by Darrell Case
Chapter 8
The train gathered momentum. A thick plume of black smoke trailed behind it. Adam watched as the figures on the platform grew smaller in the distance. He waved until the train rounded the bend.
"Sure gonna miss him," Hank said. "He was a good friend."
"He was the best preacher I ever heard," Ben Hastings replied. "Hope them people in Chicago appreciate him."
A lump in Edna's throat prevented her from speaking. She dabbed at moist eyes. When she carried Adam in her womb, she gave him to the Lord. The pain in her heart spoke of her commitment. From the depths of her soul, she heard the Lord's gentle voice. 'Be comforted, my child, I will use him mightily for the furtherance of my kingdom.'
Settling into a seat in the crowded passenger car, Adam flushed with excitement; yet he wondered, would he really fit in a big city like Chicago? Conway O'Malley's letter poked him in the chest. Removing the envelope from
his shirt pocket, he carefully unfolded it.
'Dear Adam
You will remember our meeting last summer as I traveled through your beautiful country. You persuaded me to attend the Sunday service. I found it to be very pleasant. I must say I enjoyed my stay in Apple Valley. I believe you heard me mention the church in Chicago of which I am a member. This brings me to the subject of this letter. Our own beloved Pastor August Peabody passed away two weeks ago. While we mourn his passing, we are in desperate need of a new pastor. I have spoken highly of you and made the recommendation upon your behalf to the other deacons.
As I am acquainted with you, they felt that it would be appropriate for me to correspond with you as a representative of the church. Therefore my friend, on behalf of the congregation, I am offering you the pastorate of the most prestigious church in Chicago. Let me assure you the salary is very good. The parsonage is well maintained and large enough for a family, if you decide to pair up with one of the lovely ladies in our congregation Do not let me down, old chap. Please telegraph your reply as soon as possible.
Sincerely,
Conway O'Malley'
He hadn't answered Conway's letter right away. In fact, he had written a refusal three times. Each time, he tore them up on the way to the telegraph office , the last one when he stood before Ben's desk.
What the future held, he wasn't sure, but he knew who held his future! The train labored upward, climbing out of Apple Valley, carrying the man of God to his destiny.
Victoria's weekend in the cell was peaceful, with the exception of a visit by Owen Hayman Sunday morning.
"What's she doin' here?" he asked, his face red with anger. "Anderson said she's 'posed to be gone by now."
Hurley came to her defense immediately. "There was a mix-up. Miss Winters will be on the next train."
"She'd better be or I'll know the reason why!"
"Mr. Hayman," Victoria spoke up. "I have never mistreated any of my students."
Owen snorted. "That ain't what Joey Sanders says."
"Mr. Hayman, you must know Whitey Sanders has told many falsehoods." Victoria said.
"I don't have to believe him; I saw what you done to my son's back!" Turning, he stomped out of the jail.
Monday morning, Harvey Anderson came into the jail with the constable in tow.
"On your feet, Miss Winters. The train will be here soon!" Then to Maples, "Open the door, Lucas. We wouldn't want her to be late this time."
"No sir, we wouldn't," a subdued Lucas Maples said.
Exiting her cell, Victoria reached for her carpetbag on the desk.
"I'll get that," the constable said, jerking the bag from her grasp.
The snow had continued to fall all weekend; some places it was up two to three foot deep. Victoria trudged through the drifts as she followed the swiftly moving men. By the time they reached the cleared platform at the train station, Victoria's dress was soaked past her knees. Her feet were wet from the snow that seeped in through the rips in her shoes. Her breathing was labored.
She sat on the wooden bench shaking so badly she thought she would fall off. Anderson was at the ticket office. He pulled a large roll of bills from his inside coat pocket. Peeling off several, he paid for the ticket.
A shrill whistle announced the coming train. Victoria felt another chill race down her spine. Anderson stuffed the remainder of the money back in his pocket. Watching her salary for the last few months vanish, Victoria summoned her courage. Taking a deep breath, she said, "What about the money you owe me?"
"What money?" Anderson asked, his hand still on the roll of bills as if to protect it.
"Our agreement was for half my pay in December and the remainder in May."
Anderson's laugh was cold and sinister.
"Miss Winters, your conduct voided your contract with us, and therefore your claim is invalid."
"Will Mr. Metcalf's nephew receive the same treatment from you, sir?"
Anderson froze. The smile melted from his face. For a moment, Victoria thought he was going to strike her. Holding her suitcase, Lucas nervously shuffled from one foot to the other.
"You were looking for an excuse to fire me. You planned this; it was all a conspiracy. How much did you pay Whitey to whip that poor little boy?" Victoria asked, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt it all the way to her toes. "Was Fred in on it from the beginning?"
Sweat popped out on Maples forehead. Anderson recovered his composure.
"Don't fight me on this, Miss Winters. I run this town. You have no proof of what you say. "
"If it is the last thing I do, I will prove my innocence," Victoria said trembling. "You're nothing more than just a bunch of thieves."
Anderson swore.
"If you return to Pottsville, Miss Winters," he said, his face a mask of hate, "I will turn Maples loose on you. I will not restrain him as I did this time."
For his part, Maples looked ready to run. He glanced nervously at the ticket agent. The man stared down, working intently on something on the counter.
Victoria recoiled, knowing Harvey Anderson never made idle threats.
Grasping her by the arm, he half dragged her in the direction of the approaching train. He grasped Victoria's arm and dragged her to the edge of the platform. For a precious few seconds, she thought he was going to throw her under the wheels of the engine. The rushing breeze of the train took her breath away.
Leaning in close, he said, "Don't return to Pottsville, Miss Winters, if you value your life."
RIVER OF FIRE
