The Angels Are in Wyoming: The Soothers

By G. David Redding

As Jack Samson rides into the small Wyoming town of Grigsby one wintery morning, he does not know what lies in store for him. All he does know is that announcing his arrival with gunfire, and soon after, beating the local drunkeven if it is to protect a childmakes for a bad first impression. But then the towns suspicions of him are not completely unfounded; after all, he is running from the law.

Still, a few locals give their visitor the shadow of a doubt: Pastor James Worthingson, for one, and the beautiful widowed innkeeper, Virginia White, along with her mother and daughter. These angels see through the moody, mysterious exterior of this dark stranger, to find that Samson is merely a bitter soul in need of Gods love. These allies enlist the help of select localsthe blacksmith, who offers Samson work, but more importantly, the church, which offers him direction. Meanwhile, Virginia and Jack find themselves falling for each other, and it isnt long before Samson feels hes on the up-and-up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781490893099

G. David Redding

G. David Redding graduated from Georgetown College in 1970 and taught French for ten years before being called into ministry. He then attended Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, graduating in December 1986 and moving to South Carolina the following summer. Since then, he has pastored various churches and has done chaplaincy work with the South Carolina Department of Mental Health in Columbia, where he lives with his wife Daphne, who is a chaplain with the South Carolina Department of Mental Health. As a young boy, Redding travelled extensively throughout the West. In 1967 and 1968, he lived in Nigeria with his missionary father, and his return trip took him through Europe and the Holy Land.

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Copyright © 2016 G. David Redding.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-9308-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-9309-9 (e)

WestBow Press rev. date: 01/28/2016

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About David Redding

A Synopsis of The Angels Are in Wyoming

To Daphne, who has been my mainstay.

Preface

Two points are becoming more adhesive to my mind as time passes. First of all, as I see it, more all the time we live in a world which is in greater need of salvation than ever before: I will not get carried away on that point, but I do firmly believe it. Also, at the same time I believe that there are those who need to be reached out to in Christian love, bitter people, unhappy, mad at the world, and thus in strong need of being shown God's love and care. Having been an ordained minister for a little more than twenty-three years, I become more aware of, and sensitive to, both of these facts.

The Christian life is what brings the greatest amount of joy to anyone. But can a person ever come to believe this if no one presents the Lord to him? I don't think so.

In this book I am combining two of my favorite interests: Christianity and the Old West. I grew up seeing some of my favorite heroes in intriguing Western movies: Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Wild Bill Elliott, Allan Rocky Lane, and Johnny Mack Brown, just to name a few. And just as there were people in 19th-century Wyoming who needed Christian care and love, so it is today with people everywhere.

While I have enjoyed writing this book, I also hope the above-mentioned latter point will stay forever with those who read it.

David Redding

Chapter 1

It was a cold, gray, and windy day in mid-January of 1891 in the small Wyoming town of Grigsby, a town nestled among the beautiful, lofty, snow-capped mountains of this hilly state where the nearby deep-blue streams set off a contrast to the solid, muddy ground, hard from the winter's cold. The town was located in the southeast corner of the state, thirty miles east of Cheyenne and not far from the Colorado and Nebraska borders.

At the east end of town, the average-sized local church looked down at the main street with all of its contiguous buildings. A full block up from the church was the street which intersected with the principal one. To the right of and up from the closest right corner was the fairly large blacksmith shop/livery stable. Across from it was the side of the local restaurant, a large imposing white edifice with a large picture window and a staircase which led to the second story of this two-story building; the front door of the restaurant was catacornered to the main street and the intersecting one; on the front of the restaurant, which faced out onto the main street, there was also a large picture window and a side door to the left of the window. The local saloon, the GRIGSBY BAR, was to the left of the restaurant. To the left of the saloon and on the corner was the dentist office. Directly across the street from the dentist office was the small barber shop. The modest-sized dress shop, which was to the left of the barber shop was, in turn, attached to the fairly large general store. To the left of the general store was the medium-sized sheriff's office. To the left of it and on that corner was the sizeable bank. There were a few other buildings and businesses, but these were the primary ones.

Wooden sidewalks bordered the firm streets of this town.

On this cold and gray day a man rode into town. He was a man with a cold personality and spirits grayer than the gray of the day itself. The two-hundred-pound solid man, blond-haired and brown-eyed, stood six feet tall when he was not on his horse. He was wearing a comfortable light brown, thick, fairly long coat lined with sheep fur. On his head was a beige, nicely-creased Stetson hat. He was a handsome young man, but his mean, saturnine expression showed that his meanness was so much a part of his being.

He rode to the GRIGSBY BAR. Hanging down the edge of the roof was a white sign with large black letters which gave the name of the establishment. The mean stranger dismounted his horse before he tethered it to the hitching post directly in front of the saloon.

Inside the rather large saloon were ten tables, round and spaced maybe two feet apart from each other. A large, wide mirror was behind the bar. As he was walking inside, the customers there heard the stranger very well, thanks to his black thick-heeled boots.

The cold man, Jack Samson by name, removed his coat which he pitched on top of the table next to him. He was wearing a dark pair of blue jeans and a fairly dark blue shirt; the two pieces of apparel blended well with each other.

As soon as he shed his coat, he accidentally looked to his right and noticed two men who were playing poker. After one man spread his cards on the table and showed that he had a winning hand, his opponent felt he had been cheated, which is why he wanted to shoot the man. He began to draw his revolver from his holster when...ZING! BANG! The shot was from the stranger's gun. It frightened all the customers so much that any one of them was scared to make even a tiny move.

The quiet, awe-inspiring stranger walked to the man who had attempted to shoot the other man. Still cold, he spoke to the one who had been ready to manifest his hubris toward the man across from him. Hey, gunslinger. You got a problem?

The defeated man sat there, nervous and shaky.

The stranger spoke again. Answer me! Cat got your tongue, gunslinger?

The squirming man still said nothing.

The stranger spoke his final words which, this time, were directed toward both men. Alright, one of you's a lousy card player and can't handle that, or one of you's a cheat and should be fired on. Either way, cards ain't worth killin' over.

As the smoke was slowly circulating, no one made a move except the stranger who placed his gun in his holster.

He trudged to the bar. Hey, Barkeep!

The fairly tall, thin, black-haired man in his early thirties walked up to the customer. Uh... yes, sir. I'm Tim Allison...

Just stop your blabberin' and get me some whiskey.

Tim secured both a bottle of the hard beverage and a tiny drinking glass from a shelf under the top of the counter. He placed both on top in front of the man. He uncorked the bottle and then poured a shot of whiskey into the glass.

I want the whole bottle, by the way, the stranger said. He drew two coins from his jeans pocket. Will that cover it?

Easily, the bartender said. I'll get you your change...

Keep it.

Are you sure?

He stared at Tim. Yow, he said as he began to drink shots of the whiskey.

Thanks.

In ran a stocky, somewhat short, seventyish man who was wearing a gray three-piece suit, a white shirt, and a black string tie. He was bald except for the sides and back of his head; what hair he did have was gray.

Good morning, Reverend Worthingson, Tim greeted.

Hi, Tim, the clergyman returned. What's wrong? I heard a shot and couldn't help but wonder why that was.

Tim looked at the stranger before he told the story. Well, those two men there at that table were playing cards. The preacher took a fleeting glance at the men before Tim resumed to talk again. One of 'em got mad because he felt cheated. He started to shoot the other man. This man here shot between 'em.

The concerned parson looked at the stranger. You could have killed one or both of them.

No, Minister. If I had wanted to do that, there'd have been no 'could have' about it.

The minister was stupefied and lost for words. Young Man, it sounds like you're good with a gun.

'Good' is not the word for it. The word is 'excellent'.

Well, whatever, the preacher said.

Jack corked the bottle and handed it to Tim. Don't lose it. I'll want it later.

Certainly. It won't go anywhere, Tim promised.

Tim placed the bottle in its normal place in the same shelf under the counter.

Jack grabbed his coat and donned himself with the warm garment before he began to walk outside. He was ready to go out into the open air when the pastor spoke. May I join you?

Jack shrugged. Free country.

As the two began to walk out onto the street, they noticed that it was no longer windy, that the sun was shining, and that it was not as cold.

The preacher began to introduce himself. Oh, pardon my bad manners. I'm James Worthingson. I'm pastor of the local church here...

Yow. I passed it as I was riding into town.

I'm sure. I just wanted to extend you an invitation to come and worship with us.

Look, Preacher! You tend to your business and I'll tend to mine! Fair enough?! I can do without any church! Insolence was flying though him.

The pastor showed his human side. You just can't help it, can you?! I can see you are a very bitter man. You seem to be mad at the world.

The stranger sneered. Preacher, you're not scared, are ya?

Reverend Worthingson hesitated. I have to be sure I won't be.

That's good, Preacher.

Yes. But what I said was so hard and so unchristian. I'm sorry I said it.

No, you're not. Why should you be? I admire your courage.

That statement caused the parson to feel so uplifted because he suddenly believed he had much bravery about himself for sure, if the truth were to be known.

The stranger went to another matter. Two questions. Where do I eat around here? And where is there a place to stay?

Ah! You think you might be staying here.

I just got here. I don't know. Right now, I just want a room for the night.

I was just wondering. It's really none of my affair.

Where are they?

Oh...I'm sorry. Anyway, both of those questions have the same answer. They both turned toward the large eating place. Do you see that restaurant there?

Yow. I guess that's the place I saw while I was riding in.

It is. It's the WHITE CAFÉ. The lady who runs it might have rooms to rent. They are above the restaurant, by the way.

Who is the lady?

The pastor lightly blushed. One of the most faithful church members: Virginia White. I'm sure she has something for you.

Okay. Thanks, Preacher.

You're welcome. I must be going. Good luck to you.

But after the parson walked only a few paces, Jack stopped him. Hey, Preach!

Yes. Reverend Worthingson replied in a modified scholarly tone. What is it?

The bitter man's demeanor was not as mean as it had been. Preach, when I was in the bar drinking my whiskey, you didn't say a word. When I gave my whiskey bottle to Tim, you still didn't say a word. Preacher, I don't get it. Why is that?

The preacher mildly sighed. First of all, though some people drink quite often, not all of them are necessarily bad people. But to answer your specific question, no matter what wrongs a person might do, no one has to account to anyone on this Earth, and that does include a minister. And too, Jesus dealt among people who were not well thought of because he knew where the greatest need was. Do you understand now?

For one of very few times did the sullen man not have a retort. He had to confess that to himself.

Yow, Reverend. I got'cha.

I hope so. So long.

Goodbye.

Goodbye. Good luck to you again. The minister left.

The WHITE CAFÉ, like the GRIGSBY BAR, had a large white sign with large black letters above the doorway. It too told the name of the place.

Jack could not wait to arrive there, since he wanted so much to rest after his long and hard ride.

But another tragic moment was in store for Jack, thanks to a short, heavy-set, red-haired, red-bearded, fortyish drunk who was holding tightly the arms of a small, cute, blue-eyed, blond-haired girl. Jack's hotness was aggravated.

HEY! LEMME GO! LEMME GO! Though the little girl was screaming, she was doing as well as was possible to break away from this hostile man.

Jack rushed to the place of the altercation in the middle of the street. He grabbed the drunk man's wrists strongly and tightly. He started twisting them which caused the inebriated man to free the little girl.

Jack yelled at her. HONEY! GO ON! GET OUTTA HERE! NOW!

He continued to twist the large man's wrists as he saw the little girl run into the restaurant via the nearby side door. He turned the harassing man loose.

But Jack did not leave the man to go anywhere, at least not yet. He doubled his fists before he hit the horrible man in the mouth, which caused blood to flow out. He then belted him in the stomach, at which point the man started groaning as he was falling to the ground.

Oh! Oh! He was now rolling on the hard surface.

'Oh!' yourself! You lousy sot! You won't get any sympathy from me! You don't deserve it, you rotten scum! Jack did not worry that he had been such a hard-hitting boxer.

At about that moment the sheriff ran to the area of the fight. He was a blue-eyed, forty-one-year-old man with brown hair. He too was medium-height and solid.

He looked at Jack. Hey! What're you doin'?! I'm the one who's gotta handle this.

You weren't here! Jack was not at all sorry that he had taken the action he had toward the mean drunk, which is why he made no apology to the lawman.

I saw it! I ran as quick as I could. I don't like drunks scaring little girls either, but I'll take care of it.

Jack said nothing, but he did not deviate from nor compromise his feelings about the situation.

The drunk was standing as the pacified sheriff began to lecture him. Well, well. Zeke Blake. The town drunk. Still living up to your reputation. Still scaring people to death. Oh me! You're just a sorry nuisance. The sheriff sighed before he shared what action he the sheriff should take.

Zeke, I oughta lock you up and throw away the key, but I'm not gonna do that. It was then that the law officer declared what future action would be taken. No. I'm gonna let you go home and dry out. The sheriff paused. But I promise you. If you ever do anything like this again, I will throw you in jail and let you dry out there, no matter how long it takes. I mean it! So don't make me have to do it! Now get yourself home right now! Sober yourself up!

Zeke walked away, scared and uneasy. He knew that what the sheriff had said to him were not idle threats.

Jack turned and walked into the restaurant. The dining room was large, to be sure. In there were both round and rectangular tables, twenty totally.

He looked at the little girl who was still crying as she was standing with her head on the shoulder of a blue-eyed, thin, nicely-dressed gray-haired lady who was sitting very close to the side door. The lady, in her middle seventies, had been blessed by the years.

The older lady smiled at him. Oh, hi. Thank you so much! I'm glad you were there to rescue my granddaughter.

Jack attempted to be polite. Uh...yes, ma'am. I'm just glad I was there to get her away from that beast at just the right time. That's all.

Oh, I'm glad too. I declare. I don't know what would have happened to her if you had not come along when you did.

But, ma'am, Jack said. How did you know what happened? I know this little girl was too upset to tell ya.

Ha, ha, she reacted. You're right on that. But through this window here, she said as she tilted her head toward the nearest big window, and through that big window over there, nothing in Grigsby goes unnoticed.

Well, I'm sure that's true.

Oh, yes.

During the brief dialogue, a tall, slender, blue-eyed, angelic-looking blond-haired lady walked toward them. She was wearing a light-blue dress. Though he said nothing, Jack did facially do something he had not done in a long time: he smiled at the lady.

But she was naturally concerned about nothing but her daughter. She was unable to pay him and his gesture any attention.

Mother, what's going on here?

The gray-haired lady had been put on the spot and was therefore feeling guilty. Before you say anything to anybody, Virginia, let me say that it was my fault. I let Dorothy go out into the street. I didn't think there would be any problem.

The little girl's mother evoked no sympathy herself at this moment. Dorothy!

The little girl started crying even more forcefully.

Virginia! The gray-haired lady was strong. I can, and do, appreciate your concern for your little girl. You should be that way. But don't treat her like an animal!

After Virginia had become more subdued and more loving, she regarded her daughter who was able to stop her tears from falling. Honey, I'm sorry. Believe me. But Dorothy, do you remember what Reverend Worthingson said last Sunday about lying?

Yes, ma'am, Dorothy replied. She was not upset now.

What did he say?

He said not to do it.

Well, of course, Virginia said. But don't you remember too that he said that when you don't say what you should, that can be the same as lying?

She nodded her head. Yes, ma'am.

Your grandmother did not know that I do not want you to go outside when I'm not around. Now, tell her you're sorry.

I'm sorry, Grandmommy. I won't do it again.

I'm sure. But your mother and Reverend Worthingson are right: don't ever lie again.

I won't.

The elder lady spoke to her daughter again. Oh, this is the gentleman who rescued her, by the way.

This time the older lady's daughter had more moments to give him. She smiled at him warmly. The warmth went all through her.

And it was the same with him. Thank you so much. I'm like your mother here. I'm glad I was there to get her away from that animal, like I said.

Who was it, by the way? Virginia asked.

Jack lost his train of thought. Uh...uh...Zeke Blake.

Oh, me! groaned Virginia.

Oh, no! The groan of Virginia's mother was equally strong.

The town drunk, Virginia said.

That's what the sheriff said, Jack commented.

William Willis. Though most people call him 'Bill' or 'Will', she told Jack. He's a good sheriff and a fine Christian man.

He is indeed, fortified the older lady. He and my son Adam have been close friends all of their lives.

I see, replied Jack.

Virginia's mother spoke again. Oh, forgive me. I'm Maria Johnson.

Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Johnson.

Pleased to meet you as well. And your name is...

Jack Samson.

Well, Mr. Samson...

No, ma'am. Just 'Jack'.

Well, Jack...

That's it, he said.

What do you do? Oh, what's wrong with me? I'm sorry. I am being presumptuous.

No, ma'am. You were being thoughtful. But...well...I don't have a job right now.

Really? Mrs. Johnson said.

Yes, ma'am. I guess you could say I got dismissed from my job a few days back.

That's a shame. But maybe our pastor can help you find a job...if you want something here, that is.

Maybe. Are you talking about Reverend Worthingson?

Yes. Have you met him?

Not long ago. Not long before I came in here, matterofac.

Oh, he's such a fine man. He preaches the Word well, he gets out among his people. He's what a pastor should be: a godly, Christian man who shepherds his flock.

I'm sure. I can tell you like him.

Oh, he's such a fine asset to the community, Mrs. Johnson raved.

Mrs. Johnson tried to make him feel more welcome. Jack, take off your coat and stay a while.

Of course, Jack, Virginia said.

He removed his coat again. Can I put it on one of these tables?

Sure. That's okay, said Mrs. Johnson's daughter.

He did mildly toss it on the nearest table which was round.

He looked down at Dorothy again and smiled. Honey, are you okay now?

Yes, sir.

Your mother and grandmother are right: you shouldn't have gone out there.

Jack gave a strongly sweet look at Virginia again. They smiled at each other a second time. Mrs. Johnson was looking on.

Jack posed his question. Are you Mrs. White?

Yes, I am. But I wish you would call me 'Virginia'.

Okay, Virginia.

She was still smiling and, thus, continuing to channel warmth through him.

Your pastor told me you have rooms to rent.

Yes, I do.

Are meals included in your rent?

They sure are.

That's good.

Mrs. Johnson wanted to dismiss herself. Excuse me. I'm going to the dress shop. She looked down at Dorothy. Honey, do you want to go with me?

The anxious child looked up at her mother. Can I go, Mommy?

Virginia became serious-looking. Well...

Well, what?

Dorothy's mother was silent. I shouldn't let you, really. Not after you lied to your grandmother like you did.

The girl began pleading. Mommy, please...

Now, Dorothy, I haven't said whether you can or you can't. Just let me think on this. She quickly started to contemplate on what decision she should make.

She voiced her answer. Okay, Hon. You can go.

Oh, thank you, Mommy!

Okay. But be real good and stay close to your grandmother.

Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. Johnson addressed her daughter. Virginia, do you want anything, Dear?

No, thank you, Mother. I'm okay. You two have fun.

We'll be back shortly, said Mrs. Johnson.

So long, Virginia said.

The grandmother and Dorothy walked out of the building.

After the females left the other two by themselves, Virginia made the statement Jack wanted to hear. I bet you're wondering about the room, she smiled.

He was a fully soothed man. Well, yes. He was slow. I really am. You're right.

Com'on. I'll show it to you.

She went to the kitchen to take the room key which was hanging on the wall inside the doorway.

He seized his coat from the table and put it on himself again. The two headed toward the side door across from the blacksmith shop/livery stable.

After they walked outside they took a quick turn to the left which placed them at the foot of the long stairway. They walked to the top of the stairway where Jack opened the door there for her. The two headed halfway down the hallway where they went to the available room to their left. She unlocked the door for him.

The quarters were large, particularly for merely one person. In no time at all Jack was struck by the breath-taking view of the snow-capped mountains which he saw in the distance while he was looking through one of the windows which faced the principal street. Against the wall a short distance away to his right was a closet on the wall's right-hand side. Directly to the left of the closet was a tall chest of drawers. To the left of the chest of drawers was a small wooden stand with a metal water basin on its top. Against the wall to the left of the wall which faced right in front of him, in which were embedded the windows which faced the main street, was a fairly large bed with a wooden headboard. There were two wooden chairs, one on each side of the bed. Jack was satisfied with the room.

Virginia showed her light side. I bet you wouldn't pay any price for a room like this, would you?

He was good-natured. Oh, no. That's not it. Just checking. He looked at her. I'll take it.

Very good. I don't really push for this, but I would like the rent in advance. It's forty-five dollars a month. Will that be a problem? He answered the question by silently drawing from his shirt pocket a roll of dollar bills and taking from it the amount she required. He handed the money to her.

Thank you, Jack. She gave him the room key.

Uh, huh. No problem.

He did not remove his coat before they returned to the side door which Jack shut before they descended the stairway.

As they were going