The temperature had dropped to a nice, comfortable seventy-six degrees, and Tracey was parked on the side of the road, heading south. He was watching, through his rear view mirror, for the bikers to arrive. If they showed up, he would be there to greet them. And he would explain to them, in a nice civil manner, what the rules were in his town. He prayed to God that he would at least live through that much.

Well, why not? Why shouldn’t he expect God to protect him and the town? There were plenty of scriptural promises to assure him. And right then he was reminded of the scriptural promise in Psalm ninety-one. “If you make the Most High your dwelling...  then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come.”

And the next verse says: “God will command His angels to guard you in all your ways.” Well, he was definitely going to claim that promise.

The chief still hadn’t checked in; and Tracey hadn’t yet seen any of the other guys around town. He had returned to the Chief’s home a few minutes after five to see if he had showed up for dinner, and now he was making Gabby nervous.

They had taken a few minutes to pray together, but he had not told her what the problem was. So, when he left, she was standing in the doorway looking very nervous. He was convinced that Gabby was unaware of what her husband was up to, and he thanked God for that. Of course, he still was unsure; his own self, if Tom Wakefield was actually guilty of anything.  Hey! Maybe they were all over at the quarry, getting some target practice. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? He had raced out to the quarry, just to find it empty. So now, he was sitting here, waiting to see if trouble was coming; and thinking.

Boy, that Lance Colby’s one big dude! He had thanked God over and over for being there with him, so he didn’t have to tackle that giant again. He trusted God implicitly, and he believed in prayer. He had certainly seen enough proof about the workings of prayer in his life since he had become a Christian.  In fact, long before he had become a Christian, he knew there had been people praying for him. Way back, when he was a teenager, right after his mom had died, his aunt and uncle had started talking to him about Jesus.

His uncle Thaddeus and Aunt Sadie had gone to some kind of revival service at a tent meeting in Sevierville, and when they had returned home to Knoxville, they were really acting strange. That was the only way Tracey could describe their behavior back then. He could remember them trying to talk to him about Jesus, and him thinking they were a little “touched” in the head.

He remembered his Aunt Sadie telling him; “Tracey, honey, you may not want to listen right now, but me and uncle Thaddeus are going to start praying for your salvation. We’re dedicating you to God, son, and some one of these days; God is going to use you for His glory.”

Wow! He thought of those words now as he stared down the deserted road. I hadn’t thought about it, but that’s almost the same thing Ray said to me. But, I still don’t see how God could ever use somebody as dumb and stubborn as me.

Then he recalled how Becky had told him about the way she had started praying for him after they first met, and of all the things that have happened since then.  Yeah, this will all work out okay. He just hoped he could keep his senses about him until this night was over. “I have strength through Christ,” he kept repeating over and over.

And then he heard the thundering roar of the motorcycle engines, and he knew the time for serious prayer had only just begun.

He opened his eyes and gazed down the road. They were still nearly a mile away, but he could almost feel the ground trembling. His stomach began to do things that he wished it wouldn’t.

“Dear God, I need the wisdom of Solomon and the great patience of Job.” That was all he had time for.  They were only fifty yards away when he got out of the car and held his hands up for them to stop.  He could hear the laughter over the loud rumble of the engines, and wondered how that could be possible.  There were at least twenty bikes, and they all pulled off the road in single file. As far as he could tell from this vantage point, each bike had two riders.

They outnumbered the entire police department by four-to-one.