The Braxtons of Miracle Springs

by Michael Phillips

  © 1996 Michael Phillips

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-2952-6

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To girls and young women everywhere who, like Corrie, have committed themselves to truth, to personal virtue, and to placing what God wants as preeminent in their lives. It is my prayer that the Lord Jesus will be your faithful life-companion, and that you will, like Corrie, discover character and strength and the meaning of life within yourself, and thus will come to know the depths of true womanhood.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1. How We Wound Up in California

  Chapter 2. Honeymoon

  Chapter 3. Unknown Danger

  Chapter 4. Our First Home Together

  Chapter 5. A Visit with the Rutledges

  Chapter 6. Anticipation

  Chapter 7. San Francisco

  Chapter 8. A Conversation About Dinner

  Chapter 9. Shopping in the City

  Chapter 10. What Mr. Kemble Had Been Up To

  Chapter 11. A Dinner to Remember

  Chapter 12. A Long Talk

  Chapter 13. New Trouble for Pa

  Chapter 14. Are You Willing to Be the Instrument?

  Chapter 15. A Sad Visit

  Chapter 16. Fenceposts and Rails

  Chapter 17. Moles and Dark Passageways

  Chapter 18. Willing Prayer

  Chapter 19. A Disheartening Proposition

  Chapter 20. Uncertainty

  Chapter 21. Christopher and Alkali Jones

  Chapter 22. A Disarmingly Direct Question

  Chapter 23. Waking Up the Other Half

  Chapter 24. Making Spiritual Legs Strong

  Chapter 25. Idle Gossip

  Chapter 26. Waylaid

  Chapter 27. Through New Eyes

  Chapter 28. A Conversation With Becky

  Chapter 29. The Lord Is a Faithful Life-Companion

  Chapter 30. Christopher’s Wisdom

  Chapter 31. A Conversation About God’s Leading

  Chapter 32. Who Makes the Decisions?

  Chapter 33. The Fall

  Chapter 34. Waiting

  Chapter 35. Losing an Old Friend

  Chapter 36. Saying Goodbye

  Chapter 37. A Happy Celebration

  Chapter 38. How to Discern God’s Will

  Chapter 39. Christopher’s Quandary

  Chapter 40. Looking Ahead on the Shoulders of the Past

  Chapter 41. Stranger in Miracle Springs

  Chapter 42. The Hunting Trip

  Chapter 43. A Fearsome Visitor

  Chapter 44. Prisoners in Our Own House

  Chapter 45. Night Escape

  Chapter 46. Into the Hills

  Chapter 47. A Shot and What Followed

  Chapter 48. A Difference

  Chapter 49. A Costly Prayer and a Promise of Protection

  Chapter 50. Out of the Mountains

  Chapter 51. Devising a Risky Plan

  Chapter 52. A Dash for the House

  Chapter 53. Climax

  Chapter 54. The Prayer of Matthew 5:44

  Chapter 55. Straightforward Challenge

  Chapter 56. Straightforward Witness

  Chapter 57. John 2:3

  Chapter 58. A Surprise Offer

  Chapter 59. Two Decisions

  Chapter 60. Another Long and Prayerful Ride

  About the Author

  Books by Michael Phillips

  Chapter 1

  How We Wound Up in California

  For so many years I never imagined I would be married at all.

  My ma had prepared me for being single—not in so many words, but I came to understand well enough—by letting me know I didn’t have as fetching a face as most girls.

  When I was older, people told me I was pretty. But when you grow up thinking of yourself as plain, nothing anyone says makes you think much differently.

  Ma had packed us up and brought us from New York out to California by wagon train in 1852 to find our uncle Nick Belle, her brother. But Ma caught a fever and died on the way, and my brothers and sisters and I arrived in California alone. I was the oldest, but I was only fifteen at the time.

  My name was Corrie Belle Hollister then. The Corrie is short for Cornelia.

  We found our uncle. But that wasn’t all—we found our Pa too, who we thought was dead. Pa’s name is Drummond Hollister.

  Pa and Uncle Nick had gotten themselves mixed up with some outlaws back East when we kids were pretty young. They’d wound up in jail and then broken out and come west to California in the 1840s to try to get rid of bad men and lawmen and old warrants against them all at once. The gold drew them west too.

  But it turned out that they didn’t escape their problems at all. Instead, the trouble just followed them west like we did. We hadn’t seen either of them or even gotten a letter for years. Ma’d heard that Pa was dead.

  Not only was he not dead, we later found out that he was innocent of most of the terrible things the Catskill Gang—that’s what the outlaws they knew called themselves—had done. There had been a robbery and some shootings, but Pa and Uncle Nick didn’t kill anyone. When they took off for California, some of the gang thought they had the money from the robbery. So several of them followed Pa and Uncle Nick out West and caused them all kinds of trouble. One such man was Buck Krebbs, who is dead now.

  Later, when my brother Zack was riding for the Pony Express in the Utah-Nevada territory,1 he ran into another man called Demming who was still following Pa after all these years because he thought Pa had the loot from the Catskill Gang robbery too.

  Zack had some adventures of his own with Demming out there in the desert, and by the time he was back home in Miracle Springs, California—that’s where we live—the man swore he’d kill Zack and Pa, and that he wouldn’t stop looking till he found them.

  Of course, I had no way of knowing it, but the happiest event of my life, my wedding, would be the very thing that gave Demming the chance to do just that—find Pa and Zack.

  We were all in danger, though none of us realized it!

  But I am getting ahead of myself. After we got to California and found Pa, the little gold-mining town of Miracle Springs became our home. We had a pretty big gold strike on our claim, Pa married a businesslady in town, a widow by the name of Almeda Parrish, and I started writing newspaper articles for the San Francisco Alta.

  As I got older, and still figuring I’d never get married, I began to have some adventures of my own. I don’t suppose I was always wise in some of the things I did, running around the state—and even the whole
country!—pursuing newspaper stories, and getting myself in some scary situations. But the Lord protected me, and I had some pretty exciting experiences that I wrote about as a result.

  Because of my writing, I got a little involved in politics. So did Pa. He became mayor of Miracle Springs in 1856, and then later served for a while in the California assembly in Sacramento. Both the politics and my writing led me back to the eastern part of the United States during the War between the States in the 1860s when I was in my late twenties. I met President Lincoln before his assassination.

  I spent two years in the East, writing articles about the war and working for the Sanitary Commission, and near the end of the war I was shot and wounded, though not from a war battle, outside Richmond, Virginia.

  I fell off my horse unconscious. And I would certainly have died if a man hadn’t happened along. (Well, he didn’t just happen along—I don’t believe anything just “happens.” The Lord sent him to help me.) He found me lying there beside the road, took me back to the ranch where he was foreman, and cared for me until I recovered.

  That man’s name was Christopher Braxton.

  It wasn’t too much longer after I was up and out of bed and feeling better before Christopher and I realized we were falling in love with each other. The very thing I thought would never happen to me . . . it did!

  Christopher had wanted to be a pastor and had been one too for a short time, although he wasn’t anymore. He was such a deep spiritual man who saw God’s principles of truth in everything. I had been a Christian for as long as I could remember and had been trying to walk closer to God ever since I was about sixteen. But knowing Christopher helped my faith in God grow more than anything else ever had.

  I can’t think of anything better for a girl or young lady to say about a man she wants (or hopes!) to marry than that—that he helps you believe and trust in God more than you can by yourself. What greater thing could a man and woman do for each other than that?

  I suppose some people would think someone like Christopher would be “too good” to be much fun. All I know is that, now that I know him as I do, I would never even think of marrying a man who wasn’t trying with everything in him to be good, to be all God wanted him to be. Christopher is the truest man I have ever known, and I know there are many men in the world like him, even though sometimes you have to wait a long time to find them. I am so glad I waited for Christopher and didn’t get married when I was younger to a man named Cal Burton, who came very close to sweeping me off my feet. But that is another story!

  Besides, because Christopher is true, he is fun too. And it goes without saying that I think he’s handsome—with those light blue eyes and strong shoulders and that wonderful thick brown hair. I love his voice, which is strong and gentle. I love all of him so much!

  Some people might say I love Christopher too much and therefore don’t see his faults. Well, if that’s true, I’m not going to worry about it. I know Christopher has just as many faults as anyone else, including me. But I figure when God wants Christopher to take care of any of them, he’ll let him know better than I ever could.

  After I had recovered completely from my wound and the war was over, I returned to Miracle Springs. Christopher followed a while later to ask Pa if he could marry me. That was about a year and a half ago.

  Pa was nearly speechless after what Christopher said next. “But I don’t want your answer for a year, Mr. Hollister,” he said. “I would like to work for you for the next twelve months so that you can find out what kind of a man I am. After that time, you will better be able to say whether you think Corrie and I are right for each other and ought to be married. Then you can give me your answer.”

  Well, Christopher did work with Pa for a year, first around the farm, then as a partner digging for gold in our new mine. He lived on our property, in the bunkhouse that was part of our new barn, and he ate his meals with us. Christopher called it an “apprenticeship engagement.” After that, Pa thought even more of him than he had at first. He told Christopher he’d be proud to give him my hand in marriage.

  1. The story of Zack’s adventures is told in Grayfox, a companion volume to The Journals of Corrie Belle Hollister, published by Bethany House Publishers.

  Chapter 2

  Honeymoon

  I quit being just Corrie Belle Hollister and became Corrie Belle Hollister Braxton a week and a half after my thirtieth birthday. Our wedding took place in Miracle Springs on April 3, 1867.

  We left that same afternoon for a week’s honeymoon in Sacramento.

  I don’t know what most young women think about right after they’re married. I suppose there’s lots of things about it that are just too private and personal to talk about to anyone—things you want to keep to yourself and treasure inside.

  I had lots of those thoughts. The special feeling of knowing a man loved me, loved every bit of me, and would care for me for the rest of my life. That’s a quiet kind of good feeling that makes you warm inside. It made me feel safe all over, inside and out. It was like a whole lot of questions were answered all at once—well, not answered so much as the questions just faded away. I felt protected, too, in a way I never had before. It was a little like when we found Pa. But finding Pa and Uncle Nick after all those years had brought out more questions than answers.

  I guess it was also kind of like when Pa married Almeda and Uncle Nick married Aunt Katie, and we had a family again with all the parts in place. But by then I was older and had so many questions about my own future and what God might want me to do in my life and with my writing.

  We stayed at a boardinghouse in Sacramento, but even there I felt at home because I was with Christopher. The sense I had had leading up to our marriage—that my heart had found its true home—only got stronger afterward. It felt so right to be together. We had been through so much and had learned really to trust each other. Christopher had become the best friend I’d ever had since Almeda.

  I think what was most glorious of all about those first days alone with Christopher was not any of those personal things, but the chance to be with him all the time, twenty-four hours a day. It was so wonderful to be able to talk and share all the time, without interruptions—even all night long.

  Oh, how we talked!

  As much as we’d talked about things before, you’d think we’d have run out of things to say. But that first night we spent together after the wedding, it was as if we hadn’t seen each other in five years!

  We just talked all night long. I don’t think we got more than an hour or two of sleep. It was nothing short of wonderful communicating so deeply and so continuously with someone you loved more than anyone in the world and that you knew loved you just as much.

  There’s no possible way to describe what a good feeling that was. In fact, since I can’t describe it, I’m going to let Christopher tell you what he thinks!

  I don’t know why Corrie imagines I can explain our communication any better than she can. This is her book, not mine, although she is very kind to include my name on it along with hers. She insists, now that we are married, that we will do everything together. She is Corrie Braxton now, she keeps reminding me, no longer Corrie Hollister, and I must confess to a surge of joy and thankfulness at the thought.

  Nevertheless, as you well know, it is my Corrie who is the experienced writer, not I. Yes, I have written sermons in years past, when I was in the ministry. (Sometimes I fear the sermonic voice creeps too readily into my daily discourse!) Over the years, moreover, I have been a faithful companion to my journal, as Corrie has been to hers. And yet a writer I am not—far from it. If Corrie asks what I think I shall tell her as honestly as I can. But in the main I shall leave the writing to my very able bride.

  Even if I do not espouse writing as a calling, however (and at this point I confess to some confusion over what is my true calling, other than to walk ever onward as a follower of Christ), I do value communication. I have always tried to be honest and forthright in my words and
my deeds. I attempted to bring those qualities to my pulpit, and I have tried to bring them to bear in my relationships as well. Therefore my heart resonates with Corrie’s when she describes the wonderful feeling of communicating continuously with someone deeply loved.

  I thought Corrie and I knew one another quite well before our wedding, and perhaps we did. But during our week together in Sacramento, we seemed to become newly acquainted with one another once more. Each of us discovered so many new things about the other. We talked about everything we had ever experienced, everything we had ever thought, everything we had dreamed of doing in life. We marveled at the way God had prepared us each for the other, even using our individual experiences to enable us to share our hearts and understand one another.

  We prayed together as well, ah, what a joy it was to send up to heaven our prayers of thankfulness for the past and anticipation for what lies ahead. Our constant communication was with our heavenly Father as well as with one another.

  Can there be anything more vital to the establishment of a strong marriage than such communion—simply talking about one’s thoughts and feelings and dreams? Can anything be so important as a shared spiritual commitment clearly communicated? Most problems between people, especially husbands and wives, it seems to me, arise because one person is in doubt about what another person is thinking. This leads to misunderstandings and injured sensibilities, and then doubts and suspicions creep in. Surely such problems could be avoided if people simply talked to one another and prayed together more freely, more openly, more graciously.

  That, then, seems to be my little sermon for this chapter. I hope you did not mind it too much.

  Corrie claims to hang on to my every word when I speak of matters that are important to me and about which I feel strongly. She insists that she writes down whatever I say. My Corrie, however, is very kind, as well as beautiful and brave and sensible, and she loves me very much. Moreover, as she is the one gifted with the passion for the pen, I will now return it to her. I hope not to intrude again.

  No matter what Christopher says, and no matter who does the writing, from now on these will be the journals of the Braxtons. The Journals of Corrie Belle Hollister are completed and finished, because never again will I be Corrie Belle Hollister. I feel as if both my life and my journals are continuing on and starting over at the same time.