Free Angel Train by Gilbert Morris

conditional parole.”
    “Never heard of a thing like that.”
    “It’s never been done, but I believe I can get the board to take a chance on you and on any of your fellow inmates who would be helpful. It would amount to your taking over as scout for the wagon train and getting them safely to Oregon. If you can do that, the parole will be affirmed for you and for any of the men who make the trip and who qualify in your judgment. What is your thinking about this?”
    Casey Tremayne spoke instantly. His voice was soft, and he had a slight accent that Charity couldn’t identify. “I’ll do anything to get out of this place, Warden. I expect you know that.”
    “I can’t blame you for that. You have any questions about the proposition?”
    “A lot of questions,” Tremayne said instantly. “In the first place, what authority would I have with the wagon train?”
    “Why do you ask that?”
    “Because there are going to be difficulties along the way. This religious group is probably used to obeying a bishop or some such figure, a preacher perhaps. That would not work on the Oregon Trail. If an Indian attack comes, there wouldn’t be time to stop and have a prayer meeting.” He turned, and his lips turned up in a grin. “There are times, Miss Morgan, when action is needed instead of prayer.”
    Charity spoke up quickly, “I don’t think there would be any problem. If I can convince my father and the elders to accept you, that would be one of the conditions they would have to agree to.”
    Tremayne studied her and then shook his head. “I doubt if you can convince them.”
    “I can if this thing is of God,” Charity said in a sprightly voice. “I know you don’t believe that, but I do.”
    Tremayne studied her carefully; his eyes seemed to bore into her very mind and heart. She met his gaze, and finally he shrugged and said, “I think I’d like to do it, Warden.”
    “All right. We’ll get everything set up here. Here’s a list of men due for parole but will never make it. They’re all troublemakers. I think you know them. You can choose four or five to go with you, and you’ll be their boss.”
    Tremayne took the list of paper, and a quick smile swept across his face. “These are the worst hoodlums in this prison.” He glanced at Charity. “There are some murderers on this list. Some bank robbers. None of them are likely to join in your prayer meetings.”
    “That won’t be your problem, Mr. Tremayne. Your problem will be to get us through safely to Oregon.”
    “Could I have a pencil, Warden?” He took the pencil from Bryce, made some checks, and said, “I’ll take these four, and Billy Watson.”
    Bryce stared at him. “Watson’s not exactly a tough sort of fellow.”
    “No, but he needs to be out of here. Never should have been sent here in the first place.”
    “There’ll be no trouble about him. You agree then?”
    “Sure I agree, but I think Miss Morgan’s going to need a little miracle to get her people to agree with this.” His head turned toward Charity again. “You realize you’re asking a group of Bible-believing righteous folk to put their lives in the hands of a group of jailbirds.”
    For an instant Charity’s heart nearly failed her, but she said, “I believe the Lord is in this. I’ve been praying and fasting, and it’s all come together. I’m going back home now. You talk to the men you want to take with you, and I’ll talk to my people.”
    “I don’t think you’ll have any luck,” Tremayne said and shrugged his shoulders.
    Charity hated to see his air of futility. He looked capable, but he was not the kind of a man she could really admire. No doubt he could shoot and fight and do the things Western men were reputed to be good at, but he did not have God, and to Charity Morgan that was a fatal flaw. She rose and said, “I’m going home, Uncle Paul. As soon as I convince our people, I’ll be back.”
    As soon as she left the room, Tremayne said, “Warden,