Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 
   The Man From Eagle Creek
   Chapter Thirteen
   The eastern sky was a red glow when Tom left town headed south.  He
wanted to ride out to the Crooms place to make sure all was well with the
family that had caused his stay in Newton in the first place.  Tom worried
that Missus Croom would fall off the wagon and begin her drinking binge
again.
   Millie and Danny were in the barn doing their morning chores when they
heard the horse come into the yard.  They knew before they reached the door
in a dead run that it was Tom.  They knew the sound of that big horse.
   "Tom, you did come back," Danny yelled.
   "Yep, told you I'd see you in a day or two."
   "Well, we sure are glad to see you Tom, come on in ma is fixin' some
breakfast.  She'll be glad to see you too," Millie said.
   "Well, I could use some of that good home cooking I reckon."
   Tom entered the house behind the two kids that were storming through to
the kitchen, "Ma, look who's here, we got company for breakfast."
   "Hello Tom, good to see you again, set down and I'll cook up some more
eggs for you.  Millie get Tom some fresh water from the pump."
   "Good to see you up and around Missus Croom, hope you been well these
past few days."
   "I don't know when I've been better, I got my family back and my pride
too.  For a while there I had lost all that mattered to me."
   "Well I'm sure that you and the kids will be just fine now.  I'll try to
find someone to help you out around here, you got a good spread and there's
no reason for you not to make a go of it."
   "Thanks Tom for all you've done for us, the Lord sure blessed us when He
sent you our way."
   Tom sat down at the table and Missus Croom asked the blessing once again
and thanked the Lord for sending them a new friend.  Tom spent the next two
or three hours talking to Missus Croom and the kids about their spread. 
Tom asked Millie and Danny if they had any schooling at all and they said
they both could read and write good.
   "Well, if you're gonna make it out here, you'll have to have some hired
help.  I'll find someone before I leave and send'em to you.
   "You can work out the pay and whatever else you can afford so a man can
make it working here.  Millie and Danny can help you put in a garden and
between all of you and a hired hand you can put up enough canned goods to
make it through bad times."
   "You got a few hogs and you can feed them out and have salt pork all
year.  You got chickens and from what I've seen about fifty head of cattle.
You've got some good bottom land over yonder and you can plant some feed
for the stock, you folks'll have to work hard but you can have a good life
here."
   The Crooms thanked Tom for helping them once more and they made a
promise to him that if the Lord was willing, they would make a go of it.
   Tom rode back to Newton and about mid morning he slipped the saddle off
his horse and put him in a stall.  He stood looking at the young man
sleeping in the hay to one side of the front door.  He walked over and
nudged him with his foot.  The young man rolled over and shook the hay from
his hair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
   "Deputy, I sure didn't mean any harm last night, I just got some whiskey
in me for the first time in my life and it went to my belly like a sack of
rocks.  Then my head was going in circles so fast I couldn't walk good. 
You ain't gonna lock me up or anythin' are ya'."
   "No, not unless you give me reason to anyway.  Where you from?"
   "I been working over cross the river for a couple of years for old man
Owen Sharp, but he died and his sons took over the farm and kicked me out."
   "How old are you, and what's your name?"
   "I think I'm eighteen, but I ain't sure.  Ought to be close to that
anyway.  My name is Junior, that's the only name I ever been called, don't
even know if I got a last name or not.  I was took in by a family over in
Iowa when I was a baby they said."
   "If I can find you a job, would you make a good hand and not be gettin'
drunk.?"
   "Yes Sir, I'm a good worker, I've always worked hard from sunup to
sundown and pulled more'n my share of the load too.  You know where I might
find some work, I don't need much, just a place to stay and a meal or two a
day."
   "I know just the place for you but you better hear me now, if I ever get
word that you misbehaved in any way out there, I'll come back here and take
your hide and nail it to the barn door, you hear me plain?"
   "Yes Sir, you won't have to worry none about me makin' a mess of my job
deputy, you'll see, and I can't never thank you enough for helping me
neither."
   "There's one other thing I need to tell you.  There's a young girl lives
out there and she's mighty impressionable, you mess with her and I'll come
back in the middle of the night cut your nuts out, you hear me?"
   "Yes Sir deputy."
   "Good, now come on down to the sheriff's office and get your six
shooter, I'll tell you where to go for your new job."
   When Tom had given the boy his gun, he wrote a short note to Missus
Croom:
   Missus Croom This young man is named Junior.  He's a good boy.  I highly
approve of him as your hired hand.  He will make you some good help.  I
have warned him about messing with Millie and I reckon he will respect you
and your two kids well.  Tom Cooper
   Tom handed the boy the note and gave him directions to the small ranch.
   "I'll be out there in a day or two and check things out.  Tell the
Missus Croom and her kids I said Hi."
   "Yes Sir Deputy, I'll work hard for them and you'll be proud that you
sent me there too, you'll see."
   Sheriff Keyes sat and listened as he watched the whole thing, he never
said a word until the boy ran out the door and down to the stable to get
his horse.
   "Tom Cooper you're a good man.  I'm gonna be sad to see you leave here.
You just seem to have an easy way about you that folks like.  There'll be a
lot of folks remember you for being a friend, then some will remember you
for different reasons."
   Saturday was even busier than Friday had been and Newton came alive with
folks trading and buying supplies.  Mr.  Miller had a good assortment of
seeds and so did the hardware store.  Folks were coming in with want lists
for spring planting, buying boards for building and repairs, and stocking
up on staples like salt, sugar and flour.  Newton, Nebraska was jumpin'
with business and the store owners were glad, it had been a long winter.
   Sundown came to the plains and the family folks went home to store their
goods.  The hired hands came back out for one more night of revelry and
hell raisin' before going to work on Monday breaking the soil and rounding
up the stock for branding and doctoring.  Saturday night was not going to
be as quiet as the night before.
   Sheriff Keyes and Deputy Tom Cooper were preparing for their first round
of the night when they heard the gunshots.  Someone must have just emptied
their gun.  They hurried out the door into the street with shotgun and
Henry rifle raised for whatever trouble they saw.  What they saw was two
men standing in the street a few feet apart facing each other.  Tom looked
at the man closest to him, he wore a black hat, clean clothes, with shiny
boots and spurs that shown in the dim light.  He also carried his handgun
low on his right hip.
   Tom glanced up the street and saw the man facing him wore no gun, he
wore a dirty shirt and worn, soiled pants.  Tom looked down and saw a six
shooter on the ground in front of the man.
   "Pick that gun up plow boy, I told you while ago to get out of my way.
Now you gonna see what happens to plow boys that take a swing at me."
   "Don't draw down on that man, he's not wearing a gun," Sheriff Keyes
said from the side of the stranger with the fancy boots.  The man looked to
his right to see the sheriff standing there with a scatter gun in the crook
of his arm.
   "Sheriff, this ain't none of your God damned concern, this farm boy
swung at me with his fist.  I aim to teach him a lesson."
   Tom had walked on up the boardwalk a ways and was looking back at the
gunman.  He walked off the boardwalk and stood twenty feet from the
stranger feet apart but relaxed.
   "The sheriff asked you not to draw down on that man over there," Tom
said in a slow easy drawl.  Just calm down a bit and you two fellers come
over to the office and talk this over with us."
   "Go to hell Injun, I ain't talkin' nuthin' over with yer God damned
dirty ass."
   "I'm not asking you that for my benefit, I'm trying to save your life."
   "I don't need you or anyone else to save my life half breed, this is
none of your fuckin' fight."
   "Then you'll die if you draw that gun," Tom said with the same easy
drawl.  The man turned to face Tom, spitting on the ground between them. 
Tom saw that he had already thumbed the loop off his hammer.
   "Don't die like this," Tom said.
   Tom and Sheriff Keyes knew the man was gonna draw, Mr.  Miller was
standing near the door of his store listening, he knew the man was gonna
draw.
   Mayor Dean and Bud the barkeep came out of the saloon to see what was
going on, they both knew the man was gonna draw.  They could hear it in his
voice and see it in the way he faced Tom.
   Mayor Dean leaned over, "He's gonna die Bud."
   Tom looked the man in the eye as they stood in the dim light of the
street lamps, he could see his eyelids draw to slits.  He could see the
thumb of his gun hand jerk one time.
   He had his gun half way out of the holster when the .44 slug hit him at
the top of his nose right between the eyes.  The back of his head came
apart in a spray of skull, blood and hair.  His hat raised up in the back
then slid slowly down over his face.  The man fell backwards with the blow
of the bullet, his head lying in the middle of a dried dried wagon rut, his
arms and legs jerking and twitching as his last breath escaped his open
mouth.  His gun still in its holster.
   No one said a word for at least a minute.  Tom looked around at the
crowd that had gathered to see the injun deputy try to face the man down.
They never thought they would witness what just happened.
   Mayor Dean leaned over to Bud, "Come pour me a shot Bud, I told you he
was gonna die."
   Sheriff Keyes walked over to Tom, "You alright Tom."
   "Yep," Tom said as he walked back up on the board walk.
   The sheriff walked over to look down at the man lying in the street,
then he walked over where the young farm hand was standing.
   "What was all this about son?"
   "Sheriff, me an' my wife was just walkin' down the street to our wagon
when this man grabbed my wife's arm and asked for a kiss, I swung on him
but he ducked.  I don't carry a firearm sheriff, he took one out of his
belt and shot six times at my feet.  Then he loaded the gun and throwed it
out in the street.  He told me that if I didn't pick up the gun he was
gonna shoot me and my whore."
   "I knew that I couldn't handle a gun good but I wasn't gonna let no man
call my wife a whore."
   "He's tellin' the truth sheriff, I saw and heard the whole thing," a man
spoke up from behind him.
   "I saw it the same way sheriff, I was standin' by the wagon when this
man and his woman walked up," another man spoke.
   "Someone go get the undertaker out so he can clean up this mess,"
Sheriff Keyes said.
   "Son, you and your wife walk over to my office with me."
   Sheriff Keyes turned to see Tom walk out from between two buildings and
then to the office.  Tom had just puked his guts out.
   The sheriff's office had four lamps in it, two on each side wall.  In
the light of the coal oil lamps, the sheriff could see that Tom had been
sick at his belly.
   "The first man to die from yer gun, Tom?"
   "Yep"
   "It's not easy Tom, it never gets any easier."
   The man and his wife came in the office and the sheriff asked them to
tell him the story again, he took their names and where they lived then
told them that he'd walk them to their wagon.
   "I'll walk with them Sheriff, I need some air and I need to check my
horse too." Tom said.
   "We'll both walk with you folks and Tom can ride a ways out the trail
with you."
   The four left the office and down to where the team was tied.  Sheriff
tipped his hat at the man's wife and shook the farmers' hand.
   "Sheriff I'd be dead right now if you and the deputy hadn't taken up fer
me, I thank you," the man said.
   Tom walked down to the livery stable and got his horse out, he saddled
up and stuck his Henry in the side scabbard.
   "Deputy, I didn't see the shootin' up there while ago, but I heard that
you shot him square `tween the eyes after he'd already put his hand on his
gun," Langley said.
   Tom kneed his horse and went up the street to come along side the wagon.
   "Deputy, if you ever need a place to stay or a good meal come look us
up, we ain't got much but we share what we got with our friends and
neighbors," the young farmer told him as they rode out of town.
   "I looked at you out there tonight and I knew you were there on account
of pride, don't ever lose pride in who you are or what you are.  You were a
brave man for standing there in front of that gun hand that way, and you
ma'am should be proud that your man was willing to die for your honor," Tom
remembered the words of his dad.
   "You folks take care of each other, look in on the sheriff now and then.
I'll be gone in a week or so but I'll be back this way one of these days
and look you up."
   "Thank you deputy, you're welcome at our house any time," the woman
spoke for the first time.
   Tom rode back into town from the back side of the stores and up behind
the jail, he slipped the saddle off his horse and patted his neck, as he
leaned in and spoke to him.
   His big horse walked back behind all the buildings and then out to the
front of the livery stable where he blew his breath through his lips as he
walked in past Ol' Langley.  The old man just shook his head and grinned as
the horse walked into his stall.
   Tom carried his saddle into the sheriff's office and dropped it in a
corner.
   "Where's yer horse Tom?" the Sheriff asked.
   "He went on back to the livery stable, I told him I had some work to
do," Tom said, as he propped his rifle next to the desk.
   Sheriff Keyes looked up at Tom and grinned, he knew his deputy was gonna
be alright now.
   The night was just now beginning, and the word of mouth tale of the
Injun deputy was all over Newton.
   Two of the men at the bar said they knew the gun hand that had been so
willing to die.  They'd seen him down in Omaha a couple of weeks ago when
he drew down on two men at the same time.  He killed them both.  The
sheriff had taken four deputies with him to the man's hotel room and told
the man to leave town.
   Sheriff Keyes and his deputy, Tom Cooper started the rounds, they were
about to start before the action took place in the street.  When they
walked down the middle of the street, one carrying a scatter gun, the other
a Henry rifle in his arm and a Colt strapped to leg, the small crowds grew
quiet as they passed.
   The two lawmen walked into the saloon and stood in the same place they
had the night before.  The exact place Tom had stood the afternoon he shot
Sam Wilson and his friend Bo.
   The saloon was lit with two big wagon wheels suspended from the rafters.
Each wheel had six coal oil lamps burning around the rim of the wheel. 
There was a rope tied to the center of each wheel and thrown over a rafter
and tied to a thick boards nailed on opposite walls of the room.
   They could be lowered to refill the oil lamps, then raised to just above
head high to give more light.
   Bud, the barkeep asked the sheriff and his deputy if he could buy them a
drink, both men declined.
   Starting at the front of the saloon and drifting to the back, quiet came
over the saloon like a lid closing on a coffin.  The noise slowly left the
room one man at a time.  All eyes were on the Sheriff and the tall deputy
standing at the bar.
   "Let's go Tom, we're hurtin' Bud's business by standing here." Bud
grinned as the two walked out the double doors of the saloon.
   The conversations slowly returned again with whispers, then low voices
talking.  Soon there was laughter.  Saturday night in the river town was
back in business.
   "I still don't like that God Damned injun.  He thinks he's hot shit
after showin' off that God Damned oversize horse of his'n and struttin'
around in front of Canady's women folk like he's a white man," Roller said
to the men sitting at the table with him.
   One man got up from Roller's table to get another drink and never came
back.  Another got up to go piss and found another table when he came back.
In no time, there were only four men left at the table with the horse
wrangler.  He was riled at the ones that left cause he was tellin just what
he thought of the injun.  `God Damned pissy pants Injun lovin' cowards, I
damned well got a right to say what I think about a God Damned Injun.'
Roller thought.
   "What say we ride on back out to the ranch Boss, I'm about drunk as it
is and I ain't got much money no how," one of the ranch hands said.
   "Hell if you're like them other pissy pants over there, then either get
away from my table or get the hell back to the ranch."
   The ranch hand got up and left quickly before there was trouble.  He
needed this job and he wasn't gonna get crossways with Mr.  Roller.  He was
a hard man to please and all his wranglers walked a wide circle around him
when he was drinkin'.
   Two of the Canady wranglers left the saloon at the same time, one turned
to the other, "I know exactly what's eatin' at Roller's gut.  He took a
bath and got all cleaned up with his hair slicked down and made a move on
Canady's oldest daughter last week.  She laughed in his face.  Then the
other day Mr.  Canady shows up with this Injun and the Canady women folk
made a big to-do over him.  Roller's gut done had a hole eat in it by then.
I think the he'll git tanked up and call that Injun out fore the nights
over."
   "Nope, never happen that way, if he's gonna do somethin' you can bet
it'll be stupider than that.  Like draw down on the Injun in the dark."
   "I wouldn't draw down on that Injun if he was asleep with his hands tied
together.  From what I saw out there he could wake up, untie that knot and
still shoot my slow ass."
   The two men mounted up and rode slowly south out of town and on over to
the Canady spread.
   Tom was hoping there wouldn't be any more gun men out tonight.  His
bristles were still burred up on the back of his neck though.  He knew
trouble was still stirring the air, he just didn't know what, or where it
was coming from.
   "Tom, let's stop down here at the livery table and get a cool drink of
water from the pump, my throats kinda dry."
   "Sounds good to me, mine's been dry for some time now and I still got
short hairs sticking up on the back of my neck.  Just got this feeling
Sheriff, just got this feeling about it ain't over for the night."
   "We'll be real watchful then, don't want some ya-hoo pullin' a gun on
our back."
   Tom took his Colt out and spun the cylinder, he dropped the two spent
cartridges and slipped two live ones in place.  He remembered the day that
Mr.  Bill Cody had looked at his Colt.  That seemed so long ago.
   The two lawmen walked back toward the center of town where people were
still stirring, the outer stores had long since closed for the night.  Only
the hotel, Miller's Gen.  Mose.  and the saloon were still doing business.
They walked side by side now, about three feet apart down the dirt street
of Newton.
   Sheriff Keyes and his deputy were almost back in front of the saloon and
Miller's store.
   "Look out Sheriff, behind you." Someone yelled.
   Tom whirled, his Colt jumping to his hand.  He shoved his Henry at the
sheriff knocking him sideways as he came around and dropped to the ground.
He saw the outline of a big man in the dim light, he saw the glint of the
man's gun just before it went off.
   Tom heard the buzz of the bullet as it went over his head.  He was still
falling when his first .44 slug hit the man in the shoulder.  The man
jerked around, then took another two steps and Tom put the next one in his
heart.
   Tom helped the sheriff up from the dirt, and picked up his Henry.  Still
in a crouch, he was scanning the dim lit street for any shadow that may
make a move to take part in the ambush.  The sheriff and the deputy stood
for a long time, looking up one side the street and down the other, guns
ready.  Tom walked over to the man that lay face down in the wagon ruts. 
He reached down and rolled him over.  In the dim light of the coal oil
lamps, Tom saw his face.
   It was Roller, Canadys ramrod.
   When Tom rolled him over, the man gurgled in his throat and tobacco
juice pumped out the side of his mouth.  It ran down his face and pooled in
his ear hole then dribbled down the back of his neck.
   "Tom that was quick, I no sooner heard the shout than I was on the
ground as the shootin' started.  Hell I was rolling around trying to see
what the hell was going on and it was over."
   "Sorry for being so rough Sheriff, I didn't want you to get hit on
account of me.  I seem to attract lead all of a sudden in my life."
   "Shove me down in the street any time you think it's necessary, if it
means I get to wake up alive the next morning." The sheriff grinned.
   "Well, I guess this was coming for a couple of days now, not sure just
what it was about me that made Roller hate me so much, other than me being
Sioux blood."
   "Some folks just got a lot of hate in them Tom.  They let it out on
people they don't even know, somehow they can justify it that way."
   Sheriff Keyes turned to a man standing there, "Would you run fetch the
undertaker?  Tell him to come get another one, they're stackin' up out
here."
   Once again the boardwalk in front of the saloon and Miller's store was
full of onlookers, talking and whispering among themselves.  Some turned
and went on about their business, others watched as the sheriff and deputy
stood over the dead man until the undertaker got there.
   The last of the Canady wranglers got on his horse and rode by the body
of his dead straw boss.  He sat there on his horse and looked down for a
minute, then spit tobacco juice on Roller's hand and rode off into the
dark.
   Sheriff Keyes and Tom both figured that most of the excitement was over
for the night.  "I'm gonna go to my room at the hotel Tom, you get some
sleep too, you've had a rough couple of days and nights.  I'll see you
tomorrow some time."
   Tom went to the livery stable, grabbed some hay and piled it to one side
in the stall where his horse was.  The safest place in town for him.  He
slipped his flute out of the case and blew softly along the length of it.
He touched his lips to the flute and breathed life into the wooden
instrument.
   Again the lonesome sound of the Injun's music drifted across the town in
the late hours of the night.  Men that had been intent on drinking a few
more rounds heard the sound and decided they'd had enough for this night on
the town.  Something about the sound was tellin' them not to mess up too
bad.
   Sunday morning comes as early as the week days in Newton.  Tom woke up
when the light came through the big front door.  He had rested good and
woke up hungry.  He decided to try his luck at the hotel once more, maybe
the sheriff would be up and having breakfast.
   Tom walked into the hotel dining room and the manager was a bit more
polite.  Even though he didn't let Tom know it, he was glad that the tall
quiet man was making the town safer just by his presence.  Tom ordered
eggs, bacon and biscuits with water to drink.  He sat eating his meal with
his back to the far wall as the hotel guests and townspeople came in to
eat. The sheriff never showed so Tom paid his fare and left.
   He wanted to ride out to the Crooms place and check on the Crooms as
well as the new hired hand.
   Saddling up, he headed south out of town.  He heard the sound of a
church bell and swung his horse over in that direction.  The church was a
one room school house that was used as a church on Sundays.  Faded
whitewash side boards and wood shingle roof.  Tom rode up to the hitchin'
rail and slid off to the ground.  He took his gunbelt off and hung it over
his saddle horn then placed his hat over it.
   He walked in the church as they were singing hymns and sat at a make
shift school desk on the back row.  The preacher was leading the singing
and saw Tom when he came in.  He thought it odd that an Indian was in
church, but smiled inside himself and kept right on singing.
   The sermon the preacher preached was about being a friend and caring for
those that needed help.  About making the community safe for the kids and
working folks.  He wanted to get all the church people to share with the
needy, help them to help themselves.  The preacher told a story about how
he was called to preach while up in the Dakota Territories a few years ago.
He told of sitting at the trading post when a woman came in carrying a
baby, screaming to her husband about a miracle from the heavens.
   Tom's short hair stood straight out on the back of his neck, his skin
felt like it was crawling up and down his back as he sat and listened to
the story.
   The preacher was looking out over the small congregation as he talked,
but it seemed to Tom as if he were looking right at him all the time.  The
preacher was telling the story with a loud and steady voice, the
congregation was staring at him, hanging on every word.  They could see him
sitting there with worn out dirty clothes, stringy beard and smoking his
pipe, as he told the story to detail.
   They could see the Sioux squaws listening and looking at the woman with
the small Indian boy in her arms.  They heard the preacher tell of
translating to them what the white woman had said.
   "When me and the others heard the story told over and over until the
woman had told every thing that had happened out there on the prairie, I
turned to the Indian squaws and told them in their native tongue of what
had happened.  They knew nothing of the white mans God, but they jumped
with joy and danced and sang their songs of praise of the miracle."
   "The Indian squaws ran out the door screaming to the heavens and falling
to the ground with praise to the God of the Sioux for sending the miracle
baby back to this land from the heavens above."
   "Me and my friends walked out of the post and stood looking at each
other with dumbfounded stares of disbelief, we knew that these things just
don't happen.  We knew that we had just heard about a real live miracle
here on the prairie."
   "I was still standing as if I had been struck by lightning, I was
wondering if this was the last days of time.  I felt like I had to make the
best of my last days.
   "I looked over to the buggy the woman had ridden to the post in, there
was a small basket, like a picnic basket there in the buggy.  I walked over
and picked it up."
   "The basket had rips and tears all through the woven willow bark where
the eagles talons had nearly shredded it in the fight that took place in
the sky above, as the woman watched from below.  The fight between Good and
Evil."
   The congregation was looking at the preacher and leaning in to hear him
as he told his story.  Even the young boys and girls had stopped fidgeting
in their seats and had slid forward, sitting on the edge of the pew.  This
man had witnessed a real live miracle and they wanted to hear the story.
   "I picked that basket up and cried out to God in heaven as the three of
us good for nothing men that had never even been to church a day in our
lives fell to our knees.
   "We all three cried tears of hope, tears of happiness, and tears of
shame that we had never let God into our lives.  We knelt there not knowing
what to do next or where to go.  I felt as if I had an itch to do
something, I just didn't know what."
   "We split up and one man walked away with his pack mule to go off into
the hills and search for his soul and find peace with God."
   "I rode with my close friend away from the trading post a few miles and
then it hit me."
   "Folks I want to tell you that it hit me like a bolt of lightning from
the sky, `BOOM'," the preacher shouted into the small church, waving his
Bible above his head.  The people all jumped as if they had been hit by the
bolt of lightning he'd just described.
   "I knew what it was that I had that itchin' to do.  I was called to tell
the story of the miracle on the plains, I was called to spread the Word to
all who would listen.  I was called by God himself that day to do His
work."
   "I said goodbye to my friend and turned my horse south, I was headed to
Nebraska Territory to spread the Word of God."
   "Here I am today, telling you about this true story of a miracle.  A
true story of a miracle baby that was delivered to a woman that was barren
as the deserts, a woman that couldn't have babies.  A woman that had prayed
to her God in heaven to deliver a son for her and her husband."
   "People, don't be like me, don't wait until you get struck by lightning
to work for God.  Live your lives so others can see God in the things you
do.  Let them know that the people of Newton, Nebraska are ready, willing,
and able to do God's work.
   "You young boys and girls, I want you to remember this story, I want you
to tell your friends and tell them to tell their friends.  I want you to
grow up and tell your kids, and tell your grand kids about the miracle that
happened right out here in our land."
   "I have read the story that was written in a book about this small Sioux
Indian boy, by a writer of books.  It tells the story just as I have told
you.  I wish I had been there to tell the writer my part of the story for
his book."
   "If you ever get a chance to read this book, you'll get chills and your
hair will bristle as you read the words.  My hair still bristles each time
I tell of my experiences that day and what God has blessed me with since
the day I gave Him my life and my soul."
   "I want us to sing a closing hymn, and I want each of you to close your
eyes and picture in your own mind the events of that day.  Picture yourself
as you look up toward heaven and see that giant eagle swoop down to earth
and deliver a baby boy into the cold waters of Eagle Creek and into the
arms of a woman that had cried out to God for a son to give her husband."
   "I want you to close your eyes and look toward heaven and you decide in
your own mind if you think these things can happen in this day and time
without divine intervention of God above.  You make your own choice.  You
let God come in to your heart and let Him live there for all to see."
   "As we sing this last hymn, I want to thank you for coming out today, I
want to thank our visitor's and especially the young man sitting in the...
The preacher stopped, for when he opened his eyes to look once more to the
back, the Indian was gone.
   Pastor Early McClain was speechless as the congregation sang loudly the
last hymn of the day.  He had wanted to speak to the man that had entered
late.
   There was something about him, the Pastor could just feel it as he
looked at him sitting there while he told the story.
   
  
The Man From Eagle Creek - Chapter - 13