The Jeweled Spur

by Gilbert, Morris

  ****

  The service had been one such as Laurie had never experienced. She had never been in such a large congregation, and the singing brought her heart to a fever pitch. Thousands of voices rang out, singing the songs she had grown up with. There were several prayers, and finally she had conquered her fear and doubt, saying to Sam, “I believe he’ll be here, even though I don’t see him.”

  “Well, that’s the faith that moves mountains. Look, here comes Mr. Moody.”

  Dwight L. Moody, dressed in a plain black suit and looking like anything in the world but the most famous preacher on the globe, had stepped up on the platform and raised his voice. He welcomed the crowd and encouraged them to pray for the sermon. Then he paused and looked down the center of the crowd. “We are especially happy to welcome to our service tonight Colonel William Cody and his Wild West Troop. Colonel Cody, would you stand and greet your brothers and sisters?”

  Cody was hardly ever at a loss, but Laurie could see that this was a new experience for him. Nevertheless, he stood, turned around, and lifted his powerful voice that was able to boom across any sort of arena. “Not often do my friends and I have the privilege of attending services. It’s hard for men and women on the move such as we are to find a place. But tonight I speak for every man and woman here when I say we are thrilled, happy, and grateful to Reverend Moody for inviting us.” He waved his hand, and there was a burst of applause as he sat down.

  Moody smiled, noting at the same time some of the deacons were somewhat sour, but he ignored them. “My friends, I would take for my text tonight—”

  “Hold on, preacher,” came a voice from the back of the auditorium.

  Every head turned toward the huge cowboy who was advancing down the aisle. People began standing up to see what sort of procession it was. Most of them gasped when they saw it was a giant wearing a huge hat and a beautifully tooled gun, followed by six Indians, dressed in full regalia. The Indians were carrying something, and they could hear someone shouting in a muffled voice, but they could not see. Finally, the little group reached the front of the auditorium, and Buck Bronson swept off his magnificent hat, bowed to the preacher, and said, “Reverend Moody, I remember once my mamma read me a story about a prodigal son who run away and got himself all in a mess. I never forgot that story, preacher, and tonight I’ve done all I could to help one of them prodigal sons. Hold him up here, you Injuns.”

  The Indians suddenly straightened up, and Moody and many of the others saw a young man with his hair messed up and his hands and feet tied together. A shock ran over him, and he demanded, “What is this, sir?”

  “Why,” Buck said, “it’s a prodigal son, Reverend! This here young feller wasn’t comin’ to church, so we just brung him. Now, you go ahead and preach at him, Brother Moody.”

  Laurie gasped and said, “Oh no! What have you done, Buck?”

  Sitting beside her, Sam’s face turned to stone. “Well, that tears it,” he muttered. “He’ll never listen to anything anybody has to say now.”

  Dwight L. Moody stood absolutely still. He had been all over the world and had preached to every congregation imaginable—but never had a situation like this arisen! Staring down at the young man and noting the bitterness in his eyes, he breathed a quick prayer, asking God what to do.

  Cody stood there, humiliated, his face flushed with anger and rage. He had only stopped raving and cursing when they brought him into the building. Now, he looked up at the face of the minister in front of him, high on the platform. His gaze swept around, and he saw Laurie, Sam, and Mac all looking at him with anguish in their eyes. Then he turned back and faced Moody, his jaw set and clinched tight.

  Dwight L. Moody felt that God had spoken to him. “I’m afraid, my brother,” he said to Buck, “that this is not the way of the Lord. God never forces himself on anybody, and neither do I. Let him go.”

  “But preacher, he’ll run off,” answered Buck.

  “Let him go, sir.” Moody’s voice was stern, and Buck at once turned and fumbled with the ropes. They fell away, and Buck stepped back, leaving Cody to look up at the short, rotund form of the preacher.

  “No man can be brought to God against his will, my young friend,” Moody said very gently. He stopped for a moment, his eyes locking with those of the angry young man in front of him. “You’re free to go—but I beg you to stay.”

  Cody, who had been determined to turn and stomp out of the building, was caught off guard by the obvious gentleness of the man. He could not help but admire the way Moody had responded. Still, he knew he could not stay in that place.

  Suddenly, Moody said, “I’m sure many have a feeling for you, as your large brother does here.” He hesitated, then said, “Perhaps there’s a father or a mother, someone who’s been praying for you. Won’t you stay for their sake?”

  Tears burned Cody’s eyes, and he blinked them fiercely away. The reference to his mother cut him like a sword, and he began to tremble. He had never felt so humiliated in his life, yet suddenly he knew what he had to do. “I’ll stay,” he whispered.

  At once Moody said, “Fine! fine! Find yourself a place with your friends.” Buck and the six Indians led the way to the aisle, and soon Cody was wedged between the huge form of Buck Bronson and Chief Running Bear on the other side.

  “You listen good,” Running Bear muttered. “Heap trouble to bring you to church. Don’t waste it.”

  Moody waited until the excitement was over, then said, “I think we should have another prayer.” He lifted up his voice and addressed God as simply as if he were speaking to his friend, asking Him to quiet the hearts of the people, to take their mind off what had happened and everything outside, and to think of Jesus.

  As soon as he had finished praying, Moody opened a worn Bible and began to speak. “The Gospel is simple. We find it in its simplest form in John 3:16. ‘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.’ ” He held the Bible in one hand and began speaking of Jesus. There was no eloquence in his speech—except that of a fiery heart and a zeal that could not be contained. His words were simple, and he began to talk about how man had turned away from God. “Not just some men,” he insisted firmly. “All men. As Romans tells us, ‘All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’

  “The harlot and the murderer may be worse in our eyes than the man or woman who does not commit these sins, but we are all sinners in God’s eyes. There is no difference.” Then he began to speak about the effect of sin. “The wages of sin,” he proclaimed, “is death. Most of you have heard sermons on hell fire, and I would warn you that any man or woman who goes out unprepared to meet God will forever dwell away from God. But, do you know, my dear friends, ‘The wages of sin is death.’ That word ‘death’ may not only refer to hell—it may refer to what is going on in some of your hearts right now. Some of you may have nothing but death in your soul even as you sit here.”

  For the next few minutes, Moody continued to speak on how sin and death did nothing but ruin peoples’ lives. Cody sat there with his head dropped, thinking about all that had happened in his own life. When the preacher said, “Life comes from Jesus. He is the one source of life. ‘In Him was life and the life was the light of men,’ ” Cody began to feel something of a battle stir in his heart. Though he sensed the power of Moody’s words, a part of him felt a stubborn resistance to all he heard.

  On and on the sermon went, though it was not as long as usual. Toward the last, Moody paused and asked with a voice filled with emotion, “What can I tell you about the Gospel? John the Baptist said it all. He saw Jesus one day, and he said, ‘Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.’ ” Moody’s voice trembled slightly, and he cleared his throat. “That is what Jesus Christ does. He takes away the sins of the world and gives life. And I would that every man, and every woman, and every young person under the sound of my voice would know that aside from Him, ther
e is no life, there is no joy.”

  Moody spoke for a few more moments, and then the service ended with an invitation. Moody invited those who needed prayer to come forward, and then he said a quick benediction.

  At once, Buck turned to the young man and said, “Jim, I was wrong to drag you here.” Cody looked up into his face and saw tears in the big man’s eyes. “My ma was a Christian,” said Buck, “and I shoulda listened to her. I wouldn’t of led the kind of life I have.”

  As for Cody, he was stunned. The words of Dwight L. Moody had gone straight to his heart. Every time the name of Jesus was mentioned, he felt that he was being stabbed. There was something in that name, something in those words—”Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world”—that made him want to weep, and he struggled against it, not wanting to expose the tumult in his spirit.

  The crowd was moving, and he found himself making his way to the end of the row of seats. He could hardly see, and when he got to the aisle, he heard a voice say, “My dear young friend, may I pray for you?”

  Cody looked up and saw Dwight L. Moody standing there at the end of the row, looking at him with a compassionate expression. He said no more, and Cody knew then that this preacher would not beg, nor urge such a thing upon anybody. Cody wanted to run, but somehow feared to do that. Something within him welled up as he thought of his mother, and Laurie, and Sam, and others who had cared for him, and he suddenly bowed his head and shut his eyes. “Go ahead, Reverend.”

  Moody at once prayed a beautiful prayer. Laurie had come up to stand close enough to Cody to hear the evangelist as he prayed, and tears flowed down her cheeks. Very simply, Dwight L. Moody prayed that the young man would find peace with God, and that the happiness and joy that come only in the Lord would come to rest in his heart. And he concluded simply, “ . . . I ask you, Lord, in the name of Jesus, to put your hand on his life. Amen.”

  When Cody opened his eyes, Moody was already gone. Cody could bear no more. Choking back a sob, he shoved his way through the crowd and disappeared before Laurie could move.

  Sam and Mac came up to stand by her, and the three of them stood, speechless.

  “God got him here,” Mac said, “and answered our prayers. But now the Word’s got to do the work in his heart!”

  Laurie stood there, tears running down her face. “Amen!” she whispered—and somehow she knew that Cody Rogers was facing the most trying hour of his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  All Kinds of Love

  Laurie had entertained a hope that Cody would go back to hear Mr. Moody preach. However, the days sped by until it was time for the Wild West Show to move on, and he said nothing about it. She spoke to Sam one morning as they were preparing for the afternoon show and found that he had some serious regrets about what had happened.

  “I wish Buck hadn’t roped him and taken him to that service all trussed up like a turkey.” The dark eyes of the young man had a sad look in them, and he suddenly kicked at the dust, sending a cloud of it flying. “Blast it, I know Buck meant well—but I can’t think of anything much worse than trying to force a man to get saved!”

  Laurie was wearing a brown outfit, consisting of a divided skirt, a white blouse, and a matching jacket. Her hat hung down on her back, suspended by a rawhide thong, and as she moved nervously, the jeweled spur glinted in the morning sunlight and jangled musically. “I know,” she murmured quietly, “but Buck was just doing all he knew how. I—I don’t guess I’ve done much better, Sam.”

  “Well, me neither,” Sam muttered with remorse, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking over at Laurie quizzically. “What are we gonna do now?”

  “I don’t guess there’s much of anything we can do, Sam—except just keep on praying.”

  “I’ll sure do that,” Sam nodded. “See you later. I’m going over to get a cup of coffee at the cook tent.”

  A few minutes after he left, Laurie looked up from where she was oiling her saddle and saw Cody as he crossed the lot headed for the corral. She quickly put the gear down, put a top on the bottle of oil, and marched across the lot to intercept him. “Hello, Cody,” she said.

  Cody turned around and faced her. His face was rather drawn, Laurie thought, and didn’t have the usual happy light that made him so approachable. When he spoke, she noticed his words were clipped off a little shorter than usual. “Hello, Laurie.” He hesitated, then asked, “Are you about ready to pull out? The show will be leaving tomorrow.”

  Laurie fell in beside him and the two ambled slowly toward the corral, where she leaned on the gate as he pulled his rope free and began spinning it in small circles.

  “I guess so,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You know, after a while, every town looks just about like every other town. Chicago looks like New York, and New York looks like Boston.”

  Cody gave her a quick glance. “Well, I guess London won’t look like New York. That’s what Colonel Cody is talking about, isn’t it? I guess you’d like that.” He made the rope rise in the air as if by magic, grow much smaller, and then spread out into a large loop. It flicked out and caught one of the tops of the corral posts, then he flipped it off and began making another loop. “Be lots for you to write about over there, wouldn’t there?”

  “I guess so. I’ve always thought I’d like to go see England, but—”

  Cody slowly stroked the lariat and found that he was having difficulty even talking to Laurie. Finally, he looked up at her. “You know, Laurie, when I first came to this show, you were real happy. I remember how your eyes always lit up and how you were always laughing.”

  “Why, I guess I still am.”

  “No, you’re not. You don’t hardly ever laugh anymore,” he said, and then his jaw clamped tight. “I guess I’ve been a burden to everybody. Made life miserable for my folks—and now I’ve come over here and made life about the same for you.”

  “Oh, Cody,” she said quickly, and a warm light touched her eyes. She put her hand on his arm and shook her head. “Don’t ever say that! We have our hard times. You have yours and I have mine, but I’m—I’m glad you came.” She studied his lean, drawn face, took a deep breath, and asked a question that had been on her lips several times since they’d attended Moody’s service in the large auditorium. “Have you—thought about what Mr. Moody said in his sermon?”

  Cody dropped his eyes, and then when he lifted them, she saw an almost bottomless despair. “Yes, I have,” he almost mumbled.

  “You’re not worried about hell, are you?”

  Cody put his hands together, locked his fingers and squeezed, staring at them. “I guess I’ll have to tell you that I am. For a long time after I went to prison, I didn’t even want to believe in God. If you don’t believe in God or the Bible, you don’t have to believe in hell. It’s all the same, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so, Cody,” Laurie said softly.

  “Well, ever since I heard Mr. Moody preach, it’s just like—it’s like a big cloud has been hanging over me! I can’t sleep right, and I keep hearing what he said over and over again.”

  “I wish you’d pay attention to what he said about giving your heart to the Lord, Cody,” Laurie said timidly. “I know it seems like a big step, but you’re miserable the way you are.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  The two of them stood there, the sun beating down, and Laurie tried her best to make some dent in the wall that Cody had built around himself. But there was a despair in him that she could not overcome. Finally, he nodded curtly and walked away. For a moment, Laurie stood there wondering if her prayers for Cody would ever be answered. Shaking her head sadly, she turned and walked back to her tent.

  Later that morning Con came to see her with a determined look in his eye. She knew instantly what he had come for and became very defensive.

  “Laurie,” Con said evenly, “I’ve done all I know how to tell you I love you. So I’m gonna ask you one more time to marry me.”

  Laurie be
gan to tell him again those things that she had already said and saw that the man was deeply hurt. She ended by saying, “Con, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You don’t want half a woman. Somewhere there’s a girl who will love you with her whole heart, and you need to keep on looking for her.”

  “So, that’s your answer.” He turned on his heels and stalked away, his back stiff.

  McGonigal had been watching the scene from across the room. Now he got up and ambled over to her and sat down beside Laurie. “I guess the boy was after you to marry him again, wasn’t he?”

  “Oh, Mac, I hate to hurt him, but it would never work.”

  McGonigal scratched his grizzled head, then shot her a careful look. “I’m glad,” he murmured softly, in a voice not like his usual gruff tone at all, “that you don’t jump at the first chance that’s come along to get married. You don’t make a man happy by agreeing to marry him unless you mean to give him everything you’ve got.”

  “I know that, Mac, but Con doesn’t,” sighed Laurie.

  “It’ll be all right,” said Mac. “You stick to your guns.”

  Later that night at the show, Laurie kept her eyes open, looking for Con. She intended to try and encourage him, but he did not appear. And it was the next morning before Leona brought her the news. She came in from an early breakfast and said, “Did you hear about Con Groner?”

  “Hear what, Leona?” asked Laurie, concern in her voice.

  “Why, he quit the show,” the slender girl said. “I was just talking to Nate Salsbury, and he told me Con came in, asked for his money, and left late yesterday afternoon.”

  “Did he—did he say why he was leaving?” asked Laurie haltingly.

  Leona shrugged carelessly. “No, Nate didn’t say, but these cowboys get an itch every now and then. Just have to get out and let off steam, I guess. I expect he’ll be back before too long.”

  Laurie worried about Con, and later that morning, after she had gone through her act several times, she had another talk with Cody. She did not have to approach the subject, for Cody looked at her sharply. “I heard about Con Groner leaving the show,” he said.