In the last part Beth becomes pregnant. She continues nursing Ben into eternity. Ben was seeing events of his life, telling them to Beth as they came across his consciousness.

^^^^^^^^^^

“Angelo helped us both escape Diamond Jim. With him dead, Angelo can be his own man. Did you know that he was La Lama, the Blade? He would have cut me up, but God spared me,” Ben said.

Beth held back a sob, wishing God would do it again, but sensing that it was not to be.

“And Antonio… you would love him. Tony Bertelli. God has plans for that boy. You ever get to Chicago you should look him up: 511 South Morgan Street.

“And there was a boy on a ship outside of San Pedro. I don’t know anything about him, or even the ship he was on. But I felt him in my soul. He was silently calling for help. I remember praying and seeing through his eyes. I guided him to the bulwarks and encouraged him to jump. The ship was about a half mile from shore and, of course, high tide.

“I was with him for every stroke in the sea. I urged him on. I sensed my arms in his all the way until he could stand.”

“Oh, Ben…” Beth didn’t hold back this time, imagining the scene of the little boy who would have probably suffered horribly on the ship, and would have drowned in the ocean but for Ben. She, for the first time, wondered whether she’d done the right thing taking Ben from God’s total devotion to His service.

“My greatest joy in life, though, was meeting you. I couldn’t wait to be married to you, Beth.”

He was looking into her eyes when she finally cleared them.

“It wasn’t that long of a wait… three minutes!”

They both laughed, Ben’s more of an excited groaning.

“Was another little boy. Real little, maybe four or five. San Francisco. I was street preaching. A woman let out a scream. She was looking at the back of a man who had her kid by the arm and was taking off at a run. No way I could catch him, so I shouted at the top of my voice, “Jesus name, STOP! By the time I got there, another woman was handing the kid to his mother. The kid thief had stopped and handed the kid to a woman who was just standing there. I don’t know if it was my prayer, or maybe that other woman was an angel.”

“Or both,” Beth said.

After another sleep, Ben told of a Colorado gunfight. “Wasn’t my first gunfight, that Soapy Smith thing.” Ben said out of the blue. “It was in Creede. I was a deputy sheriff. This fella wanted to draw on me. He went for his gun while I was walking toward him. I was getting closer and closer and his eyes were getting wider and wider. He wasn’t but eighteen or nineteen.”

“How old were you?” Beth asked.

Ben smiled, “’Bout the same, I guess. Anyway, I got right up to him and he was still trying to yank his gun out of his holster. I drew mine and bonked him right on top of his head. He didn’t pass out, but I had to steady him and walk him to the jail. The funny part was that when I took his gun out of his holster, it just slid out like it was greased.”

“God,” they both said at the same time.

+++

Ben didn’t awaken for several hours. Beth had two lengthy naps, though she hated the idea of being asleep when he needed something, or worse… when he passed on.

At one of Beth’s glances to him, she saw tears running down from his eyes to his ears. She wiped them and asked what it was that she could do.

“I’m sorry. I’ve asked God to forgive me. I was wrong.”

“Do you want to tell me?” Beth asked.

“The cause of the worst of my troubles. One little thing might have hurt my whole ministry, my calling.”

“In San Francisco, killing that Chicago man?” Beth asked.
Ben nodded.

“But he already had that, that, thing wrong, that sickness, you said.”

“Doesn’t matter. I kicked him, lashed out, when I should have just backed off. Or let them take me, and trust God. I didn’t. I took matters into my own hands. I trusted myself and not God. And the man died. At my hand.”

Beth might have said foot, but the moment didn’t call for cuteness.

“And then jail, conviction, prison, and escape to … this.”

“Ben, look at what God has done through you since. That Indian boy you told me about, and so many, many others you’ve helped and brought to Christ. What of them?”

Ben’s lips quivered.
“Ben, let’s do what you would do with anyone else. Let’s pray.” Beth led him in a prayer of contrition and genuine sorrow for crimes against God and man. She held nothing back, neither white-washing, nor sugar-coating Ben’s offense. Ben stumbled along with her, praying the prayer himself. Beth waited and let Ben say the amen when he was ready. It was several minutes of silence before Ben turned his head toward Beth, telling her “Thank you”.

Sometime later: “I had eight black women, prostitutes, in a wagon. An entire bordello wanted rescued.” Ben had taken a little nourishment and regaled Beth with the story. “It was all I could do to keep them hushed. About a mile up the road there was no quieting them. It was a wonder Diamond Jim didn’t hear them himself, probably three or four miles away. Eight liberated black women. You would have thought it was a praise the Lord camp meetin’. They went on all night… dogs barking, roosters crowing, people shouting. My Lord, that was a night! Took them to Babcock Grove.

“And then the A.M.E. preacher who supplied the team and blankets and food and all… when I brought the wagon back… “Whooie! Praise the Lawd! Praise the Lawd! Just like the underground railroad. Praise the Lawd!”

Beth joined Ben’s giddiness… until it weakened him.

“I took a whipping for helping a boy onboard the Superbia.”

“The ship was named Pride?”

“I guess. And then later when they wanted to whip me again, the crew lined up to take my lashes.” Ben closed his eyes, envisioning the scene.

“Like Jesus took stripes for us.” Beth didn’t try to prove an analogy.

+++

Billy, as well as others had been by to pay their respects from time-to-time. Beth thanked them, but ushered them along. Billy came once when Ben was alert.

“Was a bounty on Soapy’s head,” Billy said, handing Beth an envelope containing $750.

“You can’t lie to a dying man,” Ben said. “Bible, somewhere.” Ben tried to chuckle, but the effort hurt too bad. Billy chuckled, though.

“Caught me. It was a collection. Figured Beth’d be wanting to go back to California.”

“Figured right,” Ben said, adding that Billy was to thank everyone for him.

“And you can have the house and everything in it,” Beth said. “Build a church.”

Ben nodded.

+++

Ben was slow to rouse, groaning quite a bit as Beth washed his sweating forehead.

“Was a man outside Creede, was in a stage hold-up gang. I had a bead on him and could have dropped him a dozen times. Didn’t. He got saved, returned to God. Became a California pastor. He came back to help me put Salinger down.”

“Saved a slew of women. Found some of ‘em husbands.” Ben was partly delirious. Beth figured that he was indeed reliving scenes of his life.

Suddenly, Ben was alert. “There was a man, Jones. I didn’t do right by him. He was a bad man. Worked for Mason Salinger. He got shot in the head while I was trying to rescue Livvy.”

Beth wasn’t sure whether she’d heard this entire story, or not.

“That’s when I got shot in the chest.”

Beth knew the scar well.

“I woke up in an Indian village. Utes.” Ben smiled, “Every one of them accepted Jesus. I just hope a missionary got there one day to teach them. Next I saw Jones, he’d lost his speech from the gunshot but was totally dedicated to helping me. Then I left him thinking I was dead. And again, I left him in San Francisco when I went to prison. I feel real bad for him.”

“Ben, can you believe God for one more miracle?”

Ben nodded and started a prayer that Beth joined, praying for a miracle in the name of Jesus for Jones. Beth stopped as Ben continued. “And bless Beth, Lord Jesus. As I’ve thanked you for her every day, I pray your blessing on her and her son’s lives.”

Beth felt a jolt starting at the base of her spine, sending a tingle all the way to the base of her skull. “Benjamin Paul Persons,” she said, naming her son into Ben’s closing eyes as he took his last breath.

Beth did nothing with Ben’s corpse for a good little while, waiting to see if …