Gilbert Morris (5 page)

“. . . so, what I would like to bring out in the story is the fate of the five men that Dad saved by wiping out that mortar.”

“I think that's a wonderful idea for a story.” He watched as she took another bite, not a small one but a large one, and chewed it thoughtfully. When she swallowed, she frowned for a moment, then met his eyes. “You know, Ben, I always thought your father was the greatest man in America.”

The remark caught Ben by surprise. “I never thought of my dad like that.”

“Well, to me he is, because, according to all the authorities, if he hadn't taken out that mortar emplacement, my dad would have died, and I wouldn't be here. So to me he's the greatest hero in American history.”

“I'd like for Dad to hear that, and it'll certainly go in the story.”

“You put it down just like I said it. Dr. Charlene Delaughter insists that Sergeant William Raines is the greatest hero in American history.”

“I'll do it.”

Charlene sipped the water that she chose over the wine and said, “It's like science fiction, isn't it?”

“What do you mean, Charlene?”

“Haven't you ever read any time-travel stories? You know, when they send someone back in the time machine they warn them, ‘Don't change anything. If you kill somebody, you might kill my ancestor and I wouldn't be here. Don't even kill a butterfly.' Who knows what would happen?” She laughed and said, “I never believed those things, but somehow it's like that. What your dad did changed everything for a lot of people. There were at least five families that wouldn't have existed if he hadn't gone after that mortar squad.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“I think it's like that movie. Have you ever seen
It's a
Wonderful Life
?”

Ben blinked suddenly. “Yes, I have. Who hasn't?”

“That's right. Probably the most watched movie in America. I've always loved it.”

Ben stared at her and when she saw his expression, she said, “What's the matter, Ben?”

“I never liked the movie.”

“You didn't like
It's a Wonderful Life!
” Charlene exclaimed. “Why, you must be a communist!”

Ben forced himself to laugh. “Nothing that bad. It's just that it's so perfect, and life just doesn't work out like that.”

Charlene studied him carefully, and then she said quietly, “Sometimes it does, Ben. God's still in control. I think He had His eye on me and some other people when He used your dad to save those men.”

The same sense of embarrassment that Ben felt when his father mentioned religion suddenly rose in him. He dropped his eyes and could not speak.

“What's the matter? Does that embarrass you?”

“I . . . a little bit, I guess.”

“You don't believe in God?”

Ben suddenly found it hard to answer her question. “I believe, somehow, there is a God. There has to be. But I have trouble believing that He cares. I don't see how as a doctor you can. You're bound to see terrible things, especially in your line. Little children who die needlessly.”

“I feel all of that, but I have to believe in the Lord. He's all I have to put the world right. Of course,” she added quickly, and a serious look framed her face, “we're living in enemy-occupied territory. But one day it won't be. One day Jesus will be on the throne, and all evil will be locked away. That's when life will really begin. Wouldn't you like that, Benjamin Raines?”

“I'd like it a lot, Charlene. I just can't get a handle on it.”

* * *

It had been a wonderful meal, and Ben hated to see it end. He had taken notes about Charlene, facts that he could work into the story. He had cautiously told her the focus of the story, and she had been excited about it. She was one of those buoyant, enthusiastic Christians who believe everything he didn't, but there was nothing phony or hypocritical about her. He knew that about this woman.

“I guess I'll have to go,” he said. “Got a lot of traveling to do.”

Something seemed to be working in Charlene's mind, and she looked up and said, “I'm a very forward woman. I guess you've noticed.”

“Not really. Why do you say that?”

“I'm about to shove my way into your business. That's my spiritual gift, meddling.”

“Meddle away,” Ben said, wondering what in the world she was talking about.

“I'm taking some time off for Christmas. Haven't had a vacation now in a long time.”

“That was my plan, too. I was going to Spain,” Ben said ruefully. “Now I'm not. A friend of mine had a bypass.”

“I'd like to help you with the story.”

“Are you a writer along with being a doctor?”

“Oh, nothing like that. But I'm a pilot, and I have a plane. If you'd trust me, we could fly together to meet the families of the men that were with our dads in that foxhole at Bastogne. I'd like to meet them.”

“Some of them might not be alive, you know.”

“I know, but I'd like to meet their families. I've wanted that for a long time.”

“Why, of course, that would be wonderful as far as I'm concerned, if you'd let me pay the expenses.”

“Nope. It's on me. My Christmas gift to the famous writer Benjamin Raines.”

“Hardly that,” he said. He suddenly grew excited. “That would just be perfect! They're scattered all over the country. It would be exciting.”

“You're not afraid to fly?”

“Well, it's not my favorite thing.”

“Are you afraid to fly with a woman?”

Ben suddenly laughed. “You must be a feminist.”

“I'm feminine. Men usually would prefer that their pilots be male.”

“I don't feel that way at all. I can be just as petrified with a male pilot as I can with a female pilot. When I get on a plane, I try to forget about who's flying it and the fact that I'm flying.” Ben hesitated, then said evenly, “ Charlene, maybe I ought to throw one thing at you.”

“What's that?”

“I think you already know. I don't believe in very much.”

Charlene was watching him silently. “I know that,” she said quietly.

“I don't believe in Santa or the tooth fairy—or in Jesus.” Ben waited for her to react, and he halfway expected her to withdraw her offer or at least to be upset.

“You're not too old to believe; nobody is. But that's not a requirement. I think it'd be a good way to spend Christmas. Think what a great Christmas gift you'd be giving these people!”

“What gift?” Ben said, confused by her words.

“You're going to write this story, and when they read it, they'll read about the men that fought for us. They'll be heroes. They're already heroes to their families, I'm sure, but now other people will know their stories. It's a great gift, Ben.”

Ben suddenly felt warm. “I never thought of it like that, but as long as we know where we stand, all right.”

“Good. When are you going to visit the first family?”

Ben reached over and squeezed her hand. “As soon as you can fly me there, Doc.”

The plane, which had flown level and steady for the past two hours, suddenly dropped like a stone. Ben made a wild grab, seeking something to hold on to, and felt the weightlessness as the aircraft dropped. He let out a small, frightened sound and then felt the pressure on his bottom as the plane leveled off again.

“Air pocket.”

Ben turned to see Charlene studying him. Humor danced in her eyes which, at this moment, seemed to be as green as the waves of the sea.

“You did that on purpose,” Ben said accusingly.

“Not really. We just hit an air pocket. It happens all the time. Nothing to worry about.”

“I'll find something.”

Ben slowly forced himself to relax and glanced down at the earth far beneath. They were high over Montana now, not far from the landing field at Billings, or so Charlene had informed him. They had left Evanston early in the morning and had stopped once for fuel and to get something to eat.

“Haven't you ever flown in a small plane before, Ben?”

“No. Just a big jet.” He looked down at his hands and saw that his fists were clenched tightly together. He forced himself to straighten his fingers out and cleared his throat, saying defensively, “You're insulated on a commercial flight.”

“That's right. You don't have any sense of being in the air after the takeoff. It's like being put in a big box. You get in the box and a few hours later you get out of the box.” Charlene shook her head, and he saw she was smiling at him. “This is the real thing. You have the sense of flying.”

Ben looked down at the earth again and shook his head. “I'd rather be in the box. As a matter of fact, every time I get on an airplane, I have the impulse to ask for a general anesthetic. I just want to get from one place to the other.”

“That's an awful way to live, Ben.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just getting from point A to point B is no fun. It's the journey that's important.”

The steady hum of the twin engines had lulled Ben, a time or two, until he felt drowsy. He knew that Charlene was a good pilot, for he had carefully checked on her reputation at the airport. All the mechanics and other workers there said she was outstanding. One of them, the manager of the airport, had nodded confidently. “Why, she could be a commercial pilot if she wanted to. You can't say better than that.”

Ben gave Charlene a cautious glance. She was wearing a pair of pleated jeans and a loose-fitting wool sweater. Her hair was pulled back carelessly and tied with a black ribbon, and she looked right somehow flying the plane. “I guess I'm just a coward,” Ben said.

“No. We're all afraid of something.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Snakes.”

“What kind of snakes?”

“Any kind. If it doesn't have legs and goes along the ground, I'm petrified. We'll probably see some in Montana. Then you'll have to take care of me. Are you afraid of snakes?”

“No. Never was. As a matter of fact, my nickname was Snake when I was growing up.”

“Where'd you get a nickname like that?”

“A bunch of us guys were out camping. A rattler made a strike at one of the guys, and I reached out and grabbed him by the tail and flung him off into the woods.”

Charlene turned and her eyes were enormous. “You grabbed him by the tail?”

“Well, that's what the Bible says to do.”

“What are you talking about? Where does it say that?”

“My mother used to read me Bible stories. This was in the book of Exodus, I think. God told Moses to throw his rod down, and it became a snake. Then God told him to pick it up by the tail. I always thought that was odd. It looks like the wrong end to me. The front end's still free to do the business.”

“I remember that story. Your mother was a Christian?”

“Yes.”

The plane rose when a thermal updraft caught it, and Ben waited until it leveled out again before he shrugged his shoulders. “She's all the argument I ever need for Christianity. I have lots of doubts myself, but she didn't. Neither does Dad.”
When she didn't speak, he added thoughtfully, “I guess I'd be better off if some of their faith had rubbed off on me.”

“Why, it will.”

“You sure about that, Charlene?”

“‘Train up a child in the way that's right, and when he grows old, he will not depart from it.'”

“That's in the Bible, is it?”

“Yes, it is. I believe it, too. You'll come home one day.” She suddenly peered down and said, “I think that's Billings over there. Don't get nervous when I set this crate down.”

* * *

While Charlene made the arrangements with the airport to keep the plane, Ben rented a car, a year-old Taurus. Ben had instructions about how to get to the Shoulders Ranch, but it turned out to be more difficult than he had thought. It was really located thirty miles out of Billings and off the main road. They stopped once at a gas station, and the owner, a tall thin man with bright blue eyes, exclaimed, “Why shore I know where Lonnie Shoulders lives! You go down that road and turn off two miles before you get to the water tower.”

Charlene suddenly laughed. “You mean we have to go to the water tower and then come back two miles.”

“Well, there ain't much of a turnoff to mark it. You can see the water tower, and just keep your eye on your right and you'll see a fence. Go through the gap in the fence. You have to get out and open the gate. Lonnie don't keep it locked. Watch out for that big red bull of his though. He's a thumper! You know Lonnie, do ya?”

“Not really. He was a friend of my dad's,” Ben said.

“Fine fellow. Got a good family, too.”

Ben paid for the gas then got back in the car and started the engine. As he sped down the highway, he said, “Sounds like Lonnie Shoulders has got a good reputation.”

“Don't you know who he is?”

“Lonnie Shoulders? Why, he was in the army with my dad and your dad. That's all I know.”

“You don't keep up with rodeoing much, do you?”

“No. Not really. I often wondered why anybody would want to do it. It seems to me it's a horrible way to make a living.”

“I guess they just like it. But, anyway, Lonnie Shoulders was All-Around Cowboy for three years in a row when he got out of the army.”

“That's good, is it?”

“It's like winning the World Series in baseball or the Heisman Trophy in football. Lonnie won Best All-Around three years in a row. Can't get better than that.”

“How do you know about all this?”

“Oh, my brother rodeoed awhile. I'd go with him. It was fun.”

“What does your brother do now?”

“What my husband did. He was a pilot in the navy.”

It was the first time Charlene had mentioned her husband, and Ben had not felt like asking. “Your husband was a flyer?”

“Yes. Top gun or close to it.”

“How did he . . . ”

“How did I lose him? It was a flying accident, of course. Not his fault. He was training a younger pilot who made a bad mistake, and they both died. We were very close, my husband and I.”

“And your brother's a flyer also?”

“One of the best. He doesn't fly jets, though. He flies helicopters.”

“I'm sorry about your loss.”

Charlene did not answer for a time, and when he turned to study her, he saw that her lips were set. “We had a good marriage,” she said. “There's not a day goes by that I don't think about him.”

“You didn't have children?”

“No. We never did.”

“Any other family?”

“My mother's living. She has a condo in Pensacola. She and my brother get together a lot. I go when I can.”

“Look, there's a big billboard.”

“Wonder what it's selling.”

They got closer, and Charlene began to laugh. “I don't believe that!”

In big, bold letters, the sign said, PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE JACKRABBITS!

Ben laughed. “Somebody spent a lot of money on that sign. Must have a real sense of humor.”

Suddenly Charlene said, “Look, there's a gate!” She pulled up and peered forward. “There's the water tower.”

Ben looked and shook his head. “Can you see that far?”

“Why, that's not far at all. You probably need glasses.”

“Well, I haven't got eagle eyes like you. I'll get out and open the gate.”

“Watch out for that bull.”

There were no bulls in sight, but Ben saw some large cows grazing. The road wound its way around small hills, and when he got back in the car, Ben said, “I don't know much about ranches. I think about ranches in the movies and on TV—the Ponderosa and John Wayne. Probably not very true to life.”

“I think it's pretty hard work. I thought for awhile about being a vet, but I went another way.”

“How did you decide to become a surgeon?”

“Oh, I didn't. First I was just going to be a pediatrician, but I found out that I had a knack for surgery so I went that way.”

“How did the girl do who you operated on the day we met?”

“Doing fine. Makes me feel pretty good to be able to help like that.”

She spoke of her work with pride, and Ben said, “It makes my little job seem kind of piddling, writing stories.”

“We all have something to do in this world. We just have to find out what it is. God wants me to operate on children. He wants you to write stories.”

“I'm not sure about that.”

She did not speak, but a few minutes later she said, “There's the ranch.”

Ben sat up straighter in the seat, and as they crested a small hill, he saw the ranch. It was surrounded by trees, and several barns with outbuildings were behind it.

“What a nice-looking ranch!” Charlene exclaimed.

Ben looked around. “Seems lonesome to me. I'm a city boy.”

Ben drove up a circular driveway to the front of the house. As they got out a tall man, somewhat lanky and wearing a black Stetson low on his forehead, came out of the door. He had a coppery complexion and black eyes that glittered. His face was lined, and his high cheekbones proclaimed his Indian blood.

“You folks lost?”

“No, sir, I don't think so. We're looking for Mr. Lonnie Shoulders.”

“That's me.”

“I'm Ben Raines and this is Dr. Charlene Delaughter.”

Instantly Lonnie squinted. “Have we met before?”

“No,” Ben said, “but you know our fathers.”

“You're not Willie Raines' boy, are you?”

“That's me.”

“Willie talks about you in his letters,” Lonnie said.

It was the first time that Ben had known his father had kept in touch with his old army buddies. “I hate to barge in on you like this.”

“No bargin' to it. Come on in. We'll have something hot to drink. It's colder than a well digger's toes out here.”

“That's not the way I heard the expression,” Charlene said, “but I could use some coffee or hot chocolate.”

“We got both. Come on in and meet my bunch.”

Inside, the house was decorated with the heads of deer and antelope on the walls. The floors were hard pine, and there was a warm atmosphere. A fire burned cheerfully in a huge rock fireplace, and over the mantle were three trophies.

Charlene walked over and looked at them. She turned and said, “I saw you the night you rode Dynamite.”

“Did you now? You must have been a wee thing.”

“I was only five, but I remember it. I still have the program. My brother took me. Larry Delaughter.”

“Old Larry! You're his sister? He was a plum good bull rider. What's he doin' now, Doc?”

“He's a flyer for the navy.”

“Do tell! Well, he was some cowboy. He could have done well if he had stayed with it.”

A woman entered, and Lonnie Shoulders said, “This is my wife Dove. Dove, this is Dr. Delaughter, and you'll be surprised at this fella. He's Willie Raines' boy, Ben.”

Dove Shoulders' hair was almost as black as Lonnie's but more streaked with silver. Her eyes were wide and expressive, and at the introduction she came forward at once and put her hand out to Ben as a man would do. Ben took it and felt the strength of it despite her age. “I'm so glad you came,” Dove said. “I guess you know in this house we hold your dad pretty high.”

Ben could not answer for a moment. Somehow the story was not working out as he had thought it might. First a pediatric surgeon and now a prosperous rancher, three-time All-Around Cowboy!

“Mama, these folks need somethin' hot. As a matter of fact, why can't we warm up some of that barbecue? You folks eat barbecue?”

“I do,” Charlene said. “I'm a glutton for barbecue.”

“You come to the right country for that, Doc. Come on in the kitchen. That's where we live anyhow.”

The two followed the older couple into the kitchen, where they were at once given huge mugs filled with fresh, scalding coffee off the stove. As they sat and drank it, Ben found himself explaining why he had come. “I'm going to do a story about your squad, Mr. Shoulders.”

“Stop right there. It's just plain Lonnie, but the guys all called me ‘Chief.' What kind of a story?”

“About what happened to your squad at Bastogne.”

Lonnie was quiet. He had huge hands worn rough by work, and the large cup looked small in them. “I think about them boys a lot. Especially your dad, I guess.” He looked up and grinned. “He's mighty proud of you, Ben.”

A sense of shame seemed to burn into Ben Raines at that moment. He wished he had paid more attention to his father, and somehow the idea that his father was proud of him was embarrassing.

“Well, I'm not the man he was.”

It was the first time in his life Ben had ever thought that, much less said it aloud, but he had found two people that saw in his father something he had missed all of his life.