Ransom

by Grace Livingston Hill

  But he gathered that this book was a plea, a witness of the sincerity and character and ability of Jesus Christ by one named John. And John seemed to be a bright guy who wasn’t doing it just to make a good show for himself. He was all for the Christ. He wanted people to believe. Rannie turned the brief pages, absorbed in the Word of God. Belief? Why did belief seem so important? He wanted to find out. There, perhaps that was the reason: “And I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of God.”

  Well, if He really was the Son of God, that was enough to talk about so earnestly, of course.

  Then Rannie found himself following with the two disciples, asking with them, “Rabbi, where dwellest thou?” and he seemed almost to hear the Master’s answering voice: “Come and see.”

  Could he find Him in those few pages of that book, Rannie wondered? Probably not, or all the world would have come to believe on Him by now, but at least it was interesting. He read on, gathering new data, new testimony of this man named John, who at least evidently himself believed what he was telling. The power of Jesus’ first miracle interested him. He paused to think about how that water might have been made into wine by sleight of hand or some such method, and concluded that one could prove nothing about it without having been there to watch the whole process. Then, suddenly, came the thought that if this was the Son of God, if God was what a God was supposed to be—all-powerful—why, neither He nor His Son would have to resort to trickery to bring about a thing like that. God wouldn’t be God unless He could do things beyond man’s power or thought. It occurred to him with a pang that if God were here now, He could probably get him out of this cabin and down across space to his home without any ransom being paid at all. How he wished that God were there.

  Then he came to the verse: “But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all men, and needed not that any should testify of man: for he knew what was in man.”

  Then a God wouldn’t need to be here to know one’s need. Perhaps God knew right now what was happening here in this cabin. Perhaps He knew a way out for him.

  Rannie plunged deep into the matchless third chapter of John, reading the testimony on miracles of one Nicodemus, who came to talk with Jesus by night, when suddenly he felt that someone was in the room. With a sense of imminent peril, he looked up over his shoulder and there stood his two captors watching him read with suspicion. The door stood open behind them, and he had not heard it!

  Chapter 16

  Rannie’s first alarm was lest they should take the book away from him before he had finished reading it. And next he remembered the file. If they should find that! If they should go searching his room and take that away, he would feel there was no hope left.

  But he summoned his wicked little grin and spoke. “Good night!” he said. “I didn’t hear ya come in. Whatcha been doin’ ta that bolt? Oiled it? It didn’t make a sound.”

  But the boss was up in the air. One could see that at a glance. He was eyeing the little red book with suspicion.

  “Where’dya get that?” he demanded, pointing to the book.

  “Found it over there between the logs right in plain sight. Somebody stuffed it in ta keep out the wind, I guess, an’ then went off ’n’ fergot it. It’s real interestin’. Listen, I’ll read ya some. This is a story about a man named Nicodemus.”

  “But what kind of book is it?” insisted the boss, coming over to the cot and looking over Rannie’s shoulder.

  “Oh, it’s some kind of witness in a court case, as far as I can make out. The witness’s name is John. Stand outta my light there, Boss, I can’t see ta read this fine print.”

  “Come out in the other room,” urged Bud, curiosity and interest in his ugly face.

  “Well, come on, then,” said the boss grudgingly, “but I ain’t goin’ ta listen long. I ain’t got no time fer books.”

  “Well, just listen ta this,” said Rannie, and sitting down on the first box he came to, he began to read.

  The story form of the narrative caught the interest of the men at the start, and Rannie was a good reader. He had always taken prizes in oration. From the first word, he had his audience. Neither of them had perhaps ever heard any reading aloud before in their lives, and they sat down, spellbound. Even through the wonderful imagery, which they did not understand, they sat with strained expression listening to the old, old mystery story that a man must be born again before he could see the kingdom of God.

  But when Rannie reached John 3:16, they sat forward on their wooden boxes, their elbows on their knees, Bud’s mouth half open in wonder, the boss frowning heavily.

  “ ‘For God so loved the world,’ ” read Rannie.

  The boss sniffed. Not much love had come his way. He didn’t believe in love. His idea of love was something vile and impure and uncertain. Real love was a thing about as far from the lives of these two men as the east is from the west. God loving the world simply couldn’t be comprehended.

  “ ‘… that he gave his only begotten Son …’ ”

  The boss edged his box a little nearer and stretched his neck to look over Rannie’s shoulder.

  “ ‘… that whosoever believeth in him should not perish …’ ”

  Bud edged a little nearer, his chin in his hand, and cleared his throat.

  “ ‘… but have everlasting life,’ ” finished Rannie.

  Bud held up his hand. “Read that there bit again, won’t ya?” he asked huskily.

  Rannie read the whole verse.

  “ ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ ”

  Rannie read it well and without lifting his eyes went straight on to the next verse. “ ‘For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world…’ ”

  Ah, those men could understand that language. More than one of their number had been condemned to die. They listened breathlessly, with heavy frowns and smoldering eyes.

  “ ‘… but that the world through him might be saved.’ ”

  The two listeners turned and looked at one another as if this were the most incredible thing they had ever heard.

  “I never heard they made God out ta be that kind of guy, did you?” Bud said to the boss.

  “He ain’t,” said the boss. “He’s hellfire an’ perdition. That book’s all bunk! But g’wan, kid. Let’s see what else it says.”

  Rannie went on reading.

  “ ‘He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.’ ”

  “There it is! Condemnation.”

  “It says ya don’t havta be condemned, don’t it?” said Bud.

  “Read that part again.”

  Rannie repeated the verse.

  “There!” said Bud. “Ya don’t havta! It’s easy enough ta b’lieve, ain’t it? Anybody could do that!”

  “How can ya b’lieve a thing ya don’t b’lieve?” asked the boss angrily.

  “Well, ya could,” said Rannie, interested and thoughtful. “Just like you’d believe in the radio. You might think it was an impossible thing, but if you tuned in you’d find out it was true, wouldn’t ya? And now, take flying. You gotta believe a lot you don’t know is so when you get in an airplane.”

  “That’s so, Boss,” said Bud. “You mind the fust time you got in an airplane? You just couldn’t figger how it was safe, but ya had ta get there in a hurry, an’ finally you said you’d just havta swing off an’ trust, that time you went up to Chicago to meet Spike and get—”

  “Shut up!” said the boss, with an ugly look at Bud. “Can’t ya ever learn ta keep yer mouth shet? Read on, kid.”

  Rannie read on.

  “ ‘And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should b
e reproved.’ ”

  The men watched Rannie with frozen glances as if he had been the author of the book, then dropped their gaze down to the floor with half-shamed looks. They had never heard themselves described before except in language that was vengeful.

  They listened on through the chapter to the last verse: “ ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.’ ”

  “Hell!” said the boss furiously, drawing his feet back noisily. “That’s all bunk!” He got up and slammed out of the cabin. They could hear his feet stamping off down through the woods. They could hear his angry voice rumbling as he went.

  “Anyone could believe that wanted ta,” said Bud. “Read on.”

  Rannie read on through the story of the woman at the well, and the healing of the nobleman’s son, and the man at the pool who took up his bed and walked at the word of the Master. The boss came in again just as Rannie was reading the twenty-fourth verse of the fifth chapter: “ ‘He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.’ ”

  The boss stopped as though he had been arrested in spite of his best intention.

  “Read that there again,” said Bud.

  Rannie read the verse once more, slowly, distinctly, and then went on. “ ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live.’ ”

  “Time ta eat!” roared the boss. “Get that kid back into his box.”

  Rannie went back to his cot in the darkness with his thoughts, the little book clasped tight in his hand.

  What a book it was! How strange were the things it talked of. Being born again. Believing. Life. Those were the two words that stood out now, “believing” and “life.” One believed and one had life. Everlasting life. That was a great verse about believing and having life. He must learn that if he got a chance. He didn’t want to forget it. They might take the book away any time now, and maybe he could never find another copy. He wouldn’t like to forget that. How did it begin? “For God so loved the world.” That was it. He would memorize it in the morning as soon as it was light.

  The next two days were times of strain. There was no other opportunity to read the book to the men. The boss seemed furious when Bud suggested it. Rannie could hear them talking it over. The boss said the book would make him a softy. Spoil his technique, and all sorts of things. Sometimes the boss’s voice grew very loud, as if he wanted Rannie to hear him. He even talked of how they would have to do away with Rannie in case the ransom was not paid pretty soon in answer to the demand. He described in detail to Bud just what he was going to do in case there came a sudden warning to themselves.

  It was easy enough, he said. Just plug him with a bullet and fling him over the rocks. Or easier still, take him out for a stroll and give him a push over the precipice.

  Rannie came to contemplate this possibility and wonder what it would be like and would be afterward, and always that verse rang over and over in his mind: “God so loved the world“—and that other one, “He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.” And one evening, lying in the dark, it came to him.

  “Why, I believe! I do believe! And He says ‘he that believeth’ has everlasting life! I must have it then, and if that’s so, I shouldn’t have to worry what they do to me!”

  Then in a new gentle reverence he got himself down upon his knees by the rickety cot and began to pray.

  “Oh, God, I believe, and You have said it, so I guess it must be so, and that means it’s up to You. If anything happens, You’ll look out fer me. Help me ta be a man, an’ if I don’t believe right, please show me how, and please look out fer Dad and Chrissie. Amen.”

  The next morning the boss went off down the wooded hill and was gone a long time, and as soon as he was out of hearing Bud came in and asked for some more reading.

  Rannie, because he had been reading much to himself, began at the scene in the garden where soldiers came for Jesus, and read on through Christ’s trial and crucifixion. Bud sat with folded arms and eyes that were sometimes full of tears as the story went on through that resurrection morning, down to the last two verses of the twentieth chapter.

  “ ‘And many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book: but these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name.’ ”

  “Would you figger that anyone could take that?” asked Bud suddenly, looking at Rannie earnestly.

  “I don’t see why not,” said Rannie confidently and wondered why he was glad that Bud felt this way.

  Then, before anyone could speak or think anything more, there came a sound up in the air over their heads; faraway at first and dim, but growing louder every minute. The two looked at one another for an instant, hope in the eyes of one and fear in the eyes of the other.

  “It doesn’t take a second ta believe,” said Rannie.

  “No,” said Bud and sprang to the door.

  Rannie could not hear the bolt slide, but he was pretty sure he was still a prisoner. He lay quietly on his cot and listened as the airplane came on. He knew better than to try the door. If the boss was around, and likely he was, he wouldn’t miss that sound. Rannie knew that a bullet would end his career quickly enough if he tried to come out into view. So he lay still, with the little bit of the Book of Life in his hands, and listened. Then he closed his eyes and began to pray.

  “Oh, God, I don’t know what to pray for, but won’t You please look out for me?”

  The airplane came on low, circling once over the cabin, and went on. The boss was out there in the other room. Rannie could hear him talking.

  “That’s Spike’s plane. I see the number. Get onta that! He’s sendin’ a message down. It’ll be in code. You read it out so I ken watch. There! See it! It’s comin’ straight. Look out and see where it falls and slide out an’ get it.”

  There were furtive steps, a sound of creeping outside the cabin, and presently Bud returned and the door was shut again.

  Bud spelled the message out slowly. The two seemed to have forgotten that Rannie could hear them.

  “Police on trail. Big posse organized. Too late to save captive. Destroy all evidence. Lose no time. Meet you same field.”

  Rannie wondered why he felt so calm as he heard his fate discussed.

  “I don’t see why the kid couldn’t go along,” suggested Bud. “He’s a game kid. He’d stick by.”

  The answer was the sound of a terrible oath. “Yella, are ya?” asked the boss. “Softy?”

  “Aw, naw!” said Bud with a good imitation of his toughest tone. “But how ya goin’ ta get rid of him?”

  “Dead men tell no tales,” said the boss. “Jest take him out fer a stroll as usual, an’ it’s easy ’nough ta give ’im a shove. Accident, ya know. Dead man’s hole’ll take care o’ the rest. Hustle up there. Get yer things together. I’ll give ya five minutes ta collect everythin’ an’ take it down the backside o’ the mountain. You know where we planned. Cache the things at the cave there an’ come back an’ keep watch while I take mine down. Now, get on a hustle.”

  There were only sounds of swift movements, articles hurled into a sack, and then Bud’s footsteps out on the ground, descending a rocky way behind the cabin.

  Rannie lay and listened. Would the boss come and execute the cruel sentence upon him? His sinking heart told him there would be nothing he could do. So he held the little red book tight in his hands and closed his eyes again and prayed.

  “Oh, God, help me. I believe You can. Save me, if it’s all right with You. If You do, I’ll believe You can. If You do, I’ll be your witness, too, like John.”

  He could hear Bud coming back. He knew Bud would have to obey, even against his will. The b
oss was a dead shot, and that noiseless, smokeless gun would be right in his hand this minute. Humanly speaking, there was no hope for Bud if he disobeyed orders. And no hope for Rannie if he did not.

  The boss gave quick, sharp orders.

  “There’s a cloud over yonder. I can’t see through the glass for sure, but it might be more planes. We gotta hustle. I’ll get down the hill an’ you do the deed. Don’t have any sob stuff. Accidents are easy. You needn’t look. Just push an’ run, an’ make tracks down the hill. Spike knows his stuff, an’ he said not ta waste time. Ef you don’t do yer part we got plenty against ya, an’ don’t durst squeal on us, see? There’s that Noonan case, remember! Now, all set? Meetcha down at the cave in three minutes.”

  The boss’s footsteps hurried off down the hill, and Bud approached Rannie’s door cautiously.

  Rannie, his heart quickened by his nearness to death perhaps, noticed that Bud did not have to unbolt the door. Then it was open all the time, and he might have escaped without their knowledge if he had only been clever enough! But no, what could he do with his feet hobbled with chains?

  He tried to breathe quietly, as if he were asleep, as Bud stole across the floor. It was a task almost beyond his powers to keep up that steady breathing, but he kept crying to God in his soul for help.

  He heard Bud steal softly across the floor, heard him stoop and lay something down and then bend over the cot. Was Bud going to shoot him now and leave him here alone? Rannie took a gentle breath to stand the strain. And now he felt Bud’s hand upon his own. What was he trying to do? Why, he was taking the little red book out of his grasp!

  Rannie relaxed his hand and let go of the book, greatly wondering, and then he was aware that Bud moved noiselessly away from him—had most amazingly gone out of the room, had closed the door, probably bolted it again. What did it mean? A second later he heard Bud’s step outside the cabin, hurrying down the mountain, slipping, sliding, gone. Was that a shot? What had happened?

  A long time he lay perfectly still, till it seemed his limbs ached with the strain holding them tense. Then, far away, he heard a dim sound like humming. Was it another plane, or the same one returned?