In the last part Ben learned that there was a contract out on his life, and then met the kingpin crime boss of Chicago.

“Hamburger sandwich? What’s that?” Ben asked the Lutheran pastor who was waiting for Ben to step down from his box at the Harrison Street Bridge.

“Come on. I’ll show you. On the way to the diner, the pastor, Michael Winslow, explained. “It’s a meat patty that’s already prepared. And they cook it while you wait. Only takes a minute. Then they put whatever you want on it. You can eat it walking down the walk. Only costs a nickel.”

“Fast food, huh?” Ben asked.

Once seated, Michael got down to business. “Ben, it’s about the people you send my way. They, well …”

Ben allowed the man time to put his thought together.

“They just don’t stay. Two, maybe three Sundays at most. Not one of the dozens … and dozens who came in.”

Ben was gratified that his ministry had that impact. God gave him nothing to say, so he didn’t.

“They sit there and listen, all right. No trouble, or anything, but then they’re gone. I don’t know what to do with them.

“What does God say when you pray about it?” Ben asked.

Michael didn’t respond.

“Let’s pray now. Here, take my hand.” Ben offered his hand on the restaurant table. Taking it as if about to touch a snake, Michael flinched at the touch. Ben gripped him as if holding on for dear life. “You start us off,” Ben said.

Stammering, Michael knew not to repeat one of his liturgical prayers, but didn’t have a clue how to proceed.

“Pastor Mike, let’s go to your church and you can sell me another of these … hamburger sandwiches.”

Michael just looked at him.

“Or maybe you could sell me a nice, saddle-broke gelding.”

After a moment Michael caught on. “I can’t sell what I don’t have.” He swallowed hard, pride a difficult chew.

“I don’t mean to be cruel, Michael, but why did you choose the ministry?”

“Hunh. I’m the eighth of eight. My oldest brother was heir to the farm. The next two apprenticed out. My next older brother, a cow kicked him in the head. He finally died when my mother stopped feeding him. The other one joined the Army. Haven’t heard from him in years. There were no others to enter the clergy, so that left me. See, every family needs at least one to become a pastor or priest, sort of as a guarantor for the family, understand?”

Ben nodded, a sadness covering his face. “Let’s walk,” Ben said, rising from the table, leaving a quarter for their meals. “I do my best praying while walking.”

A block down the street, Ben asked, “Michael, do you believe what you preach?”

A little too quickly, he responded. “Sure. I believe in God and that Jesus was his son.”

“And …”

“And the fall of man and sanctification and everything in between. Lutherans have a seminary.”

“Do you love your congregation, Michael?” Do you love people? Do you love Jesus?”

Instantly, Michael burst out bawling, sobbing, “I don’t even love myself!” he managed.

“Do you want to?”

Michael’s expression said yes.

“Let’s kneel. Right here, Michael. We don’t need to worry about anyone else,” Ben added as people gave them wide birth.

“Jesus,” Ben began, “please forgive us our sins of apathy and ambivalence.”

Ben laid his hand on Michael’s head. Immediately Michael began in a near shout, “Oh, oh, oh. Jesus. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Nearly incoherent, Michael continued with expressions of sorrow mixed with gratitude and praise.  

“Fill him with your Holy Spirit, Father,” Again Ben touched Michael’s head. Michael fell over sideways as if dead.

Ben smiled at the passers-by, telling them that all was well. Michael was just praying.

+++

Mrs. Koska had a message to give Ben. She couldn’t wait for Ben to come down to breakfast. Knocking on his door as early as she felt comfortable, Ben answered, fearing the house was on fire. “You are to be at your A.M.E church at six, Ben. Your policeman gave me the message last night after you went to bed. He begged me to let you have your rest.”

Ben thanked her, saying that he would have but a piece of bread and a quick cup of coffee for breakfast and then be about his day.

Ben was there just ahead of Angelo. Seeing him approach, Ben ducked into the cellar, figuring Angelo didn’t wish to be seen talking to him. Angelo was there with Ben a moment later.

“Ben, I’m glad you made it. The good news is that the bounty for your head cancelled. The bad news is that Diamond Jim still wants your … butt. His contract of five hundred dollars is just for your capture so he can have you beaten.

“The worse news, though, is Mushmouth. He wants you worse than Big Jim does. Word is, he had a terrifying dream about you. If you are killed horrible things will happen to him. So he put a thousand dollars for you to be captured and brought to him. I don’t know how true it is, but I heard he wants to break your legs and throw you into a west-bound cattle car.”

Ben thought of the irony. “Thank you, my friend. It sounds like another day of fasting and prayer. And right here is as good a place as any.”

“Ben, ask God if maybe Detroit, or Philadelphia could use a good street preacher?”

Ben smiled and bid Angelo to go, again thanking him.

+++

“Mr. Persons, I cherish the moment you set foot on our grounds.” The principal of Tony’s school welcomed Ben with open arms, ecstatic over the concept of a ‘counselor’. “Like Jesus promised a counselor,” he exclaimed. “Monday and Tuesday afternoons, is it? Fabulous! And a baseball club, too. Oh, and I want to tell you, Tony is like a different person. His attitude toward others is nothing less than, than Christ-like!”

Ben didn’t ask, but assumed the man had seen Tony helping him preach on street corners.

“This was first a Presbyterian school. They gave it to the city when public schools started, oh, decades ago.

“I was you, I’d pass on the Roosevelt Road school. He’s, well, let’s just say I think you’ll be more favorably received at the school on Racine.”

At that, Ben was on his way to a call to preach at a particular corner, confident that God had someone there who needed to hear his word.