"BROWN BETTY"

This is a true story although all the names have been changed. The main character was my great uncle. His sister was my paternal grandmother.

Walter Shrout came down the stairs for breakfast, ready for another day's work at Arbogast Saw Mill and Lumber Company.  He was a sawyer, an intense and stressful job.  A good sawyer could make a saw mill owner rich.  For this reason good sawyers were well paid.  Walter was the best sawyer in that area.

He smiled as he looked around the fine home he had been able to buy.  Outside was a new 1932 Nash automobile he had purchased recently from his brother's dealership in Clarksburg.  

His wife Marybelle grew up in the Odd Fellow's Home, an orphanage with hundreds of children.  She had sworn to herself that when she grew up she would have the finest of everything for herself and her children.  After she graduated from high school, she had to leave the orphanage.  She was working as a waitress at the City Restaurant in Elkins when she met Walter, recently returned from the Great War.  There was something about Walter. Here was a man who was going places.

They were married soon afterward.  At first they lived in humble shacks and decrepit cottages.  Marybelle fixed up every place they lived as well as she could.  She was always trim and attractive, no matter how worn or plain her clothing.  She never complained.

Marybelle was in the kitchen serving breakfast to their two daughters, Patricia and Janet.  Marybelle never came to breakfast in a robe and slippers.  The first sight of Marybelle in the morning was of a slender woman neatly dressed, her hair brushed, her makeup just so.  She could have removed her starched and ironed apron, and walked from the stove into a bank or a courthouse without any other grooming.  The girls were both attractively attired for school.  They brightened when they saw their father enter the kitchen.

"Daddy, will you take us to school in Brown Betty, puh-leeze?"

"Sure, just hurry up.  I don't want to be late for work."

They both squealed with joy and began talking excitedly.

The new Nash was painted in a unique two-tone scheme.  The side panels were a creamy tan color and all the rest of the car was a dark cinnamon brown.  Marybelle made a bread pudding in the oven that was heavily coated with cinnamon on top.  The pudding was called "Brown Betty."  The girls named the new Nash "Brown Betty."

After hurriedly eating his breakfast of strong coffee, country ham, fried potatoes, two eggs, and fried toast, Walter kissed his wife good-bye, and hurried the girls out to the car.

The car was important to Marybelle, even though she couldn't drive.  It was the nicest car in town. The car was a proof to Marybelle that she had climbed out of the grinding poverty and aching loneliness of the orphanage. 

At the saw mill Walter picked up his copies of the orders.  Glancing through them he barked orders to the men working in the yard.  "Okay, let's start with ten oak logs.  That ought to be enough for this order for beams and framing lumber for the barn that new family is putting up."

When the saw started up, and he was sawing the logs, the noise was so great that you couldn't hear, even if someone was shouting to you.  Walter, and the men who worked with him, used hand signals most of the time.  They worked so hard that by noon their clothes were wet with sweat, even though it was a crisp fall day.  At lunch time, while the men took a break, Walter ate out of the lunch bucket Marybelle had packed for him.  There was a note from Marybelle, “Walter, I love you so much.”  She always put a note of affection in his lunch pail. Walter called it his dessert.

He went to the office, and reported to Mr. Arbogast the orders they had completed, and received from him a handful of new orders.  Until the men came back from their lunch, he studied the orders, and planned out the afternoon's work.

The work day was from 8:00 AM to 6:00 PM.  They worked Monday to Saturday.  This was Friday.  At about 5:15 PM, Mr.  Arbogast came running from his office to the saw.  He motioned for the saw to be turned off.  "Walter, you are needed down in town.  Jake Walker is drunk.  He just shot his pistol into the ceiling at Miller's Mercantile Store.   The customers all took off running."

Walter Shrout and Jake Walker had gone to war together, went through basic training together, and fought in the same artillery battery in Europe. Walter was so adept at quickly and accurately calculating firing solutions that their battery was nicknamed “The Kentucky Long Rifle”. Walter and Jake were drinking buddies in Paris after the War was over. They came back to Mill Creek on the same ship and train. Both brought back a souvenir from the War.  Walter's was a 9mm Luger P08 pistol, Jake's was a 9mm Steyr M1912 pistol.

Jake Walker was the proprietor of Miller's Mercantile Store.  He had bought it from Manford Miller's widow right after he returned from the War.  Prohibition made his biggest selling items those he kept under the counter.  The bottles of moonshine and bootleg liquor that were sold, and those who came in to buy them, gave the store a dubious reputation.  The  respectable people in town tried to avoid going there.  But when you live in a small town you can't be choosey about where you shop. 

Walter Shrout was the town policeman of Mill Creek.  The town policeman was an always-on-call, as-needed job.  Anytime he was called, the City paid him $ 5.00

Walter jumped into "Brown Betty", reached into the glove box for his pistol, and took off for town as fast as he could.  This was not the first time he had been called by alarmed citizens when Jake was drunk and decided to shoot off his pistol.  He had recorded ten incidents so far.  On previous occasions he had talked to Jake and persuaded Jake to give him the pistol until he had sobered up. 

It wasn't practical to arrest him.  The County Jail was 35 miles of crooked road from Mill Creek.  Then the magistrate would turn him loose the next day and someone would have to go after him.

Walter pulled Brown Betty into a space in front of Jake's store.  Jake also had a brown vehicle.  It was a 1920 Ford Model T pickup, brown with rust and mud. 

As Walter got out of the car, Jake was out on the wooden boardwalk in front of his store.  "Howdy, Walter.  Did you come to show me your new Nash?'

They walked into the store together.

"Nah, Jake, folks in town called out to the sawmill to complain that you were shooting your pistol inside the store."

"It was an accident, Walter.  I swear it was.  Hey, I ain't drunk.  You can smell my breath if you want to."

"No, Jake, I don't want to smell your breath.  I've got to eat supper soon.  Just give me your gun.  I'll give it back to you in a couple days."

"It’s in its holster under the counter.  Walter, I can't give up my gun.  In the first place, with the Depression, desperate people are robbing houses and stores right and left.  In the second place, I’ve got to make a run up on the mountain tonight.  They's some mighty mean folk out at the still and along the way.  Give me a second chance."

Maybe fatigue clouded his judgment.  Maybe it was the decades-old friendship.

"All right, Jake.  But if I get any more complaints about you being drunk and shooting your pistol, I'm taking it away and never giving it back."

"A second chance," Walter thought to himself, "this is your eleventh chance."

Walter left the store, walked across the boardwalk, and stepped down onto the street.  The door to the store opened and Jake stood in the doorway.  He called out,

"Hey, Walter, lookee here."

Walter turned around just as he reached his car.  Jake was holding the Steyr in both hands.  It was aimed at Walter.   He fired.  The bullet missed Walter and shattered the driver's side headlight on Brown Betty.  Walter dropped to his knee, drawing his Luger from its holster.  He fired one shot.  The bullet went through Jake's heart and killed him instantly.  Walter always said that he was trying to hit the hand or arm that was holding the pistol.  There were times when he could have made that shot.  Not that time.

 "Why didn't I take his gun away when I had the chance?  Why did I let him talk me into letting him keep it?"   Walter asked himself that question over and over in the following weeks.

  The doctor came and pronounced Jake dead.  Jake's family had to be notified.  The State Police investigator came, and Walter had to answer questions for him, wait until other witnesses were interviewed, and then answer more questions for him.  The funeral home had to be called to collect Jake's body.  At 11:30 PM  he was able to go home.  

He had to be in Elkins the next day to fill out reports for the County Sheriff.  Then he had to go to the Court House on Monday to answer questions for the Prosecuting Attorney.  That meant missing two days work at the sawmill.  He would miss many more days before it was all over.

There was a hearing before the Circuit Judge who set bail.  Then, weeks later, he had to appear before a Grand Jury.  The Prosecuting Attorney was charging Walter Shrout with the murder of Jake Walker.  The Grand Jury returned an indictment for murder.  The whole town of Mill Creek was stunned.   Marybelle was afraid.   She was sure that Walter would be cleared, but it was a cruel punishment of him, and of his family, to make him miss all this time from work. 

The trial was a jury trial.  The prosecution was able to exclude from the prospective jurors anyone who lived on the side of the County where Mill Creek is located.  When the trial began, the sentiment in the courtroom was with the defendant.  The defense attorney produced Mr. Shrout's written records of the ten times that he had been called out because Mr. Walker was drunk and shooting his pistol.  The defense produced character witnesses for Walter, then other witnesses who had seen Walter talk Jake into surrendering his pistol on previous occasions.  Defense counsel argued that the long-standing friendship of Jake and Walter made it inconceivable that he would deliberately murder his friend.  He also pointed out that Walter was a police officer, responding to a complaint from citizens.  In the line of duty, he had been fired upon.

The prosecution argued that since they were good friends Walter should have known Jake was only fooling around and that he would not shoot Walter.  The prosecution called to the stand the State Police investigator, Corporal Puliccia.  The Corporal testified that the Steyr pistol had not been fired, that it had a full magazine of eight bullets, and that the safety was on.  In cross-examination the defense attorney asked how the Corporal could explain that the driver's side headlight was shattered with a bullet.  Corporal Puliccia replied that both men had 9 mm handguns.  Walter could have shot out the headlight as an alibi.  At the end of the third day the prosecuting attorney promised the jury that on the next day he would supply the motive for the unconscionable killing of Mill Creek's store keeper.

When the trial began the next morning, the courtroom was packed.  Many people were turned away.  The Prosecuting Attorney had leaked the information that he would be calling a surprise witness.  He rose and asked that Miss Flora Peekskill be called to the stand.  As she came to the stand to be sworn in, there was a communal gasp in the courtroom.   Miss Peekskill, a petite, but shapely, blonde, was wearing a flowery dress open enough at the top to show a hint of cleavage, and a skirt that barely came below her knees.  Her legs were bare and she was wearing high heels.  At that time , in West Virginia, women and girls wore dresses that buttoned at the neck and went down below their calves.  Also they wore dark hose so that their ankles weren't exposed.

When she was seated in the witness chair, she pulled her skirt up several inches and crossed her legs.  Not only her ankles, but her knees, could be seen, especially by the jurors. The twelve men on the jury were embarrassed, but they could not take their eyes off of her.  None of them had never seen such a public display of feminine pulchritude.

"Miss Peekskill, please state your full name, city of residence, and occupation for the court."

"Flora Dora Peekskill, Parsons, waitress and entertainer."

"Did you know the deceased, Jake Parker?"

"Yes, he was a real teddy bear.   I just can't believe he's dead."  She pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and wiped away any tear that might be at the corners of her eyes. .

"Were you close to him?"

"We got real close when I let him sleep with me."

Another gasp went up from the courtroom.  Women bolted from the courtroom.  The police officers in the courtroom and other men jumped out of their seats and dragged from the courtroom a group of more than a dozen boys from the High School.

"Ahem.  Now, did you also know the defendant, Walter Shrout?"

"Yeah, he’s a real tiger."

"Did you have a relationship with him?"

"Y-e-s."

"Did he sleep with you?"

"He'd come to my apartment for a couple hours but there wasn't any sleeping.  It was a wild romp with him.  We did it on the couch, on the floor, on the kitchen table.  Last time we did it in his new car."

"Did he know about your intimacy with Jake Parker?"

"He found out.  He came roaring into the restaurant and demanded that I choose between him and Jake.  I told him that I couldn't choose.  Anyhow, he wasn't going to marry me.  He was just having fun so what gave him the right to ask me to choose?  He sure got mad.  He stomped out of the restaurant and slammed the door.  I almost lost my job over it."

"How many days before the shooting did this take place?"

"That was on Monday at noon.   Jake was shot on Friday."

There was bedlam in the courtroom.  Reporters raced out of the room and were fighting for the telephones in the hallway outside the courtroom.  They could be heard clearly inside the courtroom shouting into the phones the texts of their stories to copy boys on the other end.  The news traveled like wildfire across town and out to Mill Creek. 

When Walter reached Mill Creek that evening, the news had preceded him.  His wife refused to admit him into the house.  He tried to tell her that it was all a lie.  She wouldn't listen.  That night he slept on the back seat of Brown Betty.  The next day he drove to the courthouse in Elkins and parked the car on the street.   It would be the last time he drove the car.  The jury found him guilty of murder.  The judge sentenced him to ten years in the State Penitentiary at Huttonsville.

Who was the mystery woman Flora Dora Peekskill?  No one in the courtroom had ever seen her.  She definitely was not from Parsons.  That town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else.  Walter knew that the State police investigator lied.  But why?

Marybelle never visited him in prison.  She never wrote to him, nor did his daughters.  His brother Bob came to see him three times.  The first time he brought papers for Walter to sign so that he could sell Brown Betty.  The second time Bob came to tell Walter that his share of their father's estate was a little more than $800.  Walter told him to bring him the papers to deed the house to Marybelle, and to put the money in the bank in Marybelle's name.  When Walter finally heard from Marybelle it was in the form of divorce papers.

Walter’s sister went to Mill Creek twice with her oldest son.  She and Walter grew up on Jones’ Run on that side of the County.  She knew many of the residents of Mill Creek.  She asked a number of them if they knew the woman Flora Peekskill.  They all said they knew nothing about her.  However, the mood of the town had turned against Walter and his sister was warned not to come back again  

When a new Governor was elected, the County Prosecutor was replaced by a Prosecutor from the Governor’s party.  He reexamined a number of the cases prosecuted by the former prosecutor.  In more than a dozen cases he found that in order to win the case, evidence had been altered, manufactured, or in some cases ignored.  One of those findings was that Flora Dora Peekskill was a dancer at a high class speakeasy in the state capital.

Walter was released after eighteen months in prison.  His life was ruined.  His former wife and his two daughters never spoke to him the rest of his life.  He wrote letters and sent birthday and Christmas cards to his daughters.  They were all returned “Refused.” 

He found a job as a sawyer in a small saw mill near Elkins.  His daughters went to college in Elkins and settled there.  Marybelle sold the house in Mill Creek and moved into an apartment in Elkins.  When they saw Walter or any of his sister's family on the street or in a store they turned their heads. Walter drank heavily and died before he was sixty years old.  His sister, her husband, and two of his brothers were the only mourners at his funeral. 

MADELINE AND LIAM

(This story won first place in Fiction at the Little Rock American Christian Writers Conference in May 2014)

MADELINE and LIAM

 by Troy Lynn Pritt

When Madeline was very young, the Romani set up camp outside of Elkview. One of the Roma, had a sign “PALM READING", a table, and two chairs outside her home (which was mounted on a wagon).

A roughneck young man drove up in a hot rod Ford. He got out proudly and strutted to the table. The woman was seated, doing some mending.

“Are you the woman who reads palms?”

“Yes.”

“I want my palm read.”

“Two dollars.”

“I’ll pay you afterwards.”

“Before.”

He slapped two bucks on the table, sat at the other side of the table, and thrust out his left hand to be read.

“Aren’t you right-handed? Put your right hand on the table.”

She began a well-rehearsed set of lines,

“You will have a long life, and be happy. You will meet a beautiful woman in a strange town. She will become your wife and give you lots of children.”

The roughneck stood up.

“Take me into your trailer house. I’ll give you five bucks to take off all your clothes and show me some Gypsy passion.”

He grabbed her by the arm and she cried for help. A man came to her aid, twisted the yob’s arm behind his back, and pushed him to his car. Humiliated, the hooligan muttered,

“You’ll pay for this! All of you!”

That evening he returned with a “posse”. They gave the Gypsies an hour to pack up and leave. After an hour they would burn all that was left. The Romani packed up and left in a group. The toughs followed behind them, blowing their horns, and firing off shotguns and rifles. Turning onto a dirt road, the last Gypsy wagon in the caravan overturned. The ruffians stopped, got out of their vehicles, and were cheering like fans at a prizefight.

The horses that had been pulling the Gypsy wagon were neighing and kicking, caught in their traces. One of the toughs came up to the horses and shot both of them in their heads. There was an eerie silence. The night was pitch black. It was impossible to see what had happened to the occupants of the wagon. The tormentors went home. The other Romani continued rapidly down the dark and dusty road.                                       The next morning, a local farmer came by, saw the overturned wagon, the dead horses, and three corpses. A man and woman were sprawled on the field, thrown there by the mishap. A little girl’s body was crushed under the side of the overturned wagon. From inside the wagon he heard the cries of a little child. He couldn’t understand the language, but they were obviously cries for help. Looking into the wagon, he found a little girl and pulled her out. She became hysterical.

Trying to keep her from seeing the dead bodies, he put her up in the cab of his old truck, and drove her to his farm. His name was Horace Clanton and his wife’s name was Oma. At the farmhouse, he carried the little girl in to his wife.

“I found a Gypsy wagon overturned. The horses were shot. A man and woman were lying dead in the field, another little girl was lying dead, pinned under the wagon. This little girl was inside the wagon. I’m going back there.  I’ll bury the man, woman, and child. I’ll haul the wagon back here. Then I’ll butcher those horses. I can use the hides. The meat I can feed to the dogs and the hogs.”

Oma was childless. She regarded this orphan Gypsy child as a gift from God. They named her Madeline. After they explained how the girl came to live with them, a sympathetic judge issued a birth certificate saying that she was an orphan.   

Horace and Oma could not understand Madeline’s language, but she soon learned English. Horace and Oma loved Madeline. She understood that before they could speak to each other. Over time she grew to love them also. The memory of her own parents began to fade.

Madeline helped Oma in the house, in the garden, and tending the chickens. Oma began teaching her to sew. She was very bright and learned quickly.

Her first several years of school were without incident. She was polite, did well in class, and the teachers liked her. In the fourth grade the children began to notice clothes and appearances. They formed into cliques. The town children looked down on the farm children.  The farm children were generally poor. Their clothing showed the wear of hard work.

These prejudices about farm children brought Madeline together with Liam O’Doule, a boy from the adjoining farm. They banded together for protection in school. They ate together, and hung around together at lunch time and recess time.

In junior high the isolation of Madeline became more pronounced. With the onset of puberty, she began developing into a young lady of beauty. Her hair was black. Her eyes would flash like glistening coals when she was happy or angry. She could now embroider and crochet highlights on the dresses, skirts, and blouses that she made for herself. They were nicer than any that came from stores.

The other girls were jealous. They repeated the disparaging remarks, the derogatory tales, the exaggerated stories about how the Gypsies were thieves, liars, and half-breeds, who had intermarried with runaway slaves.

Madeline retorted, “Romani are originally from India. That is why we have dark hair and dark skin. We have never been slaves. We choose to lead a nomadic life in order to remain free of oppression and bondage.”

Liam admired the way she stood up to them. They were friends in junior high. In high school they became boy friend and girl friend.

After high school, Liam went into the Navy. He promised Madeline that when he returned from the Navy, they would be married. They wrote and sent pictures to each other regularly. When Liam came home on leave, he spent every evening with Madeline.

Madeline found a job in town as a seamstress. She was very good at alterations. She could also make a dress or jacket just from a picture without a pattern.  

Both Liam and Madeline were saving every bit of money they could squeeze from their paychecks for marriage. Liam was a cook in the Navy. He spent his four years in the Navy planning a restaurant that he would start when his enlistment was over.

When Liam came home from the Navy, he and Madeline were married in the little Baptist church that both of their families attended. The newlyweds took a bus to Lewisburg. They found an inexpensive apartment in a run-down neighborhood. Madeline sought work as a seamstress; Liam looked for a suitable venue for a restaurant.

Oglesby Machine, Tool, and Die Company was just then moving its factory into an abandoned warehouse. Liam believed Oglesby was going to grow. He found an empty building nearby to rent. Using his savings from the Navy he bought restaurant quality refrigeration, stoves, kitchen utensils, pots and pans. He did not have enough money yet to buy tables, chairs, cash register, table cloths, dishes, and eating utensils.

He went to Frank Oglesby and asked to set up a stand on the parking lot, next to the building, to sell coffee, sandwiches, fruit, and snacks.  Mr. Oglesby thought it was such a good idea that he made a place for him just inside the building. He even ran a water line and installed several electric outlets for Liam to use.

Liam had doughnuts and coffee ready when the men came to work in the mornings. At lunch time he had hot dogs. He boiled the hot dogs on a hot plate. The men would spear a hot dog out of the pan, put it on a bun, and add mustard, catsup, onions or pickle relish themselves. He also had sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. There was only one type sandwich each day. When he started out he charged ten cents for each item – coffee, doughnut, hot dog, or sandwich.

Liam and Madeline worked together equipping and furnishing the restaurant. Madeline made the curtains, napkins, and tablecloths.

They called the restaurant “The Working Man”. They did not serve beer or wine. There was a juke box. The menu included children’s plates. In one corner there was a large area set aside for children. There were toys that were washable and they were faithfully washed every day. The family section was non-smoking. Liam hired waitresses who were pleasant and patient with the customers.

The restaurant’s concept was - a place where a working man could bring his family or a date, have a relaxing meal and conversation, and linger over coffee and dessert. Liam had a winning concept. It appealed to young families. He even fixed up a rest room just for mothers with comfortable chairs and a table so that a mother could nurse her baby, give it a bottle, change its diaper, or just rock a crying baby in private.

Since he was also working at his coffee stand in Oglesby’s, the hours for the restaurant were Wednesday – Saturday 6 PM to 10 PM, Sunday 12:30 PM to 3 PM. Madeline was still working as a seamstress. They decided that she should start working out of their home, accepting as much or as little work as she wanted. In this way, they could start trying to have a baby.

The same year that they began trying, Madeline became pregnant. Oglesby’s plant and the restaurant closed each year December 25 to January 1. They decided to go back to their parents’ farms to tell them their good news.

As they were driving out of town they saw people going into a church.

“Oh, Liam, please stop. Let’s go into that church.  It’s Christmas. We haven’t been to church in a long time.”

The church was a Catholic church. Any other time the ritual, the strange music, the candles, and the incense might have been uncomfortable for these erstwhile Baptists. Today, it was just right.

They drove on to the Elkview where they had attended school and on out to the country. They stopped first at the O’Doule farm.

As they came in the front door, Liam’s father stepped forward, shook his hand, then gave him a hug. Liam’s mother had tears in her eyes. She almost ran to Madeline, threw her arms around her, and said,

“Oh, Honey, Honey, I am so happy for you. You have made me so happy. This is the nicest Christmas present a person could receive.”

After a half hour or so Liam said, “We had better get on over to the Clantons. They go to bed early.”

“Can’t you stay for a cup of coffee and some fruit cake?”

“We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Horace and Oma overflowed with joy to see Madeline once more and to find out that she was expecting a baby. This was the first time that Liam and Madeline had come back for a visit since the wedding. Madeline had written to her adoptive parents at least once a month. She had sent them pictures of Liam and herself. None of those was like seeing her in person, hearing her voice, seeing for themselves that she was happy. So much can’t be said in a letter. 

While they were there, Madeline saw the poverty in which she had grown up. She and Liam lived simple lives in Lewisburg, but their life was luxurious compared to that of Horace and Oma. She realized how much they had sacrificed to provide for her. She had never noticed the poverty before this because of the love they had lavished upon her. She would be a loving mother just like Oma!  She and Liam must find a way to go to church and bring their children back to these farms for visits. This is where love, like flowers, flourished alongside the other crops. 

ESCAPE - Chapter 22

   Several days later, I called Rick Nolan.

   “Reverend Nolan, this is Joshua Sterner. I am ready to start looking for a church and Wyoming looks attractive to me. I’ve been preaching in the two Presbyterian churches in the town where my eldest son lives. I really don’t think it is wise for me to be a minister in a very small town where he is the family doctor. If I were serving a church in Wyoming, they would be close enough to visit a couple times a year. Up until now I have only visited them once before. That was several years ago. Would you send me the data sheets on churches in your Presbytery that are available. I am open to multiple church fields.”

   “Well, that is good news to me. I think the Laramie Church would be interested in you. I’ll look through the church data sheets and see what other churches would be a good match with you.”

   “Another request I have is that you schedule any interviews with pulpit committees and Presbytery committees as close together as is feasible. I will have to find a boarding house or inexpensive motel to stay in down there. Montana is a long drive away.”

   “I’ll do my best. Why don’t you look into a hostel in Cheyenne? You would have to sleep in a dormitory with seven other men and share a bathroom with them. However, the hostels are clean, they serve a free continental breakfast and they only cost $30-35 a night.”

   “Thank you, I’ll look into that.”

   The first time that I was on the computer, I looked for a hostel in Cheyenne and found two. One belonged to a national chain of hostels. I bookmarked that page.

   The week following Christmas, I worked on a sermon for January 2. I wanted to work in the New Year’s and Communion. I chose the verse 2 Corinthians 5:17 as my sermon text. It contains the phrase, “the old things have passed away, the new things are here”.

   When I went to Dakota United Presbyterian Church that Sunday, I had twenty-five more bags with candy and a $5 bill. This time I stapled the scene of Wise Men coming on camels. During announcement time I said,

“   Mr. Slower Than Bear and I took bags with candy to 25 children on Christmas Eve. I’m sure that we missed some children. When you leave today, will you take a bag to a child we missed?”

   They responded to the sermon. (I watch the eyes and the facial expressions of the congregation.) The communion service was like we were back two millennia and in the Upper Room with Jesus. As I read the Scriptures and prayed the prayers in the service, I asked Mr. Slower Than Bear to repeat my words in the native language. I saw the old people get tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces. After the service, I really didn’t want to leave.

   The atmosphere at First Presbyterian Church was stiff and formal. The fact that we were having the Sacrament in the service intensified the effort to be stiff and proper and do everything just right. It affected me. I was so nervous that I made several mistakes. I am ashamed that I was glad when the service was over.

   After the service Mr. Holcum asked if I would be preaching the following Sunday.

   “I don’t think so, Mr. Holcum.”

   On Wednesday I received three sets of data forms from Rick Nolan. One set was for the church in Laramie, another was for a church in Gillette, Wyoming, and the third set was for a three church field of churches in Worland, Wyoming, Thermopolis, Wyoming, and Riverton, Wyoming.

   At first glance each of them had an obvious advantage. I had already been to Laramie and knew that the people liked me. Gillette was closest to Montana. Worland-Thermopolis-Riverton were near an Indian Reservation, Wind River Indian Reservation. I hadn’t looked at the salaries but I could guess that income was in inverse proportion to the relative difficulty of pastoring the church(es).

   I said my goodbyes that evening, to Phillip, Molly, Billy, and Polly, called Rick Nolan and Joe Sheetz and told them that I would be staying at the Hostels International in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and I would call and give them my address as soon as I had one.

   That evening Nathaniel called.

   “Dad, Joy and I were married on January 1 and then we left for a honeymoon in San Antonio. We just got home. I am taking Joy to Ft. Bliss tomorrow. She needs to get an ID card. There are a half dozen offices to visit, Friday morning I will leave for Ft. Bragg, North Carolina.".

   The next day I drove south out of town with blue skies above, a wet road, and snow piled up on either side.

   “Laura, I’m ready to start again."                                                                                                                   

THE END

In the coming weeks I will post some of my favorite short stories.

ESCAPE - Chapter 21

   My daily routine quickly took shape. I would eat breakfast at Mrs. Carruther’s and have dinner with Philip, Molly, Billy, and Polly. I read my Bible in my room in the mornings. After breakfast I would walk around the town. Since I had been asked to preach, I began to go to the Town Library to work and study there. When my sermon was ready, I could type it into one of their computers and then print it out. The Library only charged 10 cents a page.

   There were three Sundays that I knew I would be preaching in Wolf Point. For Sunday, December 19 I would preach on “The Music of Christmas”. For Sunday, December 26 my sermon would be “The Christmas Baby”, and For Sunday< January 2 the topic would be “All Things New”.

   Friday night Nathaniel called.

   “Dad, how are you?”

   “I am fine. More to the point, how are you?”

   “I’m on thirty days leave right now. I have to report in to Ft. Bragg, North Carolina by January 8. I proposed to Joy and she accepted. We are going to be married on January 1. Reverend Johnston is going to marry us. He and his wife are going to babysit Sean and Eibhlin while we are on our honeymoon January 1 to 5. I will leave for Ft. Bragg on January 6. Joy and I were out Christmas shopping today. Joy is wearing Mom’s engagement ring. Thank you. We went shopping for our wedding rings. I wish that you could have performed the wedding ceremony, but I suspect that you will be snowbound for the next couple months at least.”

“   Son, I am really happy for you. I’ll be praying for you and Joy.”

   “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“   I love you, too.”

   On Sunday I went to the Dakota United Presbyterian Church. They preserved the heritage of the United Presbyterians and sang only Psalms in worship. They had a book with the words of the Psalms in meter. On one side were the English words, on the other side the same Psalm in the same meter in an Indian language. The service was reverent and yet there was a relaxed atmosphere. I felt welcome and among brothers and sisters in Christ from the beginning. My sermon had numerous quotes from Scripture and I could tell from the smiles that that was what they wanted.

   The service at the First Presbyterian Church was stiff and formal. The congregation seemed like they had to maintain a certain reputation. I think the name “First” on a small church is a curse. They are always trying to live up to an image which is beyond their means. They had an organ. A piano would have made for better singing. The choir was attempting some classical piece which was beyond their ability or capacity. Wolf Point is an impoverished town. How many of its poor residents would find a welcome in the First Presbyterian Church? As individuals they were probably friendly and even loveable. When they come together as the First Presbyterian Church they live up to the name of their presbytery, Glacier!

   After church Molly had a fine meal prepared. At the dinner table she asked, “Dad, we are going to be making special foods for Christmas. What special food can we make for you?”

   “Fruitcake. Until she became ill, Laura always made a fruitcake for Christmas.”

Philip said, “I remember that now. Mom made the best fruitcakes.”

“Well, I don’t know if it will measure up to Laura’s, bur I’ll make you a fruitcake.”

Polly said, “Mom, can I help you? I want to be part of making something special for Grandpaw Sterner.”

   “You certainly can, my dear. Tomorrow when you come home from school, we will go to Albertson’s and see if we can get the ingredients for a fruitcake. There are some unusual ingredients in a proper fruitcake.”

   “Like what?”

   “For instance candied ginger.”

   “What is that?”

   “If we can find it, I will give you a piece to suck on. It will last at least an hour.”

Billy said, “Can I have a piece?”

   “Of course you can.”

   “What can I make for Grandpaw?”

   “I would guess that if you would shovel the snow out from around his car that he would appreciate it. If he had to go anyplace in it, he’d have to shovel it himself. That wouldn’t be good.”

   I spoke up. “Let’s make a deal. You shovel it out and sweep the snow off the car this first time as a Christmas present. When it snows anytime after this I’ll pay you $3 each time. Or if it is a really heavy snow, I’ll make it $5. Deal?”

   “Deal.”

   When I was working on my sermon “The Christmas Baby” I remembered an experience that I had in a rural church in West Virginia. It was Christmas Eve. The church was dark except for the candles on the communion table below the pulpit. On the front pew directly in front of me there was a young couple. The young woman had a baby which she laid down on the pew. All through the time that I was reading the Christmas narrative from the Gospel and while I was preaching, the baby was cooing and making baby sounds, playing with his feet, sucking his thumb. It was almost a reenactment of the Child in the manger.

   As I was walking around town on Thursday, December 23, I met Mr. Slower Than Bear coming out of the bank.

   “Reverend Sterner, it is so good to see you. Our people appreciated your fine sermon, filled with solid Bible teaching.”

   “Thank you. I was going to look for you and ask you to help me with something that I would like to do. The First Presbyterian Church is having a Christmas party for its Sunday School children tomorrow. We don’t have any children at Dakota Church. I see Indian children running around town. They look so poor. It isn’t hard to imagine that they won’t have much Christmas. I want to make up some paper bags with candy inside and maybe a $5 bill as well, staple the bag shut with a picture of the manger scene stapled to it. Would you take me to homes with poor children and help me give them the bags. I want to do it in such manner that neither the children or their parents will be embarrassed. Maybe you could say in their language, “Jesus asked us to bring your children a gift.”

   “You are amazing Reverend Sterner.”

   That is what we did. I made up twenty-five bags. The bags were gone after visiting a dozen houses and trailers. The abject poverty tore my heart out.

***********

   On Monday, December 20, Nathaniel and Joy went to Ft. Bliss. They wanted to find out what paperwork to fill out after they were married. Joy knew that her VA benefits would cease, but she wanted to protect her children’s benefits. A VA counselor sat with them for over an hour explaining to them what to do and what forms to fill out. They both felt much better. Nathaniel knew that he would have to take her to Ft. Bliss after they were married so that she could get an ID card as dependent of an active duty soldier.

************

   Tom was surprised at how his trip to North Carolina had changed his life. He had become more confident in his work. He expected to be treated with respect and that improved his law practice. The Cubans looked up to him now. His business clients admired the ways he found to cut the cost of operating a law practice and at the same time deliver quality service.

   Tom was very choosy about who he hired from the students. He demanded respect from them and if he didn’t get it, he sent them on down the road.

   Tom’s assertive manner brought him rewards at home. Ofelia treated him as the head of the house and the girls followed suit. He was surprised and pleased that they went to church with him. They continued going every Sunday.

   Perhaps, most remarkable and noticeable was the way Ofelia stood up for him to her parents. 

   “You will treat my husband with respect or you will not see me or your granddaughters. When you were a lawyer, Father, you demanded respect. It was Castro’s fault, not Tom’s fault, that you had to work as a plumber’s assistant in Cuba and cannot practice law in the United States.”

She said all of this in Spanish. Tom did not know what she said, but he noticed the difference in how her parents treated him. Meanwhile, he was steadily building up the House Fund at the bank. By Christmas there should be $10,000 in it.

************

   On the Sunday after Christmas, I was ready to leave the church and go to Philip’s. I was looking forward to another slice of that fruitcake that Molly and Polly made for me. Mr. Pinterest came out of the back of the church.

   “Reverend Sterner, I heard that you went around to the Indian children giving them bags with candy and a five dollar bill.”

   “Yes.”

   “Why didn’t you give any of the bags to white children?”

   “You had a party for them.”

   “Them Indians could have come to the party.”

   “Really?”

   “Well they would have to wash the stink off of themselves.”

   “This conversation is over, Mr. Pinterest.”

   I turned on my heel and left. I was really upset. I didn’t do the candy bags to be noticed. I would prefer that no one knew about it. I was upset at the racial bigotry he had displayed.

   Christmas Day had been a happy occasion for me. When Billy saw the snowboard he became oblivious to everything else. His parents told him that he had to wait until after Christmas dinner before he could take it outside and try it out. There was plenty of snow outside. Occasionally he would hear children yelling and squealing as they played with new toys out in the snow. Philip and Molly had bought him an electric train set. He looked at the pieces, but made no move toward setting it up. He kept going back to the snowboard, examining every detail.

   Polly was ecstatic about the doll that I gave her. She noticed how soft the doll’s skin was and how lifelike the hair felt. She looked at me with beseeching eyes,

   “Do you think it would be all right if I gave her Grandmom’s name.”

   My eyes teared up and my voice choked as I said,

   “I think she would be pleased if you did.”

   There was not the conflict with her gift from me and her parents’ as there was with Billy’s. Philip and Molly knew that I was buying her a doll. They gave her a doll bed. It was handmade and sturdy. There was a mattress and pillows in it.

   Molly said, “You know how I have been teaching you to sew and how to use the sewing machine and how to crochet?”

   “Yes, Mom”, she answered warily.

   “Since your doll has a bed, you can sew her a pair of pajamas. After that you can make a fitted sheet, a top sheet, and pillow cases. Then a blanket and bedspread. When you finish all that, she will be ready for some new dresses. Learning to sew was hard work, but now you can use it for something you wanted.”

   I talked to Philip about my encounter with Mr. Pinterest while Molly and Polly were preparing Christmas dinner.

   “Dad, you just came from Arkansas. In your mind transpose African-Americans for Native American Indians.”

   “I didn’t like bigotry in Arkansas and I don’t like it any better in Montana.”

   “People are the same wherever you go. I don’t mean everyone in Arkansas or Montana is a bigot or even that most of them are. In every town and every church there are mean spirited people, generous people, stingy people, helpful people, block heads, and people whom it is a pleasure to know.”

   “You are right, Philip.”

   Christmas dinner was delicious. The only one who didn’t enjoy it was Billy. As soon as he said, “Excuse me,” he hurriedly put on his winter jacket, toboggan, and mittens, grabbed the snow board and bolted out the door.

   “Dad, you and I are going to have to play with that train while the women wash the dishes.”

We both got down on our knees and set up the electric train in the living room. Soon it was flying around the track, blowing its whistle and puffing smoke out of its smokestack. When we tired of that, Philip and I sat on the sofa.

   “Dad, this has been the happiest Christmas I’ve had in years. You can’t know how much it means to me to have you here.”

   Just then Molly came in with coffee and fruitcake for us.

   “If I had known what good fruitcake Molly makes, I would have tried to come sooner.”

   “Thank you, Dad”, she said. It felt good for her to call me “Dad”.

   After my conversation with Phillip, I realized that it would not be good for me to try to minister in the same town where he was the doctor. If I did something that made some people mad, his practice would be affected.

There is only one more chapter to ESCAPE. I will be polishing it up to be put into print. If you think there is something that should be added or should be expanded or clarified, write me at mtnpride@gmail.com 

ESCAPE - Chapter 20

   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.