The Shining Badge (23 page)

Billy was gasping for breath, and then Frank came up and said, “Let me help you with him, Billy.”

“Put . . . me down.”

The two men lowered the bulky form of Kermit to the ground, and Jenny saw a bloody hole on the back of his uniform. The bullet had gone all the way through. She knelt down and put her arms around him and whispered, “Kermit, oh, Kermit, don’t die!”

She heard Kermit try to speak, and when she lifted her head, she saw through her tears that he was smiling at her! “Don’t you cry, Miss Jenny.” Blood bubbled up through his lips, but Kermit reached up and tried to touch her cheek. “I’ll be seein’ my Helen now. I wish . . .”

And then Kermit Bing suddenly stiffened—and then relaxed.

Jenny cried out weeping, and then she felt Billy’s hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone, Miss Jenny. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Jenny Winslow clung to the body of the old man. Blood stained the front of her uniform and had gotten in her hair. The world seemed to be spinning, and she looked up and said, “Billy, he can’t be dead!”

“He did the best he could,” Billy Moon said softly. “He
wouldn’t want you to stay here in danger. Come on, me and Frank will carry him. You take the guns.”

Jenny clung to Kermit for a moment longer, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Then she touched his cheek a final time and got to her feet. As the men picked up the still body, she remembered something.

He won’t be there to see his grandson get his Eagle badge.

She remembered the pride in Kermit’s eyes when he had told her of this, and the memory made his death seem more than ever like a terrible, terrible tragedy. Jenny’s mind was numb, but as she followed the two men struggling with the old man, she knew that this moment would never pass away from her memory.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Sign of Jonah

For most of her nineteen years, Jenny Winslow had lived in a safe and secure cocoon. Her father’s money and position had insulated her against many of the shocks and bruises that less fortunate young women encounter during their early years. Jenny had been born with a proverbial spoon in her mouth. Clothes, jewelry, travel—all that money could buy—had been available to her, and her parents had delighted in seeing that she had those things that made up what most would call the “good life.” If the world outside was harsh and cruel, Jenny didn’t know it. Even when her mother died, she’d had her friends and luxurious home and unlimited allowance to comfort her.

When the stock market had crashed, Jenny had crashed with it, but she had adjusted to a new life. Now, however, as she sat in the auditorium of Bethel Church, she had never known a more miserable time in her entire life. She had, of course, suffered when her mother died and when her family had been stripped of practically every possession and forced to leave the comforts of a wealthy world to take up residence in a backwater Georgia farmhouse. That had seemed hard, but none of these hardships had touched the deepest recesses of her spirit as had the death of Kermit Bing. For the first time in her life, she felt responsible for another person’s death.

Ever since Jenny had held the dying man in her arms and watched the life fade away until Kermit lay with that awful stillness of the dead, she had been like one of the walking
wounded on a battlefield. Some soldiers get frightfully wounded but keep going forward, doing their duty in spite of a life-threatening injury. In some respects Jennifer was like this. Since the death of Bing, she had spoken, had eaten, had slept, and had performed those things that had to be done—but they were all automatic, for her spirit seemed frozen and dead.

As the sound of a hymn interrupted Jenny’s thoughts, she lifted her chin and forced herself to face forward, where the body of Kermit Bing lay in a bronzed coffin. The lid was open, and although she could not see the remains of the old man, an image of his face rose in her mind. The hymn “Rock of Ages,” she knew, was Kermit’s favorite song. He had often gone around humming it or whistling the tune. Now she listened to the words numbly as the congregation sang:

The words brought her no comfort. Indeed, nothing about the funeral or anything else was able to bring comfort to Jenny. She sat stiffly, her hands clenched together unconsciously, deliberately turning her eyes away from the coffin at the front of the auditorium. As Reverend Devoe Crutchfield got up and read the obituary, her eyes moved without willing it to the family that sat in the front of the church. She was sitting on the left side of the auditorium and could see the faces of Kermit’s family. She had gone to them and expressed her grief, but her lips had been numb, and she had been unable to say anything meaningful. Perhaps it was impossible to say anything at a time like this, but she had forced herself to go. Now she saw the profile of Kermit’s grandson, whose Eagle
Scout presentation he had missed, and Jenny saw tears rolling down the boy’s cheeks. Quickly she looked down and bit her trembling lower lip. She did not watch Crutchfield as he read the obituary, but finally when he began to speak, she blinked back her tears and looked up. Luke Dixon was sitting beside her, and she felt a touch on her hand. She took his hand and squeezed it hard, and he returned the pressure as Crutchfield continued to speak.

“An evil and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given to it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas: for as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.”

Looking up out over the congregation, Crutchfield’s voice was clear, although sadness marred his features. “We’re all grieved,” he said quietly, “as always when we lose a friend, but I would preface my remarks with this one. When you lose something, it’s lost because you don’t know where it is, but we do know where our brother Kermit is. He’s in the presence of God. And since we know where he is, he is not really lost. What we are feeling is our own sorrow, because for the time being we cannot see Bing or talk with him or do any of those things that we do with friends or relatives. But I’m convinced that one day, no man knows how long, we will all see Bing again, those of us who know Christ Jesus.”

The church was absolutely silent, and the smell of the banks of flowers came to Jennifer as Crutchfield spoke of the promises of the Bible. The vivid colors and the freshness of the flowers were counterpoint to the sorrow and the grief on the faces of those who sat in the pews. Jenny had attended other funerals in her life, but the loss of Bing was like a knife shoved through her heart.

“The Scripture says that there is one sign that Jesus was who He said He was. You will remember that He made no little claim for himself. He said He was the only way to heaven. He said this very clearly and very plainly. ‘No man cometh
unto the Father, but by me.’ The world hates that sentence as it does no other statement in the Scripture. For the world insists that men and women can go to heaven if they are good people, no matter what religion they follow. Mohammed or Confucius, why, they’re just as good as Jesus. But Mohammed is dead, and Confucius, his bones are somewhere in an obscure Chinese tomb, I suppose. Jesus said that no sign would be given but one, and that was that He would come out of the tomb after having died and would authenticate His claims to being the Son of God.”

For some time Crutchfield spoke of Jesus and His resurrection. Then finally he said, “You do not have your Bibles with you, I’m sure, as you would in an ordinary service. But when you go home I would like you to turn to the book of First Corinthians, the fifteenth chapter, and read it word for word—and then read it again—and when you’ve done that, read it one more time. This will be difficult for some of you, for this is a long chapter. It takes up three pages in my Bible, fifty-eight verses. It’s a tremendously important chapter, for the apostle Paul was chosen to explain Jesus to the world through his letters, and it was in this chapter he takes up this most important subject of all. And as we grieve here, I would like for us to take time to see the magnificence of our faith. Paul says, ‘If Christ be not raised, your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable. But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept.’

“Very clearly, Paul says our hope of heaven stands on this one issue: did Jesus come forth from the grave? And in this whole chapter Paul triumphantly shouts, ‘Yes, He is alive! He is risen!’ ”

Jenny had heard Crutchfield preach many times. She had thought for a while that she might be interested in him as a husband, but she had never found a love for him like that. As she listened, she realized that he was a bigger man than she
had thought. He preached at a small, obscure rural church with no stained-glass windows, but he preached with such power that she was somewhat shocked. His expression was alive as he read verse after verse from Paul’s letter, and finally he said, “Paul ends his argument with these ringing words, ‘O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?’ ”

Closing his Bible, Devoe was silent for a moment. Then he said, “We are on this side of the river while our brother Kermit has passed to the other side. One day every one of us will have to cross that river, but as we cross it, Jesus will be there with us. And once we are across, we will be in the presence of the King, as our brother is right now. We weep for him, we feel our loss—but we celebrate the entrance of Kermit Bing into the presence of Jesus Christ and of His Father!”

Jenny could not keep the tears from flowing then. She knew that Luke beside her was aware of her grief, for he put his arm around her, and she turned and put her face against his shoulder. As a final hymn was sung, she felt the pressure of his arm pulling her to her feet. He led her into the aisle up toward the casket in the procession, and when she looked down on the still face, she felt as if she could not go on. She turned quickly, grateful for Luke’s help, for she was blinded by her tears, and he guided her down the aisle and out of the church.

They stepped outside and Luke led her to the car. He opened the door; then she turned to face him. Looking up, she whispered, “I just don’t know how I can stand it, Luke!”

Luke put his arms around her and held her for a moment. She leaned against him, surrendering almost her whole weight, and he whispered, “It’s hard, but he was a Christian, and we will see him again.”

****

Ruby French looked up from the ledger, laid her pen down, and flexed her fingers. Her eyes went to Jenny, who was standing by the window gazing out.

“You’ve been staring out that window for thirty minutes, Jenny. What’s wrong? What do you see out there that’s so important?”

“Oh, nothing. I guess I’m just too lazy to work.”

Ruby studied her boss thoughtfully. Picking up the pen, she tapped the end of it on the desk and glanced at Billy Moon, who was standing at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. Their eyes met for a moment, and Moon’s obsidian eyes seemed to send a message. They both understood that this was not the same young woman who had come into the office with such high hopes.

Jennifer turned and saw the two looking at her. She lifted her chin and said, “I think I’ll take a run down to the Williamson place.”

“You want me to go with you?” Billy asked.

“No, somebody painted a few ugly words on their barn. Probably just kids. I can handle it alone. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

Moon turned and watched Jenny as she put her hat squarely on her head and left. When the door shut, he sipped the coffee and turned to face Ruby. “She’s taken Kermit’s death hard.”

“Sure has. She’s not tough enough for this kind of work.”

Moon nodded, then came over and sat down across from Ruby. “You took it pretty hard yourself.”

Ruby was surprised at the statement. She had always considered herself strong enough to handle anything, and somehow his remark seemed to question her inner toughness. “Guess I’m handling it as well as anybody else . . . except his family.”

“No offense.”

Moon’s answer did not satisfy Ruby. She was a fiercely independent young woman, and now she faced the deputy and insisted, “I’m fine.”

Moon put both his hands flat on the desk and pressed against it. He had rather small hands for a man his size, but they were thick, and Ruby knew that he had a grip like
a vise. He could take Coca-Cola caps between his thumb and the tip of his forefinger and squeeze them until they doubled up. She did not know any other man who could do that. There was a strength and solidness to him that most men lacked, so that even when he stood beside larger men, he seemed somehow more substantial. “You’ve been down yourself, Ruby. I’ve noticed it.”

“Well, Kermit was a good guy.”