So Little Time

by Al Lacy

  When Pastor Whitfield finished praying, Rya found a sweet serenity in her heart. She thanked him for praying. “Pastor, I don’t pretend to understand any of this—my sickness or this mock of a trial and what has happened to McClain. But I do know this: God knows the end from the beginning, His grace is sufficient, and He never does wrong.”

  “You’re right about that,” the pastor said.

  Rya put trembling fingers to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know how long I have to live, but every day, though I cannot be with him, I will love the precious one that God has given to me for such a brief time.”

  McClain Reardon sat on the cot in his cell, his face buried in his hands. “Lord, why has this horrible thing happened to me? You know I didn’t murder Jason Lynch, but You know who did. Please see to it that the guilty man is caught. Rya needs me, Lord, and I need to be with her.”

  At that moment, Pastor Mark Whitfield appeared at the cell door.

  They talked for a few minutes, then the preacher shared the same Scriptures with McClain as he had with Rya, trying to comfort him.

  A little while later, Ward Lamont came to see McClain and assured him once again that he knew he was innocent. He told McClain that sooner or later, the truth would surface, and when it did, he would have his job back, and the plans for him to one day own the company would proceed. McClain thanked him sincerely.

  Rya visited her husband at the jail the next two days, as did the Gibbses, Pastor Whitfield, and Ward Lamont. During those visits with Rya, McClain commented that she was still losing weight, and asked if her pain was getting worse. She said she was down to eighty-nine pounds, and that her pain was definitely getting worse. She had seen Dr. Yarrow, and he had told her she would be spending at least half-days in bed very soon.

  The next morning, the Whitfields and the Gibbses brought Rya to the jail just before McClain was to be put in a police wagon and taken to the railroad depot.

  They entered the office, and Pastor Whitfield asked the deputy on the desk if he could see Sheriff Drew. When the sheriff came out of his office, Whitfield asked if Mrs. Reardon could have a few minutes alone with her husband, explaining that she had stomach cancer, and her doctors had predicted that she had less than a year to live.

  Drew granted the couple ten minutes alone in a deputy’s office.

  When Rya and McClain stepped into the office and one of the deputies closed the door behind them, they were instantly in each other’s arms, tears flowing. After several minutes of silence between them, Rya reached up, took McClain’s face in her hands and looked at him with a world full of love in her eyes. “Darling, unless our heavenly Father does some kind of miracle, we won’t see each other on this earth again. We have had so little time to be together, but … but we have all eternity to look forward to.”

  McClain leaned down and pressed his lips on hers, their tears mingling. He held her close once more. “I will always hold you in my heart. Oh, Rya, I love you so much!”

  The office door opened. “Time’s up,” said the deputy.

  They kissed again, and as they stepped back from each other, Rya whispered, “Go with God, my darling.”

  As they stepped through the door, where the deputy stood with a pair of handcuffs, McClain echoed her words. “Go with God, my love.”

  Rya joined the Whitfields and the Gibbses, and Marla and Elsa took her in their arms.

  Rya watched through a veil of tears as Sheriff Drew introduced McClain to Deputy Bart Milford, who would be escorting him to San Quentin. The deputy then placed a cuff on McClain’s right wrist and the other on Milford’s left wrist.

  Milford hastened his prisoner out the door to the police wagon. Rya and her group followed and stood on the boardwalk, looking on.

  When deputy and prisoner were seated inside the wagon, the driver snapped the reins and put the horses to an immediate trot. McClain was looking at Rya through the small barred window in the rear of the wagon as it rolled down the street. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  Soon the wagon passed from view. Rya let out a sob, and her knees gave way.

  At the Sacramento depot, Deputy Milford took his prisoner aboard the train under the curious eyes of the passengers.

  Moments later, the train was rolling southwest toward San Francisco. They were seated on the left side of the coach, which put the prisoner next to the window.

  They both looked out the window for some time, watching the beautiful countryside roll by, then Milford said, “Sheriff Drew told me about your wife’s sickness, Reardon. Too bad. You really messed up by killing that Jason Lynch. You could have been with her for her last few months.”

  McClain looked at him from the corner of his eye. “I didn’t kill Jason Lynch, Deputy. We had been at odds, yes, but he had already been stabbed when I found him. All I did was pull the knife out of his chest. People saw me with the knife and assumed that I had stabbed him. The jury believed them.”

  “Sure. Because right out in public, you’d threatened several times to kill him.”

  “I didn’t threaten to kill him. I merely said if he didn’t stop harassing my wife, he would be sorry. I wouldn’t murder anybody, Deputy, I’ve been a born-again child of God since I was a boy. I live by God’s standards as laid down in His Word. Jesus Christ lives in my heart. I’m not a murderer.”

  Milford gave him a cold look.

  “While we’re on the subject, Deputy,” McClain said softly, “how about you? Have you put your faith in God’s Son to forgive and wash away your sins and save your soul?”

  “Enough of that, Reardon. A cold-blooded murderer sits here and tells me he’s a Christian. Yeah, sure. Don’t make me laugh.”

  As time passed, McClain Reardon languished in San Quentin Prison, weeping in his cell night after night, praying and asking God for help.

  “Lord,” he said over and over, “Rya has so little time. Please clear me of the charge so I can go to her. Lord, I need a miracle!”

  During the wearisome days, McClain worked in the prison kitchen, where he witnessed to his fellow inmates and began leading them one by one to the Lord.

  At the Gibbs home, Rya wept continually over McClain’s unjust imprisonment, begging God to perform a miracle and expose the real killer, so she and her husband could be together for the short time she had left.

  She was visited daily by the Whitfields, who prayed with her and did all they could to comfort her. Rya was getting very thin and was growing weaker.

  One day at the prison, when McClain had been there seven weeks, Warden Harry Piedmont had him brought to his office. As he sat in a chair before the warden’s desk with two guards flanking him, Piedmont said, “Reardon, you know, of course, that I have a copy of your trial record in my file.” “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t know exactly how to put this, but you have had a powerful influence on so many of the prisoners you work with in the kitchen. Since you’ve been here, we have seen a definite change in those men. What is it?”

  “I’ve given them the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, sir. They have become Christians, and when Jesus moves into a man’s heart, he is a brand-new person. Those men won’t be hard to handle anymore.”

  The warden shook his head in wonderment. “Mr. Reardon, I have a hard time believing you murdered that man. By your trial record, I see that you claimed innocence—that you found the man already stabbed and dying.”

  “Yes, sir. I am innocent. I did not kill Jason Lynch.”

  “I believe you. But, of course, that doesn’t change anything. The judge put the life sentence on you because the jury pronounced you guilty. But let me say this: keep up the good work you’re doing among the men in this prison.”

  “I plan to, sir.”

  The next day, Pastor Whitfield arrived at the prison and was allowed half an hour in a private room with McClain. Since men with life sentences could receive no mail for their first six months, he told McClain of Rya’s worsening condition, believing he had a right to know. />
  The pastor prayed with McClain, and when the half hour was up, they embraced, and McClain went to the prison kitchen to work.

  When McClain walked into the kitchen and was putting on his apron, four of the men he had led to Christ approached him. Max Trujillo, Gene Woods, Luke Odom, and Gus Hines formed a circle around him.

  “McClain,” said Max, “we’ve worked out a plan to help you escape so you can go to Rya.”

  McClain frowned and blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “We’re serious,” said Gus. “Every man who works with you knows you’re not a murderer. Especially those of us you’ve led to Jesus. Your little wife is dying. We want you to have some time with her before she goes to heaven.”

  “Just listen to this,” said Luke. “When the grocery wagon comes tomorrow, Max and I will fake a fight and cause a diversion so you can get under the wagon, hold on, and ride outside the prison. We’ll have the guards so busy breakin’ up the fight, they won’t even notice you.”

  McClain scrubbed a shaky hand over his mouth. “Fellas, I can’t let you jeopardize yourselves for my sake. If the prison officials figure out you faked the fight to help me escape, your sentences will be extended.”

  “McClain,” said Max, “we can get you out without anyone knowing there was anything but a fight between two convicts. The warden and his guards will think you simply saw an opportunity and took it.”

  “As Christians, we wouldn’t do this if you were guilty of murder,” said Luke. “But we know better. Go … and take the time God allows you to be with Rya.”

  “But, fellas, the warden had me in his office just yesterday, thanking me for the influence I’ve had on you. I explained that it was because I had led you to the Lord. If you two guys get into a fight—”

  “We’ll apologize to Warden Piedmont,” said Max. “And I have a feeling he’ll be glad you got out of here so you could be with Rya. I heard him tell a guard the other day that he thought you were innocent.”

  McClain took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ve been praying that the Lord would get me out of here. I just didn’t think He would do it this way.”

  The next day, the fight broke out in the kitchen. While the guards were occupied, McClain made it to the grocery wagon just outside the kitchen door and got underneath it without being detected.

  Elsa Gibbs had just put Rya to bed for the night and joined her husband in the parlor when they heard a tap on the window that overlooked the front porch.

  Roy and Elsa looked at each other, frowning. “What can this be?” asked Roy as he moved to the window.

  Elsa was on his heels as he pulled back the drape. Both were shocked to see McClain’s face at the window. He was in his prison garb.

  Roy darted to the door and when he opened it, McClain hurried in. Both of them embraced him, and Roy said, “How did you escape?”

  McClain quickly explained, then said, “Folks, I’ve got to take Rya somewhere so we can have what’s left of her life.”

  “She’s been feeling somewhat better the past few days,” Elsa said. “She hasn’t lost any more weight, either. We check her weight every day.”

  “We don’t mean to get your hopes up by telling you this,” said Roy. “Dr. Yarrow told us yesterday when we had Rya at his office that cancer often works this way. It will seem to ease up at times, then gets worse again until the person finally dies.”

  McClain nodded. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “I just put Rya to bed,” said Elsa. “She’s probably awake. You should go in and see her.”

  McClain rubbed the back of his neck. “Roy, Elsa, I don’t want to get you into trouble for aiding and abetting a criminal. Just do this for me. Go in and tell Rya I’m here. I’ll give her a chance to dress and pack a few things she needs, then I’ll kidnap her and take her out the window. Unlock it for me, will you? That’s all I ask Then just forget you saw me, okay? I want to spend the time with her that she has remaining. After that, I don’t care what they do to me.”

  Roy touched McClain’s arm. “What else can we do to help?”

  McClain cleared his throat. “Well … ah … if you’d have any spare money—”

  “We’ve got some. Would three hundred be enough?”

  “Plenty. Somehow, I’ll pay you back.”

  “Nope. It’s a gift, not a loan.”

  McClain started to say something else, but Roy interrupted. “Where are you planning to go?”

  “Los Angeles. They have excellent doctors and medical facilities. Some of my prison mates are from there, and they told me about it. I can get lost in the crowd there.”

  “We’ve got to get you out of those prison duds,” said Roy. “Since you and I are about the same size, I’ll give you some of my clothes.”

  “While you’re doing that, honey,” said Elsa, “I’ll go tell Rya who’s here and what’s happening and get her ready.”

  Roy nodded. “McClain, just how are you going to get to Los Angeles?”

  “By train. There’s a train out of here at midnight.”

  “But what if somebody who knows you sees you at the depot? They’ll have the sheriff on you in a hurry.” “Well, I—”

  “Go on in there and see Rya, boy. Elsa and I will drive you down to Stockton. Nobody will know you there. We’ll put you on the morning train to Los Angeles at Stockton.”

  McClain grinned. “All right. You win.”

  Elsa was still standing there. “Go on, McClain. After you surprise her and tell her what’s happening, I’ll help her pack. Then Roy can outfit you with some of his clothes.”

  In her bedroom, Rya was almost asleep when there was a tap on the door. Turning her head that direction, she said, “Yes, Elsa?”

  The door swung open, and Rya saw her husband silhouetted against the light in the hallway. She gasped. “McClain?”

  He rushed to the bed, bent over, and folded her in his arms. Rya broke into tears. “Darling, how … how did you escape?”

  “I’ll explain it on the way to Stockton, sweetheart. Roy and Elsa are going to help us. I’m taking you to Los Angeles where there are good doctors and hospitals. It’s a large city, and I can live and work there with less chance of being caught. We’ll catch the morning train in Stockton for Los Angeles.”

  “I … I can’t believe this is happening! I asked the Lord to get you out of prison, but I didn’t think it would happen by your escaping from there.”

  McClain planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Elsa’s going to help you get ready. We have to leave right away.”

  Thirty minutes later, Roy Gibbs drove his buggy southward through Sacramento under the cover of darkness. Elsa sat next to him.

  In the back seat, McClain held Rya and began his explanation of how he escaped. On his body were Roy’s clothes, and in his pocket was a wad of money. In his heart was the hope that he could elude the law at least until the Lord took Rya home.

  24

  WHEN RYA AND MCCLAIN REARDON ARRIVED in Los Angeles, they rented a small house near downtown, and the next day, McClain found a job with a construction company. They gave him two days to get Rya settled and under the care of a doctor before he started work. The pay was good, and on the evening of the same day, he hired a middle-aged widow named Helen Newell, who had advertised for domestic work in the classified section of the Los Angeles Times. They were pleased to learn that Helen was a Christian, and she recommended her church to them.

  They explained to Helen that Rya was dying with cancer, and they would need her there Monday through Saturday each week during the day. Helens heart went out to them, and the compassion she showed to Rya was a comfort to both of them.

  As Helen was about to leave for home, which was less than three blocks away, McClain said, “Helen, I need to get Rya under the care of the best doctor in this city. Who do you recommend?”

  “You take her to the Worley Clinic over on Rosemead Boulevard. Dr. Ralph Worley heads it up. He’s the one who took care of my dear husband, Fred, right u
p until his death from consumption. Dr. Worley has a staff of four doctors and six nurses. Mrs. Reardon will get the best care right up until … until she goes to heaven to be with Jesus.”

  The next morning, McClain walked to a stable and purchased a horse and buggy.

  It was almost ten o’clock when they pulled into the parking lot of the Worley Clinic. McClain helped Rya out of the buggy, and holding on to her arm, walked her into the building and up to the receptionist’s desk. He explained that they had just moved to Los Angeles, that the doctors where they lived in northern California had diagnosed his wife with stomach cancer, and they had given her less than a year to live.

  A few minutes later, they found themselves in the office of the head doctor. Dr. Ralph Worley looked at what the receptionist had written down about Rya and told them he wanted to hear the whole story. When Rya finished telling it, Worley asked for the name of the physician who had diagnosed her cancer. Both of them were relieved when Dr. Worley said he wanted to do his own tests so he would know exactly what he was dealing with.

  “We can do the tests right now, if you folks have the time,” Worley said.

  “We sure do, Doctor,” said McClain. “I start my new job tomorrow, so we’re free for the rest of today.”

  “Good. We’re very thorough, Mr. Reardon, so it’ll take about four hours to do the tests.”

  “That’s fine, Doctor. I’ll be right out there in the waiting room.”

  Worley excused himself, left the office, and was back in two minutes with one of his nurses. He introduced the nurse to the Reardons, then said, “Our laboratory is a bit overloaded right now. Ordinarily we would have the results of the tests day after tomorrow. Let’s see … this is Wednesday. Will your work schedule allow you to bring her back at … let’s say … eleven o’clock Monday morning, Mr. Reardon?”