The Iron Wagon (6 page)

“My pleasure, sweet love. It’s always my pleasure when I can hold you in my arms.”

Monday was starting out to be another unusually hot day for late August in Colorado. John took Breanna to the hospital for Dr. Carroll to do the scheduled examination. John was eager to learn if his wife’s spine and legs were healing all right. He would take her home after the examination, then ride his horse back into town to his office.

Late that morning, Paul was in the woods out behind the ranch house, practicing the fast draw with the new gun. Ginny and Meggie mounted their favorite horse, which Paul had bridled and saddled for them before heading into the woods.

Thirteen-year-old Ginny had ten-year-old Meggie sitting in front of her in the saddle. She reached around Meggie, took the reins in hand, put the horse to a trot, and headed up the tree-lined lane toward the road. Because of the heat, the girls had a canteen of water attached to the saddle horn.

When they reached the road, they headed west toward the
mountains. A few minutes later, when they were passing the third ranch from their own, they saw Ethel Simpson lying on the ground in the lane that led from the house to the road.

“Meggie.” Ginny pulled the horse to a halt. “Mrs. Bergman’s grandmother looks like she’s been hurt. Let’s go see if we can help her.”

“Of course!” Meggie said.

When Ginny drew up to the spot where the elderly woman lay, she dismounted and helped Meggie from the saddle. They knelt beside the silver-haired woman, and Ginny said, “She’s unconscious!” Ethel Simpson’s wrinkled face was covered with perspiration.

“Oh!” Meggie gasped. “What do you suppose is wrong?”

Ginny studied Mrs. Simpson’s sweaty face. “Honey, go get the canteen off the saddle horn! I’ve got to try to get some water in her mouth.”

Meggie jumped to her feet, dashed to the horse, grasped the canteen, and dashed back.

“I know what’s wrong.” Ginny took the canteen from her sister’s hand. “From studying Mama’s medical books so I can be a nurse one day, I learned about sunstroke. That’s exactly what she has!”

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” Meggie’s voice quivered.

“It could be, honey. While I’m using the water to try to revive her, will you run to the house and tell the Bergmans that Mrs. Simpson is having a sunstroke and has passed out?”

“I sure will!” Meggie ran toward the house.

Ginny pulled a cotton handkerchief from her pocket.
If I can just get Ethel Simpson to awaken
, she reasoned,
it would be easier to get some water into her mouth
.

After pouring water from the canteen onto the handkerchief, Ginny gently bathed the unconscious woman’s face with the cool cloth while lightly patting her pallid cheeks with her other hand. “Mrs. Simpson, please, please open your eyes.”

A
t the Bergman house, Meggie knocked on the front door, but there was no response. She knocked again, only harder this time, calling out that she needed to talk to the Bergmans. Still no response.

She darted off the front porch and ran around to the back of the house. She banged on the back door. “Mr. and Mrs. Bergman! Please answer the door! Mrs. Simpson is very sick, and we need your help!”

When there still was no answer, she dashed off the back porch and ran as fast as she could toward the spot where her sister was caring for Mrs. Simpson.

Ginny still knelt over the elderly woman, but now Mrs. Simpson’s eyes were open! Ginny had her sipping water from the canteen. The elderly woman’s eyes focused on Meggie as Ginny looked up at her sister. “Honey, though Mrs. Simpson can hardly talk, she has been able to explain to me that Ralph and Lois are in Denver grocery shopping. Her doctor in Wisconsin had urged her to take a twenty-minute walk every day for her health’s sake. She was taking the walk in the lane between the house and the road when she grew dizzy and passed out.”

Meggie nodded. “The hot sun was just too much for her, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Now, honey, I need you to stay here with Mrs. Simpson
and keep helping her to sip water from the canteen while I ride home and bring Paul with the wagon so we can take Mrs. Simpson to Mile High Hospital.”

Meggie smiled down at Mrs. Simpson, then smiled at her sister. “Of course, Ginny. I’ll do that.”

A short time later, Meggie was still giving Ethel Simpson small sips of water from the canteen when Paul and Ginny drove up in the wagon. Paul jumped down from the seat, hurried around to the other side of the wagon, and helped Ginny down.

“Mrs. Simpson,” Ginny said, “Paul made a pallet in the wagon bed for you to lie on as we drive you to the hospital.”

“Thank you for your help, dear children,” Ethel said weakly.

With great care, Paul picked up Ethel and carried her to the rear of the wagon. Ginny had dropped the tailgate. Paul laid Mrs. Simpson on the pallet, which had a pillow for her head.

“Paul, I’ll ride back here with her and keep her shaded from the sun,” Ginny said as she picked up the parasol the family kept beneath the wagon seat.

“Me too.” Meggie held up the canteen. “I’ll give her more water. There’s still enough in here for her.”

When Paul’s sisters had climbed into the wagon bed and Paul was closing the tailgate, Ginny said, “Don’t go too fast, Paul. That would make it too bumpy for her.”

Paul smiled as he headed toward the front of the wagon. “I’ll be careful about the bumps.”

Looking into Ethel’s eyes, Ginny said, “You are going to be fine, Mrs. Simpson. I’m just so glad my sister and I noticed you lying there on the ground. From now on, you must walk only
in the cool of the day, either in the cool of early morning or after the sun goes down in the evening.”

Ethel’s cheeks wrinkled as she smiled. “That I will do.”

Late that afternoon when John returned home from his office, Breanna told him that Paul, Ginny, and Meggie had something they wanted to tell him. When John learned of what Ginny and Meggie had done for Ethel Simpson and that, with Paul driving the wagon, they had taken her to Mile High Hospital and the doctors said the girls saved the elderly woman’s life, John commended Ginny and Meggie for being lifesavers like their brother.

Breanna smiled at her children, then looked at John. “Paul went to the Bergmans’ after he and the girls returned from the hospital to see if the Bergmans were home yet. They had just arrived and were anxiously looking for Lois’s grandmother.”

“I told them the story of what happened to Mrs. Simpson, and Meggie and Ginny’s actions,” Paul said. “The Bergmans wanted to go to the hospital immediately, and I offered to go with them. They appreciated that.”

Proud of her son, Breanna continued the story. “While they were at the hospital, Paul asked Mrs. Simpson if she would have gone to heaven had she died from sunstroke. When she couldn’t answer him, Paul asked if she would let him show her from the Bible how to be saved, and she happily consented.”

“Then I hurried to Uncle Matthew’s office,” Paul said. “I borrowed his Bible, then hurried back to Mrs. Simpson’s room.
There, I had the joy of not only leading Mrs. Simpson to the Lord, but Mr. and Mrs. Bergman also.”

John squeezed Paul’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. This is great news, son. Your mama and I have some news of our own. Your uncle Matthew examined your mother today at the hospital. Her recovery is coming along fine, but it will take time for her to heal completely.”

Breanna smiled at John. “Due to the damage to my spine, I may never be able to work as hard in my nursing profession as I’ve done in the past. Only time will tell.”

Paul, Ginny, and Meggie expressed their concern.

“Don’t be discouraged, children,” Breanna said. “Papa and I expected news like this. But God is good, and my future is in His hands.”

On the following Sunday morning, September 2, the Bergmans and Ethel Simpson sat with the Brockmans in their favorite pew at First Baptist Church. When the sermon ended, they went forward and presented themselves for baptism.

When Ethel and the Bergmans gave their salvation testimonies to the pastor so everyone in the auditorium could hear, the Lord got the glory. After baptizing all three, Pastor Bayless stood in the baptistry and commended Paul Brockman for being the soul-winner he was and added that he had learned it from both his parents.

After the service, Ethel told the Brockmans that Ralph and Lois had invited her to stay and live with them, and she had decided
not to return to Wisconsin. The Brockmans expressed their joy over this to both Ethel and the Bergmans.

As time went on at the Brockman ranch, Paul continued to practice his quick draw. One afternoon after arriving home from his office, John stood close by in the woods. After Paul had drawn at a target he had made, he was reloading the new Colt .45 revolver. He saw his father step out from behind a tall cottonwood tree and head toward him. Paul smiled. “Hello, Papa.”

“Howdy, son. I just watched you draw and fire six times. You’re really faster on the draw than ever with that new gun Sheriff Carter gave you.”

Paul slipped the last cartridge into the cylinder, then snapped it shut. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

John chuckled. “I watched you shoot those last six bullets at the target, and you’re definitely more accurate with that new revolver. You put every one of those slugs right in the center of the target. I’m proud of you.”

“Papa, your noticing that pleases me very much.”

“Son, it pleases
me
very much too.”

On Monday, September 10, school started, and Paul Brockman was happy to be in the tenth grade, which meant he was in senior high school and now could participate in sports.

That evening at the supper table, Paul was talking excitedly about playing rugby and boxing. Looking around the table at his family, Paul said with a smile, “Boy, oh boy! I can hardly wait till the boxing season begins!”

Breanna and the girls talked about how Papa had spent time with Paul since he was twelve years old, teaching him how to box.

“Yeah!” said Paul. “And because Papa is so good with his fists when he has to fight big, bad outlaws and he’s the one who taught me how to box, I’m gonna be a good boxer!”

“I have no doubt of that, son.” Breanna smiled.

“Me neither,” put in Ginny. “You’ll be the champ of your weight division, big brother!”

“Right!” Meggie nodded. “I can’t wait to see you in the ring!”

“Tell you what, son,” John said. “Between now and when the boxing season begins in January, I’ll teach you even more about boxing.”

A smile spread over Paul’s handsome face. “Thanks, Papa, for being so good to me. I want to be a champion boxer.”

John reached across the corner of the table and patted Paul’s muscular right arm. “You will be, son. You
will
be.”

On Wednesday, October 3, Paul turned sixteen. A big birthday party was held that evening at the Brockman home after the midweek service at Denver’s First Baptist Church.

It had been an absolutely breathtaking fall day in Colorado. Early that morning, snow had dusted the high mountain ranges
near Denver, and the rest of the day, the sun had shone down from a cobalt blue sky. Amber, rust, red, and yellow leaves now adorned the trees in a colorful display.

Paul had been told by his parents that he could invite some of his friends to the party. Pastor Bayless and his wife, Mary, were at the party as well as Whip and Annabeth Langford, and Uncle Matthew and Aunt Dottie. Of course, also present at the birthday party were Paul’s sisters, who were showing their love and adoration for him.

After Paul opened all of his birthday presents, he stood before the group in the parlor and expressed his deep appreciation to everyone for their kindness.

“Tell us what it feels like to be sixteen years old, big brother!” Meggie said.

Paul grinned at her. “Well, I could say a lot of things about being sixteen, but the most exciting thing is that in just five years, I’ll be old enough to wear a badge. Then I will become one of my papa’s deputy United States marshals!”

There were cheers from the group, and the loudest cheers came from Paul’s school friends, who were also his fellow athletes, and from his sisters.

Paul turned toward his father. “Papa, thank you so much for teaching me the fast draw with a Colt .45 revolver these past few years. I know that as a deputy U.S. marshal, I’ll be facing outlaws who will try to outdraw me as you and Uncle Whip have when we’ve practiced.”

John and Whip looked at each other; then Whip said, “Chief, the way your son is getting better and better at the fast
draw and the accuracy with his new Colt. 45, soon he will be faster than me
or
you!”

Paul smiled at his father, then set his gaze on Whip. “I only wish those words were true, Uncle Whip. But there is only one John Brockman, and no man can outdraw or outshoot him.”

At her son’s words, a chill penetrated Breanna’s heart.
In just five years, there will be two lawmen in this family. Lord, will I be up to this?

Immediately, in the depths of her heart, she sensed a still, small voice in reply.
Breanna, by My grace, all things are possible
.