The Iron Wagon (20 page)

“Thanks, Papa. I will be a good student and learn all I can about the job that’s coming when I turn twenty-one. But mostly I will learn with you as my example. You’re the best lawman there is.”

John looked pleased. “You’ve got me somewhat overrated, son, but I’m glad you feel that way about me.”

John and Paul were unaware that Breanna had been privy to most of this conversation as she stood in the hall beside the open parlor door. Walking away quietly down the hall, she said in a low voice, “Dear Lord, it’s been one thing to have my husband in law enforcement all these years, but—but in a couple of years, my only son will be putting himself in harm’s way. As I have prayed all these years for John, please give Paul wisdom in wearing the badge, and give him Your protection as he performs the task You are leading him to do. Help him to make a difference in people’s lives, just as his father has, and please give me the grace and strength I need daily to stand by both of them.”

As Breanna closed her prayer in Jesus’ name, the “peace of God, which passeth all understanding,” spoken of in Philippians
4:7, made its way into her heart and mind. “Thank You, Lord Jesus. Thank You.”

On Friday, May 20, 1892, in the auditorium at Denver High School, Ginny Brockman graduated from high school at age seventeen and received her diploma with her proud family and many friends there to observe it.

On Monday, May 23, Breanna and Ginny drove the family buggy into town to the Colorado School of Nursing. There, Breanna registered Ginny to enter her freshman year and begin preparation to become a nurse. The school year would begin the first week of September.

Ginny was all smiles as she and her mother climbed into the buggy and sat on the driver’s seat. Breanna hugged her. “Ginny dear, I am so proud of you! You graduated at the top of your class in high school, and now you are on your way to making your lifelong dream of becoming a nurse a reality.”

Ginny kissed her mother’s cheek. “It’s all because of the example you’ve given me as a nurse, Mama.”

Breanna radiated her pleasure at the compliment, but then turned gently solemn. “Being a nurse is not an easy road to travel. You will face many difficult problems, but overall, it is so rewarding. And even though you will often find that you cannot heal every patient you labor over, keep your eyes on the Lord and be thankful for those who pull through their ailments. When some do not get healed by your earnest efforts, and even die, you will know that you did your best for them. Be ever so
thankful that at least you were able to help ease their suffering. Just remember, honey, that when it comes to life or death, God is in control, not you. Not even the doctors. Be loving and kind, because that is really what patients need most of all. Always take time to listen when they speak to you of their ailments, because the patient knows his or her body best.”

Ginny nodded. “That makes sense, Mama.”

Breanna went on. “There will be times when things will happen that will cause you to question your decision to become a nurse. When it seems that you have failed too often in your chosen profession, just remember that the Lord is always with you, and you will see that there are many more people ahead who are in need of your services and your help. Pray for guidance as you work to help every patient. He will lead you and give you wisdom.”

Ginny nodded again. “Yes, Mama. I know He will.”

“I can tell you this, Ginny. I have observed you through the years as you’ve helped me when Paul and Meggie and even your papa were sick or injured. And I know you will make a wonderful, caring nurse. I’m so thankful that you want to follow in my footsteps in the medical profession. God will bless and use you to help heal bodies, be a witness for Him, and heal sin-sick souls as well.”

Ginny, who had led some of her schoolmates to the Lord over the years, smiled. “I will do my best, Mama.”

Breanna hugged her again. “I love you, my precious daughter. May God go with you as you begin this path.”

Ginny hugged her mother back. “And I love
you
, Mama. I
pray I can be even half the nurse that you are. I’m so excited to get started, and my goal, with God’s help, is to be the best nurse He enables me to be.”

“You’ll do just fine, my Ginny girl. You have the right heart attitude, and that’s what matters.”

Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of both mother and daughter as they hugged each other again.

Paul Brockman turned twenty-one on Tuesday, October 3, 1893. At eleven o’clock on Wednesday morning and wearing an official uniform, he was sworn in at the federal building by his father before a group of deputy U.S. marshals. With tears filming his eyes, chief U.S. marshal John Brockman pinned a deputy marshal’s badge on his son’s chest. The deputies applauded, then went to Paul, telling him how glad they were that he was now one of them. Some also brought up that the older he became, the more he looked like his father. This pleased Paul very much.

At this time, Chief Brockman was forty-eight years of age, and his wife, Breanna, was forty-four.

Deputy U.S. marshal Whip Langford was thirty-seven, and his wife, Annabeth, was thirty-four. Little Elisabeth Grace Langford, now called Lizzie by her parents and friends, was four years old.

John assigned his son to carry out his deputy U.S. marshal’s job by working with some of the much-experienced deputies, especially Whip, whom Paul greatly admired. Sometimes John even had Paul going after outlaws with him.

As the days passed, Paul proved himself to be excellent in handling himself with outlaws. His boldness, courage, and lightning speed on the quick draw, along with absolute accuracy with his gun, were spoken of in newspaper articles and by his fellow deputies.

Paul was praying daily that the Lord would bring the right Christian young lady into his life to become his wife. He had dated many Christian girls in high school, but nothing serious ever took place between him and any of them. Paul believed the Lord already had the right young lady picked out for him to one day be his wife, and he was eager to meet her.

On Sunday, November 5, during the invitation at the close of the sermon at Denver’s First Baptist Church, a Christian couple named Nathan and Janet Bryson, along with their lovely, Christian nineteen-year-old daughter, Noreen, walked the aisle to present themselves for membership.

Nathan and Janet had moved to Denver from Chicago, Illinois, in mid-October and started visiting the church. Noreen, who had beautiful brunette hair like her mother, had remained in Chicago when her parents first moved to Denver because of a job obligation and had just arrived in Denver by railroad the day before.

Sitting with his parents and his sisters in their favorite pew, Paul’s curiosity about the pretty young lady with the Brysons was cleared up by Pastor Bayless when he explained why Noreen had not been in the previous services with her parents.

Pastor Bayless had all three Brysons give their salvation testimonies before the congregation, and when the vote to accept
them as members was a full one hundred percent, as explained to them by Pastor Bayless, the Brysons smiled happily.

When Paul Brockman saw Noreen Bryson’s magnificent, captivating smile, it did something to him.

After the service, the members were passing by the Brysons in the vestibule to welcome them into the church. When the Brockmans introduced themselves, Paul, wearing his uniform and badge, felt a special warmth in his heart when he welcomed Noreen as a member of the church.

She smiled and extended her hand. “This is such a friendly church. Thank you, Deputy Paul Brockman, for your warm welcome.”

With Noreen’s hand in his own, Paul felt a shiver of excitement make its way up his spine, and his heart quickened its pace. He shook her hand gently, wishing he could hold it longer but did the gentlemanly thing and released her. As her hand slipped from his, Paul immediately felt an emptiness fill his entire being.

He told her again how glad he was that she and her parents had joined the church. She smiled at him. Then more people were moving up to the Brysons, and she turned her attention to an elderly woman.

Paul swiveled and headed toward the front door, but before he went outside, he took a few seconds to look back over his shoulder at the lovely brunette, who was still in conversation with the older woman.

At home after Sunday dinner, Paul went to his room upstairs
for some quiet time. He lay on his bed, looked up at the ceiling, and reminisced about his all-too-short encounter with Noreen Bryson. Paul found her exceptionally charming.

Having learned from his parents years ago to take everything he felt was important to his heavenly Father, Paul prayed, “Dear Lord, I realize I’ve only met this young lady one time, but my heart did some strange things when I shook her hand. If indeed Noreen Bryson is the one You’ve chosen for me, then show her real soon, and also give us both Your peace to proceed in a relationship. You know, Lord, I am not one to just date one girl after another and never want to get serious, so please help me to be content until You reveal Your own perfect will in this to me. Thank You, Father. In Jesus’ precious name I pray, amen.”

Paul lay in the darkness. He really liked that beautiful, sweet girl. It sure would be all right with him if Noreen was the one God had chosen for him.

The next day, Paul was moving along the boardwalk on Curtis Street in downtown Denver when he saw Noreen come out of a clothing store ahead of him. She was alone. Moving toward her as she stood looking around at the other stores on that block, Paul prepared himself to talk to her and get to know her better. He was within fifty feet of her when a man about his own age stepped up to Noreen and started talking to her with a flirtatious look in his eyes.

There were quite a number of people on the boardwalk
between Noreen and himself, which slowed him down, but as Paul neared them, he could tell that Noreen did not like what the young man was saying.

“Leave me alone, mister!” Noreen snapped.

As Paul was weaving his way among the crowd on the boardwalk, he could see that the man was obviously drawn to Noreen because of her good looks, and he kept talking to her. Drawing nearer, Paul saw Noreen turn to walk away from the annoying man, but he quickly grabbed her by the arm, stopping her. “Don’t be afraid, young lady! I mean you no harm. I just want to get to know you!”

Noreen tried to free herself from the rude man’s grasp. “Let go of me!”

Paul drew up and looked the man in the eye. “Let go of her, mister!”

The man snarled at Paul and, despite his badge and uniform, snapped angrily, “Mind your own business, lawman!” He let go of Noreen’s arm and took a swing at Paul’s jaw.

Paul dodged the fist and lanced a powerful left to the forehead that jarred the man to his heels, then swiftly crossed a whistling right that smashed his jaw with a hammerlike blow that knocked him down and out.

The people on the boardwalk stopped, marveling at the speed of Paul Brockman’s fists and the power that went with it. The man he had punched lay absolutely still, definitely unconscious.

Noreen glanced down at the unconscious man who had given her trouble, then smiled at Paul. “Thank you, Deputy Brockman, for stopping that rude man from bothering me.”

Paul smiled back. “It was my pleasure, Miss Bryson.”

“You can call me Noreen.”

Feeling a touch of joy, Paul replied, “Okay, Noreen. And you can call me Paul.”

As Noreen watched Paul silently, the crowd began to move on, with the majority of them taking a good look at the unconscious man on the boardwalk.

Paul took a deep breath and said, “Could I take you out for supper some time soon at one of Denver’s restaurants?”

Noreen’s smile disappeared. “That would be a date, Paul, and people who date often get serious about each other.”

Paul grinned. “Yes, that’s true.”

Noreen frowned at him.

“What’s the matter?” Paul asked.

“Well, since you’re a lawman, I could never get serious about you. So it’s best that we do not date each other.”

“Do you have something against lawmen?”

She shook her head. “No, but I would never marry one. I know that too many men here in the West who wear badges get killed in the line of duty, and I absolutely will not put myself in a position to so easily become a widow.”

Quite stunned and disappointed, Paul said, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

The man on the floor of the boardwalk began to move, blinking his eyelids and letting out a groan.

Paul took the handcuffs from his belt, bent over, and rolled the man facedown. Then forcing his hands behind his back, Paul handcuffed him. The young deputy picked him up, stood
him on his feet, and held on to him so he wouldn’t fall. “I’m taking you to jail, mister, for attacking a federal deputy marshal.”

As Paul walked away, holding onto his prisoner, who was stumbling somewhat, he looked back over his shoulder and in a friendly manner said, “I’ll see you at church in the midweek service, Noreen.”
Well, Lord, it’s plain that You haven’t chosen Noreen Bryson for me. I will keep on praying and waiting for You to bring that right Christian young lady into my life
.