General Fiction posted January 29, 2025 | Chapters: |
...21 22 -23- 24... ![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
A shotgun? Not until God tells us to.
A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons
BenPaul Persons, ch 23
by Wayne Fowler
![](https://www.fanstory.com/usr/919652/Ohmie_train2.jpeg)
In the last part Ben Paul and Sylvia arrived in Juneau to see the area where Ben Persons shot Soapy Smith, and was shot himself. Reaching Skagway by ferry, they then rode a tourist train up the mountain and into Canada. Ben Paul saw and felt something amiss regarding a man and a woman. The woman is missing and presumed dead. The man is the suspect.
Chapter 23
Ben Paul added that the place where they’d seen the man with the blood on his shoe was just before the curving train trestle. He remembered looking over the expanse as they walked back to their seats.
Since most of the train’s occupants had been cruise ship tourists, the deputy, as well as his sheriff, were extremely grateful for en Paul's assistance. They would send a couple of trackers, one to start at the top, the other at the bottom of the gorge.
“Deputy Doright… uh sorry.” The sheriff glanced at his deputy, chagrinned at his public faux pas. “Deputy Dorsey is new to the country up here.”
Deputy Dorsey grimaced, wondering how many years it would take to be accepted.
“He didn’t recognize your name… Persons.”
Deputy Dorsey then did, gasping. “Ben Persons?” His tone admitted astonishment.
“He was my father,” Ben Paul said.
Sylvia stood a bit taller.
“Have you been to the…”
Before the sheriff finished asking whether they’d been to Ben Persons’ grave, Ben Paul said no, they had not, closing his eyes as he did, the sheriff understood. “It’s only a quarter mile, or so, but the road really isn’t suited for walking. Too narrow for vehicles and pedestrians. And the ditch is soppy. Would you let me drive you? You can take all the time you’d like.” His sincerity was true.
Before Ben Paul could reply, Sylvia did. “That would be very kind of you Sheriff. But could we take you up on that this afternoon?”
Ben Paul nodded agreement as the sheriff said, “Sure, whoever is here… me or Deputy Dorsey.”
“You warm enough?” Ben Paul asked after leaving the Sheriff’s Office.
“Fine.”
“Let’s walk that footbridge I saw on the map, the one across the bay,” Ben Paul suggested.
“Sorry, folks. Couldn’t help but overhear. Would you let me drive you over that way. I’m going to the seaplane office. That’s right there.” Deputy Dorsey got out and opened the back door of his Jeep Wagoneer.
Sylvia accepted for them, grateful for the ride. “I don’t know how long you’ll be, of course, but when we finish here, we’re going toward Third and Main. Third and Main, right dear?” Sylvia confirmed with Ben Paul, Third Street being where Ben Paul remembered his mother had told him their cabin stood.
“I’ll look for you,” the deputy promised. And he did, waiting for them as they returned from the opposite side of the bay. He told them that his investigation of the bloody shoe man was unsuccessful and that they should keep an eye out since he might feel Ben Paul and Sylvia to be threats. He added that their radio call to the departing cruise ship was unfruitful since all their passengers had returned to the ship.
“Ever hear what became of Billy Moore?” Ben Paul asked.
“They’re planning a bridge to be named after him across the Captain Moore Creek Gorge. I guess he was a big deal up here.”
Ben Paul nodded. “We’ll walk to the hotel from here. Thank you for your kindness.”
“My pleasure,” he replied.
“Cabin was probably right around here somewhere,” Ben Paul said to Sylvia after Deputy Dorsey left. “The streets might even all be different now, who knows.”
Sylvia nodded and took his hand. Ben Paul told her the story of his conception in the cabin before his father’s death. “He was a fabulous human being, Ben Paul. And you are, too. I’m so very glad you came to Creede. I can’t even imagine life without you. Your mother must have been devastated, but comforted knowing that God was giving you to her.”
Ben Paul drew her close, smelling the train’s scent in her hair. “He had a Bowie knife in a black leather sheath,” Ben Paul said. “I should add that to my statement.”
“You can do that after lunch when we go back to the Sheriff’s Office.”
Ben Paul nodded as they began to walk toward Main Street.
“It’s odd,” Sylvia said. “The air isn’t thin like in the Rockies, but somehow this doesn’t seem like sea level. I mean, we’re way up here toward the North Pole. I feel like we should be at, I don’t know, 10,000 feet elevation according to a globe, but there’s sea level right there.” She pointed to the bay.
Ben Paul chuckled.
“Seems like I should have gained a thousand pounds, all the eating we do,” Sylvia said.
“Well, you still fit your clothes nicely,” Ben Paul said with a grin.
Sylvia swatted at him, grinning.
+++
For lunch, they feasted on roasted bear stew. Ben Paul ordered a beaver tail side dish, a local delicacy that Sylvia passed on.
“Thank you, Sheriff. ‘Preciate the ride.” Ben Paul and Sylvia thought nothing about the sheriff’s departing as he drove on after letting them out.
It was a small cemetery and easy to find both Ben Persons, though the etching was faint, and also a stone marked Randolf (Soapy) Smith.
“Wonder why they brought him back to Skagway?” Sylvia wondered.
Ben Paul remained unanswering in front of his father’s grave. After a moment, he said, “Less than thirty years old, but he did so much. Wish I could have met him.”
“I have met him, Ben Paul. Everything you’ve told me about him, I see in you. Who I wish I’d met is your mother. She had to be something to have been a match for such a great human being.”
“As are you, my dear, dear Sylvie.”
They kissed.
“You know, Sylvie. His bones, what’s left of them, are down there. But I have no sense of… He’s not here.”
“Pretty sure I know where he is, my darling man,” Sylvia responded.
As they turned toward town, a man who’d been sitting in a car got out and cut an intercepting angle. Ben Paul shifted, placing himself between the stranger and Sylvia.
“Ben Persons?” the man asked, stretching out his hand. “I’m Pastor Eugene Helmsley from the Presbyterian Church.”
They greeted one another as Helmsley explained. “Sheriff Owens called me. Asked if I’d care to meet you all out here and drive you back to town. I sure would, I told him.”
Helmsley was only twenty-four years old. He was from Wisconsin, and accepted the position offered by the denomination right out of seminary. He had a hundred and six members, but only 25-30 who attended with any regularity.
Yes, Ben Paul and Sylvia would stay in town a few more days in order to preach on Sunday.
She admitted later that she shouldn’t have been, but Sylvia was continually amazed at how God worked in Ben Paul’s life.
+++
“Oh, Mr. Persons?” the lady at the hotel counter said. “Someone was asking for you. I didn’t tell them your room number. He said he’d be back.”
“What did he look like?” Ben Paul asked, figuring he might be the bloody shoe man.
“Average, I guess. Dressed like every… No, he wore gray cotton pants. Too cold for those up here. Nobody even sells them.”
“Listen,” Ben Paul said. “Would you mind calling the sheriff and telling him what you know about him? I’d appreciate it. Oh, did he act like he knew we were staying here, or was he asking?”
“Oh, he knew, he just came right out and asked what room you were staying in.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
Sylvia knew to hold her words until they were locked inside their room. “Should we change hotels?”
“I don’t think it would help. As small as Skagway is, he’d learn where we were in no time. And this one is probably more public.”
“Should we buy a shotgun?” The question was only half in jest.
Ben Paul gave it proper consideration. “Not until God tells us to.”
Sylvia nodded. “Well, we can’t just hole up in here until Sunday.” She sorted through the stack of brochures until she found the ferry schedule. “Tuesday. Next Tuesday is the earliest we can catch the ferry back to Juneau.”
“What we can do, is first see if there isn’t a back door we can use on occasion. Other than that, make sure we’re in a crowd of people when we come and go. Worst case, we ask Deputy Dorsey to see us to wherever we need to go.”
Sylvia nodded along with Ben Paul’s suggestions. “We’ll need laundry, and soon. We could also see if there isn’t some kind of thrift shop. I would guess a number of people don’t last the dark winter, leaving good clothes behind. Good money to be made there. A person could make a living at it.”
photo my own
Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Billy Moore: retired ship captain who developed Skagway
Soapy Smith: Jefferson Randolf Smith was killed by Frank H. Reid. Killed by Ben Persons in this story
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams Persons: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Goldman/Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Billy Moore: retired ship captain who developed Skagway
Soapy Smith: Jefferson Randolf Smith was killed by Frank H. Reid. Killed by Ben Persons in this story
![Save To Your Bookcase To Read Later Save to Bookcase](images/btnBookCase.gif)
![Get Reviews For This Work Promote This](images/btnPromoteThis2.gif)
![Share or Bookmark](images/btnShr2.gif)
![Print The Entire Book Print It](images/btnPrintBook2.gif)
![Print This Page Print It](images/btnPrintPage2.gif)
![View Reviews For This Work View Reviews](images/btnViewRatings.gif)
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2025. Wayne Fowler All rights reserved.
Wayne Fowler has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.