In the following two weeks after Tom returned
from Charlotte, he was so busy he didn’t have time to worry about whether he
passed the North Carolina bar exam. The people who owed him money were coming
in with payments on their bills in increasing numbers. He had new clients every
day. Best of all, he was beginning to have commercial clients come to him. They
were small businessmen who realized that his Spartan office accommodations and
his use of students explained why his fees were considerably lower than lawyers
with well decorated offices in the business districts of Atlanta.
In the two
weeks following his return, Tom netted $6000. He put $5000 in the bank and took
$1000 to spend on Christmas. He bought a $500 money card. He put it in a
Christmas card which he addressed “To my darling Ofelia.” He still had $500
remaining from the $1000 advance from Matthew. He held onto that money.
At home at supper time, he stood up and asked
for the attention of his wife and daughters.
“I have two announcements for the family.
First, I am going to give my precious wife, Ofelia, her Christmas present
early. I would like to buy her a dress or shoes or some other item, but I think
if she chooses them herself, it would be better. In this Christmas card is a
money card to be spent on nothing or no one but the queen of my heart and the
beauty of our home. Here is $500 so that you can buy special foods for the
holidays, decorations, and gifts for your family. The Lord has been good to me
and has blessed my business so I want you to reap the rewards of my growing
business.
Second, I recognize the Lord’s hand in the
growth of my business. I am a minister’s son, but I have been a poor Christian
these past years. That is going to stop. Beginning this Sunday, I am going to
be in the Presbyterian Church every Sunday. I would be delighted if the girls
would come with me and go to Sunday School. They go to Catholic school, but
they never go to church. I would also be happy if you would go with me Ofelia.
Whether I go alone or whether my family goes with me, I am going to be in God’s
House every Sunday from now on.”
There was a stunned silence in the room. Tom
walked over to Ofelia, handed her the card and the $500. Then he took her into
his arms and held her close to him. After a few minutes she turned her face up
to him, smiled seductively, and said, “Kiss me.”
After a long kiss, she whispered, “We’ll finish this in the bedroom after the
girls go off to bed. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
On Sunday, the girls were ready and so was
Ofelia.
***********
I left Casper and followed I-25 North until
it merged with I-90. Nearing Montana I came to Sheridan, Wyoming. I pulled off
the Interstate to get some gas and also to eat lunch. There was a café near the
gas station. I went in and sat down in a booth. I ordered a hot roast beef
sandwich from the menu. It reminded me of an incident from my childhood. I was
in sixth grade. One morning my mother didn’t have any food in the house. My
father had been drinking the night before. It had been his payday. When he
staggered in, he threw some money at my mother. Since she couldn’t make me a
sandwich to take to school, she gave me a dollar and told me to buy my lunch.
At school you had to buy lunches for the whole week. At lunch time, I went off
the school grounds to a restaurant next to the school playground. I sat down in
a booth and showed the waitress my dollar.
“Can I get a lunch for this?”
“You sure can, young man. How about a hot
roast beef sandwich?”
“Okay.”
I didn’t know what a hot roast beef sandwich
was. I thought it was a slice of beef between two slices of bread. Maybe they
warmed it to make it hot.
What the waitress brought me was a plate with
a slice of bread, two generous slices of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and hot
gravy on top of it all. Golly! We never had food that nice at home. Then she
brought me a glass of milk. I had never felt so full when I left that
restaurant. When I was older, I appreciated the generosity of the waitress. The
meal obviously cost more than a dollar.
From the past to the present. The waitress
brought me a plate nearly identical to what I remembered from almost fifty
years ago. I savored the meal and lingered over my coffee.
When I went out to my car there was a woman
of about thirty cowering behind my car. When I approached, she ran up to me.
“Please, Mister, you’ve got to help me! I’ve
been living with this man for almost a year. In the last couple months he has
been yelling at me and hitting me every time something upsets him or doesn’t go
his way. Even in bed, he doesn’t make love to me, he rapes me and hurts me.
Please help me get away. Take me to Billings. I have a sister there.”
My gut instinct was to run away from this,
but I also was pulled by a sense of duty to help her.
“Do you promise that you will leave when we
get to Billings?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Her clothes were too flimsy for the outside
temperature. I rearranged the luggage and other things of mine including the
snow board so that there was a place for her in the front seat. I went to the
trunk, rummaged through my things and found some fleece pants and sweatshirt. I
gave them to her to wear.
When we were pulling out of the parking lot,
she ducked down. There was man who looked like a lumberjack calling, “Phyllis,
Phyllis. I’m sorry. Come out from wherever you are hiding. Come back home. I’ll
make it up to you.”
He was still calling her as we pulled out
onto the highway.
Phyllis was raised in an orphanage. When she
was eighteen she had to leave. She tried to get a job in a store or an office.
The only job that she could get was as a waitress. The cook in the café where
she was working started wooing her and finally she agreed to move in with him.
They were happy together, but he kept evading the issue of marriage.
Fortunately, there were no children.
After a year and a half, a woman showed up
at the apartment where they were living. She was married to the cook and threw
Phyllis out without allowing her to get her things. A cook is more important
than a waitress. So, at the insistence of the cook’s wife, the café let Phyllis
go. No clothes, no job, no money.
The story of Phyllis’ life was a repetition
of a story I had heard over and over again with minor variations.
“You need someone strong and reliable to
watch over you and take up for you.”
“You mean you?” Her face and voice
brightened.
“No, not me. I mean Jesus Christ. He is more
powerful than the bully who has been abusing you. Psalm 5 tells us that the
LORD hates all who do wrong, He destroys all who tell lies, He detests the
bloodthirsty and deceitful. He is the One you need to be on your side. Start
reading the Bible, go to church, fall in love with Jesus. I’m not going to tell
you that all of a sudden you will be a millionaire. However, in ways that you
can’t detect the Lord will be helping you. In church you will have a lot better
chance of meeting a man who will treat you with the respect you deserve.”
“If I had a father, I think he would be just
like you. Thank you.”
When we reached Billings, I let her out at a
truck stop. I gave her $50 and told her that I would be praying for her.
From Billings I turned onto I-94 East. By the
time I reached Miles City, Montana there was snow on the road and it was dark.
I found a motel and after I checked in, I went out looking for a place to eat.
A truck stop was near the motel, so I went there to eat supper. While I was
waiting for my meal, I called Philip.
“Philip, this is Dad. I am in Miles City. I decided
not to go any farther tonight.”
“That is a wise decision, Dad. These roads
are treacherous when there is snow on them. Add darkness to the snow and you
have a lethal combination.”
“I was able to get a snow board for Billy and
a doll for Polly. I had a blowout in New Mexico, but it was for the good. I put
snow tires on the rear wheels, I had some good experiences in Wyoming. Now I am
looking forward to seeing you all.”
“We are looking forward to seeing you. When
the children came in from school, the first thing they asked was, “Is Grandpaw
here?”
“Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye, Dad, we love you.”
Right after the waitress brought my food, I
saw Phyllis come into the café from the parking lot for tractor trailers. She
was walking hand in hand with a man who appeared younger than her. They were
laughing, smiling at each other, swinging their arms as they walked along. I
would be praying for Phyllis that she would turn to Jesus Christ and that she
would not repeat the cycle of self destruction she had been caught in for over
a decade.
The next day I followed I-94 East to
Glendive. I turned on MT Route 200S and drove north to Circle, Montana where I
turned onto MT Route 13 which took me to Wolf Point.
Wolf Point is on the Missouri River which
originates in Montana and flows to St. Louis where it empties into the
Mississippi River. Wolf Point is in the center of the southern border of the
Fort Peck Indian Reservation. Some of the more interesting accounts of the
Lewis and Clark Expedition took place in this region.
The western part of
Montana gives the state its name which means “mountainous”. The eastern part,
where Wolf Point is located, is in the plains. Cattle range here; there is
farming supported by ambitious irrigation projects on four rivers that are
tributaries of the Missouri. There are also many oil and gas wells in this part
of the state.
Driving east from Billings and then north
from Miles City I saw many fields of grain, pasture lands being grazed by cattle, oil derricks, even some bison. I saw
fine homes, ordinary homes, and the battered trailers of the poor.
Stopping at a gas station in Wolf Point, I
asked where Dr. Sterner lived. Everyone there knew him and several people started
telling me how to find his house. When I found his house and stopped
the car, Molly ran out to greet me.
“Dad, you’re here! Phil is out on a call. Let
me take you to Mrs. Carruther’s house and let you get settled. I’ll help you
unpack the car. Then after you are ready, we can go back to the house. The
children should be getting home in another hour or so. That will give you time
to be there to surprise them.”
Mrs. Carruther was old but unbent. She
carried herself with regal posture. She was dressed in an old cotton dress with
an apron protecting it. She had yellowish white “grey hair” which was pulled
back tightly and wrapped into a bun. Her eyes were sharp and expressive. She
began to recite a list of rules which I was sure I wouldn’t remember but which
ended,
“You won’t need a key. I’ve never locked any
of my doors, inside or outside. I will make breakfast for you. You will have to
be downstairs and in the dining room promptly at 8 a.m. If the toilet stops up, go get a plunger and
unstop it yourself. I want $250 a week. You can pay me the first week right
now.”
She held out her hand palm up. I pulled out
my wallet and put $250 into her hand.
In the next couple days I realized that Wolf
Point was a bigger town than its official population of 2700 would suggest.
There were three television channels, and an AM/FM radio station located in
Wolf Point. Wolf Point is a stop on the Amtrak and has a passenger station.
There are also two large grain elevators and a grain mill.
The town is located on a large Indian
reservation, Fort Peck Indian Reservation. Fifty percent of the town’s population
is native American Indians.
The predominance of Scandinavian names and
the fact that there are more Lutherans than Presbyterians, Baptists, and
Mormons combined says a lot about the history of this area. The largest church
by far is the Catholic Church. That can be attributed to their long history of
missionary work among the Indians. The historic division between the Indians
and the white men is illustrated by the fact that there are two Presbyterian
churches, First Presbyterian Church and Dakota United Presbyterian Church. (The
historic United Presbyterian denomination also had missionary efforts among the
Indians. The United Presbyterian denomination joined the Presbyterian Church
U.S.A. a generation ago.) Both churches now belong to the same denomination,
have a membership of 33 members each, and are only two blocks apart in Wolf
Point.
Place names reflect history. Wolf Point is
located in Roosevelt County. That would be for Theodore Roosevelt who loved the
Wild West. First Presbyterian Church is located on Custer Street. Custer’s Last
Stand involved some of the Indians from this area.
My arrival in town did not go unnoticed. In
the next issue of the Herald News,
there was this item in “Local News”:
“The Reverend Joshua Sterner, father of local
medical doctor Philip Sterner, has come to Wolf Point for an extended vacation.
He is staying at Mrs. Carruther’s home as a boarder. The local Presbyterians
are hoping that he will preach for them while he is here.”
The local
Presbyterians in the persons of Dwight Holcum, clerk of session at First
Presbyterian Church, and Andrew Slower Than Bear, clerk of session at Dakota
United Presbyterian Church, came to me on Thursday and asked me if I would
preach for them while I was in town. Andrew added, “If you will be here on
January 2 that is our next scheduled communion service. We haven’t had a
communion service for a year now. The presbytery has offered to commission one
of our elders to administer communion. We haven’t agreed which has annoyed
them. It just doesn’t seem right to us.”
“I will be glad to preach in your churches
and I expect to be around until at least January 2. I am “between churches” as
they say. My wife died of cancer in October. I decided that I needed some time
to get over that. My oldest son and grandchildren are here, so I want to hang
around a while before I get back into the harness. Mr. Slower Than Bear tell me
sometime the origin of your name. Also, I would be honored if you would show me
around the Reservation and introduce me to the tribal elders.”
I saw a dark cloud pass over Mr. Holcum’s
face for a brief instant.
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