The White Knight

by Gilbert, Morris

  Luke sat there looking down at the money in his hand. At one time, he had been a man of pride, but now he had been reduced to begging. Bitterness seeped through him, and he lowered his head, suddenly uninterested even in the pie.

  “Well, you’re in luck, Luke. One of our sponsors owns a truck line. He drives a route down to Galveston. He said you could ride with him. They got one leaving in the morning at seven o’clock. You got any place to stay tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Well, better stay here, then. I’ll get you up early and give you a good breakfast and take you over to the truck line.”

  Luke forced himself to look up into the steady gray eyes. “I never thought I’d grow up to be a beggar, Preacher.”

  Lindsey shook his head. “We’re all beggars in one way or another, Luke. Remember that thief on the cross? He was a beggar too, but he made it to heaven.” He leaned forward and put his hand on Luke’s shoulder, his face filled with compassion. “I know you will too, sooner or later, Luke.”

  ****

  Charlie Dickson told stories during the entire drive from Broken Bow to Galveston. For the first hundred miles Luke had tried to listen and make appropriate comments when the man paused, but after that he had simply collapsed back against the seat of the semi and let the man go on and on, wondering if he would ever stop. They had driven straight through, and Luke’s nerves were crying for a drink.

  Charlie finally slowed the truck and came to a stop. Luke roused himself and looked around bleary-eyed.

  “This is the airfield. Good luck to you, Luke.”

  “I appreciate the ride, Charlie.”

  “No problem. Take care of yourself, you hear?”

  Luke practically fell out of the truck. He was weak and sick, but he forced himself to move forward. He approached a man gassing up a twin-engine plane. “You know where I can find Garrison Air Transport?”

  “Right down that road,” he said, pointing. “You know Streak?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, he’s set up in one of the old hangars about a quarter mile down there. Hey, you don’t look so good.”

  “I’m okay,” Luke said. He turned and began walking. With every step he took he doubted he would make it all the way. The quarter mile seemed more like five. His legs were trembling with weakness, he was nauseated, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on a bottle. Finally he approached the old hangar and saw a plane outside with Garrison Air Transport painted on the side.

  “Well, I made it, but Streak may shoot me.” He went into the building and immediately heard his name called.

  “Hey, Luke, you no-account rascal!” Streak Garrison came over, a broad smile on his face. But Luke saw something change in Streak’s eyes at the sight of his old friend.

  “Don’t tell me, Streak. I look like a bum, which is what I am.”

  “You look terrible, Luke.”

  “Well, I’m not in my prime.”

  “I can see that. Come on.” Streak couldn’t conceal the disappointment in his expression. But he shrugged his shoulders and came up with a smile. “Are you hungry? Let’s get something to eat. I’ll tell you all about my business!”

  ****

  Luke ate a hamburger and fries as Streak told him about his attempt to get started in business. Streak had bought his first plane when he was living in Charleston soon after he returned from Spain. But business was sporadic and he soon realized he would get more flights if he had a more central location. Whenever he got a flight to anywhere in the middle of the country, he took some time to scout out the local airfields and try to get a feel for what it would be like to live there.

  Before long he decided to move to Galveston and within a few months had located a small house to rent. Streak was able to buy a second plane with the additional business he was getting flying to the west coast.

  Luke was impressed with what his friend had accomplished. “You’ve done better than I have, Streak.” He hesitated and then said, “You offered me a job, but now that you’ve seen me, I’ll understand if you don’t want me. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

  Streak leaned back and sipped at the coffee in his thick mug. “How much are you drinking, Luke?”

  “Up until now, all I could get. If you hire me, Streak, not a drop when I’m flying.”

  “Most guys who are used to drinking don’t do so well when they try to cut it back. You know that as well as I do.”

  Luke had a vision of himself hanging on by the tips of his fingers. If he didn’t make it here, he would fall into an endless chasm of horrors. “I can handle it. I’ve got to. You’re my last chance, Streak.”

  Streak made up his mind. “We’ll give it a shot. One slip and you’re out, though. No second chances, Luke. I’ll be smelling your breath ten times a day.”

  “I don’t envy you that, but I won’t touch a drop when I’m flying or when I’m due to.”

  “That’s good enough for now.” Streak reached over and punched Luke in the arm. “Well, it won’t be as dangerous as flying against the Condor Legion, but the way these old planes are rattling, there’s not much difference. Come on and I’ll show you the ships.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Promised Meeting

  As Luke lined the plane up for a landing, he felt like he had flown around the world. He had christened the two-engine plane The Old Devil, for it had proved to be such on every flight he had made in her. He spotted the field below, glad there was still enough daylight to land by. The sun was dropping down in the west, and the shadows were long. He wrestled the plane down, muttering, “Well, I’m glad I got you back in one piece, you old devil. Now, just don’t fall apart on this landing.”

  A sudden lurch of the plane pulled it over to the right, and Luke had to physically wrestle it back. The wheels hit, and the entire plane shuddered as he bounced along the airfield with excessive force. It was a struggle to hold the plane steady, but he managed to keep it going fairly straight until he slowed down to a crawl. Taking a deep breath, he turned the plane and taxied up to the hangar. He saw Streak waiting to greet him, an anxious look on his face, with Herbert, the mechanic.

  Herb guided him into the hangar; then with a sigh of relief, Luke cut the engines. The one engine exploded with a loud backfire, and Luke shook his head with disgust. Groaning, he got out of the seat and stepped out of the plane.

  “How was it, Luke?” Streak asked. He was covered with grease.

  “It’s like flying a cement mixer, Streak. We’ve gotta do some work on it. That port engine cut out three times. She went absolutely dead. I thought I’d never make it.”

  Lines made their way across Streak’s broad forehead, and he chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “We’ll have to overhaul it.”

  “I know what that means,” Herb said. “Lots of overtime.” He was a small man with a wealth of dark blond hair and light blue eyes. In the three months Luke had been working there, he had learned that Herb always liked to touch people as he talked to them. Now the man came over to Luke and began nudging him with his elbow. “Where’d it cut out, huh? Did you think you were going to lose it?” He peppered Luke with questions, punctuating each with a nudge, and finally Luke shoved him away.

  “Herb, you heard what Streak said. We’re going to have to overhaul it. Now I’ve got to go get some sleep.” Luke had started his day at five o’clock that morning and was exhausted after the long day.

  “All right,” Streak said. “Herb and I’ll start on the overhaul first thing in the morning. I can’t afford to have one of my planes out of commission. Let’s call it a night, everyone.”

  Luke made his way wearily to the small room that Streak had provided for him in the hangar. It had been a storage room once, and there was only one small window. It was unbearably hot—not that he’d expected anything else from Texas in August—but Luke had used his first paycheck to buy a small fan, which he had set in the window. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped. As he stepped inside the room, he tur
ned on the fan, then grabbed a towel. Streak had even installed a shower in the hangar’s bathroom for him.

  Stripping down, he stepped under the cool water, letting it sluice down his body as he felt his fatigue press at him like a giant fist. He had worked hard and kept his word to Streak about his drinking. He drank when he had time off on his own but never when he was flying or when he was due to fly. He gave his hair a final rinse and tore himself away from the cool shower. He dried off and put on clean clothes before plodding wearily back to his small room.

  He noticed two envelopes on the small table by his bedside. Streak must have put his mail there when he’d been flying. Luke sat down on the bed and picked them up. One was from his mother and one was from Tim. He opened the one from his mother first. She had written a rather long letter, which he read slowly. It was filled with news from home as well as her concern for his well-being. His dad had included a smaller note, which simply said, I know things get tight sometimes, Luke. If you need help, let me know. I’m always here for you. We love you and think about you every day.

  He had enclosed a ten-dollar bill, as he did in almost every letter he sent. A warmth came over Luke as he realized how fortunate he was to have parents like this.

  The letter from Tim urged him to return to Arkansas. There’s a place for you here, and I know you can do well if you put your mind to it, Luke. This is going to be your business someday, yours and mine, and I’m praying that you’ll come home and we can pick up where we left off.

  Luke shook his head and muttered, “You never give up, do you, Tim?” He put the letter down and lay down flat on the bed, which was merely a cot with a thin pad for a mattress. He sighed and let the fatigue seep out of him, and as he drifted off to sleep, he realized he had come a long way since he had started working for Streak. He still craved drink almost constantly, but he had cut back enough so that he had recovered some of his physical vitality.

  Sleep came to him finally like a warm darkness. At some time during the night he had a dream about Melosa. They were in Spain, walking down a corridor between two lines of fruit trees that were blossoming in brilliant colors. In the dream she looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back at her and then they started talking about what life would be like after they were married and moved to the United States.

  Then she began to fade. He cried out to her, but she disappeared into a swirl of mist, crying out his name. “Luke—Luke!”

  He woke up abruptly, as he always did after such dreams. He did not feel rested, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again that night. He looked at his pocket watch and saw that it was almost six o’clock. He got up quickly and dressed.

  Herb was already bent over one of the engines, and Streak was coming in at the same time Luke was.

  “Morning,” Streak greeted. “What say we go get some breakfast, Luke?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The two of them left Herbert to work on the engine alone, and when they stepped outside, dawn had begun to light up the east. They got in Streak’s car and drove to a nearby café. As they went in, they were greeted by Lettie Simms, the waitress, who always flirted with both of them.

  “Well, the first and second best looking guys in Texas.” She came up and pushed herself against Luke, winking at him. “You’ve been hiding yourself, Luke. I’ve been lonesome.”

  Luke liked Lettie. She was a little heavy but still a good-looking woman in her late twenties. She had been married twice and was now looking for a third victim, as Streak put it. “You don’t need an old man like me, Lettie. Find yourself a young guy.” Ever since Luke had turned thirty-one he’d been thinking of himself as old.

  “Hey, you got lots of life left in you, big guy!”

  The two sat down and Streak ordered pancakes while Luke ordered sausage, eggs, and biscuits. While they ate, Lettie hovered over Luke, occasionally putting her hand on his shoulder.

  Streak grinned when Lettie finally turned her attention to some other customers. “That woman’s after you, Luke.”

  “I’m too old and tired for chasing after waitresses.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to relax a little bit, start dating again. You’ve been doing good, Luke. You got the drinking under control.”

  Luke dipped his biscuit in the redeye gravy and took a bite. He chewed slowly and then took a sip of his coffee. “No I haven’t,” he finally said, shaking his head doubtfully. “It’s a battle every day. You know, Streak, I’ve been in some pretty tight spots, but for the first time in my life I’m scared.”

  Streak stared across the table at him. “Scared of what? If Erich Ritter didn’t scare you, I’d think nothing would.”

  “I’m afraid one of these days I’m gonna lose my battle with the bottle. I’m afraid I’ll become one of those helpless drunks you see in an alley.”

  “You won’t do that. God’s going to take care of you like He has me. You just need to give your heart to the Lord.”

  Luke did not answer, for he had no answer to give. He knew Streak was right, as he knew his own family was right, but the bitterness over losing Melosa had built a wall between him and God. He knew it was foolish to blame God for anything, but still he found himself doing it. He ate slowly, aware that Streak was watching him.

  “Do you ever think about Spain?” Streak asked, leaning forward and fixing his eyes on Luke.

  “Sure I do.”

  “Yeah, you lost a good woman there.”

  “Yes, I did.” Luke knew he wasn’t being very good company for his old friend. Streak had often tried to get Luke to talk about what he went through in Spain, but Luke resisted revisiting the worst days of his life.

  “I haven’t told you much about my family, have I?”

  “Just that they farm in Tennessee.”

  “Yeah. I grew up near Chattanooga. My parents had a small place. A hundred twenty acres, but most of it’s not much good for crops. It’s good for cattle, though.”

  “You have brothers and sisters?”

  “Just one sister. Her name is Joelle. She’s a nurse at the hospital in Chattanooga. Hey, I’ve got a picture of her here.”

  Streak pulled his wallet from his pocket, extracted a small photo, and handed it to Luke. Luke took it and studied the young woman in the picture. She was wearing a white nurse’s uniform and cap. “She’s very attractive.”

  “Yep. She’s pretty and strong too.” Streak took the picture back from Luke and gazed at it, fondness written across his broad features. “She always wanted to be a missionary, but when Dad got sick she had to stay home and take care of him.” Slipping the photograph back into his billfold, he added, “She wanted to be a missionary even when she was a little girl, dreaming about going to Africa or China—somewhere exotic like that. But she hasn’t made it yet.”

  “You told me your dad died. So it’s just you and your mother now?”

  “Well, not even that now. We lost Mom six months ago. She had a heart attack and then she was gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Streak.” Luke continued to eat slowly and asked thoughtfully, “Well, why can’t Joelle go and be a missionary now?”

  “Well, it’s like this, Luke. She feels like God is using her there on the farm. After Mom died, Joelle took in a girl who was in trouble with the law, and before long another one came. People started hearing about Joelle and how she had a soft spot in her heart for girls who needed a place to stay, and before long, she had a regular ministry started. It’s not all girls who are having trouble with the law, though.” He took a bite of his pancake. “Some don’t have parents or have parents who are in jail. One girl came when she got pregnant and her parents wouldn’t let her stay at home.”

  “Sounds like quite a place.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Streak said. “As soon as we get a couple days off, we’ll fly up there and you can meet Joelle. You’d like her, I think. Of course, we’ll have to get on our feet first—get this place in the black.”

 
Luke grinned. “Well, it doesn’t look like that’ll happen any time soon, but I’d like to meet your sister.”

  As the two finished their breakfast, Lettie came up and leaned her hip against Luke’s shoulder. “What about it, Luke? I get off at six.”

  “I’ll be in the air at six, Lettie. Maybe next time.”

  ****

  The engine overhaul took longer than any of them had predicted. Luke helped Herb on the overhaul whenever he could squeeze some time in between flights, and Streak helped whenever he could spare the time.

  As he tightened the last bolt, Herb said woefully, “I hope we don’t have any more overhauls for a long time. I’m plumb tired out.” He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You’ve got to make that early flight tomorrow. You better go get some rest.”

  “I guess you’re right, but I’m going to get something to eat first.” He cleaned up, went to the nearby café, and as usual, found Lettie there. Since there was no one else in the café, she hovered over him while he ate.

  “What about going out tonight, Luke?”

  “I’m pretty tired, Lettie.”

  She leaned against him and ran her fingers down his cheekbone. “I can take care of that. Come on. You deserve a little relaxation every now and then.”

  “I’ve got to take an early flight out tomorrow.”

  Lettie laughed. “I’ll see to it that you’re a good boy.”

  Luke was tired, but suddenly the idea of going back to the small, hot room in the hangar had no appeal. “All right, Lettie, but I have to be in early.”

  ****

  Luke woke with a start and looked around wildly. His head was splitting, and he realized that he had gotten drunk again. Lettie had egged him on, and now he remembered with self-disgust that he was in her bedroom. He looked over at the pillow that was marked with the imprint of her head, and he got out of bed feeling terrible. He listened, but hearing nothing, he assumed Lettie was already at work.