The Fiery Ring

by Gilbert, Morris

  Chase Hardin did not know how long it had been since he’d eaten a regular meal, but he was wise enough to know that on an empty stomach after a binge he needed to be careful. He ate half of the eggs and avoided the greasy bacon altogether.

  “These are good biscuits,” he said as he buttered one and put just a taste of molasses on. “And the molasses is good too.”

  “You’d better eat all you can. Looks like you’re off your beat a little bit.”

  “You’re right about that, but after a binge like I was on, I don’t need to eat too much.”

  “Reckon that’s right too. I’ve been on a few myself. Where you from?”

  Chase had to think for a moment and then shook his head. “I guess from nowhere.”

  Thad Gilbert smiled. “A man from nowhere. Sounds like a book or a movie or somethin’. What’s your line of work?”

  “I’m a bum.”

  Thad had been chewing thoroughly, but he paused and stared at his guest. “You’re too young a man to be in that profession for the rest of your life.”

  “Seems it’s what I do best.”

  “What about your family?”

  “Not much left, and they wouldn’t want me around anyway.”

  Chase waited rather anxiously to see if the food would stay down, and it did. He felt compelled to make some conversation and said, “I guess no matter how run-down the rest of me is, I still got a good stomach. That was mighty good. I thank you, mister.”

  “Just Thad’s good enough. Where you headed?”

  “South.”

  “How’d you wind up in Pierre?” Thad listened as Chase gave him a brief history of his aborted journey and then shook his head. “Too bad. Not much work around here in March. Come April or May there’ll be some. If you want to stay around, you can bunk with me. Might find you somethin’ to do. I know quite a few folks here in town.”

  The offer warmed Chase’s spirit. “I’m not used to falling in with kindness,” he murmured, “but I think I’d rather go back down south.”

  Thad did not attempt to change Chase’s mind, and finally he said, “I don’t guess you remember tellin’ me about your dad last night.”

  Chase stared at him. “I don’t remember much of anything.”

  “You woke up when I was getting you in bed. You told me your dad was a preacher.”

  Chase was shocked, for he had not spoken of his family to anyone in a long time. “He was.” He stared at Thad’s lean face and asked curiously, “What’d I say?”

  “About your dad? Just that he was a good man.”

  “He was,” Chase said slowly. He dropped his eyes and swirled the black coffee around inside the white mug. “I guess it’s a good thing he’s passed on. It would have broken his heart to see what’s become of me.”

  “What about your mother? Is she alive?”

  “Yes, still alive, but I’d be ashamed to see her.”

  Thad Gilbert studied his guest, then shrugged. “Never too late to change, Chase.”

  “I used to think that, but I’m not sure of it anymore.”

  Thad began to speak of his own life then. He’d had a hard one, and as the two men sipped their coffee, Chase listened carefully. Finally Thad said, “If I hadn’t found the Lord, I woulda been dead, I guess, or in the pen. I don’t know if I’m succeedin’, but I’m tryin’ to be a good Christian now. I try to do what the Lord says.”

  “Is that why you took me in, Thad?”

  “Sure. I wouldn’ta done it a few years ago, you can bet.”

  “Lucky for me.”

  The two men sat there, and finally Thad said, “You told me you were goin’ to hop on the next freight out. Do you still plan on doin’ that?”

  “Yes.”

  Thad got up and went over to a small table beside the wall piled high with books and papers. He sorted through them for a moment and then came back. “Here, I’d like you to have this.”

  Chase took it and saw it was a New Testament. He also saw that it was well thumbed, and some of the passages were underlined. “I used to know this book,” Chase said. “I knew it but didn’t do it. Thanks a lot. I’ll keep it always.”

  Thad reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and separated two of them. “Here, buy a meal on me down the line.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll drink it up like I did the last two dollars I had?”

  “No, I’m hopin’ not.” He studied the young man before him and asked suddenly, “How old are you, Chase?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “You got a lotta livin’ to do yet. Wherever you go, you remember there’s an old man in a shack in Pierre, South Dakota, askin’ God to look in on you and take care of you.” He put his hand on Chase’s shoulder and squeezed it. “And I believe He’s going to do it, son.”

  Chase Hardin thought all emotion had been squeezed out of him, but a wave came over him at the touch of the man’s hand. He could not remember the last time any man had helped him, much less put a hand on him and given him a word of encouragement. He kept his eyes down, for they suddenly stung, and he did not speak for a time.

  Thad smiled, patted Chase’s shoulder, and said, “You’d better get on down to the train yard. The three-oh-six will be leaving pretty soon.”

  “Sure.” Chase rose and found that the food had strengthened him. He turned and found his coat hanging from a nail on the wall. It was old and too large for him, but he put it on, then pulled the floppy fedora down over his head. “Thanks for what you’ve done for me, Thad. I’ll remember you.”

  “Jesus is on your trail, boy. He’ll find you.” As Chase moved to the door, Thad said, “Watch out for a bull named Kaufman. He’s rough on hobos. Nearly killed one last month.”

  “I’ll be careful.” He turned and took one last look at Thad Gilbert, as if storing up a memory. “You’ve been a help and an encouragement.”

  “Remember your dad and go see your mom—and remember Jesus.”

  ****

  Chase had arrived in Pierre on the northbound freight. Now the southbound was waiting on the opposite track. Having learned the routines of railroad brakemen, he knew it was best to wait until just before the train pulled out. He spotted one car with the door slightly ajar, and when he heard the engine give two shrill blasts, he knew it was time. He carried only a small canvas valise with a few items in it, so he was not burdened down. As the train jerked forward, he ran over, shoved the door open, and threw his valise in. His head still hurt as he heaved himself on board, and he pulled the door shut as the train began to pick up speed. Nausea swept over him, and for a while he was afraid he would lose the meal he’d just eaten. He sat very still, and finally the feeling passed. His headache remained with him, however, and he lay down and put his head on his valise.

  The car was cold and the wind was whistling between the slats, but he was on his way south. There was nothing there for him except for warmer weather, but that in itself would be a blessing. As he lay there, he thought about his encounter with Thad Gilbert. He thought of his dad and for some reason remembered a fishing trip he had gone on with him. They’d had such fun that day! He remembered his dad ruffling his hair and saying, When you grow up, you may be a preacher like me.

  A wave of sadness washed over Chase Hardin at that thought, for he had gone far away from his father’s God. And then the image of his mother floated in front of him, and he tried to shake it away. It always hurt him to think of her. She had been so proud of him, yet he had gone so far down. More than once he had started to go see her, but he always changed his mind at the last minute. What would she think when she saw the wreck that was left of all of her dreams?

  The clickety-clack of the wheels passing over the joints of the rails echoed a rhythmic pattern, and he lay still, rolling with the swaying of the car as it traveled south. He tried to put everything out of his mind, but as always, this was impossible. Before he dozed off, his last thought was of Thad Gilbert and how he had given him a Bible and two dollars and a
meal. He felt the warmth of the man’s hand on his shoulder, and the sensation comforted him as the freight train rattled over the prairie.

  ****

  For two days Joy had mostly stayed inside the car, and her initial panic had worn away. She was hungry, having eaten only one can of beans each day. She did not want to use up her food supply too quickly. By now she was also very thirsty. She had gotten off the train twice to get water at the station when the train had stopped at night, but now as another day was ending, she desperately needed another drink.

  As the train slowed she stood and looked down the length of the car. The man who had gotten on earlier in the day had slept most of the time. She had watched him cautiously, but he had made no move except to sit up for a while and stare into nothingness. She could not make out his features, for he never moved from the shadows and wore a large shapeless overcoat. Now he appeared to be sleeping again, his face against his small valise.

  When the train stopped she moved toward the door but paused when she heard voices. She took a quick breath and glanced outside and saw two men running toward the very car she was in. She retreated quickly into a corner, and there was a rumble as the door opened. She heard curses, and then two men piled inside. They stood up, and the small guy said, “Hey, there’s a guy over here, Earl.”

  The big man named Earl answered, “Who is it? What kind of a guy?”

  “Just a guy.”

  Joy scooted backward silently, hoping the darkness would conceal her. She watched the two men as they approached the one who was sleeping. The bigger man rolled him over. She heard a voice protesting, “What do you want?”

  “Everything you got. You got any whiskey?”

  “No.”

  “You got some money, though.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” There was a meaty sound of a slap and a muffled grunt, and then the big man straightened up. He held something up to the light that filtered in through the slats of the car and said, “Well, looky here, Roy. We got a preacher with us. See, he’s got a Bible.”

  “I don’t need no preaching,” Roy said.

  “He’s got some dough too. We can use that.”

  “Give that back to me.”

  The big man laughed and said, “Shut up or I’ll kick your head off.”

  Joy’s heart froze, for these two men clearly had evil intentions. She made herself as small as possible, and the train started up again. The sunlight suddenly illuminated the end of the car as the train rounded a curve, and the man called Roy said, “Look, there’s another guy back there.”

  “So there is. Maybe he’s got somethin’ to drink.”

  The two approached, and Joy pulled herself back as far as she could get into the corner.

  “Hey, you got any whiskey?”

  Making her voice as rough as she could, Joy said, “No, I don’t.”

  “You got anything to eat?”

  “A couple cans of beans.”

  “Let’s have ’em.”

  Joy knew it was useless to argue. She reached into her sack and brought out the two cans of beans. The smaller man snatched them up. “Gimme a can opener.” He waited until Joy handed it to him and then proceeded to open one. He handed it to the big man, who tilted the can up and began eating noisily. Roy opened the other can, and the two men ate like starved wolves.

  “You ain’t got nothin’ to drink?” the big man said.

  “No, and nothing else to eat.”

  “You got money though, I bet. A few bucks.”

  Joy panicked. What if she lost her egg money? “No, I don’t have any. I’m broke.”

  Something about the voice suddenly caught Roy’s attention. His hands shot out, and he snatched the cap from her head. Joy tried to prevent it but was too late. She felt her hair, which had been tucked inside the cap, fall around her shoulders and knew she was in bad trouble.

  “Hey, Earl, this here’s a girl!”

  Earl had seen the shiny blond hair spill out and laughed. “How about that!” He reached out and grabbed Joy’s arm. “You’re in luck today, sweetie. What’s your name?”

  “Joy.”

  “Well, Joy, you got a couple of good-lookin’ boyfriends here.” He pulled her close and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Well, I ain’t had me no lady friends for some time now.” Earl laughed. He brought his face close to hers. Joy yanked her head away but felt his lips slide over her cheek. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

  Joy knew there was little hope of being rescued from this situation. Earl was as strong as a gorilla, and his hand held her like a vise. She begged, “Please don’t hurt me. Leave me alone.”

  “A little lovin’ never hurt a girl,” Earl said, his voice thickening. “Just relax.”

  “Let that girl alone!”

  The grip on Joy’s arm did not loosen, but she felt Earl turn around and saw Roy do the same. They were staring at the man who had advanced toward them. He was not an impressive figure. He was no more than average height and seemed quite young. He had black hair, dark eyes, and an olive complexion.

  Earl stared at the man and said, “I suppose you want her, huh?”

  “I said leave the girl alone.”

  “Why, preacher, you can have your turn with her—soon as we get through.”

  Joy felt a tiny ray of hope. At least one man had some decency, but suddenly Earl let go of her arm and stepped toward the other man. He shoved him backward and said, “You stay out of this or I’ll break your face.”

  “You let her alone, and I’ll stay out.”

  Earl laughed harshly. “Listen to this, Roy. He thinks he’s gonna stop us. You couldn’t stop anybody, mister.”

  And then Joy saw the smaller man strike a futile blow to Earl’s chest. He ignored it except to laugh. “Why, you couldn’t hurt a fly.” Then his own arm swung, and his huge fist caught Joy’s defender high on the head. She saw him careening backward to fall full length, and then Earl advanced toward him. Before her terrified eyes, Joy saw him viciously kick the prone figure twice, then a third time. She heard his muffled cries of pain and heard Roy yelling, “Don’t kill him, Earl.”

  “I ain’t gonna kill him, but I’m gonna bust every rib he’s got, and then I’ll bust his face.”

  Joy suddenly remembered the gun. Moving slowly, she reached into her coat pocket and brought out the thirty-eight. Aiming over Earl’s head, she pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot brought a startled response from Earl. “Hey!” he yelled and whirled around. He found himself facing the muzzle of the revolver and a pair of steady eyes behind it, feminine eyes but full of determination.

  “Put that gun down, girl!”

  “You two get out now!” Joy demanded, waving the gun at Earl.

  Roy was startled. “We can’t jump from this train. We’d break our necks.”

  “It’s not moving that fast. Jump, both of you, or I’ll shoot you.”

  “She’s bluffin’, Roy,” Earl said. He took a step forward, and then another shot rang out. A blow struck Earl’s left forearm and turned him around. He grabbed his arm and looked down wild-eyed to see the blood seeping between his fingers. “Hey, you shot me!”

  “The next one’s right between your eyes. I’ll count to three, and on three you’re a dead man. One—two—”

  Earl stared at her wildly and then gave a startled cry. Holding his arm, he ran to the door, threw it open, and jumped from the car.

  “Now you!” Joy said.

  Roy whimpered but said nothing. He moved to the door, took a deep breath, and then casting a malevolent look at Joy, jumped with a wild yell.

  “I hope you both break your necks!” Joy shouted after them. She put the gun down and found she was trembling all over. She moved across the car and knelt beside the still form of the man who had come to her defense. Blood was running down his face, and he was moaning. “Are you all right?” she said.

  “My side . . .”


  There in the boxcar Joy Winslow did not know what to do. This man had risked his life for her, taking away the attention of the two attackers. She had a horrifying image of what would have happened if he had not tried to help. Sitting down beside him, she pulled out a handkerchief and held it over his bleeding face to staunch the flow of blood. “We’ll get some help at the next stop,” she promised.

  ****

  As soon as the train pulled to a halt somewhere in central Nebraska, Joy jumped to the ground. She saw a brakeman hanging on to the side of the car, and she cried out, “Help! I need help!” She ran forward, and the brakeman turned warily to face her. “You been on this train?” he demanded.

  “There’s a man in that car. He’s hurt real bad.”

  The brakeman was a tall man with a deep chest and a pair of wide-spaced gray eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “Two men beat him up. He’s hurt bad.”

  “I’ll take a look.”

  Joy felt a wave of gratitude. “He’s down here,” she said. She led the brakeman to the car, and the two entered. Leaning over, the man studied Chase’s bloody face. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” The voice was barely audible.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  “In my . . . side.”

  “They kicked him. I think his ribs are broken.”

  “Well, he can’t stay on the train. I’ll go get some help.” Joy knelt down, saying, “It’s all right, mister. You’re going to be fine.”

  “What’s your name?” Chase whispered.

  “Joy.”

  The man didn’t respond; he simply lay there. His breathing was shallow, and Joy saw that his face was still bleeding. Then she heard footsteps approaching, and two men heaved themselves up into the car.

  “There he is, Kaufman. I think he’s busted up pretty bad.”

  “All right. Let’s get him out of here.”

  Joy went at once and got her gunnysack. She also picked up the small valise the man had brought on with him. She hopped out and saw that the two men had simply laid the injured man down on the ground.