“Yes, it is. We both had a hard time when we were young, and we’ve been saved and forgiven. What difference does it make what people think?”
She had an opportunity to prove that shortly when she was snubbed by several of her acquaintances. Relating the incident to Mark, she laughed. “Let’s go to the mission. There’s more worth in Awful Gardner than in the whole bunch of phonies!”
They did go to the mission—and so did many others, including a prominent businessman named Sidney Castleton, a member of a large church. He was going to the Rescue Mission, he told his wife on the way there, to encourage Barney and Gardner. But they were both surprised by joy unspeakable as they joined the drunks at the altar and were wonderfully saved. From that day forward, he and his wife Edna were firm supporters of the Rescue Mission.
A month later, on a bright sunny morning in May, Barney and Gardner had spent some time praying together after breakfast. As Gardner rose, Barney said, “Awful, I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
“What is it, laddie?”
Barney dropped his eyes, then raised his head. “It’s something terrible I did before I was saved.”
“Oh, lad, that’s all under the blood!”
“I know it is—as far as God is concerned. But . . . I hurt someone. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Gardner paused, then nodded, “Well, laddie, if that’s the case, the Lord is tellin’ you to make it right with the fellow.”
Barney looked miserable. “I . . . I’d rather take a beating from Captain Dollar!” He jumped to his feet. “I’ve got to do it. Can you spare me for half a day?”
“Right-O! Some of our new converts are growin’ fast. Littleton can fill in until you get back. I’ll be prayin’ for you!”
Barney left the mission and headed for Water Street. He had tried to shut out the scene that had haunted him since his conversion. Again and again he would see the terror-stricken face and hear the screams for help. Finally he’d groaned, “All right, Lord. I’ll do it.”
The sun poured down a steady stream of light, clean and pure, and he thought as he made his way to Tony Barone’s saloon how wonderful it would be if the people on the street were all like that. He arrived at Barone’s place and was greeted by the bartender, Larry Pool. “Hey, Bat, didn’t expect to see you here! What do you want to drink?”
Barney smiled. He had become accustomed to the ribbing. “Just a glass of water and a little information.”
Pool gave him the water, asking, “It is true about you being a preacher, Bat?”
“Well, not much of a preacher, Larry.” He drank the water and asked cautiously, “Is Katie Sullivan still here?”
“No. Tony put the skids under her a long time ago, shortly after you were sent up the river.” The bartender polished a glass, then asked curiously, “You looking for a girl friend, Bat? I can give you some good ones.”
“Nothing like that, Larry. I just need to talk to her.”
“Her friend Nellie’s still here. It’s pretty early for her, but if you come back about noon, she might be able to give you something.”
“Thanks, Larry.”
Barney left the saloon and spent the morning giving out tracts, which had become a custom for him. Several times he talked to men about their souls, two of them praying with Barney. At noon he returned to Tony’s place and was told he could see Nellie.
As he walked up the stairs, he remembered going up the same steps but with other intentions. “Lord,” he prayed, “forgive me for the many I sinned against.” He was learning to bring past transgressions before the Lord as he was confronted. Again he found cleansing and freedom from guilt.
When Nellie opened the door, she looked at Barney with distrust as she answered his question. “Katie? No, I won’t tell you nothin’ about her, Bat. The last time you saw her, you beat her up.”
Barney squirmed at her bluntness. “That’s why I want to see her, Nellie. To ask her to forgive me—and to help her if I can.”
Nellie eyed him suspiciously. She had little reason to trust men, but the open expression on Winslow’s face caused her to say, “She’s had a pretty rough time. If you give her any more grief, I’ll sick one of Tony’s roughnecks on you.”
“I just want to talk to her.”
“All right. She’s livin’ over Anderson’s Grocery store. She works at the Delight Cafe over on Madison Street.”
“Thanks, Nellie.”
Barney left the saloon, heading toward the cafe, then decided to wait till she got home, where it would be more private. All afternoon he roamed the Lower East Side of the city, enjoying the sunshine and the fine weather. He was happier than he’d ever been in his life.
At seven o’clock he made his way to Anderson’s Grocery store, in a rough section of the town, and asked about Katie.
“Yeah, in number six,” the clerk replied.
Barney went up the dark narrow stairs and knocked at the door, but got no response. He had no way of knowing what time she got off work, so he went across the street to a cafe, got a cup of coffee, and sat at the window where he could see the doorway to the stairs.
For an hour he waited, eating and drinking coffee. Darkness fell, but by the faint streetlight he could still see the doorway illuminated. No Katie, though. He was just about ready to leave when he saw a woman coming down the walk.
Crossing the street he approached her, noting that she was walking slowly, as if she were drunk. Hoping it was Katie, he waited until he came close, trying to see her face.
“Katie? Is that you?” he said hesitantly.
She stopped and lifted her head. “Who is it?” Her voice was so hollow and hoarse, Barney thought he had made a mistake.
“I’m looking for Katie Sullivan,” he said.
“What do you want?” she rasped.
Barney moved closer. It was Katie! She looked frightful. Her face was pale and her eyes sunken—like a skull.
“Are you sick?” Barney asked, taking her arm gently as he saw her sway, her eyes closed. “Tell me. What’s the matter?” he urged.
Katie opened her eyes, trying to focus. “Who—are you?”
“Barney Winslow, Katie.”
She licked her lips and would have fallen if he had not held her upright. “Come back—to beat me up again?” she cried.
“No! I came to help you. What’s wrong?”
“Sick—so sick!” she gasped. Then her eyes rolled up and she went limp. He could hear the hoarse, hollow breathing that seemed to tear at her lungs.
“Got to get her to a doctor!” he said in alarm.
He turned toward the grocery store to get help, but it was closed. He had to find a cab! Carrying the unconscious form, he ran three blocks before a cab came rumbling down the street. He stepped in front of it.
The driver jerked the horse to a stop, cursing. “You wanna get killed, huh?”
“This woman is sick,” Barney said. “Take us to the hospital.”
“You got the fare?”
“Yes. Get moving.”
He climbed inside and held Katie’s slight form as he would a child’s. Except for her ragged breathing, she looked the picture of death.
When the cab stopped, Barney tossed the man some money and rushed into the hospital. A nurse brought him to the doctor immediately.
“She’s got double pneumonia,” the doctor reported. “Why’d you wait so long to bring her here?” He nodded his head somberly. “She’s not likely to make it. Not much I can do. She’s going to need lots of nursing. Be just as well if you took her home.”
Alarmed, Barney said, “Tell me what to do, Doctor.”
“Not much you or I can do. She’s probably going to die no matter what.”
“God’s not going to let her die.”
The doctor shrugged and picked up his stethoscope. Barney knew there was no help here, and he prayed desperately, “God, help!” The Rescue Mission flashed into his mind, so he picked Katie up and rushed out and hailed a cab d
river just passing.
Barney kept praying as the driver tore down the street toward the mission.
Gardner looked up as Barney walked in.
“It’s Katie, Awful! The doctor says she’s going to die.”
Gardner noted the ashen face. “Well, now, that just goes to show how little some doctors know, don’t it now? Let’s put her in the room with the big window. That way she can see the sunshine!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Voice from Africa
The pain flooded her as she tried to pull herself out of the dark currents. It was easier to slip back into unconsciousness than to face the raw agony that grabbed her chest.
Someone kept talking to her, a quiet voice calling her name, trying to draw her to the light. Hands pulled at her—sometimes hurting her, other times soothing.
Vaguely she became conscious of the bed with cool sheets, and from time to time a light that moved in and out. A cool hand touched her cheek, and a woman’s voice asked, “How are you, Katie?”
She opened her eyes slowly but closed them again against the bright light. It was a woman’s face, someone she’d met before. “Where—where am I?” she asked, her voice rusty.
“You’ve been very ill, Katie. Do you remember me? Lola Winslow?”
Katie forced her eyelids open and she nodded. “Yes. You came to see me at the saloon.”
“That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” Lola said. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Good! I’m tired of ladling soup down your throat! I’ll go get something solid.” She left the room for the small kitchen where Barney was washing dishes. “She’s awake.”
“Thank God!” Barney murmured. His eyes were deeply circled, as were those of his mother. They had maintained paround-the-clock watches with the sick girl, and the strain showed.
“I’ll cook some eggs, something soft,” she said. They spoke little as Lola prepared the food. It had been Barney’s idea to have his mother care for Katie, and she had not left the mission since Katie had come a week ago. Barney and his mother had grown very close, sitting at Katie’s bedside for long hours in the stillness of the night. Barney had never had anyone to talk to, so he shared freely about the past. She learned much about him during those times—how sensitive he was, how honest.
Lola finished cooking the eggs and put the food on a tray. “Here, Barney,” she said, “you take it in. I need to go home. My husband’s probably ready to divorce me!”
“But you can’t go!” Barney exclaimed, apprehensive. “Who’ll take care of Katie?”
“You can do it. And Mrs. Taylor will be in to cook. She’ll help.”
Barney tried to argue, but Lola simply left him talking, so he had no choice but to take the food down the hall. He tapped on the door, and when a voice said “Come in,” he opened it and entered.
Katie looked like a child, so fragile. She stared at him, her eyes large because of her emaciated condition. “Where’s your mother?” she asked.
“She had to go home,” he replied, adding quickly to cover up his discomfort, “but she said you’re hungry. That’s a good sign. Try some of these eggs and hot milk.” He helped her to a sitting position before handing her the plate of scrambled eggs and the fork. She could not hold the milk, so he set the glass on the side table and sat in the chair beside the bed as she began to eat.
Katie was hungry, she realized, and it seemed as if she couldn’t eat fast enough. Barney cautioned her to slow down or she’d choke. He offered the milk, which she drank thirstily.
When she had finished the eggs and milk, she lay back and smiled. “That was so good!”
Barney put the plate and the glass on the table. “Do you feel better?” he asked, leaning forward.
Katie touched her cheek. “Yes. What happened? Did you bring me here? I remember seeing you on the street, but I can’t remember much of anything else.”
“I was looking for you,” Barney said. He took a deep breath and spoke with a rush lest he lose courage. “Katie, maybe you don’t know about it, but I’ve had a big change. Not long ago I got saved.” He paused and saw that she was watching him carefully—and somewhat suspiciously. “I know that sounds funny, but it’s made me a lot different. I’m not a fighter anymore. I spend all my time trying to serve God. Well, the thing is, I’ve felt so bad about the way I treated you. . . .”
Katie listened as he related how he had hit bottom, and how he’d blamed her for his being sent to prison. He described his conversion, and finally how God spoke to him about beating her in the street.
“I—I was drunk, Katie,” he said haltingly, twisting his hands together nervously. “It was like a demon from hell was in me! I know it’s a lot to ask . . . but, I’m asking you to forgive me.”
He dropped his head and waited, unable to say more. Katie had hated him for what he did to her, but now that he had told her about himself and the change in his life, and was so obviously sorry, she could forgive. “I forgive you, Barney.”
At her words, hope sprang up in his heart. “You do? You really do, Katie?”
“Yes,” she said. “After all, if you hadn’t found me and brought me here, I’d probably have died. You saved my life—you and your mother.”
“Oh, Mother did most of it,” he protested at once. Then he took a deep breath and said, “You know, Katie, I feel as if I’ve been carrying a big rock on my back—and now it’s gone!”
Katie was getting sleepy, but she nodded. “I feel the same way, Barney.” Her eyes began to close and she murmured, “Thank you, Barney . . .”
She dropped off, and Barney left the room. For the rest of the day he went about whistling and singing, returning often to check his patient. That night in the packed service, he sang with all his might.
Awful grinned at him. “You’ve come out from it, dear boy. You was pretty worried about our lassie upstairs.”
The following day Katie got out of bed for a short while to enjoy the sunshine by the window, but most of the week was spent sleeping. Awful would come and sit with her, sharing much about the Rescue Mission. As the days went by, she was impressed by the joy she saw in Gardner and Barney, though neither one pressured her in any way. When she was well enough to go downstairs, she listened to the singing and the preaching, wondering what it all meant.
Lola visited twice, doing most of the talking at first; but as Katie grew more confident, she began to relate her personal tragedy. The heart-rending revelation touched Lola’s heart so deeply that she loved the girl like a daughter—something Katie needed and absorbed hungrily.
Each day she grew stronger and was able to stay up longer. One of those days, when Awful visited her, she said, “I’ve got to leave here.”
“And go where, Katie?”
She had no answer. Just the thought of going back to the dark room and the dreary work of the cafe depressed her. “I don’t know,” she sighed.
“I’ve got an idea,” Gardner said. “There’s a nice room next door. Why don’t you live there? You can help out here at the mission.”
“But . . . I can’t do that!”
“Why not, dearie?”
“Because—well, you must know. You know what I’ve been.” Katie’s face flamed as she referred to her past, and she turned away from Gardner.
Her feeling of shame was not lost to Awful, but he went on as though she as a person was what mattered, not what she had done. “We want you to stay. The room’s already paid for, though I’m bound not to say who paid it. You can eat with Barney and me and help around here with the cleanin’ and a little cookin’. Will you have a go at it, Katie dear?”
Katie nodded, her eyes moist.
Later, Gardner told Lola, “It wuz a kind thing, rentin’ that room for Katie. She had tears in her eyes when I asked if she would stay. I’m thinkin’ it won’t be long before she’s brought to the Good Lord!”
Lola reported to Mark what she’d done and he approved. When they went to services tw
o nights later, they saw Katie sitting at the back of the room, wearing a lovely dress. “Why, she looks so pretty!” Mark said in surprise. “You’d never guess what a life she’s had!”
Andy was there that night. Now that he was out of seminary, he came often and had even preached several times at Gardner’s invitation. He sat close to the front, for that night he had brought a visiting missionary from Africa—Reverend Stanley Beecham. Beecham was a native of Wales and had come to America as part of a speaking tour while he was on furlough. He had so stirred the students at the seminary that Andy had insisted Gardner have the man speak at the mission.
After the congregation had sung a few songs, Gardner introduced the visitor. Reverend Beecham showed no hesitancy as he began. Unlike some pastors who didn’t know how to address the motley gathering at the Rescue Mission, he knew exactly what to say.
“I bring you greetings from darkest Africa,” he said in his melodious voice. “A few weeks ago I was preaching to cannibals in Liberia. I intend to preach the same message tonight. There is but one gospel. It does not change from country to country, nor from century to century. And what is this glorious gospel that can take the vilest of sinners and make them pure? It is clearly set forth in First Corinthians, chapter fifteen. Paul says in verse one: ‘I declare unto you the gospel.’ And what was that gospel? He tells us plainly in verses three and four: ‘For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day.’ ”
Beecham’s eyes burned as he looked up from his Bible, his voice holding every hearer with anticipation. “Christ died, Christ was buried, Christ rose again. That is the gospel! Anything more than that is false doctrine!” He flipped through the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation. His passion was obvious and his knowledge of the Word of God was awesome. He led his hearers down a logical road, yet with such emotion that there was no escape. “It is Jesus Christ and life, or it is hell forever,” he declared bluntly.
Then he said, “But what shall you do after you are saved by the blood of Jesus? Shall you go on merely eating and drinking, living your lives as you please? No! For the Lord Jesus gave us a stirring challenge when He left this earth. You will find it in Matthew, chapter twenty-eight, verses nineteen and twenty: ‘Go you therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.’ ”
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