Joshua (Book 1)

by John S. Wilson

“Us?!

  Immediately the farmer’s anger melted away when finally he noticed the silent child staring up at him from underneath the stranger. The boy’s frightened eyes looking right into his own. After a tense moment he pointed the shotgun away from them both and down towards the ground.

  The farmer then stood and turned to face a distant voice behind him, it sounded like a women shouting, although the man had no idea what she was saying. With the opportunity at hand, he quickly picked himself up and then the child and crossed the ditch, scurrying towards the highway. He looked back to see the farmer just watching, unbelieving, his gun still pointed at the ground. An older woman was quickly approaching from the house.

  “We’ll get off your land. We didn’t mean any trouble.”

  The farmer just stood there confounded, watching the man with the small boy in his arms walking away. Shortly a white haired woman, about the farmer’s same age, came and stopped by his side.

  The man continued to navigate through the plowed field as fast as he could walk without tripping or dropping the child. “We’re going.”

  At last a soft, honestly concerned voice yelled out to the man. “Young man, are you hungry? We’ll give you something to eat. Can you use some food?”

  Stopping in his tracks, he turned facing the older couple, about forty feet between them, the worried child still in his arms. The man then took a few cautious steps back toward the shallow trench that separated the four. “Yes ma’am. I’d be glad to do some work for a meal … for me and the boy. Whatever you need done.”

  The kindly looking woman waved him back, “Never mind that, come on to the house, we’ll get you and the boy something.” She then started walking back, leaving her husband there alone to wait for the man and boy.

  He crossed back over to the other side, the older man helping the younger one and the boy out of the ditch. “Come on, you want a ride?”

  “No … we can walk.” The man still wasn’t sure if the farmer wanted him there or not, from the hard look on his face he doubted that he did.

  “Suit yourself.” He secured his shotgun on the ATV’s rack and started off for home.

  The man slowly approached the house now leading the boy by his hand. The older couple stood there on their porch waiting to welcome them inside. The man still didn’t know if this was the smart thing to do, but he and the boy couldn’t go much further. So smart or not, he had to take a chance.

  As they got closer to the house the man got his first good look at them and although he had no real reason liked what he saw. The farmer was a lot taller than him, about six foot five the man thought, still intimidating and yet no longer threatening. His wife appeared average in size although she did seem quite small standing right next to her husband there. They were just an older farm couple in their late sixties or so. He didn’t think the two of them could be more clichéd. Him with his flannel shirt buttoned to the top and his overalls, her with long hair pinned up and printed flower dress, your proverbial Midwest farmer and his wife.

  They greeted him at the front door and asked him inside where he was promptly led to the kitchen in back. She had him put his gun and gear there by the back door and asked them to have a seat at the table.

  As she prepared a late breakfast on her stovetop, the woman introduced herself as Mary Godsend and her gruff husband as Thomas. The old farmer was leaning on his kitchen wall still suspiciously watching the man, although he had at least put his gun up. The man considered the couple’s surname for a moment and thought it might be the truest word he ever heard.

  She served them both an ample and appetizing breakfast, the man unable to remember the last time he ate so well. Skillet browned loose ground beef and gravy, handmade biscuits with real butter and fresh, whole milk. But the man did have to stop himself from laughing when she apologized for not having any more eggs. He didn’t want to tell her he would have been happy with just some bread and water.

  She stood at the sink cleaning her skillet and telling them they had been married for forty-five years and never had children, this small dairy farm was all the two of them had.

  When she was done the man in kind told them his own story, and the boy’s. The voracious child sat next to him at the table, quietly consuming everything put in front of him. Mostly though he sat there swallowing large gulps of milk until his cup was quickly emptied, and every time she would fill it right back up. After several cups, the man was sure the tiny boy would soon pop.

  They let the man and boy finish their breakfast then went out to the front room where they had a discreet conversation between them. Although the man could see them he couldn’t understand what they were saying. But it was obvious from their demeanor they had endured a lifetime of battling and loving each other.

  When they came back Thomas did most the talking this time, saying he needed some help around the farm and asked if the man was “up to the job” and if he wanted to “try it a while.” Thomas said he would be needed for some chores around the farm but mainly he wanted someone to keep watch at night. Thomas told him they were having “some problems” and he couldn’t do it all alone anymore. He told the man he couldn’t pay him for his work but would give the two of them a warm bed and three meals a day.

  The man didn’t have to consider it very long; he immediately took the farmer’s offer. He knew the weather would only be getting worse and was grateful to get out of the cold before it killed them both. As for the food, after three and a half months of slowly starving, three meals a day only sounded like some impossible dream he would never see again.

  The two men shook on the “deal” and then Thomas said he could start in the morning. After that Mary promptly offered to help him and the boy get cleaned up. Although the man was sure she was motivated by kindness, he was just as sure that the two of them couldn’t stand his smell much longer. He hadn’t had a real bath since August. The Godsends didn’t have running water anymore but there was a well and washtub out back. She offered to give the boy a good scrubbing and after she did took all their clothes, saying she would wash and mend them. By this time the man’s were pretty worn and ragged and he gladly took her up on her offer.

  Then the man gave himself a bath in the frosty December air. While he worked as fast as he could to keep from freezing, it still took over twenty minutes to scour off months’ worth of dirt and crud. He then came inside to the Godsends’ bathroom and finished up by shaving clean with a borrowed razor. She then showed him to “their room” where the boy was already asleep, full and contented. The child was wearing one of Thomas’s oversized T-shirts, the bottom completely covering the boy’s feet up. The man also had to borrow some clothes for the day, Mr. Godsend’s pants and flannel shirt were too big for him too, though not that much. He also had to borrow some socks and a belt, which was the only thing holding his pants up.

  Before lying down next to the sleeping boy for a nap of his own, the man said a prayer. He thanked God for bringing them into their lives and that the friendly old couple would be all right. As he was dozing off, listening to the faint sound of the child breathing, he recognized he was wrong. When he met the man on the tree he thought his world was gone, that love and compassion would never be found again. But the Godsends were proof that he was mistaken. While kindness might be scarcer than before, it somehow had managed to survive, and as long as there were people like the Godsends in the world it always would.

  After a good rest that afternoon, she served them a hardy dinner. The man had forgotten what it was like to have two full meals in a row. While she cleaned up the kitchen, her husband was sitting in the front room reading a family bible and the man thought it a good time to talk to him.

  He was grateful for the Godsends’ help and was wondering what he could do for them. He was also curious as to their “problems” and exactly what he was needed to watch for.

  Thomas explained that besides helping with the normal work on a farm, the man would stand as overnight watch to warn of the attack t
hat he was sure would be coming, sooner or later. He went on to explain that his main problem was a boy by the name of Jimmy McKee. Jimmy was a local and had helped on his farm from time to time. Thomas had known Jimmy and his parents and said they were all “God fearing people.”

  But starting back in mid September the nearby community was taken over by a motorcycle gang. Thomas called them “trash” and evidently they had taken control of the whole town, running off or killing any that opposed them. Jimmy fell in with the gang and when they ran out of food he quickly led them out to the Godsends’ farm. The boy came to their door, a gang of killers behind him, said they were starving in town and would they help them out. Jimmy told him “nobody wants any trouble” and all they wanted was one cow. Jimmy even offered to take a second cow with them to the butcher. He would have it processed and bring it back to them there.

  Thomas and Mary didn’t feel good about it but thought it was the “Christian” thing to do and took Jimmy up on his offer to take two although he brought less than one cow back.

  Every week since then Jimmy and his friends would come back for some more charity, although it was hardly “giving” with armed men behind him implying violence if they didn’t get what they wanted.

  Two weeks ago Thomas at long last had enough. With his shotgun in hand he told them that he already given them two thirds of his herd and had decided that the “charity” was over. He was keeping what he had left for him and his wife. Jimmy stood in their front yard and told his former friend and employer he was “making a mistake” and should “think it over,” and they would come back in a few days when Thomas was “thinking straight” again.

  They came back again eight days ago and just as before with shotgun in hand Thomas told them the “hand-outs” were over and they should go somewhere else for a “free ride.” Jimmy said he was sorry Thomas “still wasn’t thinking right” and as he and his filthy friends were leaving assured the old farmer that they would all meet again “one of these nights.”

  After listening to Thomas’s problem the man didn’t really have anything good to tell him. He wasn’t a soldier, or any kind of tactician, but even to him it seemed a hopeless situation. From the look on the old farmer’s face he must have known it too. The man told a much more detailed account of crossing the bridge at Louisville and offered his new employer any help he could.

  Thomas with his coat and the man with a borrowed one, took a good long walk outside before it got dark. Thomas showed the layout of his farm, the location of the roads, and where Jimmy and his friends would most likely be coming. Thomas had his own ideas and the man had a few too.

  The Godsends’ farm wasn’t much of a fortress, it was just an old single-story wood framed home with siding, nothing to stop a bullet and quite a fire hazard for anyone trying. Their only real asset was the land itself, flat and level without a tree near it except for two very close to the house in the front yard. It was mostly grazing land with some acres set aside for corn. Just like at the Kennedy Bridge, at least a half a mile of “killing zone” in every direction. The south side of the property between the house and road was all plowed with deep furrows and the man already knew from experience it would be difficult to cross in a hurry. Cutting the field in two right up the middle was a narrow gravel driveway that wouldn’t take much effort to block. Past the cornfields on both sides was a shallow drainage ditch about three hundred feet from the house. To the west side of their home was a smaller tilled area that was probably Mrs. Godsend’s garden and beyond that at the far northwest end of the lot was a small but thick stand of trees that would stop any car. The rest of the Godsends’ land, to the north and east side, was all fenced in pasture and had a clear shot to trouble.

  Mr. Godsend told him that every time before they came by truck right up the driveway. The man assumed the worst, that when they finally did come again it would be by truck, swift and from every direction.

  Looking it all over, the man had some immediate advice to make them all safer. First he suggested that starting early the next morning they start piling up dirt as a bullet stop all around the house. Thomas said he had plenty of old feed and garbage bags that would be just right for the job. The man also advised beginning that night they start watching twenty-four hours a day since it was impossible to predict when this gang might come.

  But what bothered him most was the drainage ditch past the fields. Although they were far from the road if someone could make it there it would be a great position to snipe the house from. Also the small wooded area in the northwest corner could be used too although at that distance the man knew it wasn’t likely, the gang would need a talented marksman to make a shot that far.

  Then they went back in and on the kitchen table took inventory of every weapon they had. The man had his rifle and 109 rounds of ammunition. He also had a sawed off 12 gauge shotgun with eight deer slugs, a .380 pistol with two mags and thirty-four rounds, a Ruger .22 with 371 rounds and finally a Colt .357 revolver with no ammunition at all.

  Thomas had a trusted old shotgun he had owned since his sixteenth birthday, a Browning 12 gauge “Auto-5” and 115 rounds of various game loads, mostly number 7½-birdshot. He also had a Winchester Model 70 in .30-06 with a four power scope and sixty rounds of soft point hunting ammunition. Next was a Smith & Wesson Model 10 .38 revolver with exactly fifty rounds of round nose lead bullets. That ammo would also work in the man’s Colt. Finally he owned an H&R pistol and a scoped Ruger 10/22 rifle, both in .22 long rifle of which he had approximately nine hundred loose rounds he kept in an old coffee can.

  The man started patrolling that very night, making a constantly changing loop around the outside of the house. Thomas said he could just watch from the front window of their home but the man took his new duty serious, walking outside in the cold and only coming in occasionally to warm himself by the stove. When sunrise finally came that next morning the man got himself a few hours of rest and another hardy breakfast, then went right to work on the house.

  He started trenches around the entire dwelling only leaving a narrow path near the front and back doors. Using a garden tiller to chew up the ground first made the work go faster but mostly he used his back and a shovel. Thomas arrived after his own chores were done and by late morning the man was filling bags while Thomas stacked them against his home.

  The next four days were exhausting but satisfying and quickly became a strict routine. In the morning, after a night of guard duty, the man would continue to shovel out the trenches and pile on the bags covering the whole bottom half of the old farmhouse. By mid afternoon he would go to bed so that he could begin it all again when the sun went down. He also had a few minutes in between to squeeze in some good meals.

  While the man was shoveling, Mary would watch the boy and their backs and kept them all fed too.

  There were also “regular” chores to do that would have been more than enough to keep them all busy, Thomas worked on them early in the day while the man was fortifying his home. There was wood to split and bring close to the house for the stove and fireplace, and of course there were the cows.

  Thomas was keeping them in the barn and they needed to be fed and watered, and to man’s surprise still needed to be milked each and every day. Since the electricity was long gone it also had to be done by hand. If he didn’t, they would stop giving milk altogether and might even become ill.

  After one short lesson the man tried to help with that too but when he nearly had his teeth kicked out decided it was the one thing that Thomas could handle on his own.

  When the lower half of the house was finally covered they filled the trenches that surrounded them with boards containing protruding wood screws and nails, sharpened tomato stakes, countless broken pieces of glass and any odd bit of sharp metal they could find.

  Blocking the driveway where the two ditches converged wasn’t as easy as the man thought. Mary cheered the two of them on with the boy in her arms, the men finally able to push the empty and otherwise
useless tractor to just the right spot. After leaving it in gear and deflating the back tires, Thomas was sure nothing could push it out of the way.

  They then filled every bottle and bucket they had with water and stored them in the laundry room, even using the washing machine since it no longer worked. The man was concerned that at some point it might be too dangerous to go to the well every day. He guessed that what they stored up could keep them going at least three weeks without leaving the house.

  The last thing they did was board up the windows with some lumber and a few heavy doors from the interior of the old home. They left some slots that guns could be fired through and the man thought the kindhearted woman would start crying when she came outside and saw what he and her husband had done to “her” home.

  After dinner that night the three of them would come up with a plan for when the attack came. It was decided that Mary would care for the boy and would take him to the northeast corner of the house where the bathroom was. She would place him in their old steel bathtub, the safest place in the house they could think of. From there she would watch the end of the fields through the two corner windows and keep guard with “her” rifle. The Ruger 10/22 wasn’t much but it was the only gun she could consistently hit with and that was the most important thing. The rifle had several ten round magazines with it and she was instructed that when “the shooting started” not to fire at their attackers once or twice, but to unload the magazine into their chests, or their faces if she could. It was also decided the two men would take window positions from wherever the threat seemed most dangerous and be prepared to quickly move as necessary.

  With four days of backbreaking work, little sleep and a lot of good eating, the man thought he had made this couple’s home, and their lives, a little bit better. After another satisfying dinner, the man found Thomas sitting on his porch and he knew there was something he wanted to tell him, something that had to be discussed.

  “Mister Godsend … all this work we’ve done has made your house a lot more secure, but …”