The Silver Star

by Gilbert, Morris

  “That’s it!” Lem said. “Just right. Now, while you’re still pushing up with your hands, look over toward the jungle. You hear the lion, and you’re suddenly afraid. That’s it! Hold it! More! Now jump to your feet and throw your hand up over your mouth to show you’re holding back a scream. This is where you’ve seen the lion. You’ve actually seen that beast! Let’s have lots of terror here—great! Great! That’s perfect! Now, back up toward the wall—that’s it! Your back right against it. Now, hold your hands out as if you could hold that lion away with them. That’s it! One more! Hang on now! Look as scared as you can, Priscilla!” Finally he was satisfied and said, “Cut! That’s a take! Okay, Paddock!” he hollered, signaling that the scene with Priscilla was finished and Paddock could get ready to help them get the shots of Nero.

  Paddock was standing with a stagehand, and he was out of sight of the action. He turned to Jim Wilson, who had been his assistant on building the set, and said, “Okay, here we go, Jim.” Paddock threw up the cage and reached through and punched Nero’s flank. “I guess they’re rolling the cameras. They wanted to get one of him coming out of the jungle.”

  “Are you sure we’re ready?” Wilson asked nervously.

  Paddock was accustomed to people being frightened of his wild animals. He reached over and said, “It’ll be okay. Here, this is the button that releases the inner cage door and lets Nero into the set.” He reached out and threw a toggle switch, which started a slight humming. “We’ll have to do this several times, and I’ll need to be out front. So I’ll put him back in here, and he’ll come right into the cage. You drop that cage right here that I just opened, and that’s all there is to it.” Paddock turned to leave, thinking about the best ways to make Nero react and get good shots for the cameramen.

  Priscilla had strolled casually over to the caged door through which she had entered, behind which the cameras had been stationed. She turned and looked up at Jason, who was watching the scene from the top of the artificial rock wall. “Now, are you satisfied?” she said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Paddock appeared right then and suddenly his face turned pale. He gasped, “Miss Winslow—” He ran over, shouldering men aside, and made a grab at the latch that held the door shut. At the same moment Priscilla heard a sound, a low, guttural rumbling behind her. She thought it was from Nero, who was locked safely away, but when she turned, the huge black-maned lion suddenly stepped out into the open and paused.

  “Priscilla! The lion!” Peter yelled.

  Priscilla’s blood seemed to freeze. The lion was standing in the middle of the set, confused by the lights, and she could not move.

  Charlie Paddock shouted, “Miss Winslow—through here!” He grabbed the latch and heaved, but nothing happened! Paddock let out a short utterance, a mixture of fear and anger, and yanked at the latch again. “It’s jammed!” he said. He yanked one more time and racked the skin from his palms. Turning, he saw Nero slowly advancing.

  “Paddock! Do something!” Lem cried out in an agonized voice. He was watching the lion move forward slowly, and his heart seemed to stop when the lion swung his head around and roared.

  “Got to go through the chute!” Paddock yelled. He pushed men aside, knocking one of them down in a mad dash to get around and come through the other way. He could not seem to move fast enough. When he reached the cage he saw Wilson standing there befuddled. “The lion’s in with the woman!” he shouted. “Help me get this cage out of the way!” The two men fought to open the cage, and both of them feared the terrible mauling that would happen to Priscilla Winslow if he did not get there in time.

  Priscilla backed up slowly, her eyes never leaving the lion. Her movement caught the lion’s eyes, and his head suddenly fixed. Priscilla’s back touched the wall, and she tore her eyes from the huge animal long enough to sweep around the set. Paddock had disappeared, and Peter was desperately tearing and beating at the jammed lock.

  Priscilla stood against the wall frozen, not able to speak or to cry out. Nero suddenly went into a crouch as she had seen cats do many times. He tensed his legs down under him, and she saw the huge muscles ripple on the sides and legs of the lion. His eyes seemed to glitter, and his mouth opened slightly, revealing two rows of sharp, ferocious teeth. She could almost feel them tearing into her flesh, and all she could do was stand there and pray. It was not a prayer of words, but a desperate plea from her heart. A wordless, almost mindless, cry that seemed to echo in her spirit for God to do something.

  She watched as the lion gathered himself and knew that he was about to spring. There was no place to run, no place to hide, and she knew she was no match for the speed of the fierce animal.

  Somebody—she thought it was Easy—said, “He’s going to jump! Somebody get a gun!”

  Nero was not more than seven or eight feet away from her now and could not miss. She tried to close her eyes but could not. Then the lion twitched his tail, and she knew she was lost. . . .

  She thought with regret of all the things she would never do, but at the same time she was conscious that despite her fear of being mauled, she was not afraid to die. It was only the sense of things lost that grieved her. She drew back, prepared to feel the tearing jaws and claws of the wild beast.

  Suddenly Priscilla heard a yell, and something struck the lion directly on the back. Nero had been prepared to spring but was knocked off balance.

  Priscilla did cry out then when she saw that Jason had leaped from his perch on the fake cliff and had struck the beast, knocking Nero off balance, and sprawled directly in front of him.

  “Jason!” she cried, and a shout went up from the onlookers. For a moment Nero was confused, then he gained his equilibrium and spotted the man lying in front of him. With a roar he leaped, and Jason lay helpless in his path. Jason did not try to rise but rolled on his back. As Nero reached him, Jason unleashed a tremendous kangaroo-like kick that caught the lion in the chest. The lion clawed quicker than the eye could follow. His mighty claw swung out and caught Jason’s leg, ripping the trousers and tearing into flesh. Crimson blood immediately stained Jason’s pants.

  The lion crouched to spring again as Jason lay curled in pain. Suddenly a voice broke from behind him. “Nero!” and then there was a sharp cracking sound. The lion whirled, and Charlie Paddock emerged from the trap carrying nothing but a whip in his hand. Nero immediately advanced, crouching toward the man who stood still and met his eye with a steely look of command. “Nero!” he said in a hard voice. “Back, Nero!” Paddock lowered his voice and said in a different tone, “He’s going to follow me, Miss Winslow. You stay right there until I get him back into the chute.”

  Jason lay sprawled on the floor and watched as Paddock slowly moved to the lion’s right. Nero followed, and at several points seemed about to spring. Paddock spoke constantly, and several times, just as the lion was about to attack, Paddock would crack the whip with a single motion of his wrist, causing the lion to flinch and stop. Looking down, Jason saw the blood that had stained his torn trousers dripping onto the floor. Ignoring the pain, he glanced at Priscilla. She was not watching the action between Paddock and Nero. Her eyes were fixed on him. Suddenly he smiled and winked at her and saw her react in shock. Despite Paddock’s instructions, she stepped to his side and knelt, putting her arms around him. They both turned to watch as Paddock maneuvered the beast, putting himself between Nero and the two people who were crouched on the floor behind him. Nero roared and prepared to spring, but Paddock’s whip cracked again, and the small, trim trainer leaped forward. “Back, Nero! Into the cage!” he shouted.

  Nero swung his head uncertainly, dropped it, and with a disgruntled roar entered the cage.

  “Throw that switch, Wilson!” Paddock yelled. He heard a whirling sound, and the cage door slammed with a thud behind the lion. Paddock immediately ran over and knelt down beside Priscilla. “Did he get you bad, Jason?”

  “Not too bad,” Jason said.

  Paddock pulled the pant leg up and s
hook his head. “Those claws are dirty. We’ve got to get you disinfectant and maybe a few stitches.” He looked over and said, “Break that door down!”

  Within minutes Peter appeared back on the set with a sledgehammer, gave one mighty swing, and the door creaked open. He came rushing over, his eyes wide with fear. “Are you all right, sis?”

  “I’m all right.” Priscilla had her arms around Jason, and she looked down and whispered, “How could you do it, Jason?”

  Jason Ballard nestled in her arms, aware of her soft figure pressing against him. He looked up, and despite the pain in his leg, he grinned. “Never was a lion couldn’t be had,” he muttered. It was part of the old refrain he had often said, “Never was a horse couldn’t be rode. Never was a rider couldn’t be throwed.”

  She suddenly leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. Tears filled her eyes, and then she hugged him fiercely as the people on the set crowded around. Jason’s face was pressed against her, but she could understand his muffled words.

  “I’d have jumped in with the lion sooner if I’d have known it would get me this kind of response!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bitter Fruit

  “I’m not sure we ought to bother Nolan at home,” Dr. Gunn said. He shifted uneasily behind the wheel of the small car that sped through the growing darkness. “Why couldn’t we talk about it tomorrow at church?”

  Harold Parsley turned to face the doctor, saying, “If we’re going to hire another pastor, we need to get his feelings on it. It was a pretty big disappointment for Nolan when the church chose Brother Winslow. Now, we’ve settled it, haven’t we? We need a third man to come on to take some of the load off of Andrew and Nolan, too.”

  “I don’t see what the rush is,” the doctor said.

  “I don’t want talk to get around to Nolan that we’re looking for another associate pastor. He might feel threatened by it. If he’s not home, we’ll just talk to him tomorrow, but he probably is.”

  “All right. You win, Harold, but I can’t stay long. I’ve got to make some calls at the hospital.”

  “It won’t take long.” The two men had been in a meeting with the elders, which had lasted past eight o’clock. They had decided to call a third man onto the pastoral staff. After considerable talk, Parsley had convinced Dr. Gunn that they should inform Nolan that night, and Gunn had finally given in. Now the two men sped along, and Parsley remarked, “His house is right down on that old road. It isn’t too far from here. It’s just off Elm Street going to the beach. . . .”

  ****

  Dorothy had never felt so washed out and emotionally drained. For an hour she listened as Nolan tried to persuade her to leave and marry him. At first she answered with arguments, but soon she saw that he was past listening to reason. She finally sat down in a chair and closed her eyes, putting her head back. He came over, knelt beside her, and whispered of his love for her. But there was no response in her heart now, nothing but bitterness and ashes. She looked up once and said, “Nolan, I never loved you—never!”

  “I think you did. I think you do now,” he said.

  “No, I was lonely, and I allowed myself to be drawn away from Andrew. I liked the things you said. Every woman likes to be told that she’s admired, that she’s pretty—but I should never have allowed myself to get involved with you. I knew it was terribly wrong all the time.” She rose and wrung her hands, saying, “Why did I ever do it? Things can never be the same again! There’s no going back from a thing like this!”

  “Then let’s go on,” Nolan urged. He caught her in his arms, but she struggled free.

  “Nolan, you’re never going to touch me again.”

  Her face was pale, but Nolan Cole saw the fierce determination in her eyes and slumped. “I guess I’ve always known it would end like this. I’ll have to leave the church.”

  “No, don’t do that,” Dorothy cried. “What we did was very wrong, but it’s not the end of life.”

  “No, I’ll have to leave. I do love you no matter what you feel about me. It would be torment for me to stay around.”

  For some time she tried to persuade him, but he was adamant. Finally she looked at the clock on the mantel and started. “Look, it’s nearly nine o’clock! I’ve got to get home! They don’t know where I am!”

  She hurriedly grabbed her coat, and Nolan helped her put it on. He did not attempt to touch her, and as she settled her hat, he said only, “I know it’s over, but I’ll never forget you, Dorothy.”

  Without answering, Dorothy stepped outside the door. Nolan followed her and almost ran into her when she stopped abruptly. He looked up, and a shock ran through him as he saw Dr. Gunn and Harold Parsley. Their car was parked out in the street, but neither of them had heard it stop. The two men were almost on the porch, not five feet away from the couple, and now a sense of doom filled Nolan Cole. He stood there silently staring at the two men.

  Dorothy was as stunned as Cole at the sight of the two elders from the church. Her lips moved, yet she was unable to speak a word. Fear tore through her as she stood there, and her knees trembled as a wave of guilt washed over her.

  ****

  Gunn and Parsley were as shocked as the startled pair they faced. The silence ran on, and finally Dr. Gunn said quietly, “I’m sorry to see this. I’m sorry for both of you—and sorry for Brother Winslow. Come along, Parsley.”

  Parsley started to speak angrily, but Gunn grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the car. When they were back inside the car and seated, Gunn started the vehicle and drove away in silence. Parsley looked back toward the house, then turned and said furiously, “Are you just going to let it go like that, Gunn?”

  Gunn’s face was stiff and fixed as he stared ahead at the road. He had always had an affection and admiration for Dorothy Winslow, and he’d always trusted Nolan Cole as a man of God. The sight of them coming out of Nolan’s house had been one of the worst shocks he had felt in his entire life. He drove on silently, saying nothing as he thought about the pain and devastation this would cause.

  Parsley looked at him, peering into the darkness, and said bitterly, “It wasn’t innocent. Did you see the look on their faces? They’re guilty! Both of them! It was written all over them!”

  “Yes, it was,” Gunn said slowly.

  “Well, what are we going to do about it?”

  Gunn was a compassionate man, but he had a great deal of wisdom, too. “It’ll have to come out, Harold,” he said, “but we’ll do it as quietly as possible.”

  “You mean we won’t denounce them publicly?”

  “What good would that do? It would just shake the faith of some, and it would destroy both of them.”

  “Well, don’t they deserve it after what they’ve done?”

  “Do you want to get your just desserts, Harold?” Gunn asked quietly. He turned quickly and held Parsley’s eyes with a penetrating stare. “You’ve never done anything wrong? You’d be glad to have every action of your life scrutinized and put before the eyes of men?”

  The doctor’s sharp tone caused Parsley to flinch. He settled down in his seat and pulled his head between his shoulders as the car rumbled along. Finally he said gloomily, “All right. I won’t throw the first stone. I guess that’s what you’re saying, but we’ve got to do something, Gunn.”

  “Yes, we have to go to Andrew and tell him what is happening.” He drove on silently for a while, then he said, “And I’d rather die a thousand deaths than to tell Andrew Winslow that his wife has been unfaithful with his friend . . . !”

  ****

  “Stop the car, Nolan. Don’t drive up in front of the house. I’ll get out here.”

  “What difference does it make? Harold Parsley will make sure everyone knows before twenty-four hours have gone by.”

  Dorothy did not argue. She feared the same thing. As she opened the door, her mind was numb from dread with what lay ahead. She got out, and when Nolan said, “Dorothy . . .” she ignored him and walked stiffly down the w
alk. The car roared by after a moment, but she forced her eyes away from it, not even wanting to see the car that Nolan owned.

  As she walked toward the parsonage, she thought of a story about a man going before a firing squad. At the last moment, he had been reprieved, but the condemned man had written graphically about the fear, the shame, and the guilt that had gripped him as he made those last steps. Now she knew exactly how that man felt. When she reached the front door and put her hand on the knob, she seemed to be paralyzed. She could not move for a moment, neither could she pray, although she tried. “How can I pray to God,” she whispered, “after the horrible way I have sinned against Him? How can I face Andrew and the children?” She stood there hesitating, overwhelmed by despair, and then somehow she summoned up enough courage to open the door.

  As soon as she stepped inside, she heard her name called, and then Andrew appeared in the hall, lines of worry etched on his tired face. “Where have you been, Dorothy? I’ve been worried sick! And the children are worried, too! I finally put them to bed.” He stepped closer and took one look at her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You’re pale as a sheet—and you’re trembling. Come . . . come and sit down. What’s wrong? Did you have an accident?”

  Dorothy said nothing because she could not speak. Finally he led her into the drawing room and helped her into a seat. Her legs collapsed, and as he sat down beside her, she took one look at his ace that was lined with concern. Her heart was ready to break, and she cried out, “Oh, Andrew—” Then she bent over and put her face in her hands and began to weep great tearing sobs that she could not contain.

  Andrew was shocked as he watched Dorothy’s shoulders heave uncontrollably. “What is it?” he said, putting his arms around her. “Please! Tell me, Dorothy. What is it?”

  She could not speak for a long time. The gentle touch of his arms around her and the anxious compassion of his voice caused a bitterness to rise in her. For so many lonely months it was what she had yearned for—but now it was no good. She had wrongfully sought for it elsewhere. Another wave of remorse and shame washed over her, and she began to sob even harder. Finally she cried herself out, and she felt his hands helping her to straighten up. He pulled his handkerchief out and wiped the tears away from her face.