The Iron Wagon (27 page)

Breanna placed her arms around her husband’s neck and rested her head on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. Silently she thanked her heavenly Father for John and for the way he was always watching over her, as a husband was supposed to do.

John encircled her in his strong arms. “I’m glad I could help
you, sweetheart. Anytime you need my help, I’m always here for you.”

Breanna’s mind went to Philippians 4:7, and the “peace of God, which passeth all understanding” lodged in her heart.

John planted a tender kiss on his wife’s lips, then released her from his arms. Breanna let go of John’s neck and looked into his eyes. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

John nodded. “Mm-hmm?”

“An idea came to my mind when Paul made it clear that he was going to Phoenix to help Marshal Pierce. I thought we should tell him to look up the Martins while he’s in Phoenix. You know … so he could meet Lisa, and ah … they could fall in love. Should we do that?”

John smiled down at her. “You know, honey, the same idea crossed my mind. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be best if we just leave it up to the Lord. If Lisa is the one He has chosen for Paul, He can cause them to cross paths when they’re both in Phoenix. I figure Paul will attend First Baptist Church while he’s there. So the Lord can sure bring them together if it’s His will, as we feel that it is.”

Breanna’s eyes were shining. “Yes! I like it! We will simply leave it to the Lord to make it happen.”

Early the next morning, Paul went to the railroad station in Denver and bought a train ticket for that very day to travel to Phoenix. Next he went to the Western Union office and sent a
telegram to Deputy Woodard, advising him that he would arrive in Phoenix by train at seven thirty that evening.

Later that morning, Paul’s entire family, including Uncle Matthew and Aunt Dottie, plus Pastor and Mary Bayless, and Whip, Annabeth, and Lizzie Langford, were at the railroad station to see him off. They were gathered on the platform, right next to the train Paul would be boarding. People passed by them, looking on curiously at the large group.

With Paul’s parents standing close by, his sisters clung to him as Pastor Bayless led them in praying for Paul in his new temporary responsibility as head of the U.S. marshal’s office in Phoenix. John kept a close eye on Breanna and saw that she was holding up well. He prayed silently, thanking the Lord for sustaining her.

When Paul had hugged everyone, he went once again to his mother. “Just have to hug my mama one more time.”

Breanna smiled. Then in her heart calling on the Lord for strength, she wrapped her arms around this stalwart son of hers, who was so much like his father, and whispered in his ear, “Go with God, my son. I know He will always be near to you.”

Paul tenderly kissed his mother’s cheek. “I know this is what the Lord wants me to do, Mama. Don’t be afraid for me. The Lord will take care of me.”

“I won’t be afraid, Paul. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

The train conductor’s strong voice made the last call for all passengers to board the train.

Breanna raised up on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on
Paul’s cheek. “Better hurry now. You don’t want the train to leave without you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mama.” Paul waved at his father, his sisters, and the others, and he hurried to the railroad coach to which he had been assigned and boarded the train.

Seconds later, Paul appeared at a window as he sat down. When he smiled and waved to the group, they all smiled and waved back. Moments later, the engine chugged, throwing billows of black smoke toward the sky, and pulled away from the station. As the train vanished from sight, silent tears glided down Breanna’s cheeks, but God’s grace reigned in her heart.

When Paul arrived at the Phoenix railroad station and stepped off the train, he spotted three men in federal deputy marshal uniforms in the crowd, moving toward him.

The three lawmen drew up, and one of them extended his hand. “I know you’re deputy U.S. marshal Paul Brockman because Marshal Pierce told me you look a whole lot like your father.”

As they shook hands, Paul smiled. “I’ve been told that a few thousand times.”

Grinning while still gripping Paul’s hand, the federal lawman said, “I’m Deputy Leroy Woodard.”

Paul tightened his grip. “I read the telegram you sent to my father. Glad to meet you.”

Woodard then introduced Paul to Deputies Mack Holman and Dan Slater. After Paul had shaken hands with each of them,
Deputy Woodard said to Paul, “We’ve rented an apartment for you, just a block from the office.” And they headed that way.

The next morning, Deputy Woodard introduced Paul to more deputies, then showed him around the office, filling him in on the basics of how things were done there. Paul told him it was exactly as things were done at his father’s office, so he would be able to handle it correctly.

Deputy Woodard then took Paul to the hospital, explaining that Marshal Pierce wanted to see him.

When they stepped into the hospital room that Danford Pierce occupied, the marshal was lying flat on his back in the bed. A big smile curved his lips as he looked up at Paul. “My, oh my! You’ve really grown up since we last saw each other. And I do mean up! You’re as tall as your father, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir. Six feet five inches.”

“And, boy, do you ever look like him!”

Paul grinned. “Yes sir.”

Deputy Woodard stood by as his boss and Paul Brockman talked about Paul’s duties. Finally they were finished. “Thanks for coming, Paul,” Marshal Pierce said. “I know you can handle the job.”

As the week went by, Paul demonstrated to Deputy Woodard and all the other deputies that he indeed could run the office as well as handle outlaws that caused trouble in Phoenix.

On the following Sunday, September 22, Paul Brockman was out of town with two other deputies, trailing three outlaws who
had robbed a stagecoach the day before. Paul had planned to attend First Baptist Church that day.

At the First Baptist Church of Phoenix that morning, Pastor Alex Duffy announced from the pulpit that the Edgar Martin family would soon be leaving Phoenix for San Diego, California. He explained that Edgar had been offered a good job there by a friend whose business was doing well. The Martins would be buying a covered wagon and planned to hook up with one of the wagon trains heading westward across Arizona to California.

After the service, many of the church members approached Edgar, Celia, and Lisa and told them that they would miss them when they moved to San Diego.

Paul’s work at the federal marshal’s office kept him from being able to attend the midweek service at First Baptist Church on the following Wednesday night. On Sunday, September 29, once again, he was in pursuit of outlaws with other deputies, and they did not catch them until nearly midnight.

On Wednesday morning, October 2, the Martin family joined up with a small wagon train of only six wagons, which had camped just outside of Phoenix the night before, and were on their way to southern California.

Later that morning, a telegram came to the U.S. marshal’s office in Phoenix from George Henderson, the warden of the federal prison at Yuma. The deputy on duty in the front office brought the telegram to Paul to read.

When the deputy left to return to the front desk, Paul sat at Pierce’s desk, opened the envelope, and read the telegram. All
five of the Dub Finch gang had escaped from Yuma Prison the day before, taking two guards with them as hostages and threatening to kill the guards if anyone followed them. The names of the four gang members with Dub Finch were Jack Devlin, Curly Bender, Buck Gentry, and Kurt Jagger.

The dead bodies of both guards had been found early that morning, lying near the road, despite the fact that no one from the prison had followed them. Warden Henderson thought the vile Finch gang may be headed eastward across Arizona and wanted to let Marshal Danford Pierce know about it.

Paul left Pierce’s office and shared the message of the telegram with the deputies in the front office. He told them they would need to let all the deputies know the news so they could be on guard in case the Finch gang showed up in or near Phoenix. Everyone hated the thought of Finch and his gang coming their way.

Paul was about to go back to Pierce’s office when he and the other deputies saw a man enter the building. Paul recognized him instantly. He headed toward the man, and as Pastor Alex Duffy spotted him, he said, “Aha! Deputy Paul Brockman! You’ve grown up since I saw you last, but you sure do look like your father!”

As they shook hands, Paul said, “It sure is good to see you again, Pastor Duffy. I’ve been planning to come to church, but it’s been one thing after another since I got here, keeping me busy when your doors are open.”

Pastor Duffy smiled. “I understand, Paul. I’m sure you’ll be at First Baptist as soon as it’s possible.”

“You can count on that.”

The pastor said, “You’ll be writing to your parents while you’re here, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Paul nodded.

“Well, I thought your father might like to know that one of the families who were saved when he preached here last April is moving to San Diego, California—the Martin family. So Edgar, his wife, Celia, and their daughter, Lisa, are traveling there right now in a wagon train. Please tell your father what I said. Okay?”

“Sure. I remember Papa telling our family about the Martins. He will be glad to hear that they were good members here.”

Pastor Duffy patted Paul’s arm. “Well, I’ve got to go. See you at First Baptist whenever you can come.”

“You sure will,” Paul replied, “as soon as possible.”

Early on Friday morning, October 4, just a day after Paul turned twenty-two, Paul was sitting at Marshal Pierce’s desk, having arrived only a few minutes earlier, when a deputy ushered two men into the office. They introduced themselves as Lawrence Citron and Marcus Rusk, who were residents in Phoenix.

Lawrence cleared his throat and began to speak. “Marcus and I have been in western Arizona for several days. And while we were heading home yesterday on the road that leads to Yuma, some soldiers from Fort Huachuca told us that the five-man Dub Finch gang escaped from the Yuma Prison on Tuesday and that they were headed eastward.”

Marcus continued the story. “When we stopped last night
near the road to make camp, we happened to see a campfire several yards farther down the road. Lawrence counted five men around the fire.”

Lawrence nodded. “That’s right. And we sneaked up close in the dark and heard one of the men call their leader Dub. The five of them were talking about their escape from Yuma Prison, saying that they were going to stop in Phoenix tomorrow, rob the Phoenix National Bank, and then head for Mexico.”

They had Paul’s undivided attention. Lawrence Citron and Marcus Rusk told him that they quickly went to their horses, saddled up, and galloped toward Phoenix. They’d just arrived, so it would be later that the gang would hit the Phoenix National Bank.

With this information, Paul gathered four of the deputy U.S. marshals and six soldiers from Fort Huachuca who were in town. He told them what he had learned from Phoenix citizens Citron and Rusk about the planned holdup of the Phoenix National Bank. Paul’s plan was for the four deputies to hurry home and put on civilian clothes so they could pose as customers in the bank. They would have revolvers hidden under their jackets or suit coats. After Paul finished laying out the plan, the four deputies hurried home, then returned quickly, dressed and armed as planned.

Forty minutes before the bank’s opening time, Paul took the ten men to the bank. Flashing his badge at the locked glass front door, Paul quickly gained the attention of one of the vice presidents. When the man opened the door, Paul told him why he, the deputies, and the soldiers were there. They were quickly
taken to bank president Harry Miller’s office. Paul laid out the plan to Miller, and he agreed with it.

“I’ll put two of my older male employees who have been with the bank for a long time on the bench just outside the front door,” Harry said. “They can appear to be resting for a while, since folks often sit there. Then they can warn anyone about to enter the bank and send them away.”

Paul and his men liked the president’s plan. The rest of the employees were told of the pending robbery and of the plan, and though they were nervous about what was going to happen, they were ready to duck and hide when the lawmen and the soldiers aimed their guns at the robbers.

T
he Phoenix National Bank opened at nine thirty as usual, with the two silver-haired bank employees sitting on the bench just outside the front door.

Some twenty-five minutes after the bank had opened, the two men on the bench recognized Dub Finch—whose photograph they had seen in newspapers—as he and his four gang members approached the building.

Dub was a muscular, thick-bodied man of forty-five. His ebony eyes carried a calculating and greedy look to them. His homely face was rough-whittled from the timber of trouble he had made for himself in life, and one glance at his features made it clear that he could be plenty mean.