In the last part Ben had a ‘near death experience’ where he met his natural father in heaven. Ben chose to return to earth and continue his calling, though he understood that it would change, sending him to Chicago by way of Pueblo. A clandestine meeting in Creede allowed him to say good-byes.

“Hey, you’re here!”

Ben looked around, sensing the shout was for him. He’d just arrived in Pueblo, Colorado. Without even looking for a long-awaited meal, he wandered toward the cattle pens, crossing several tracks at the trainyard to get there.

Seeing a man waving what appeared to be a rail employee’s hat, Ben approached.

“You ready to work? Got your tummy full? Been lookin’ for you for an hour. Get these critters in these stockcars. Twelve in each. I’ll send the boys over to help. You just make sure there’s a dozen ‘cause they’ll want to turn crossways an’ then you can’t fit ‘em in. Twelve, not ten or eleven!

Load every car from here to the… well, on this track. Then we drag these out and load the cars on the next track over. Yer boss has been here twice so I wouldn’t dawdle none. Said he’d fire you.”

“Then let’s get after it,” Ben said as he began to open a gate between himself and the stock cars. Ben's total bewilderment was stayed by his trust in God, wondering what was happening, but delighted to watch God work.

“The boys’ll do all that. You just have to get twelve in each car, packed in tight.” At that, the man left. Within minutes three young men started moving cattle his way. One hopped onto the side of the first car and lowered a ramp.

Ben was embarrassed at first, trying to figure out how to load the front and the back of the car, leaving room in the middle at the ramp for the last two. Finally satisfied, he began to raise the ramp.

“My job, mate,” one of the young men yelled. “You make them think they don’t need me, they’ll let me go. See? ‘Sides, you need to be down there ahead of these steers. See, they’ll get past ya, mate.”

Ben scampered to get the second car loaded with twelve, not eleven, steers and cows. He’d figured out an efficient method, but by the time he got to the last car in the string, he was exhausted and famished.

“So, they fired me?”

Ben looked at a man who could be his twin as he walked up. “Not as far as I know. My name’s Ben.” He stuck out his, meeting the strangers for a solid shake. “I see now why he spoke to me like he did. He thought I was you.”

The man started laughing. “You are right handsome!”

Ben laughed along with him.

“C’mon, let’s get this car loaded before they drag it out from under our feet. Name’s Hank.”

“Ben.”

Hank signaled with his hat for the yard engineer to move the string of loaded cars. As they walked around the back of the last car, headed for the first in the next string, Hank asked Ben, “So, you wantin’ this job? That it?”

“No, Hank. I’m just following God’s lead. He sent me here.”

“Well, Ben. I believe you. My son’s fourteen. He ran off last night. He’d been talkin’ about a gang he wanted to join. Took me all morning to find him, and then hours to talk him into comin’ back home with me. Promised him I’d try to get him on with the railroad when he was sixteen, or sign him into the Army, whichever way he wanted to go.

“I don’t know, though … You got kids?”

“Fourteen?” Ben asked, having done the math with respect to the son's age.

“My wife’s by … well, my wife’s. But I love him. He’s just havin’ a rough spell just now. I don’t know what I’d a done without you fillin’ in for me.” Nearing the stock car that was next to load, Hank said, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Thank God. He arranged it some time back.”

“Every day. Every day, I thank God. Look. Go to 610 Maple Street. It’s off Main. Tell Florence you’re hungry. She’ll know you. She’s that way with people. She’ll show you where to clean up and have a plate by the time you are. I’ll be along about suppertime. Maybe a little late today, though.”

They once again shook hands and Ben made his way to Hank and Florence’s home.

+++

“Hello, Florence? I’m sorry to be so, so familiar, but Hank never told me your last names. I’m Ben Persons.” Not wearing a hat, Ben brought his hand to his eyebrow and performed a small bow.

“Well, I de-clare! If was a little darker out, I would open the door and kiss your cheek believing you were my Hank. Come in. Come in.

“So, you’ve met Hank?”

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs.?”

“Florence. And this is Bobby, Robert.” Facing her son, Florence admonished him to stand and shake Ben’s hand.

“Are you Hank’s long lost brother, or somethin’?” Bobby asked.

“Not as far as I know. Y’all from Arkansas by any chance?”

“Illinois,” Florence replied, “but the kids were born here. Deborah is in school.” Florence couldn’t help herself from shooting a glance to Bobby, quickly returning to Ben. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. Bobby? Would you please show Mr. Persons where he can clean up? Thank you, dear.”

Bobby began walking toward the back of the house.

“Bobby?” Florence chastised.

“This way, Mr. Persons,” Bobby said with a certain sheepishness, having been admonished.

After pointing to the backyard well, Bobby declared, “Hank ain’t my pa. My father was a drunk half-breed. Makes me a half-breed, quarter, anyways.”

Ben stopped and turned to Bobby who was about to dash back into the house. “Bobby!” Ben didn’t shout, but he used his previous deputy voice, commanding obedience.

Gaining Bobby’s attention, Ben softened his voice and demeanor. “Do you believe Hank loves you?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I guess.”

“You know, you aren’t the only person raised by a man that wasn’t his father.”

“You?”

“Well, yes, after mine was killed in the war. But more’n that, Jesus was raised by a man not his father. Not even close. You know who Jesus is, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve been to Sunday School.”

“And something else. Jesus wasn’t white, either. Most likely about the same color as you. Dark hair, dark eyes, All of it.”

“He was an Indian?”

“No, but like an Egyptian.” Not knowing Bobby’s understanding of world geography or cultures, he though Egypt close enough. “From that region.”

“Hummmf,” was all Bobby said.

“Bobby? You think you could find me some soap?” Ben grinned his friendliest smile.

“Sure!” Bobby hopped off, his attitude improved.

“Mr. Persons,” Bobby said, returning with a chunk of soap. “You sure do look like my da… Hank.”

“I’m thinking it would be all right to call him dad, Bobby. It’s a sign of respect. Bobby, your dad loves Jesus. And he loves you. I know it.”

Bobby turned to leave, but wheeled back. “Thank you, sir.”

Later at the table, the evening meal finished, Ben explained his presence, describing his calling, and how it led him to the stockyard.

“Praise God,” Florence and Hank said in unison, the two laughing together.

“’Cause I sure need this job. Not sure what, come winter though.” Hank and Florence exchanged somber glances to one another.

“Oh?” Ben asked.

“Hurt my back last winter. Scraped by ‘til I got on with Union Pacific.”

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“Aww, wasn’t no injury, really, it just kinda quit on me. I couldn’t get up one day. It was a time.” Hank shook his head, recalling his agony. "Anyway, I lost my timber job and … still, some days…”

Ben held up his hand, silencing Hank. “Would it be all right if I prayed for you, laid hands on you and prayed for your back?”

Neither Hank nor Florence had ever before heard of such, but nervously agreed.

Looking to Bobby, Ben asked him, “Bobby, would you like Jesus to heal Hank’s back? Do you think Jesus would heal a white man’s pain?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Come on, Bobby, Florence, and you too, Deborah,” Ben added, making room for Florence and Deborah to gather around Hank. “Now everybody lay a hand on Dad.” Once everyone had their purchase, Ben touched Hank on the top of his head saying “Jesus.”

Instantly, Hank bounced upward, not much, but his flinch was noticed by each one.

“Did you feel that, Daddy?” Deborah asked excitedly. “You sparked, like lightning!”

Tears flowed down both Hank’s and Florence’s faces.

Everyone backed up as Hank began to scoot his chair from the table. Bending from the waist, he reached down and touched his toes, shouting “Glory, glory, glory” as he smoothly stood back up, raising his hands toward heaven.

Ben watched joyously as the family hugged together, laughing and crying.

Finally, Bobby approached Hank. The others, sensing a solemn moment, gave him space. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll try to do better. Thanks for coming to get me today.”

Jubilation again filled the room as Ben quietly crept out the back door on his way to Chicago.