One Man's Calling : One Man's Calling, ch 52 by Wayne Fowler |
In the last part Ben and Angelo are joined by James Coley of the Creede, Colorado days. Two of the Colosimo gang are shanghaied. Ben refuses to accept an army of defenders. Ben was offered total release if he would leave San Francisco and call off D.L. Moody’s meetings. He refused. REV MOODY STOP SATAN ACTIVE IN SF STOP I AM CHARGED WITH MURDER STOP MEETINGS UP TO YOU STOP Moody’s reply to Ben’s telegram was prompt. BRO PERSONS STOP FEAR NOT PHAROAH NOR BAAL STOP ONLY FEAR VANITY AND PRIDE STOP PRAYING NIGHT AND DAY STOP James Coley sent his own telegram – to Creede, Colorado. LIVVY FERLONSON STOP CLABBER CREEK IN SAN FRAN STOP SEND JONES TO HALLECK LAW FIRM WITH INTRO LETTER STOP James didn’t wait for a reply. +++ “Well, that answers that. I’ll save that for the next alliance meeting,” Ben told James and Angelo, speaking of Dwight Moody’s willingness to proceed with the Awakening meetings. “What do you men think about a view of the city? We can trolley up to Telegraph Hill. It’s a short climb from there.” “Game,” Angelo said. James nodded. It was on Bay Street at the Embarcadero where the three hopped aboard a trolley. Almost immediately on the other side of the street there was a hideous scream as if someone was being tortured. “STOP!” several people shouted to the driver. “Call for Fire and Rescue!” As the three expected, wary of coincidences, the victim was one of the Colosimo men. In his attempt to follow the three, he missed the trolley step, catching his foot on the rail in front of the trolley car. The momentum and pressure of the car’s wheel somehow forced his entire foot into a crevice only a couple inches wide. One man tried to extract it, but only succeeded in the Chicago gang member’s louder screams. His partner looked on in horror, deathly white. Angelo saw him and helped him to a seated position. “James! Pray for him, for his soul,” Ben directed. “There’s too much blood.” James did, asking the man first if he was saved, whether he believed in Jesus. Ben dashed through the crowd to a corner hardware store. In only a moment Ben returned with an ax. “Friend, you’re going to die if we don’t get you loose. If I don’t take off your foot, you will die.” The man, then only whimpering, nodded agreement. James held the man’s upper body still while another bystander pulled off his belt and made a tourniquet below the knee. Within a second Ben raised up and came down with the ax, cleanly severing the foot. Several men then picked him up to place him in a Fire and Rescue wagon that had been staged at the Embarcadero. The three turned to face the lone gang member who though still pale, was at least sitting up. “Dón wan none a’ this. Would you give money to get out. Maybe Los Angeles?” The man trembled at the last. Ben withdrew a twenty-dollar gold piece from his watch pocket. “You boys don’t mind a side trip to the train station, do you?” Seeing their grins, Ben offered to escort the man. Angelo held up three fingers mouthing “only three more”. +++ “I see how you do it,” James said. “Short, simple. Plant the seed. No theology, no doctrine, just Christ.” Ben smiled at James, clapping him on the back. “Course it depends on how far your voice can travel, and how much noise around you, but if you can get your message out from the time a person gets within range to when they leave, if they slow down at all, or stop even better yet. If you get a crowd to hang around, well then, you expound a bit, maybe even get the salvation message out a couple different ways. And nobody’s gonna complain if you stop midsentence to witness or pray with someone.” James focused on the space between himself and the ground, thinking. “And if you can get a helper to pass out tracts, or flyers, more the better.” Angelo had been listening, content to stay out, but finally felt compelled to jump into the conversation. “But you have to be real. People can feel phony. Somebody just wants to be on a box, rake in some coins. Or the kind’s more interested in scarin’ folks outta hell than lovin’ people into heaven.” James looked at Angelo. “Angelo, God has plans for you. He does.” James, waxing even more serious, studied Ben for a moment. “The last time I saw you, you were a physical nightmare, a damaged man. And then you were dead. But now…” “Raised in the newness of life. God has blessed me.” Both James and Angelo nodded agreement. Changing their minds about sightseeing, a short time later they arrived at Ben’s apartment. “We could go to a hotel, but there’s a strong chance we’d be spotted, more than likely by a policeman. Or somebody would tip off the police,” Angelo said. “And we only have three sides to guard here. Nobody’s gonna set fire to the long end of this building.” “And we know how to guard this place.” “Only tonight, I take a shift,” Ben said. “We’re in this together.” They spent the better part of the evening filling as many buckets and tubs with water as they could find or borrow containers. +++ James took turns with Ben on the soap box set on a street corner farther to the south, a distance from Ben’s normal travels. At first James was nervous, failing to draw any attention at all. Ben simply took his place and delivered simple messages, about twenty or thirty minutes at a time. James got appreciably better on his third attempt, less self-conscious. “What made the difference?” Ben asked. James knew what he was talking about. “I started seeing them as lost souls, not people that I didn’t care about.” After a moment, he added, “And made it more simple: lost and empty – Jesus sacrifice out of love – eternal life.” “I could see the different reactions,” Ben said. “People began to cock their heads and look. Some of them might look at the church they pass near their homes. Some of them might one day venture inside. And if you preach all day, a few might even look at you with eyes asking you to help them.” James nodded understanding. They met up with Angelo on their way home. He’d been busy with the local police department. “Don’t look good. Only found two of the dozens I spoke with who had anything good to say about you. Some even went so far as to come right out and say that you cost them money!” Ben smiled. At the entry to the piano and voice studio stood a burly, bearded Jones from Creede. Ben ran the last few paces to greet him, the two joined in a hug. After introducing Angelo, and bringing Jones up to speed, the four worked out a much easier guard schedule. The next morning before they headed out for the day, James held up his hand, indicating he wanted to speak. “Ben, we need to decide something. Sometime or other, Angelo and I will have to go back home, to go back to work.” James again held up his hand, holding Angelo back. “And the Colosimo gang is down to three. Why don’t we pick a safe place and meet them?” “Like the old days?” Ben asked, a grin on his face. “Sorta.” “Them boys carry little .32s like what that one we put on the train,” Angelo said. “And knives.” Jones waved his hand dismissively. Holding James back with his own hand, Ben spoke, “First of all, I’m up for murder. These policemen, as Angelo already told us, will stop at nothing to charge you three. And second, we have Moody and Billy Sunday coming to preach a set of meetings. How could a shootout help with that? And I don’t care as much about this, but third, I’m only out of jail on bond.” No one had an answer. Jones made a series of grunts, culminating with his finger pointing at Ben, his other hand making a knife cut across his throat. James made the unnecessary interpretation: “How will it go for Ben Persons, the city’s renowned spiritual awakening leader, to have been slain in the street?” Jones nodded with gross exaggeration. Ben was in obvious thought. A few hours later Ben was of a different mind regarding the Colosimo gang. “Angelo, set it up. We’ll find an abandoned pier area, one not being used, away from where so many innocent bystanders might be. Then you get word to the Chicago boys through a policeman. Now, the reason I’m agreeing is that we have to keep the public out of my … our little problem. And one more thing: no weapons – no guns, no knives, not even a blackjack sap or a lead pipe. And make it no sooner than two days’ time.” “Angelo popped his hand up. “Can we wear gloves?” Ben smiled. “Yes, we can wear gloves.” Angelo knew how much more powerful a gloved hand could hit, especially with a pouch of shot in the fist. Apparently, James did as well by his smile and nod. “Oh, and one more thing, we don’t tell Henry. He’s an officer of the court.” “Uh, how we going to keep from being shot, though, Ben?” James’ question was well-received, every ear cocked for the answer. “We pray.” After a breath Ben asked, “Do you doubt?” No one answered. “I’ll pray. Now, what’s for supper?”
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Wayne Fowler
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