spoke of the ways that young men and women go wrong at the present time. They sometimes begin to
drink and gamble and associate with low companions, he said.

Drake kept a straight face, but he thought,
I think Brother Morgan’s been reading my mail
. He stiffened as the message grew more pointed.

Finally the preacher described the end of the young man—he was reduced to eating with hogs.

“Sin always brings us to a sad end,” Brother Morgan said, his voice rising. “It is never unpaid for. Whatever a man sows, that must he also reap. If you sow corn, you will reap corn; if you sow wheat, you will reap wheat; and if you sow sin, you will reap sin’s result: death and hell.”

Drake could not turn off his thoughts and ignore the sermon as he had often done before. With relief, he finally sensed the conclusion coming.

“And here is this young man,” Brother Morgan said. “He’s lost everything. The Scripture says that he ‘came to himself.’ He remembered what home was like and in desperation said, ‘I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, Father, I have sinned …’ “

Brother Morgan looked out over the congregation, and his eyes met, perhaps by accident, those of Drake. “That’s what every young man and young woman who’s gone away from God needs to do. Each one needs to say, ‘I will arise and go to my Father.’“

Drake wanted to break his eyes away, but the eyes of the preacher were locked with his.

Brother Morgan said gently, “When he returned, he saw his house far away. Then he saw his father. And the old man who had been so wronged by this boy—what did he do? He ran to meet him. The boy
began to confess his wrong, but his father said, ‘No, you’re my son, who was lost and now is found.’

“Jesus Christ is God’s way of making things right between Himself and His erring sons and daughters. I invite you to look to Jesus this morning and do as this young man did—repent of your sins and arise and come to your Father.”

There was a rustling as the congregation stood to sing a hymn.

Drake felt strangely moved by the sermon—so moved in fact that his hands trembled holding the songbook, and Lori looked up at him.

The preacher was stationed at the front door as the congregation filed out, and when Drake passed by, Brother Morgan took his hand.

Drake felt the minister’s strong grip. “Fine sermon, Pastor,” he muttered.

“Thank you, my friend.” Brother Morgan held on for a moment and said so quietly that no one but Drake could have heard, “God is waiting for you, young man. Don’t pass Him by!”

Drake looked up, startled, and then ducked his head and left.

The Jenkinses insisted that he take dinner with them, and Drake availed himself of the opportunity. Afterward he sat on the front porch with the family, talking.

When Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins went into the house for a nap, Lori asked, “Did you enjoy the service, Drake?”

“Fine preacher,” Drake admitted. “Don’t know if I ever heard better.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

Then he said, “I’d like to do this again—with you, I mean.”

Lori gave him an odd look. “I think that would be fine, Drake—but it won’t be possible.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, but I’ll be going home to Chattanooga later this week.”

Drake felt suddenly depressed. He said lamely, “Lori, can’t you stay a
little
longer? We’re just getting to know each other.”

“I’d like to stay longer,” she admitted, “but my parents wrote that they need me at home right away. My sister’s ill, and I need to help take care of her.”

The rest of the visit was not happy for Drake.

When he finally rose and she put out her hand to say good-bye, he said, “I’ve never felt about a girl as I do about you, Lori.”

“Oh, you’ve said
that
before.”

Since this was true, Drake flushed slightly. “Well, perhaps I have,” he admitted, “but I
mean
it this time. I want to see you again. Will you write to me?”

“Of course, if you write me first.”

Drake wanted to kiss her good-bye, but he knew that was impossible. He picked up his hat and left the porch, then turned to wave.

She waved back, and he felt even worse.

Later that afternoon Rosie walked out onto the boardinghouse front porch, took one look at Drake, and asked, “What’s the matter with you? You look like an accident going somewhere to happen.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me!”

Rosie stretched his lanky form over one of the porch chairs. “That gal—she’s really got you going, don’t she?”

At first Drake did not answer. Then he looked at his friend. “I’ll tell you the truth, Rosie—I’m in love with her.”

He saw Rosie’s look of disbelief. Drake Bedford had courted many girls, and Rosie was aware of his record.

“Well, it won’t hurt you to suffer a little bit, I reckon,” Rosie said. “You’ve brought enough grief to a whole passel of young ladies.”

“You don’t believe me, but it’s true.” Determination came into Drake’s eyes. “Somehow I’m going to see more of her—watch and see if I don’t!”

E
zra Payne went into town on the last day of July, a Thursday, to buy supplies. He stopped by the hardware store, made a few purchases, then walked on down to Hank’s General Store. As he entered, he found A. B. Rose arguing with the owner over a purchase.

Ezra grinned as he listened to the tall young man declare that the patent medicine he held was priced too high.

“I can’t help the prices,” the storekeeper said. “You’ll just have to pay it or leave it here.”

Rosie reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. “I just ain’t got enough—you’ll have to trust me for it.”

Ezra said, “I’ll be glad to float you a loan, Rosie.” He liked Rosie, and, despite their different points of view on religion, they were fairly good friends.

Rosie turned around, and a smile lighted up his homely face. “Well, now, that’s handsome of you, Ezra. Just lend me a dollar, will you? I think I’ve got the rest.”

He took the money from Ezra and handed it to the storekeeper. “There you are, Mr. Miles.” Then he held up the package and admired the showy red and yellow advertising on the outside. “This ought to do it, sure enough.”

“What’s that for, Rosie?” Ezra asked, winking at Mr. Miles.

“Well, it’s going to cure my liver disease,” Rosie said solemnly. He tore the top open and pulled out an enormous pill. “Any pill this big ought to be good.” He popped one into his mouth. Almost strangling, he forced it down, then gasped, “There. Do your work down there and get that liver straightened up!”

Ezra said, “I’ll buy you a root beer, Rosie, after I get through with my business here.”

“That’d be mighty fine. It’ll settle this pill down a little bit—maybe mollify it.”

Ezra bought the items on his list, and as Mr. Miles put them into a box, he picked up two bottles of root beer and handed one to Rosie. “Get on the outside of this, Rosie!” He grinned. “Maybe it’ll cure something for you.”

“My Uncle Seedy, he always said root beer was good to keep off malaria. He must’ve drunk seven or eight gallons a year.”

“Did he ever get malaria?”

“Just three or four times. But he always said he might have had it a hundred times—or maybe he might have died of it—if he hadn’t drunk all that root beer.”

They sat down and sipped their soft drinks. Abruptly Ezra said, “I guess Drake lost out this time.”

“Yep, I reckon he did, but he says he’s gonna keep on courting that gal.”

“I don’t guess he’ll be courting her now—she’s going home to Tennessee.” Ezra sampled the root beer again and looked at it appreciatively. “This sure is good stuff! I wish I could afford to drink it every day!” He took another sip. “Guess Royal will have a clear field now.”

“But he won’t be able to court her either.”

“Yes, he will! He’s in Rosecrans’s army, and everybody knows where
they’re
headed.”

“Why, that’s right! They’re headed for Chattanooga to settle old General Bragg and the Confederates down there.”

“That’s right! So I expect Royal will be able to go courtin’ after all. He told me Miss Lori lives just outside of town, and the army will be stationed there for a while.”

“Well, I’ll be dogged!” Rosie grinned. “This looks like one time Drake’s going to get his eye waxed as far as a pretty girl is concerned. I never thought I’d see the day!”

Later in the day Rosie encountered Drake in the restaurant, drinking coffee and staring into space.

“Well, this is one time you lost out!” he announced with satisfaction, plunking down beside him. It pleased Rosie to see Drake beat out once in a while. He admired the young man but thought he was a little conceited.

“What do you mean by that?” Drake demanded.

“I’m talking about Miss Lori.”

“What about her?”

“She lives just outside of Chattanooga.”

“I know that. What about it?”

“Why, Chattanooga—that’s where Rosecrans is taking the Union army, and guess who’s in that army?” Rosie grinned broadly. “Royal Carter, that’s who.” He punched Drake a sharp blow on the shoulder. “You sure took second place this time! I hate to get on a man when he’s down, but dog my cats if it ain’t time you learned what it’s like to come
in second, Drake. It does a man good to be humbled once in a while.”

Drake straightened up and stared at him. Then his face settled into a stubborn look. He said nothing but sat drinking coffee while Rosie ate his meal.

Finally Rosie finished and tossed down his napkin. “Looks like the dinner’s on you. I forgot to tell you I don’t have any money. My treat next time.” He strolled off but gave one parting shot over his shoulder. “Reckon it’s right romantic down there in Chattanooga. Mountains and rivers. Wouldn’t be surprised but what Royal doesn’t do some high-powered courtin’. Yessiree, they’re going to make a mighty happy couple!”

Drake stared after Rosie angrily, then looked down at his empty cup.

The waitress came by. She was a short, heavyset, plain girl—and she was hopelessly enamored by Drake Bedford.