newspaper, which lay on a small table next to the cupboard. “I meant to ask you last night. Did you get a chance to read the paper yesterday?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, and like you told me, there’s a notice that there’s another orphan train coming in on Wednesday, April 12.”
Clay met her gaze. “Do you want to try again?”
“Yes. Very much so. Though the Lord didn’t give either one ofus peace about taking an orphan from the last two trains, I really believe He has a special one picked out for us. Maybe he or she will be on next Wednesday’s train.”
The Bostins, who were in their late twenties, had agreed that whether God had a boy or a girl picked out for them, either would be fine. It was like when a couple had a baby by birth, they must take what comes: boy or girl.
Mary moved back to the cupboard and laid the cloth down.
For a moment, she allowed her mind to reach back to the past, when she was sixteen years old and had to have surgery, which unexpectedly rendered her unable to bear children. She thought of how devastated she was when the doctor gave her the bad news.
Another fragment of memory flashed into her mind: the moment when she told the young man who wanted to marry her that she could never give him children. A warm feeling went through her as she remembered Clay’s words.
“Mary, darling, I love you with everything that’s in me. If we can’t have a child of our own, then we’ll adopt one, but I want you for my wife, no matter what.”
A lump rose in Mary’s throat as she looked at her husband. “I love you, Clay. More than you will ever know.”
He stepped to her and folded her in his arms. “That works two ways, beautiful. You’ll never know how much I love you, either.”
As was their custom, the Bostins took time to read a chapter of Scripture together and to spend a few minutes in prayer before he went to his office.
They had just finished praying when there was a knock at the front door of the house. As Clay left the kitchen to see who was at the door, Mary picked up her dishcloth, dipped it into the soapy water, and began washing the dishes.
When Clay opened the door, he found Western Union operator Gerald Pearson holding a yellow envelope in his hand.
Clay smiled. “Well, good morning, Gerald. You’re at it early, aren’t you?”
“You might say that, Sheriff. I have a telegram for you and it’s urgent. I’ll wait to see if you want to reply.” As he spoke, he handed the envelope to the tall, broad-shouldered lawman.
Clay opened it quickly and saw that the telegram was from Warden George Gibson at the Colorado Territorial Prison in Canon City. While reading it, he could hear Mary’s footsteps coming down the hall from the kitchen.
When she drew up, drying her hands on a dishtowel, she nodded to Gerald Pearson, noting the grim look on her husband’s face. “What is it, honey?”
Clay set his jaw. “Bad news. You remember Shad Gatlin was to be hanged at sunrise this morning.”
Mary’s brow furrowed. “Yes.”
“Well, he escaped from the prison last night without the guards knowing it until dawn. He’s on the loose.”
The sheriff, Mary, and Gerald Pearson knew that it was Clay’s deputy, Art Flynn, who had spotted Gatlin in the nearby town of Widefield two weeks previously, got the drop on him, and put him under arrest. Gatlin, who was from New Mexico, had been convicted of murder there three years ago and escaped before they could hang him. He had murdered at least eleven people in southern Colorado since then, including two children. A week after Deputy Sheriff Art Flynn had brought Gatlin in, he went to trial, was convicted, and was sentenced to hang at sunrise the morning of April 6 at the Territorial Prison.
Clay set concerned eyes on Mary. “Gatlin was carrying a grudge for Art. He just might come after him. I’ve got to ride like the wind and get to the Flynn house immediately. Gerald, I needto you to go my office for me. When my other two
Mary nodded. “Yes, and like you told me, there’s a notice that there’s another orphan train coming in on Wednesday, April 12.”
Clay met her gaze. “Do you want to try again?”
“Yes. Very much so. Though the Lord didn’t give either one ofus peace about taking an orphan from the last two trains, I really believe He has a special one picked out for us. Maybe he or she will be on next Wednesday’s train.”
The Bostins, who were in their late twenties, had agreed that whether God had a boy or a girl picked out for them, either would be fine. It was like when a couple had a baby by birth, they must take what comes: boy or girl.
Mary moved back to the cupboard and laid the cloth down.
For a moment, she allowed her mind to reach back to the past, when she was sixteen years old and had to have surgery, which unexpectedly rendered her unable to bear children. She thought of how devastated she was when the doctor gave her the bad news.
Another fragment of memory flashed into her mind: the moment when she told the young man who wanted to marry her that she could never give him children. A warm feeling went through her as she remembered Clay’s words.
“Mary, darling, I love you with everything that’s in me. If we can’t have a child of our own, then we’ll adopt one, but I want you for my wife, no matter what.”
A lump rose in Mary’s throat as she looked at her husband. “I love you, Clay. More than you will ever know.”
He stepped to her and folded her in his arms. “That works two ways, beautiful. You’ll never know how much I love you, either.”
As was their custom, the Bostins took time to read a chapter of Scripture together and to spend a few minutes in prayer before he went to his office.
They had just finished praying when there was a knock at the front door of the house. As Clay left the kitchen to see who was at the door, Mary picked up her dishcloth, dipped it into the soapy water, and began washing the dishes.
When Clay opened the door, he found Western Union operator Gerald Pearson holding a yellow envelope in his hand.
Clay smiled. “Well, good morning, Gerald. You’re at it early, aren’t you?”
“You might say that, Sheriff. I have a telegram for you and it’s urgent. I’ll wait to see if you want to reply.” As he spoke, he handed the envelope to the tall, broad-shouldered lawman.
Clay opened it quickly and saw that the telegram was from Warden George Gibson at the Colorado Territorial Prison in Canon City. While reading it, he could hear Mary’s footsteps coming down the hall from the kitchen.
When she drew up, drying her hands on a dishtowel, she nodded to Gerald Pearson, noting the grim look on her husband’s face. “What is it, honey?”
Clay set his jaw. “Bad news. You remember Shad Gatlin was to be hanged at sunrise this morning.”
Mary’s brow furrowed. “Yes.”
“Well, he escaped from the prison last night without the guards knowing it until dawn. He’s on the loose.”
The sheriff, Mary, and Gerald Pearson knew that it was Clay’s deputy, Art Flynn, who had spotted Gatlin in the nearby town of Widefield two weeks previously, got the drop on him, and put him under arrest. Gatlin, who was from New Mexico, had been convicted of murder there three years ago and escaped before they could hang him. He had murdered at least eleven people in southern Colorado since then, including two children. A week after Deputy Sheriff Art Flynn had brought Gatlin in, he went to trial, was convicted, and was sentenced to hang at sunrise the morning of April 6 at the Territorial Prison.
Clay set concerned eyes on Mary. “Gatlin was carrying a grudge for Art. He just might come after him. I’ve got to ride like the wind and get to the Flynn house immediately. Gerald, I needto you to go my office for me. When my other two
Similar Books
