All My Tomorrows (36 page)

Johnny put a shaky hand to his mouth. “Chief … I … I’m scared.”

Carew laughed. “You single-handedly captured the most notorious gang of killers in these parts, and you’re scared to face the president?”

Johnny swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

The next afternoon, the bulk of Colorado Springs’ population was on hand at the railroad station, where on the rear platform of the presidential coach, Chief Max Carew stood between the president and the tall, dark chief U.S. marshal from the Denver office. A nervous Johnny Bostin stood on the ground, ready to mount the steps of the platform when it was time. Carew introduced President Cleveland first and the crowd gave him a rousing welcome. Cleveland then took a step back, allowing Chief Carew opportunity to make his next introduction.

Carew then introduced Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman, and because the people of Colorado Springs knew Brockman’s outstanding record as a federal lawman, they also gave him a rousing welcome.

Cleveland gestured for Brockman to step forward and speak
first. Sheriff Clay Bostin and his wife, Mary, stood at the forefront of the crowd. Close by the Bostins were their pastor and his wife, and standing next to Madelyne was a bright-faced Priscilla.

Brockman smiled as he looked at the sheriff and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, your sheriff and I have met on several occasions over these past few years, and I very much admire him. I’m sure that with his open and bold testimony, all of you know he is a dedicated Christian.”

Heads in the crowd were nodding.

Brockman smiled. “I also happen to know that his wife is also a dedicated Christian, as is their son, whom we are honoring today.” He looked down and smiled at Johnny, whose face was a bit pale. Johnny managed to return the smile.

Brockman continued. “I will not infringe on the president’s time, but I want to say to you, Deputy Marshal Johnny Bostin, I am impressed with your courage and adeptness as a lawman. God bless you.”

There was applause, then as the president stepped forward, he motioned for Johnny to mount the steps of the platform and stand beside him. Carew stepped back, giving Johnny room.

The crowd listened intently as President Grover Cleveland presented Deputy U. S. Marshal Johnny Bostin with a special written letter of commendation signed by himself, commending him for his courageous and resourceful capture of the infamous Dolph Widner gang.

The crowd applauded. Johnny noticed that Priscilla had tears running down her cheeks, as did her mother and his own mother. Sheriff Clay Bostin’s buttons were about to pop off his shirt. He and Brockman exchanged smiles.

Cleveland said, “Deputy Bostin, I’m sure these people would like to hear a few words from you.”

Holding the letter, Johnny swallowed hard, ran his gaze over
the faces of the crowd, then turned to Cleveland. “Mr. President, I want to thank you for this honor. I … I don’t feel that I deserve it, but I will always cherish this letter. The reason I don’t feel I deserve it is because I was not alone in capturing the Widner gang. I had help.”

Surprise showed on the president’s face, as well as the faces of most people in the crowd. Some, however—including the Bostins and the Wheelers—knew what was coming.

Feeling more relaxed, now, Johnny said so all could hear, “The one who helped me capture the killers is the same one who went to Calvary’s cross for me, shed His precious blood, and died to provide this sinner forgiveness for his sins and salvation for his lost soul—my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. He promised in His Word that He would never leave me nor forsake me. Yesterday, I called on Him to help me capture the gang because I knew I couldn’t do it by myself. All the praise and glory goes to Him.”

While the crowd was applauding, Johnny motioned for Priscilla to come to him. Blinking in astonishment, she left her parents and made her way to the steps of the platform. John Brockman moved down, gave her his hand, and helped her mount the steps. She gave him a smile that expressed her thanks.

Johnny took Priscilla’s hand, then looked out at the crowd. Smiles were spreading on faces.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Johnny, “since the Lord has allowed me this moment in the limelight, I want to make use of it. I would like to announce that this lovely young lady, Miss Priscilla Wheeler, has consented to become my bride. We plan to be united in holy matrimony next June. I don’t deserve her, either, but the Lord gave her to me, and I’m going to keep her!”

There was applause mingled with cheers.

A proud Clay Bostin applauded with tears in his eyes, as did Mary and the Wheelers.

When the applause and cheering faded, President Grover Cleveland congratulated the young couple, and the whole crowd cheered and applauded again.

I
t was a clear April morning in 1887 on the Arizona desert. At Fort Apache, Colonel James Strasburg—commandant of the fort—stood outside the stockade gate and watched as his four patrol units rode away for their daily security tour.

A flood of golden sunshine was on the desert, and a dry, fragrant breeze drifted across the wide-open spaces, carrying the sweet scent of the wildflowers that blossomed in every direction.

Strasburg gave the patrol units one last glance as they spread out in four directions, then turned and walked back inside the fort. The corporal who stood at the gate said, “I hope all is quiet out there on the desert today, Colonel.”

“Me too,” said Strasburg, “but you never know about those Apaches.”

As the colonel headed toward his house inside the fort, the corporal closed the gate and returned to his partner in the tower.

Strasburg smiled when he saw his guest come out of the officers’ barracks on the other side of the compound and head toward the house, where Della was preparing a special breakfast.

His guest was Colonel Fred Howell, who was on his way from where he had served as a major at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, to serve as commandant at Fort Thomas in southern Arizona on
the Gila River.

At that moment, Howell’s escort of twelve cavalrymen was eating breakfast in the mess hall.

Strasburg had been pleasantly surprised upon meeting Colonel Howell yesterday to learn that he was a born-again man and was dedicated to the Lord. It had made the evening they had spent together a special blessing.

Others expected at the Strasburg house any minute were Fort Apache’s chaplain Ben Locke, his wife, Tina, and missionaries Cody and Donna Rogers.

As he met up with Colonel Howell at the front porch, he noticed both the other couples coming toward the house.

“Good morning, Colonel,” said Strasburg. “Sleep well?”

“Sure did, Colonel. I wish I could take that bed to Fort Thomas with me.”

Strasburg laughed. “Well, maybe they’ll have one that good.”

“I sure hope so.”

The other two couples drew up. Strasburg introduced the Lockes to his guest, both of whom were showing their seventy-plus years. The Rogerses were in their mid-twenties.

Strasburg said, “I want you folks to know that Colonel Howell knows and loves our Lord Jesus.”

Instant smiles spread over four faces, and each one told Howell how happy they were to know he was their brother in Christ.

Howell set smiling eyes on Donna. “Mrs. Rogers, my wife Sarah has auburn hair just like yours.”

Donna smiled. “Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. Well, not exactly like yours. We are in our fifties now. So her hair has some gray creeping in.” He chuckled. “Like mine.”

“Well, Colonel, if the Lord lets me live to see my fifties, I’m
sure there’ll be some gray creeping into my hair too.”

“But I’ll love you just the same,” said Cody.

Donna clipped his chin playfully. “You’d better!”

Everybody laughed, then Colonel Strasburg said, “We’d best get inside. I’m sure Della has breakfast about ready.”

Della was inside the door to greet her guests and the aroma of hot breakfast filled the house.

They sat down at the dining room table and James Strasburg led in prayer. He thanked God for the food and asked His blessing on the Rogerses as they were about to begin another missionary tour among the Apache villages. He thanked the Lord for the precious blood that was shed by the Lamb of God at Calvary and for the salvation He provided.

As they began eating, Donna said, “Colonel Howell, you mentioned your wife. Is she joining you at Fort Thomas soon?”

“Yes. She had surgery just a few weeks ago, and she isn’t up to traveling yet. She’ll be coming sometime in June, the Lord willing.”

“So she is recovering from the surgery all right?”

“Yes, thank the Lord.”

Howell worked at devouring his pancakes for a minute or so, then set his gaze on Ben Locke. “How long have you been an army chaplain?”

Ben grinned. “Almost thirty years. I was a pastor in Indiana before that.”

Strasburg shook his head. “We’re losing the Lockes, though, Colonel Howell. Chaplain Locke is retiring, and he and Tina will be leaving for Indianapolis in two weeks so they can live close to their children and grandchildren.”

“Oh? Well, you will miss them, I’m sure.”

“Very much so.”

Howell nodded. “Has a new chaplain been assigned to the fort?”

“Yes. The army brass in Washington, D.C., has assigned a young chaplain named Donald Vaughn in Chaplain Locke’s place. Vaughn has been serving as assistant chaplain at Fort McDowell, Arizona, for the past two years.”

“Let’s see, Fort McDowell. Where is Fort McDowell?”

“It’s a hundred miles west of here. Near Phoenix.”

“Oh. And when will Chaplain Vaughn be coming?”

“He and his wife are scheduled to arrive here a day or two after the Lockes leave for Indiana.”

“That’s good. You won’t be without a chaplain very long, then.” Howell then glanced at Cody and Donna. “I’m amazed to hear that you are able to go into the Apache villages and preach the gospel.”

“Well, sir,” said Cody, “it’s a relative few villages where the chiefs will let us in. But thank God for those few. Fourteen, to be exact. We have seen some of the chiefs come to the Lord, and we’ve had a good number of their people saved.”

“You’re both so young. How long have you been doing this work among the Apaches?”

“Three years, sir. We started when I was twenty-three and Donna was twenty-one.”

“Cody and Donna live in a cabin inside the fort here, Colonel,” said Strasburg. “As commandant, I have provided the cabin for them since they came to this area. It’s only by the hand of Almighty God that they are able to get into those fourteen villages. They are gone from the fort on their missionary tours three to four weeks at a time. When traveling, they live in their covered wagon, which was given to them by Donna’s parents Ken and Molly Talbert, who live in Safford, Arizona.”

Howell touched his temple. “Safford. That’s south of here, isn’t it?”

“Yes. About eighty miles. Cody’s parents also live in Safford.
His father is president of the Bank of Safford.”

“l see.”

As breakfast continued, the Rogerses told the Strasburgs they would be looking forward to meeting the new chaplain and his wife when they returned from their next missionary tour of the Apache villages.

“When will you begin the next tour?” asked Howell.

“Today, sir,” replied Cody. “We’ll be pulling out right after breakfast. We’ll be back sometime the second week of May, three weeks from now.”

When breakfast was over, Cody and Donna told the Lockes and Colonel Howell good-bye, climbed into their covered wagon, and drove away.

On Tuesday, May 3, Colonel James Strasburg was in his office at Fort Apache when there was a knock at the door. Looking up from the papers on his desk, he called, “Yes?”

The door came open and his adjutant corporal said, “Colonel, the new chaplain and his wife have arrived.”

The colonel smiled, rising from his desk. “Bring them in, Wally, and—” Strasburg noticed a strange look on the face of the corporal. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, sir, not really wrong. It’s just something out of the ordinary.”

Strasburg’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever met the Vaughns, sir?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

Wally Benton wiped a palm over his mouth. “I’ll … ah … bring them in, sir. You can see for yourself.”

The furrows deepened on Strasburg’s brow as Wally stepped out of view and he heard him say, “Colonel Strasburg is waiting
for you, folks.”

Strasburg’s attention remained riveted on the open door. His eyes bulged and his jaw slacked when Chaplain Donald Vaughn and his lovely auburn-haired wife stepped into the office. He looked at the woman and said, “D-Donna, is th-this a j-joke?”

The chaplain frowned as his twenty-four-year-old wife looked at Strasburg, her own eyes wide. “Excuse me, Colonel. Did—did you call me
Donna?
”

Strasburg blinked. “Of course. Donna Rogers, what are you doing posing as the chaplain’s wife?”

Suddenly the woman’s mouth was working loosely as though she had lost the power of speech.

Her husband took hold of her hand. “Honey, are you all right?”

She drew a shaky breath. “Don, can this really be happening? You know I’ve waited and wondered about Donna for eleven years. Colonel Strasburg just called me by her name!”

The colonel took a step closer. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to upset you. But—but you are the exact image of a young woman I know well. Her name is Donna Rogers.”

A hand went to her mouth. “Colonel, I have an identical twin sister named Donna. I lost track of her eleven years ago. My name is Deena. Donna and I were separated, and neither one of us knew what happened to the other. She didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know where she was.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Colonel, the woman you know as Donna Rogers is my identical twin sister! You have nothing to apologize about. No wonder you were taken aback when you saw me. You thought I was Donna!”

Strasburg pointed to the sofa and chair in the corner of his office. “Let’s sit down.” The colonel led them to the sofa. Before they sat down, he shook hands with Donald Vaughn. “Chaplain, I’m so glad you’re here.”