Authors: Al Lacy
Donna hugged her again, kissed her cheek, then drew back to look at her. “I know what you mean, sis, but believe me, I’m not going anywhere! We’ve so much catching up to do. You have to tell me what brought you here. Oh, I still can’t believe it’s happening! It’s going to take time for reality to set in.”
They embraced again, tears flowing.
At that moment, Don arrived, and Cody jumped down from the wagon. Don shook hands with Cody. “Cody, I’m Don Vaughn. Deena’s husband.”
Cody’s eyes widened. “You’re the new chaplain!”
“That’s right.”
“Well, praise the Lord! This is unbelievable!”
Don chuckled. “With God, all things are possible.”
The twins turned to their husbands, keeping an arm round each other. Donna said, “Oh, Cody, isn’t this marvelous?”
“It sure is, honey! All your prayers about Deena have now been answered!”
“And vice versa, Deena!” said Don.
“Yes!” Deena squealed. “Donna, this is my husband, Don Vaughn.”
Not having heard the words exchanged a moment ago between the two men, Donna gasped. “Vaughn? He’s—he’s—”
“The new chaplain,” Cody finished for her.
“Oh, praise the Lord! Deena, this is my husband, Cody Rogers.”
“We already know all about your missionary work,” said Deena. “And we both think it’s wonderful.”
The brothers-in-law embraced the sisters-in-law, and by that time, nearly everyone who was in the fort at that time joined them and shared the happy moment. Colonel Strasburg and Della were
especially elated to be in on the occasion. After a while, the people drifted off to their own quarters and various duties, a happy glow filling each heart over the reunion of the twins.
Holding her sister’s hand, Deena said, “We have a lot to talk about. How about you and Cody coming into our cabin? I’ll heat up some coffee.”
Don said, “Honey, you two go get the coffee hot while I help Cody unload the wagon.”
“Okay, but hurry. We want you in on all the catching up. You’re both big parts of all this, you know.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” Cody said.
The twins entered the Vaughn cabin, and Donna stopped just inside the door, her eyes roving from side to side. A smile beamed. “Deena, you’re not going to believe this, but our cabin is decorated almost identically to what I see.”
Deena smiled back. “Oh, I believe it. Our taste in everything always was pretty much the same.”
Donna followed her sister to the kitchen. As Deena stoked up the fire that was still smoldering from breakfast, Donna said, “Can I do something to help?”
“Not much to do at this point, honey. I’ll get the coffee heating here in a moment. Why don’t we just plan on you and Cody eating lunch with us? It’s almost ten o’clock. We’ll need the next two hours just to begin catching up.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The twins hugged each other again and were chatting happily when their husbands came in a short time later. They sat down at the table together with the coffee mugs steaming, and the next two hours were spent with Deena and Donna telling each other their stories. There was much joy as they told how and when they came to know the Lord, how they met their husbands, and how they ended up at Fort Apache.
All the while, both husbands and wives were shedding happy tears and rejoicing in the Lord and praising Him that the twins were together again.
In Los Angeles, twenty-one-year-old Ted Hansen, twenty-four-year-old Jerry Varnell, and twenty-year-old Clint Albright were preparing to found the orphanage of their dreams and construct a building.
The Dalbys were leading in the financing of the project, but also wanted to let the people of the community have a financial part in it.
In the first week of June, the Dalbys sponsored a large banquet in the Los Angeles city auditorium and hundreds of people were in attendance.
When the meal was finished, Marvin Dalby stood at the head table and introduced his three foster sons. He asked Ted, Jerry, and Clint to step up front and tell everyone of their desire to found the orphanage and when this desire began.
Jerry said, “Dad, Clint and I both feel that Teddy—ah, Ted— is the one with words. We’ll let him tell the story.”
Marvin smiled. “Well, I can’t argue with that. Ted, the floor is yours.”
Jerry and Clint took a step back and looked on as Ted began by pointing out that with the growth of Los Angeles and the surrounding southern California towns and cities, more and more children were ending up on the streets.
Ted then engaged Jerry and Clint in conversation in front of the crowd, and together they spoke of their fond memories of the Thirty-second Street Orphanage, which cared for them until they were placed on the orphan train.
Ted smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, it was while we were traveling
westward on the train that we began to talk about it, and we found that we each had a desire to one day provide a home for children with the same needs as ours. Our common desire molded us together in a special way, and from that moment on, we began to hope that the three of us would be chosen by families in the same area, so we could grow up together and realize our dream together. And what a blessing it was when the Dalbys chose all three of us and took us to their home.”
The crowd applauded.
Smiling, Ted went on. “There is no orphan train here, but we will do our best to care for the unfortunate children in southern California until they are adopted into good homes or until they grow up and are able to care for themselves.”
When Ted finished his speech, there was a standing ovation, and when he turned the floor back to his adoptive father, Marvin soon had the crowd taking out their checkbooks.
On Saturday morning, June 11, in Colorado Springs, rain was falling from heavy clouds as Priscilla Wheeler stood in her bedroom at the parsonage before breakfast and looked at her lovely chantilly-lace wedding gown, hanging ready and waiting in the closet.
“Oh, well,” she said while caressing the gown, “rain or shine, this is my wedding day, and nothing is going to spoil it.” She took a deep breath. “But it sure would help, Lord, if You would send the storm away.”
Shortly after noon, the rain stopped falling as the dark clouds lifted and began breaking up. Soon the Colorado sun shone down from a cobalt blue sky and only a few puffy clouds remained.
Priscilla thanked the Lord for the sunshine, and with her mother’s help, began preparing herself for that most special day.
At three o’clock that afternoon, the church auditorium was redolent with the sweet scent of lavender and white lilacs, and a soft gentle breeze wafted its way through the open windows.
Everyone stood when the pump organ began the wedding march and Pastor Dan Wheeler walked his lovely daughter down the aisle. Johnny Bostin waited at the foot of the platform, a nervous smile on his face. For a brief moment, he took his eyes off his approaching bride to look at his parents, who stood at the second pew on the right side of the aisle.
Sheriff Clay Bostin winked at him, and Mary blinked at her tears, giving him a smile. Standing on the other side of the aisle, Madelyne dabbed at her eyes and smiled at Johnny.
The pastor and his daughter drew up to Johnny, and after placing her hand in the hand of the groom, the pastor bent down and kissed her cheek. “I love you, princess.”
Priscilla’s eyes were misty. “I love you too, Daddy. You will always have your special place in my heart.”
Taking a deep breath to control his emotions, Pastor Dan Wheeler moved up onto the platform and turned around facing a smiling audience. He nodded to the bride and groom. Johnny helped Priscilla up the steps, and reaching the platform, they stood before the preacher, ready to take their vows.
A few days later, Sheriff Clay Bostin was walking down Main Street alone when he heard a loud argument going on inside the Rusty Gun Saloon. Suddenly shots were fired.
Tensing, the sheriff whipped out his gun and started toward
the saloon, but halted when two men with guns bolted out the door. Cocking the gun, he raised it and said sharply, “Stop right there! Drop those guns!”
One of them swung his revolver on the sheriff and dropped the hammer. The gun roared, and the bullet hissed past his ear. Clay fired, hitting the man dead-center in the chest. The second man swung his weapon on Bostin. Both of them squeezed their triggers at the same time. Flame blossomed from both muzzles.
Clay felt like a red-hot claw ripped at his upper right arm, and as the jolt knocked the gun from his hand, he saw the other man go down like a dead tree in a high wind. The thunder of the gun-shots echoed along the street, where wagons, buggies, and men on horseback were moving at a slow pace. People in the street and on the boardwalks looked on in shock.
Johnny and a deputy named Cade Gilman were half a block away and were running that direction full speed.
The sheriff gripped his wounded arm, and the whole world seemed to be spinning around him as his legs gave way, and he dropped into the dust of the street. He was vaguely aware of people crowding around him when he heard the voice of his son calling for someone to go get Dr. Hornsby. Johnny knelt beside him. “Dad! It’s me. Doc Hornsby will be here in a minute!”
Clay was barely conscious when the doctor arrived and knelt beside him. He took one look at the bleeding arm. “Johnny, you and Cade carry him down to my office. I’ve got to tend to this wound quickly.”
The lawman heard his son call to someone in the crowd named Jim and ask him to go to the Bostin house and advise his mother that his father had been shot.
While Johnny and Cade were carefully picking the sheriff up, the doctor went to the two men who lay in the dust and pronounced them dead, telling someone to go get the undertaker.
At his office, Dr. J. C. Hornsby quickly examined the sheriff’s wound as one of his nurses stood across the examining table from him. Johnny stood close by, his heart in his throat.
Hornsby turned to Johnny. “The slug severed several nerves and a main artery. There are bone chips here, too. I’ll operate at once and do what I can to save the arm, but it’s gonna be touch and go.”
“Do what you can, Doctor. I’ll be out here in the waiting room. Mom should be here soon.”
Johnny had been in the waiting room less than ten minutes when his mother came through the door, her face sheet white. “Oh, Johnny! What—how’s he—”
He folded her into his arms. “It’s his right arm, Mom. Dr. Hornsby is doing surgery right now. It’s not life-threatening.”
“That’s what Jim said, honey. I guess I’m so worried about what it could have been, and that’s certainly not trusting the Lord, is it? Shame on me.”
Johnny squeezed her tight. “Mom, it’s okay. God understands that we’re mortals. He knows we don’t always react to emergencies like we should.”
Mary eased back in his arms and looked up at him. “You’re a good son, Johnny Bostin. I’m so thankful God gave you to us.”
“Me too, Mom,” Johnny replied softly.
Deputy Cade Gilman had gone to the sheriff’s office to advise the other deputies that the sheriff had been shot. Johnny and his mother were just sitting down when they came in. Johnny advised them that his father was in surgery, but he didn’t know the extent of the damage. Realizing they had to be busy at their jobs, Johnny told them he’d let them know how it turned out.
Almost two hours later, the doctor entered the waiting room, where Mary and her son had been praying, and they both noted the frown on his brow.
Both of them rose to their feet. Mary swallowed hard. “What’s wrong, Doctor?”
Johnny’s strong arm gripped her shoulders in support.
Dr. Hornsby rubbed the back of his neck. “Clay’s all right, Mary. I was able to save the arm, but—well, he’ll never be able to use a gun again. I’m sorry. I did everything I could.”
Johnny licked his lips. “You mean Dad will have to resign as sheriff.”
“Right. There’s no way he can use that gun arm again.”
There was dead silence for a moment, then Mary sniffed as she tried in vain to stem the tears. Johnny held her tight against him. “I hate to hear this too, Mom, but it could have been a lot worse.”
“Of course, son. He could have been killed. Is he awake yet, Doctor?”
“He’s coming out of it.”
“May I see him?”
“Let’s give it an hour, then he’ll be able to talk to you.”
An hour later, Johnny guided his mother into the small room where Clay had been placed on a bed. He rolled his head and even managed a weak smile. The doctor was standing beside the bed.
Johnny moved up to the bed on the opposite side, staying at his mother’s side.
Mary bent down and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Dr. Hornsby said he told you about the arm … that you’d never—”
“Yes. It’s all right, darlin’. The Lord has given me peace about it. I’ve had many good years doing the job I loved, now God must have something else for me to do. He’ll show us.”
Mary and Johnny talked to him for a few minutes, then the
doctor advised that they leave and let him rest.
Clay was getting drowsy from the laudanum Dr. Hornsby had given him. He took hold of Mary’s hand. “Don’t you worry. Everything will be all right.”
Johnny told his father he would check on him later. Mary kissed his cheek again, and the doctor walked out of the room with them.
In the hall, Dr. Hornsby said, “Mary, he’s quite a man, that husband of yours.”
“Indeed he is, Doctor. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know
who
holds the future, and we can’t be in better hands.”
A week later, an election was held, and the people of El Paso County—having the utmost confidence in Johnny Bostin—elected him as their sheriff.
He was sworn in the next day in a public ceremony. Priscilla was at his side, her face glowing with pride for her husband. Clay was close by, with Mary at his side. The parents were feeling the same kind of pride as their daughter-in-law.
Johnny Bostin had been sheriff of El Paso County for nearly three weeks when one day a lone rider came into Colorado Springs and dismounted where he saw a pair of older men sitting on a bench in front of the general store.
He approached them, smiled, and said, “I wonder if you gentlemen could give me some information.”