(Feb. 12, 1909)
The two boys, along with two of their cousins, were in the barn.
Will and Tommy were cleaning the muck from a horse stall, when the two cousins lured Tommy outside to play. Tommy’s disappearance went unnoticed by Will for he had a lot on his mind.
No, it wasn’t the wolves he had just killed. Nor the $8 he received for the two hides! And what a surprise that was, paying off his $2 debt for his Stevens Crackshot!
No, his mind was on far more important matters, more specifically his recent meeting with Ms. Eliza Ann. It felt so good to help the elderly lady in filling her wood box. He wondered, might there be others he could also help?
As he worked, his mind was traveling down each road in the community, passing each home, making a mental note of who lived there.
Mr. and Mrs. Brown? No, Mr. Brown was strong as an ox! Will saw him carry an eight-foot oak timber on his shoulder, just like it was a stick of kindling! He sure didn’t need any help filling the wood box!
Mrs. Bennett? No, she was so wealthy that she hired the Haywood boys for all her needs.
Just then, Will heard the cows in the pasture bawling. Dropping the pitchfork, he hurried around the corner of the barn just in time to witness the two cousins, and Tommy, throwing rocks at the cows.
What in the world!?
At that very moment, Will’s dad was coming up the road, and saw the whole thing also!
“Oh, no!” His dad would whip their hides red, and Will knew it.
Will hollered at Tommy, “PeeWee, have you lost your mind?”
The three boys came running to the barn upon seeing Mr. Miller on his horse. Dan Miller rode into the barn lot, tied his horse, walked over to a pear tree and began carving a switch.
Will shuddered at what was coming. His nearest escape being the hayloft, he climbed the wooden ladder to avoid witnessing the wrath that was about to descend on the three boys.
After their switching, his dad sent the two cousins home, and Tommy to the house. Will sure was glad that was over, because he knew that it could have been a whole lot worse.
Just then, he heard his dad’s voice.
“Will, where are you at!?”
Will felt confused inside as his heart began to pound, for he knew the tone in that voice.
“I’m up here, in the hayloft, dad!”
Dan Miller shouted, “Get down here!”
Will sheepishly obeyed, all the while trying to process what was happening.
“Yes, dad?”
His father threw the switch to the ground, and grabbing a nearby hickory walking stick, retorted, “Get over here, and take your medicine!”
All of the blood left Will’s face, and he replied, “Dad, I didn’t rock them cows, you know I wouldn’t.”
Will’s dad exploded.
“I know you didn’t! You stood and watched, while they did!”
Will responded, “But dad, I had just come out of the barn and saw it happen, just like you did. Honest!”
His dad reached for Will, hollering, “Listen to me! You are the oldest, so, when I am not at home, you are in charge! If anything goes wrong around here, I am holding you personally responsible. You will now get double what they got!”
Will’s dad set to beating him mercilessly, and Will took it, still trying to make sense of the wrong that was being committed. He wasn’t hollering, or crying, his mind was too overcome with shock and numbness.
Unsatisfied with the lack of resistance, Dan Miller shouted, “I don’t think we are gettin’ anywhere!”
And with that, he kicked Will hard in the hip, then grabbing him by his collar, he punched the boy in the side of the head with his fist, knocking him to the ground.
Then he said in a low, mocking voice, before walking away, “Look at the Wolf killer, now!”
What? Did you think Will Miller had it all wonderful, and great in his life? Did you not realize there was a reason he rarely mentioned his dad?
A Christian? Dan Miller? Certainly, he professed Christ, and was baptized, but so had Simon, and yet, Peter told him shortly after that he was in the bond of iniquity (Acts 8:13-23). No, as Simon, there had never been a heart change in Dan Miller. Sabbath meetings? Sadly, a mere social, a place to be seen, to gather with other men and discuss the weather, livestock, and such. Do you remember the sermon from Mr. Wrinkles concerning dying to self? On the way home, Will heard his dad telling his mother, “I don’t like the way that man kept questioning my faith!”
Questioning his faith? The same message that cut Will to the heart, repulsed his dad? Why? That dear reader is a war that has been waged for all time. A war that Lil’ Will Miller was just entering, and Satan was eager to buffet the new convert.
Alone again, young Will rose to his knees, wiping his bloody nose.
Another beating! He would run away! Yes, that is what he would do!
“I’ll grab my Stevens Crackshot and head for St. Louis! You just see if I don’t!”
…Hmm? Will turned his head to look at the home he was now going to leave, for he meant it. It was then the voice of his Captain that intervened (Hebrews 2:10).
What about PeeWee? Wouldn’t PeeWee be in constant trouble if you were to leave? And your Mother? Wouldn’t she have to do all the milking with you gone, and her with child again? What about your elderly Cherokee friend, Ms. Eliza Ann? Her body is failing, soon she will need more help than ever.
Will paused, and blinked a mud filled eye lash, as the struggle inside him began.
Standing up, he brushed himself off, and slowly ascended the ladder to the hayloft once more. The young boy did not understand that the attack was not on him, but on the One who endured much worse. Likewise, Dan Miller did not realize that he secretly hated the real Christ, and anyone who followed Him. The apostle Paul shamed the Corinthians for receiving “another Jesus.” Dan Miller had fallen into that trap. Yes, he had formed “another Jesus” within his own mind. A pseudo-Christ who made no unpleasant demands of obedience. Obedience? Dan Miller did not obey anyone; he was his own master. Hence, his frustration with Mr. Wrinkles sermon concerning dying to self.
Feeling exhausted, alone and without help, Lil’ Will Miller threw himself upon the loose hay, and fell fast asleep. But he was not alone, help was coming, and unbeknownst to the young boy, it was already on the way.
Lord willing, until next time.
Michael Everett Jones is a Texas County native, old fashioned historian and purveyor of traditional Christian values. Email ozarksgrandpajones@gmail.com.