Josh smiled as he thought of his friend Thad and wished that he were there with him. He had read in the Bible’s book of Acts about a man named Barnabas, who was called “the son of consolation,” and more than once he had thought of Thad Gilbert in that role. The man had simply been able to take anyone who was down and lift him up and encourage him.
The morning wore on slowly, as time always does when one is cold and hungry and fighting against doubt. It was nearly noon, and some of the men brought out sandwiches from their coat pockets. Others had brought lunch pails with Thermos jugs full of steaming coffee. A man beside Josh had brought two such jugs. One contained hot soup, and just one whiff of it made Josh grow almost ravenous. The man, a short, chubby fellow with bright blue eyes and full red lips, caught Josh’s eye. “Here,” he said. “I can’t eat all this soup.”
“I can’t take your meal,” Josh protested.
“Why, Lord bless you. Jesus gave me this soup, and I’m giving it to you in His name.”
Josh immediately smiled. “You’re a Christian, then.”
“Why, bless God I am. I’m saved, sanctified, filled with the Holy Ghost, ready for the rapture, and in love with Jesus. Here, brother.”
Josh took the cap of the Thermos, which the bubbly young man had filled to the top. There was no spoon, but he sipped the soup carefully, delighting in the rich seasoning. “This is the best soup I’ve ever had. My name’s Josh, by the way.”
“I’m Aloysius. Just call me Al. The Lord told me when I got up this morning to fix a double portion. That I’d be meeting one of His family members, and I was supposed to see that he got a good meal. So your Father in heaven is looking out for you, Josh.”
Josh ate the soup slowly, savoring each sip, and then accepted a half cup of steaming black coffee. The first sip made him blink, and Al laughed. “That coffee would raise the dead, brother. I don’t believe in weak men, weak women, or weak coffee. How long have you been a soldier in the army of the Lord?”
“Not very long,” Josh replied. “I was saved in a prison cell.”
“I was saved in a flophouse. I’d been so drunk I could hardly lift my head, but God reached down, shook me out, tied me in knots, and then set me free.”
The young man had apparently memorized the entire Bible and was a tremendous encouragement to Josh. Every other word Al spoke was a verse of Scripture, and Josh looked around and noticed that those within range of his voice were listening covertly. Aloysius simply bubbled over with joy and invited everyone near him to take Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.
“I wish I had your boldness, Al. I’m pretty shy about sharing my faith.”
“Why, you just need what the apostles needed. You remember when Jesus was taken and crucified? Why, them apostles ran like scared rabbits. They hid out in a room, and Jesus had to go find them after His resurrection. Walked right through the door. Won’t that be somethin’ when we won’t be stopped by no doors? But after Pentecost, why, there wasn’t no fear in them. They were all filled with the Holy Ghost. Jesus said, ‘You wait and tarry until you be endued with power from on high.’ That’s what you need, brother. Power from on high!”
A tall man with a stocking cap and a face scarred with small-pox grunted, “I don’t believe none of that stuff.”
Al jammed his hand down in his pocket. He brought out a New Testament and said, “Here you are, brother. Let me point out a few things. I’ve got a little soup left. You eat the soup and drink the coffee, and I’ll read to you from the Word of God.”
The tall man stared at Aloysius and then laughed harshly. “I’ll take the soup and the coffee, and I guess I’ll have to take the preachin’ that goes with it. Turn your wolf loose!”
Josh listened, fascinated, as Aloysius spoke to the man about the glory of God and the death of Jesus on the cross. He was shocked when the man ate the soup and drank the coffee, then simply stood there. Many others were listening carefully, and finally Josh saw tears run down the man’s face. Suddenly Aloysius turned and said, “Come on, Brother Josh, you and me’s going to pray our friend Slim through to glory.”
Josh had never done such a thing, but he had seen Thad and others in the prison do so. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and began to pray. He was awkward, not knowing exactly what to say, but he could feel the man’s shoulders quivering, and after he had prayed, Al led the man in a prayer of his own. Finally the man looked up, and something in his expression was totally changed. Al exclaimed, “You done see the glory, brother! You’re a child of the King right now. You take this Bible, and you read it. God’s going to do great and mighty things in your life. I feel it in my spirit.”
Josh felt good after this. He saw others who were not as happy, and some of the men were mumbling about not needing any preachers. Several jeered at Al and at Josh, saying, “Where’s your God with people starving to death? Why doesn’t He give me work? I’ve got a hungry wife and kids starving.”
Josh had no answer for this. He was no theologian. All he could say was, “I don’t know all the answers, but I know Jesus is real, and I know He’s the only hope any of us have.”
Aloysius took up the refrain, and he spoke enthusiastically until one of the doors of the factory opened, and a man wearing a herringbone suit, a white shirt, and a maroon tie stepped outside. He was obviously one of the owners, and immediately cries began to come out. “Where are the jobs? Give us work! We need work, mister!”
The man held up his hand and said, “My name is Ingalls.” He waited until a quiet fell over the group and then looked around. He was a stern-looking man, but there was no cruelty or meanness in him that Josh could see. He looked grieved, and for a moment he simply stared at his feet. Then he lifted his head and said in a clear voice, “I’m very sorry that this has happened. We needed a few hands, but rumors took over. And although we tried to make it clear we were not hiring anymore, obviously you men did not get the word.”
“Ain’t there no jobs at all?” a voice cried out angrily.
“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. I wish I had jobs for every one of you men. If I were you, I would leave and go home.” He turned and stepped inside the door. Angry cries followed him, but Josh shook his head, filled with disappointment. “Well, Aloysius,” he said, “there are no jobs here. I might as well go back home to Georgia.”
Aloysius had sobered, but he nodded firmly four times saying, “Amen—amen—amen—amen! If I die starving to death, Brother Josh, I’m going to starve to death trusting God. You remember the patriarch Job. He said, ‘Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.’” He slapped Josh on the shoulder and took his hand and said, “God’s going to do a great work in your life, brother. Never give up on Jesus!”
“I’ll do that.”
“You got a home to go to, brother?”
“Yes, but I hate to go back and tell them about this.”
“Every man’s got to eat his peck of dirt.” Al sighed, then smiled and said, “Christians never say good-bye, you know! So if I don’t see you again in this world, brother, we’ll be gathered around the throne.”
Josh felt the hard grip of Aloysius, who then turned and left him. Josh joined the men walking away from the factory. Most of them started down the road, lining both sides of it, and Josh knew there would be no hope of catching a ride. No one would stop in the midst of a crowd like this for fear of being swamped.
****
By four o’clock Josh had already worked off the cup of soup and the doughnut he’d had for breakfast. He felt as hungry as a starved wolf but deliberately chose to ignore that as much as possible. The crowd of men had thinned out. Many had turned off on side roads, but Josh had kept plodding on until now he was alone. He recalled Al’s cheerful spirit and wished that he had some of the man’s courage. “I wonder if I’ll ever be as strong in the faith as he is. I’m pretty weak right now, I think.”
He trudged along wearily, keeping his eyes down on the road before him, feeling the loneliness of the land. Fi
elds stretched out on either side of him, and stalks of the past harvest were gray and lifeless. The sky was also gray so that it seemed on the far horizon that the earth and the sky met without a visible line, one simply melding into the other. Passing by a cornfield with a few ragged stalks left, he heard the raucous cries of crows and looked up to see three of them perched in the naked branches of an oak tree. A few withered leaves still held their grasp, but the crows seemed to be harbingers of doom. Although Josh liked most birds, he had never liked crows and had gotten into furious arguments with Hannah, who loved all birds. Josh remembered saying once, “They’re evil birds. I hate them.”
Hannah had rebuked him. “They are not evil. God made them what they are.”
“Well, He should have made them different,” Josh had retorted but then immediately regretted it.
He turned away from the dark trio and continued to walk. A house rose up in front of him over on the right. He could see yellow lights in the windows and knew that the inhabitants were warm inside and probably cooking supper. As he came even with the house, he had the impulse to go up to the door, knock, and ask for work in exchange for food. Hunger drove him, but his pride was stronger than his hunger, and after standing irresolutely for a time, he whirled and walked on stiffly down the road. You’re a fool, Josh Winslow! Too proud to ask for something to eat!
He left the house behind, and then suddenly his thoughts began to go back over his life. He thought of how he had wasted such great opportunities. He thought of the college he had attended and all of the help and encouragement he had gotten there, but he had wasted even that. He thought of friendships he had wrecked because of his selfishness and refusal to bear responsibilities. Memories of his family that he had utterly failed came to him, filling him with a deep shame, and, as always at times like this, his years as a drunk rose to torment him.
“What do I have to be proud of?” He spoke the words aloud, and they seemed to disturb the world about him. They hung on the raw breeze coming out of the north, a breeze that chilled him and cut to the very bone. He walked on and muttered again, “What do I have to be proud of?”
****
The sky was opaque now. The sun had hidden its face, and there was no moon that Josh could see. In the entire sky overhead not a single star burned, and darkness seemed to cloak the road ahead of him. He knew he had to find some shelter from the plummeting cold. Suddenly something touched his hand, and he flinched. Then several tiny sensations on his other hand came, and he realized the worst. “Just what I needed,” he muttered disgustedly. “It’s starting to rain.” He moved on, turned up his coat collar, rounded off his hat brim, and began to look for anything that would give him shelter for the night. He had not gone a hundred yards before he saw a vague outline of a ruined house close to the road on his left. He moved quickly and saw that it was nothing but two chimneys left from a burned-out house. They had evidently been at either end of it, but now nothing was left except the blackened ashes.
Well, one thing was left—a small barn, which had apparently escaped the conflagration. He stepped forward, then stopped abruptly, for he saw that two men had already staked out their claim on the barn. “Hello,” he called, and they turned quickly. Josh stopped when the two came toward him in a most alarming way. They separated instead of staying together, and in the fading darkness his heart sank as he realized they were not the most friendly of men. Both were large and bulky and were as soaked as he was from the cold drizzle that was steadily falling. “You mind if I share your barn?” Josh asked, trying to sound friendly.
One of the men stepped up no farther than two feet away and peered at Josh. He had a doughy face with huge lips and small eyes. His sodden wool cap was pulled down over his head, and there was a brutal light in his eyes. “You got anything to eat?”
“No, not a thing,” Josh said, then added quickly, “Maybe I’d better go on. I can make another mile or two.”
The hobo suddenly reached out and grabbed Josh’s arm. The strength in his hand was frightening, almost simian. The fingers seemed to close down to the very bone, and Josh almost cried out. He jerked away and said, “Take your hands off me!”
The other hobo had approached from a different angle, and now Josh saw that he had a club or a stick of some kind in his hand. Josh backed away, saying, “You fellas won’t get anything out of me. I haven’t got a dime, and I’ve got nothing at all to eat.”
The taller of the two men, the one with the club, grinned. His teeth were broken, yellow, animalistic. “You got a nice coat, boy. I needs one of those in this rain.” He yanked at Josh’s coat, popping off the buttons as he tore it from him. Josh’s feet slipped in the muddy ground as he struggled to get away from the man. He was only too glad to let him take his coat, but he wasn’t about to let him get his money, which he had secreted in his pants pocket.
“Hey, would you look at that fancy pocket watch! Whoo-wee! Where’d a bum like you get a thing like that?”
Josh’s heart sank as he looked down and saw his grandfather’s watch swinging from its chain, where it had fallen out of his vest pocket. He lunged to get away, but two sets of massive hands held him in place and pinned him to the ground.
“Just hand it over, and you can go on your way,” one of the men sneered as he snatched at the watch.
At that instant Josh knew he had reached a point in his life when he would not give another inch. He had always given up before when met with a challenge, taken refuge in his family’s money or in his father’s protection. He had simply walked away, but now in a flash he remembered the smile in his father’s eyes as he had given him the watch and how he had said, “I’ll keep it the rest of my life, Dad. I’ll give it to your grandson one day.”
Josh knew then that he would die before he would give over Sky Winslow’s watch to these thugs. The two men were heavy, but he was lean and wiry. If he could break from their grasp he could make a run for it. With a sudden strength he didn’t know he had, he raised his legs and kicked each man squarely in the face. They both staggered back, holding their faces and howling in pain. Josh jumped up from the mud and began to run as fast as his well-muscled legs would take him. I can probably outrun them, he thought, but the tall man recovered quicker than he expected, and he felt the club crash against his back. The pain was agonizing, and he fell to his knees. He caught himself on his hands and knew that another blow was coming. He threw up his arm and partially deflected it, but the other tramp was there, the larger one. Josh caught a glimpse of the kick as it came. It caught him in the ribs, and pain such as he had never felt before shot through him. He fell over gasping, and looking up, he saw the taller tramp raise the club. He tried to protect himself, but he was too weak and too late. It smashed against the ribs that had just been kicked, and the world exploded with a burst of orange light and unbelievable pain. He had time for only one thought. He knew they were going to beat him to death, and he thought, A good thing I found Jesus when I did!
CHAPTER TEN
“Eternal One, You Got Me Into This!”
Shifting her blanket roll from one shoulder to the other, Kefira looked up and noted that rain was in the offing. The sky was dull, and although it was only eleven o’clock in the morning, the sun seemed to be hiding. Only a vague, pale circle marked its existence, and Kefira shivered and pulled her coat more tightly around her as she trudged along the roadside. Once she looked up and saw a flight of birds high in the sky. They were in a V-shaped formation, and Kefira followed their flight, fascinated by the order they kept. As always when she saw something unusual, she immediately began to worry it and pick at it, exactly as a dog would pick at a mysterious object.
I wonder how they decide which bird gets to go to the front of the V. Is he the smartest one? Do the others mind not getting to lead? These thoughts flowed through her mind smoothly, and she kept her eye on the birds until they disappeared. They were headed north, and for a fleeting moment she envied the speed of their passage, especially now that a cold
drizzle had begun to fall. She’d dreamt last night of a beach and waves marching almost like soldiers to break upon the white sand. Even though she had been sleeping in a cold barn wrapped in her two blankets, she had seemed to sense the warmth of the sun-heated sand and waves, as warm as bath water. Wryly she smiled at her own imagination. “You think too much. That’s what’s wrong with you, girl,” she murmured. Her words broke the stillness of the air, and she suddenly heard the sound of an automobile. Quickly she stepped to the side of the road and then turned to examine the approaching vehicle. She had been offered rides many times by men, some alone, some with a companion, but during her days on the road, she had become as wary as a wild animal. After her close call with the hobo on the train, she’d had another scare when the authorities had spotted her and tried to apprehend her. She had barely escaped and decided that riding the rails was too risky. So she continued to make her way south by road, mostly walking, but sometimes hitching a ride if the driver looked safe enough. She kept the loaded pistol she’d found in the hobo’s bedroll in her side pocket and had made up her mind exactly what she would do with it if she had to protect herself. Several times she had gotten rides with couples, or with a woman alone, and now she was pleased to see a woman seated beside the driver in the approaching black truck. She did not lift her hand, nor in any way indicate a plea for a ride, but simply stood there. She never thumbed for rides as many did. She somehow felt this was an imposition. Once she had reasoned it out with herself. People buy those cars. They work for the money to pay for them. They keep gas in them and keep them repaired. And I’m asking them to give me what they’ve worked for. She knew something was not quite right about this, for she had no compunction about asking for food, but that she always took in exchange for work, refusing to accept it unless she could do something. Many a house she had stopped at had accepted her offer to wash dishes or clean rooms or work in the yard for food.
Beloved Enemy, The (House of Winslow Book #30) Page 10
