One More Sunrise (21 page)

“Oh yes. I’m sure this is so.”

“What if Rebekah had married some other man before Eliezer came to take her to Isaac? She would have been out of God’s will and would have married the wrong man.”

Tharyn nodded silently, her eyes showing that she was getting the point.

Blandford smiled. “Tharyn, being in the center of God’s will as Isaac’s wife, Rebekah gave birth to Jacob, the child who grew up to be the man whom God gave the name Israel. Rebekah’s twelve grandsons—Jacob’s sons—were the children of Israel.

“Scripture reveals,” proceeded Blandford, “that Judah was the fourth son of Jacob, and that God sent His only begotten Son to
be the Saviour of the world through the tribe of Judah. If Rebekah had not waited for God to send His chosen husband for her into her life, she would never have been the mother of Jacob, the grandmother of Jacob’s twelve sons, and had the distinction of being an ancestor of Jesus Christ on His earthly side. Do you see that?”

“Yes, Pastor. I see it.”

“All right. God has the right man picked out for you. It obviously wasn’t Russell Mims. And it obviously wasn’t Scott Hubbard. Right?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tharyn’s mouth. “Yes.”

“Good. So, honey, you cheer up and let the Lord bring you His chosen man for you in His own time.”

The smile spread over her lovely face. “Pastor, your wisdom with the Word of God has been a great help and a wonderful blessing to me. Thank you.”

He grinned. “I’m your pastor, Tharyn. It is my responsibility, privilege, and pleasure to be of help to you.”

She took a deep breath. “Pastor, Scott’s jilting left some wounds that will need to heal, but I will leave my future in my heavenly Father’s hands.” She turned to Nellie, then ran her gaze between the Blandfords. “I want to thank both of you for coming to help me.”

“Let’s pray before Nellie and I leave,” said the pastor.

The five of them joined hands as Pastor Blandford led in prayer, asking God to heal Tharyn’s wounded heart and give her the faith and patience to wait for that man He had chosen to be her husband to come into her life.

That night in her bed, Tharyn wept because of the wounds Scott had left in her heart. She remembered how when she lived in the Manhattan alley it was Dane Weston who was always so kind to her and comforted her when she needed it.

“Lord, You are my great Comforter, and I thank You for that. I know You also understand that we humans need other humans to lean on. I wish I still had Dane to lean on.”

Finding that sleep eluded her, Tharyn left her bed and sat down on the chair by her window. She gazed out at the full moon and the winking stars. Again, she prayed, seeking God’s comfort and consolation. She told the Lord she knew that what Pastor Blandford had shown her in the Scriptures about His will in a believer’s life was true, and she thanked Him for giving the pastor the wisdom he needed to apply it to her life.

As she continued to pray, God’s peace filled her heart and mind, and she thanked Him for it. Tharyn placed her life and her future in the Lord’s capable hands. She went back to her bed, slipped between the covers, and found rest in the everlasting arms of the one who had shed His blood, died for her on the cross, and had come back from the dead so He could save her and one day take her to heaven.

The next day, Breanna Brockman was working at Mile High Hospital, filling in for a nurse who had to be out of town. During the morning, Breanna was walking through the surgical wing on her way to another part of the hospital when Tharyn happened to come out the door of one of the operating rooms.

They stopped to speak to each other, and Breanna could tell that Tharyn was not quite her usual jovial self.

“Honey, is something wrong? You don’t seem quite like yourself.”

Tharyn smiled. “I’m all right, Breanna. I just went through a very difficult time last night. It’s going to take a little time to shake off its effects.”

“Do you mind sharing it with me?”

“Of course not. It’s simply that Scott came to the house last
night to tell me he is going back to Pueblo to live and is going to marry his childhood sweetheart.”

Stunned, Breanna took hold of Tharyn’s hand. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“It hurt me deeply, Breanna, but Pastor and Mrs. Blandford came to see me after Scott was gone last night and helped me.”

Tharyn went on to tell Breanna of the pastor’s talk on Rebekah and Isaac.

“Good,” said Breanna. “And Pastor Blandford was right, Tharyn. The Lord will definitely guide your life, and when it is His chosen time, He will bring that knight in shining armor into your life. He certainly did that for me when He sent John into my life.”

Tharyn hugged her tight. “Thank you for the encouragement, Breanna. I love you.”

Breanna kissed her cheek. “I love you too, honey.”

Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman emerged from Denver’s gun shop, having purchased a box of cartridges.

As usual, Brockman was clad in a black broadcloth coat with black trousers, white shirt, black string tie, shiny black boots, and black flat-crowned hat. Slung on his right hip was a tied-down Colt .45 revolver in a black-belted holster. The handle grips on the .45 were bone white.

He stepped off the boardwalk, patted the long neck of his black horse, and placed the cartridge box in one of his saddlebags.

At that moment, Brockman noticed three mangy-looking men coming across the broad street toward him. Each one had a mean look on his unshaven face and dirty hair sticking out from under his sweat-stained hat. All three wore guns, but the one in the middle had his gun belt slung low and his holster tied to his thigh.

The one in the middle stepped ahead of the others. “I’ve been
lookin’ for you, Stranger. You
are
the hotshot John Stranger, right?”

Brockman turned to face him squarely. “I was known as John Stranger for a long time, yes.”

A sneer formed on the man’s face as he looked Brockman up and down with disdain. “I’m challengin’ you, Stranger. Take that badge off and face me man to man.”

Brockman shook his head. “You don’t want to do that, mister. Just move on now.”

“Hah! I’ve heard so much talk about this hotshot John Stranger bein’ so fast with his gun. One of my pals saw you face off with some slow, so-called gunfighter in Dodge City, Kansas, a few years ago. He said you put the man down, but you were only able to do it because the guy was so slow.”

John flicked his cool gray eyes to the other two men with him, then set them on his challenger. “I’m telling you to take your pals and ride out of town right now, mister, or I’ll arrest you for loitering.”

People were gathering around.

“My name’s Cal Dudley, Stranger. You folks hear that?
Cal Dudley
. I want all of you to remember my name, ’cause I’m about to outdraw the famous John Stranger!”

Brockman set his jaw sternly. “That’s enough, Dudley. Get on your horse and ride, and take your chums with you.”

Dudley backed into the street a few steps, then stopped and went into a gunfighter’s crouch with his gun hand hovering over his revolver.

The growing crowd removed themselves from the line of fire.

Brockman spoke in a soft voice. “Don’t be a fool and go for that gun. I don’t want to have to put you down.”

Dudley bit down hard, his breath hissing through his nostrils. His hand snaked downward, but froze before it even touched the butt of the gun. In less than a heartbeat, Brockman’s gun was in his
hand, cocked, and aimed at Dudley’s chest.

Dudley’s eyes bulged and his jaw slacked. He stood up straight, removing his hand from its position above his gun handle. “Okay, Mr. Stranger. You win.”

Brockman holstered his gun. “Mount up and ride. Right now.”

Both of Dudley’s friends wheeled and headed across the street where their horses were tied.

Dudley started to turn, but instead of following his cohorts, he whipped out his gun and was bringing it to bear on Brockman.

But John’s gun was out and spitting fire before Dudley could drop the hammer. The slug struck him in the upper arm of his gun hand, its impact twisting him sideways. The gun dropped from his hand. He went down on his knees, then collapsed in a heap, breathing hard.

Brockman looked at the other two, who had stopped in the middle of the street and were looking at him. “You two get out of town right now and don’t come back. I’ll be taking your pal to the hospital.”

Without hesitation, Dudley’s friends hurried toward their horses.

While two Denver County sheriff’s deputies came running up, a man in the crowd stepped close to the fallen Dudley. “You’d better be thankful, mister! You’re still alive only because Chief Brockman willed it so. He could’ve killed you easily.”

“That’s right!” said another man in the crowd.

Brockman turned toward a townsman who was sitting in his wagon a few feet away, looking on. “Hey, Melvin. Will you help me get this man to the hospital?”

“Sure, Chief. Load him in and we’ll go.”

The sheriff’s deputies picked the bleeding Dudley up and put him in the bed of the wagon. Leaving Ebony tied to the hitch rail, John jumped in beside Dudley.

As the wagon rolled down the street toward the hospital, Dudley gripped his bleeding upper arm and looked up at Brockman.

“You just ruined my gun arm!”

Brockman grinned. “Good. Now you won’t be challenging someone who’ll aim for your heart instead of your arm. When the slug is out and you’re feeling better, I want you out of town in a hurry. Got it?”

Dudley’s voice was barely audible. “I got … it. I’ll be gone as soon as I can ride.” He paused. “Uh … Stranger?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Thanks for not killin’ me.”

Breanna Brockman was at the front desk in the hospital lobby, talking to receptionist Rosie O’Brien, when she saw her husband come in, carrying a bleeding man in his arms.

Excusing herself to Rosie, Breanna dashed to John. “What happened? Who’s this man?”

“Stay beside me, sweetheart, and I’ll answer your questions.”

While they walked toward the surgical wing, John told Breanna the story.

Just as they reached the surgical wing, Tharyn Tabor was coming out of one of the operating rooms. Her eyes widened as Breanna told her John had been forced to shoot this man he was carrying because he tried to force him into a gunfight.

Moments later, when Cal Dudley was in one of the surgical rooms on an operating table, John stood in the corridor with Breanna and Tharyn.

Breanna slid an arm around her husband’s slender waist. “Tharyn, I wouldn’t change a thing about this man God picked out for me, but I hope the one He has picked out for you doesn’t wear a badge.”

John looked down at Breanna and frowned. “Honey, Scott doesn’t wear a badge. What are you talking about?”

Breanna smiled. “I’ll tell you all about it over supper tonight, sweetheart.”

John looked at Tharyn. “Has something happened between you and Scott?”

Tharyn flicked a glance at a clock on the wall. “I have to be back to the room I just came out of in three minutes, Chief. Breanna will tell you all about it tonight over supper.”

O
n Monday, October 4, at the hideout in the mountains, Tag Moran and his gang were eating breakfast with Lucinda and Kathryn. The horses had already been watered, fed, bridled, and saddled, and were tied at the hitching posts by the front porch of the old cabin.

Tag swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs and smacked his lips. “Well, gals, I’m gonna miss your cooking as usual while we’re gone.”

“Me too,” piped up Jason Moran, “but it’ll be worth it when we come back with lots of money bags chock-full of the green stuff!”

“Sure will!” agreed Tony Chacone.

Lucinda took a sip of hot coffee, set her cup down, and looked at Tag. “So you’re going to hit the bank in Vernal, Utah, first, right?”

Tag nodded. “Yep. Then as usual, we’ll have to hide from the law for a few days. After that, we’ll head into Wyoming. As you gals know, after each bank robbery, we have to hide out a while to let things cool down. Whenever we hit a bank, word spreads fast to lawmen in nearby towns that we’re in the area. They also alert the banks in their towns.”

Lucinda nodded. “But when things cool down after the Vernal
holdup, you’ll hit the bank in Evanston first.”

“Right. Then after another cooling-down time, we’ll hit the bank in Green River. The bank in Rock Springs will be next, then we’ll head for home. We should be back here in about three weeks with lots of money.”

Kathryn had barely touched her breakfast. She seemed drained of her strength, and her stomach felt nauseous. She knew when she watched Gib ride away she may never see him again.

Sitting beside her at the table, Gib saw the look of dread in her eyes. He patted her arm. “Honey, don’t get upset now.”

This drew everyone else’s attention to Kathryn.

She swallowed heavily, blinking back hot tears that sprang to her eyes and burned like the bile that was pushing into her throat. She grabbed Gib’s hand. “Darling, I—I’m afraid you’re going to get killed like Darryl did.”

Gib sighed and laid his palm on her cheek. “Kathryn, you’re borrowing trouble needlessly. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be fine.”