by Judith Pella
A clump of trees!
Sam had been searching the landscape, his eyes roving carefully over every inch on the horizon. He waited a moment when he first saw the dark splotch. But there were no clouds; it had to be trees. He trotted up to Griff, who was riding slightly ahead. Saying nothing, he pointed. Griff nodded. It was the first possible destination for the kind of deed Caleb had planned. Slim and Longjim gathered close.
“We better ride up quietlike,” said Griff, “guns drawn. If they’re there, we don’t want to spook ’em.”
“I think we ought to surround ’em,” said Longjim.
“Okay, Longjim, you and Slim circle ’em in opposite directions. Sam and I will wait until you’re in position; then we’ll head forward. Ready?” He looked at Sam.
Sam nodded grimly, dreading what they might find in the midst of those trees.
There was no avoiding it. But he thought about the gun he always carried in his saddlebag. What kind of man was he that he let others do his dirty work for him? Is that truly what God wanted? He simply could not let his friends face dangers nor let them defend his wife while he stood by passively. Sam reached down toward his saddlebag.
“Don’t do it, Sam,” said Griff.
“I don’t see how I can do anything else.”
“Let me tell you, it takes more guts to ride up there unarmed than me and Slim and Longjim’ll ever have. Besides, Deborah’ll never forgive me if I stand by and let you throw out everything you’ve ever stood for. Maybe if we get desperate enough…but we ain’t near to that yet.”
Sam peered ahead. “Dear God, I hope that’s true.”
****
Deborah was the first to see the riders approach the top of the rise overlooking the small valley of the trees and pond. Pollard stopped just as he tightened the noose around Deborah’s neck, his eyes following the direction of her gaze.
“Not again!” he murmured.
Then Caleb and his cowboys also saw, and they drew their guns. But one of the approaching riders fired his weapon into the dirt about two inches from the horse Caleb sat upon. Another gun fired from about fifty yards behind. The horse Deborah was on, not held with any firm control, snorted and moved restively. Deborah thought she saw Pollard’s hand grab the reins to steady the beast.
“You want a blood bath, we’re ready!” shouted Griff as he and Sam rode near. “You’ll be the first to die, Caleb.”
“What do I care?” said Caleb.
“Maybe these other fellows ain’t as ready to die as you,” said Sam.
By now the presence of Slim and Longjim with strategically aimed weapons was apparent. The three Bar S cowboys looked uncertainly at Caleb, and he glared back at them with warning.
Caleb said, “Boys, if they make any more dangerous moves with their weapons, you shoot that horse out from under the woman.” But just to be sure his men didn’t fail him, Caleb pointed his gun at Deborah’s horse. “You can shoot me, but I’ll take her with me.”
“Caleb, give it up,” pleaded Sam. “No one wants to die out here. And you don’t want to harm an innocent woman.”
“Innocent? I’ll never believe that!” Caleb shouted back, but the effort made his voice crack and brought on a paroxysm of coughing. His gun shook and for an instant was pointing away from Deborah.
Griff took the opportunity and raised his gun to fire at Caleb.
“Stop!” shouted a new voice.
Those gathered at the hanging tree had been so intent on their stand-off they had not yet heard or seen the rider crest the rise. It was Carolyn. She saw the gathering first and was shouting and spurring her mount into a full gallop as Griff poised himself to kill Caleb.
Two other riders thundered after Carolyn, but all the youthful riders were unarmed. None of the armed riders made a move. Caleb’s boys would do what their boss told them, but they really had no taste for hanging a woman, so they were willing to give things a chance to unravel if they would.
Caleb recovered, fully aware that the new intruders had saved his life. He groaned inwardly when he saw Carolyn. She was the last person he wanted around now. He rubbed his gaunt and pale face, but he focused his gaze on her almost defiantly as she reined her horse to a halt near him.
“Get out of here, Carolyn!” he ordered.
“Why?” she cried, her voice laced with recrimination. “So I won’t see the kind of man you really are? You’re an evil monster just like my father! I don’t know why I ever cared, why I ever tried to—” She broke off, emotion strangling her voice.
Ramón came forward. “Señor Stoner, you’ve got everything all wrong.” They were the hardest words he had ever spoken; Caleb had been his boss, the Patrón, and he had always been afraid of him. He still could not fully accept the fact that this man was his grandfather. But he spoke as boldly as he could. “Carolyn’s mother is innocent.”
“What’s this to you?” sneered Caleb.
“I think you know very well what it means to me,” Ramón said, gathering courage as he spoke. Caleb looked guiltily away as Ramón continued. “You’re going to have to accept me, Señor Stoner. I am your grandson, and I won’t go away. But don’t worry; I’ve gotten along without you all these years and that’s the way I prefer it. All I want from you is recognition. That’s all my mother ever wanted, too. You could have avoided so much tragedy if only you would have done that much for a poor Mexican girl.”
“That’s all you people ever want, a few crumbs from ‘the Patrón’s’ table,” Caleb said. “But given the chance, you’d take everything.”
“That’s not what this is all about, and you know it,” Carolyn said, finding her voice. “You’re just afraid to let anyone love you. You were hurt once, and now everyone who comes near you must suffer also—and, what’s worse, you passed that sickness on to your son.”
“Leonard’s mother betrayed us!” retorted Caleb. “She made me kill her; she made poor Leonard watch.”
“And every woman who comes close to you must suffer for that? And their offspring, too?”
“Your mother deserves to suffer!”
“You’re wrong about that, too, Grandfather,” said Carolyn. She looked at Ramón to see if he wanted to finish.
“It was my mother!” Ramón said. “She killed Leonard Stoner! He gave her no choice because she loved him.”
For a moment Caleb tried to deny Ramón’s revelation. He glanced at Deborah, and the hand that held his gun shook almost as if he would fire at her horse, anyway. But then Caleb looked back at Carolyn.
In that moment, he knew his defeat. He had wasted years of hatred, bitterness, and pain, while the true murderer of his son had lived under his nose in safety and prosperity, perhaps even happiness. A huge span of his life had been wasted, and he thought of Deborah’s words spoken a few minutes ago:
“Ask yourself if your hatred and bitterness is worth it.”
But now that his life was nearly over, could he accept that it had all been for nothing? Caleb Stoner was a proud, obstinate man. Damaged pride had caused the rage that made him kill Elizabeth and her lover. And even before that, hadn’t pride driven him from Virginia rather than live under the condescending weight of his in-laws who saw themselves as his betters?
Was he ready to die with pride as his only comfort?
Skittishly, his eyes darted from Carolyn to Ramón. Dear God! Were these truly his dear Leonard’s children? Leonard’s son! How Caleb had wanted a male heir who had Leonard’s blood in his veins. But a Mexican peon who would hate him as much as Laban and Jacob had always hated him? Yet, in the sudden rush of reality that threatened to overwhelm him, he had to ask if he deserved any better. Caleb’s pride had driven him all his life; now he could clearly see that it had also destroyed him.
Leonard’s children!
He had been willing to accept the girl; could he also accept the boy? He studied Ramón, and oddly, he did not see a greaser, the child of his son’s murderer—rather, he saw Leonard. For the first time in eighteen years,
he allowed himself to see…to really see.
The gun fell from Caleb’s hand, hitting the dirt with a thud. Then he moved toward Deborah and with his own hands slipped the noose from her neck.
Part 16
Truth and Peace
80
Full daylight bathed the town of Stoner’s Crossing as the party of riders rode at a slow and deliberate pace down the main street. The citizens had begun to stir, going about their day-to-day business. Several looked up and recognized their town’s patrón riding in the center of the group. They had never seen him look so…broken.
Deborah could not help but think of all the other significant times she had ridden down this street. As a young, grieving girl hoping for a new life; as a prisoner despairing of life, hoping for death; as a fugitive galloping away with a gang of outlaws; then as a prisoner again, finally understanding what life was really all about.
It seemed to her now that this street had been like a stage in a theater where her entire life had been played out, where she had grown and matured into the final product of God’s making. She could clearly see now how each of life’s events is but a step closer to the Creator’s ultimate design—if a person only chooses to accept God’s way.
Deborah looked at her daughter and prayed she would also come to this spiritual insight. At least Carolyn was starting with a firm foot planted on God’s path.
The riders stopped at the sheriff’s office. There were no arrests to be made, but it seemed some representative of the law ought to be informed of the events of the morning.
Back at the hanging tree it had been decided to let Caleb’s three cowboys and Pollard go.
But Sam told them, “If any of you ever come near here or any of my family or friends, I ain’t gonna be responsible for what Griff McCulloch does to you.”
Griff gave the man a dangerous sneer just to make sure the message was clear.
No one wanted to see any further suffering for events of the past. But as they dismounted and entered the office, they did not realize one final scene still awaited them.
Matt Gentry and Jacob Stoner were having a cup of coffee with the sheriff. Caleb stopped, instantly recognizing Jacob. Their eyes locked together for a moment; then Caleb looked aside. He had no more stomach or strength for hatred.
Sam spoke first, and his words surprised everyone, especially Carolyn. “Matt Gentry! What are you doing here?”
Matt glanced sheepishly at Carolyn, then rose and shook Sam’s hand. Griff stepped forward and pounded Matt on the back.
“Howdy, Sam—Griff,” said Matt, with another glance toward Carolyn.
“What’s going on?” demanded Carolyn.
“Matt here is a good friend of ours,” said Griff.
“You never said anything to me,” she said to Matt.
“Well, I—”
“They’re not the ones you told me about, that helped you in that other trouble?” Carolyn asked.
Matt nodded.
“You done good, boy!” said Griff. “I knew I could depend on you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Carolyn.
“I asked Matt to look out for you, that’s all,” explained Griff, “and from what I’ve heard, he’s done a good job of it—”
“You what—?” She turned on Matt, glaring at him. “How dare you! You think I’m nothing but a helpless female who needs a man to keep her out of trouble? I thought you were my friend, but—”
“Aw, Lynnie,” said Griff, “don’t get your unmentionables all in a bundle. Are you gonna stand here and tell me you didn’t need just a little help at the ranch?”
Carolyn narrowed her eyes at him. “You coulda said something.”
Matt grinned and held out his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Carolyn,” he said contritely. “It’s true that Griff asked me to look out for you, but once I met you, well…he wouldn’t have had to ask. I reckon I just liked you, that’s all. Besides—” He flushed and shrugged. “You saved my hide too, so I guess we’re about even.”
“I guess so,” Carolyn relented. Then she quickly explained to Matt and Jacob all that had happened.
Finally, Jacob stood and, having gathered his wits and courage, approached Caleb. “Father, it’s been a long time.”
“Yes…it has,” Caleb said in a weak, quiet tone.
“I’m afraid I must deliver bad news to you. Laban is dead.” He briefly described what had happened in the ravine.
“I’m sorry,” said Caleb.
“Are you really?”
Caleb only nodded. He began to sway on his feet, and when Carolyn rushed to his side to support him, Deborah smiled inwardly—yes, at least Carolyn would be all right.
“I’d better sit down,” Caleb said. He crumpled into the chair vacated by Jacob.
Details of all the events were exchanged, but there was no jubilance or sense of triumph, for too much had been lost in the discovery of the truth. Even Deborah, who had once more been rescued from imminent death, felt drained and sad despite her sense of God’s presence. The news about Laban only deepened her grief. He had been but a victim and deserved no recriminations for what he had done and tried to do. His earliest memories as a young child had been tainted by tragedy, rejection, and grief. Just like Leonard.
Poor Leonard! He had been cruel and hateful and violent, but Deborah found that she could at last fully forgive him. For now when she pictured Leonard, she did not see a monster but rather a chubby, innocent four-year-old watching his mother shot and killed by his own father.
Yes, these men were all products of one man’s twisted soul; but Deborah could not judge Caleb, either. She felt sorry for him. She only prayed that the chain of family corruption would be broken now, once and for all. She looked at Ramón. Perhaps it was a blessing that Caleb had never accepted him. His grandfather’s rejection had distanced the boy from the insidious and evil spell that had dogged the Stoner clan. And it had distanced Carolyn also.
Carolyn had never known the Stoner clan until she had the strength of character to withstand their influence. And after all Caleb had done, Carolyn was still able to serve him, giving him a glass of water and watching in case he should cough again.
****
Carolyn just followed her instincts. Perhaps if she thought about it more, she would have felt revulsion for Caleb. After all, hadn’t he just tried to hang her mother?
But he was her grandfather, regardless of his demented deeds, despite all the people he had damaged along the way. And he was sick, helpless, alone. He needed her, someone to care for him, to love him, even if he was totally incapable of returning that love. She thought of the filthy lepers, the grimy beggars, the crazed demon-possessed souls that Christ had reached out to, had loved, had touched. She recalled as a child how when Sam or her mother had read those passages in the Bible to her, she wrinkled her nose with distaste. How had Jesus been able to do that when He had been so clean and pure?
She had a bit more understanding of her Lord now. He loved those people, those outcasts, no matter who they were, what they’d done, or what they looked like. When He looked at them, He did so with a love that somehow pierced beyond their ugliness. And though it surprised her tremendously, she found she could do that, to some extent at least, with her grandfather. She could love him no matter what. She could put her arm around him and rub his back soothingly as another coughing spell assailed him.
She hoped that for the first time, perhaps in his entire life, he could accept love from another person, especially a woman. But even if he couldn’t, she could continue to give it. That was the only way the foundation of hate Caleb Stoner had laid could at last be broken.
****
Carolyn had another task that had to be tended to before she could help take her grandfather home so he could rest in his own bed. Matt led her through a door to the back of the sheriff’s office where the jail cells were. Sean Toliver was sitting rather glumly on one of the cots.
“Well, well,” he said sourly, “I�
�ve got a visitor.”
“Hello, Sean,” said Carolyn. Then she glanced at Matt, who took the subtle hint and left. “It’s really too bad it had to work out like this,” Carolyn said once Matt was gone.
“It doesn’t have to be over, Carolyn. Even an old cattle rustler could use the affections of a woman.”
“Not this woman, Sean,” Carolyn said with confidence. “You charmed me for a while, but once I grew up a little, I just couldn’t imagine how I could have been so gullible.”
“You telling me you didn’t like me a little?”
“I reckon I did a little, at least I could have if you had been sincere. But that’s what you lacked, Sean. You’re just too self-centered to suit me.”
He chuckled. “I suppose you prefer that toe-in-the-dirt ‘Aw shucks’ Gentry fella.”
Carolyn smiled. “You know something? I sure do.”
She met Matt back in the office; all the others had gone to see about breakfast before they took Caleb back to the ranch.
“So, Matt, what’s gonna happen to Sean?” Carolyn asked, then quickly added, “Not that it matters to me one way or the other; I was just curious.”
“Jacob says Toliver killed Laban—aimed right at him and fired. Toliver denies that, insisting he was aiming at Jacob, and that he only did it in self-defense. The sheriff says that if Jacob testifies and his word can be established, Sean could hang. But Jacob can’t do that. There’s sure to be someone who’ll recognize him.”
“So Sean will just walk away free?”
“Looks that way. He’ll have to face a court for the rustling—I’ll testify to that—but you know how rustlers are handled around here. They’ll run him out of the county, maybe out of the state, and he’ll be black-balled from working at any reputable ranch. No self-appointed vigilante committee is gonna hang him, at least not unless Caleb instigates it.”
“Grandfather won’t do that.”
“Then Toliver will walk.”
“Well, in a way, I’m glad,” said Carolyn with a sigh. “I just don’t have the heart for any more violence.”
