The Iron Wagon (14 page)

Both girls hugged Annabeth, then their mother, and hurried from the kitchen into the hall, giggling.

Breanna went to the cupboard, poured two glasses of cool tea, and placed them on the table. The women sat facing each other across one corner of the table.

Breanna relaxed her painful back against the chair. She noticed that Annabeth was staring out the kitchen window and silently asked the Lord for guidance. Then she reached across the corner of the table and laid her hand on top of her best friend’s hand. “Honey, I—I’ve noticed a bit of tension in you and Whip this evening. Because you and Whip love each other so much, I can’t believe there is a problem between you.” She stroked Annabeth’s hand. “Is there something you would like to share with me?”

Annabeth’s lips pinched and quivered as she fought back the tears starting to fill her eyes.

“Sweetie, I’m your friend, and your sister in Christ. You can tell me anything, and it will go no further than this kitchen, if that’s the way you want it.”

With the tears now trickling down her cheeks, Annabeth took both of Breanna’s hands in hers and squeezed them. She sat
immobile for several seconds. Then, heaving a huge sigh, she let go of Breanna’s hands, pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket, and dabbed the tears from her face.

Breanna, with a loving and caring expression in her eyes, waited patiently for Annabeth to gain control of her emotions.

Stumbling over the words that were so hard to utter, Annabeth said just above a whisper, “B-Breanna, Whip and I h-have been married a year t-tomorrow as you kn-know.” Once again, she had to stop and blink back tears.

“Yes, my dear. I was there on that happy occasion.”

A small smile formed on Annabeth’s lips. She took a deep breath. “Whip and I want to have children. We had hoped that one would be on the way by now, but it’s not going to happen.”

Breanna’s eyebrows arched. “What do you mean?”

More tears surfaced, and Annabeth dabbed at them with the handkerchief. “This morning, while working at the hospital, I finally got up enough nerve to talk to Dr. Carroll about our desire to have a baby. He was so kind and immediately, with the help of two nurses, examined me. The—the—” Fresh tears welled up in her red-rimmed eyes. “The results of the examination are devastating. The sad news is that I will never be able to have children. Oh, Breanna, this is so hard for both of us to accept.” Annabeth broke into sobs.

Breanna was taken aback by the news, but her love for her hurting friend overrode the shock. Leaving her chair, she bent over Annabeth and wrapped her arms around her, trying to soothe her friend as she sobbed out her grief.

After a few minutes, when Annabeth’s tears were spent, she
dried her face with the handkerchief and looked into Breanna’s sympathetic eyes.

Breanna squeezed her tightly. “Oh, my dear Annabeth, I’m so very, very sorry. I know this is something no married woman ever wants to hear. You and Whip are both relatively new Christians. Even people like John and me, who have been saved for many years, don’t always understand God’s ways. He doesn’t ask us to understand, but He tells us to trust in Him and His judgment because He has a divine plan for our lives. In His own precious Word, He says in Isaiah 55:8, ‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the L
ORD
.’ But He promises to always make a way for us, and He is always the same ‘yesterday, and to day, and for ever,’ as the Bible says in Hebrews 13:8.”

Breanna kissed her friend’s forehead. “Honey, I know you are grieving now and that this has been a terrible blow, but God, in His wisdom, has a plan for you and Whip, and as you learn to accept His will, He will reveal that plan to you. In Psalm 18:28, David wrote under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, ‘For thou wilt light my candle: the
LORD
my God will enlighten my darkness.’ Then it says in verse 30, ‘As for God, his way is perfect: the word of the L
ORD
is tried: he is a buckler to all those that trust in him.’”

Annabeth was nodding while wiping more tears. Tenderly hugging her friend, Breanna said, “So you see, my dear one, the same Lord Jesus that has saved your soul from hell, and forgiven all of your sins, and dwells within your heart, has a special plan just for you and Whip!”

A light beamed in Annabeth’s eyes. “Oh, thank you, Breanna. I wish I knew God’s Word as well as you do. No, I don’t understand why I can never have children, but I do trust my wonderful Lord, and I know that He will give Whip and me what is best. We just must remain faithful and not be afraid, for we are in God’s hands and under His control.”

Breanna nodded. “Exactly, my dear friend. Exactly.”

The two women shared a long hug. As they let go of each other, Breanna said, “I’m here for you, Annabeth. Always remember that.”

Annabeth smiled. “I could never forget that, my special friend.”

Breanna smiled back. “Well, I guess we’d better go check on our husbands. I hope what I’ve told you will be a help to Whip.”

“I’m sure it will. Now that I’ve talked with you about it, I think I can help him too.”

“I’m sure you can, sweetie,” said Breanna, “but if I know John, he’s already noted the tension in you and Whip and has already asked Whip about it. I’m sure that John already knows and, in his wisdom, has already been a help to Whip.”

“I have no doubt that you’re right on this, Breanna. Let’s go see our husbands.”

Arm in arm, the ladies left the kitchen, moved up the hall, and stepped out onto the front porch in the early moonlight. Both men stood, and Whip said, “I told the chief, honey. Have you told Breanna?”

“Yes, I have, and she has helped me in a tremendous way, quoting Scripture that has already given me peace in it all.”

Whip grinned. “Well, these two are sure alike, aren’t they? John has done the same for me.” He opened his arms and folded Annabeth into his tender embrace.

Likewise, John opened his arms and did the same with Breanna.

T
he summer moved on. On Tuesday morning, August 20, at the Central City gold mine, seven miners were working deep in one section of the mine. The man leading the other seven was Lewis Johnston, one of the mine’s assistant foremen. Included in those working under Lewis’s authority were Wayne Shelby, Charles Fawley, and Ed Stubler.

While Wayne was digging gold just a short distance around a corner from where Charles and Ed were working, Wayne heard them talking about Ed’s recent salvation in Jesus Christ and his baptism at Central City’s First Baptist Church.

“Charlie, my friend, I can never thank you enough for caring enough about my eternal destiny to get me under your pastor’s preaching.” Ed chuckled and added, “He’s also
my
pastor, now. Praise the Lord!”

“That’s right, Eddie!” Fawley chuckled. “It’s such a joy to know that since you repented of your sins and took Jesus into your heart, instead of going to hell, you will go to heaven when your life here on earth is over.”

“Boy, is it ever. I’m so glad I’m saved!”

When Wayne heard the joyous conversation, anger welled up in him. He gritted his teeth and thought,
I wish I didn’t have to hear about heaven and hell!

Hours passed, and early that afternoon, Wayne was doing his usual job in the depths of the mine, working some sixty feet from Charles Fawley and Ed Stubler, but in sight of them.

While Wayne was swinging the pick, Chief Brockman’s piercing words about him heading for the flames of hell suddenly came through his mind. Anger gripped him stormily, and he swung the pick harder than he had ever swung it, hitting the gold violently. Doing so threw him off balance, and he stumbled backward, falling on top of the burning kerosene lantern. Instantly, the flames caught his right pant leg on fire, and the blaze moved quickly up his leg.

Twisting about frantically on the dirt floor, Wayne howled because of the horrible pain and threw dirt on the flames to extinguish them. Just as the flames on his pant leg were turning to smoke, Charles and Ed ran to him.

“Wayne!” gasped Charles. “What happened?”

Through clenched teeth and still tossing dirt on the smoking pant leg, Wayne gasped, “I—I stumbled and fell on the lantern!”

Quickly Fawley picked up Wayne’s canteen and poured water on the burned leg.

Assistant foreman Lewis Johnston ran up, then skidded to a halt. The other four men working in that section of the mine were on Johnston’s heels.

“I heard a loud cry,” said Johnston. “Must have been you, Shelby. What happened?”

The other four men stared at the burned pant leg.

Speaking weakly, Wayne explained about the accident.

Johnston knelt down, tore the partially shredded wet pant leg open, and looked at the burned skin. “Wayne, I’ll take you to the Central City Clinic. We’ve got to get that burn taken care of.”

Wanting to appear to be tough, Wayne said, “It’s not that bad, Lewis. I can walk to the clinic by myself.”

“Well, okay,” replied Johnston, “but I want you to head there right now.”

Wayne scrambled to his feet with a nod. “I’ll do that, all right.”

He thanked Charles and Ed for coming to his aid, then limped away and began climbing out of the mine. When he reached ground level, he headed into town. As he walked with the pain from the burns on his calf, shin, and ankle of his right leg, Wayne thought of what a horrible thing it would be if what Chief Brockman told him what the Bible said about hell was true.

He clenched his teeth. “I’m hurting bad enough now, but how horrible it would be to be completely engulfed in flames and burn in hell forever!”

Soon Wayne arrived at the Central City Clinic, which was run by one doctor, Nicholas Darrow, and his wife, Emily, who was his only nurse.

Upon entering the clinic, Wayne was welcomed by Mrs. Darrow, and she instantly ushered him to a back room, where her husband had just finished placing a cast on a local rancher’s broken arm.

Moments later, Dr. Darrow gave Wayne some laudanum to ease his pain. Then he and his wife put salve on the burns and
bandaged up his leg. When Wayne left the clinic, limping on the burned leg, his heart pounded from the thought of spending eternity burning in hell.

He drew up in front of Central City’s general store on Main Street and sat on a bench on the boardwalk. “I’ve got to get this matter of salvation settled,” he whispered to himself as people walked by. “What Chief Brockman preached on and what he told me when we talked after the service most certainly is true!”

Wayne didn’t understand why, but he had no doubt now that God indeed did exist, that there was a beautiful heaven and a fiery hell, and that the crucified, risen Jesus Christ was the only way to salvation. He also knew that if he died that moment, he would go to hell.

Standing up at the bench, Wayne thought,
I must get help immediately. I don’t know how to receive Jesus Christ as my Saviour, but I know where I can find out!

Remembering that he had heard Charles invite Ed to First Baptist Church of Central City and knowing that the church was just a few blocks from where he stood, Wayne headed down Main Street, limping but moving as fast as he could. Wagons, buggies, and men on horseback moved both ways on the street as Wayne threaded his way among the people on the boardwalk.

Before long he saw the familiar white church building with the steeple that had a cross at the top of it. “I sure hope the pastor is at the church.”

Just as he drew up to the church building, Wayne heard people shouting on the street behind him. They were saying that there had been a cave-in at the Central City gold mine. The
cave-in hit one section, and six miners were dead. Several miners were digging for the bodies right now.

Wayne came to a limping halt and gulped, realizing that the six dead men were Charles Fawley, Ed Stubler, and the other four he was working with in that section before he left to go to the clinic.

Standing at the bottom of the steps that led up to the front door of the church, Wayne swallowed hard and clenched his teeth.
If I hadn’t been burned by that kerosene lantern, I would have been with those six men! I would be dead now too … and I would be burning
in hell!

Struggling up the steps as he held on to the handrail, Wayne shuffled to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He waited to hear footsteps inside, but there were none. He knocked again, but still there was no response.
Oh, dear God. I want to be saved. I need to talk to the pastor. Please help me
.

At that precise instant, an elderly, white-haired man came around the corner of the church building, heading for the boardwalk, but he halted when he looked up on the porch and saw Wayne. He stepped up close and asked, “Were you wanting to see Pastor Duran, sir?”

When Wayne had seen the sign in front of the church, he noted that the pastor’s name was Brent Duran. He nodded as he limped toward the steps. “Yes sir, I am.”

The old gentleman pointed toward the rear of the building. “Pastor’s office is back on this side. I know he’s in his office because I was just in there talking to him.”