Measure of Grace

by Al Lacy

  When he had finished his breakfast, Jordan donned his denim jacket, and carried the tray to the office. Marshal Woodard was alone, sitting at his desk.

  Placing the tray on the desk, Jordan said, “Thanks, Marshal, for shortening my sentence by a day. I appreciate it.”

  “I appreciate the good behavior, son. Now no more rocks through anybody’s windows, all right?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Good. See you around.”

  Jordan stepped out on the boardwalk and looked up and down the street. It was still early, and the shops and stores were not yet open. Only a few people were moving about. Taking advantage of it, Jordan made a dash to the corner of the building and hurried to the alley. Trying not to be seen, he made his way through alleys all the way to the edge of town, then headed toward the mountains using a little-known trail into the high country.

  During lunch hour, Knight hurried to the jail, wanting to be all the comfort he could to his friend, and was surprised when Marshal Woodard told him he had released Jordan a day early for good behavior.

  Excited for Jordan, Knight decided to be late getting back to school. He ran to the small barn behind the school where he and other ranch and farm students kept their horses, mounted quickly, and galloped full speed for the Bar-S.

  As he rode up to the big ranch house, Knight saw his mother walking from the kitchen of the bunkhouse toward their little log cabin, but she didn’t see him.

  Rushing up on the porch, he found the door open and knocked. “Hello! It’s Knight!”

  Lorene appeared from the parlor, and Sylvia was coming up the hall from the kitchen.

  “Hello, Knight,” said Lorene. “What are you doing home at this time of day?”

  “I found out about Jordan getting out a day early and just wanted to see him for a few minutes. Is it all right?”

  Looking perplexed, Lorene said, “I … I don’t understand. Are you saying my brother is out of jail?”

  “Yes, he—you mean he’s not here?”

  “No.”

  Sylvia drew up. “What’s this? Did I hear you say Jordan is out of jail?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Knight. “I went to see him at lunchtime, and Marshal Woodard said he had let him out just after he fed him breakfast this morning. He released him a day early for good behavior.”

  Sylvia’s brow puckered. “Then … then he’s gone somewhere else. He’s not coming home.”

  “I’d better tell Papa,” said Lorene, and hurried toward the den.

  Sylvia’s hands trembled. “Oh, my. Oh, my. Knight, if he was released early this morning, he could be a long way from Elkton by now.”

  “Yes, ma’am. He—”

  “What’s this?” came William’s voice as he ran up the hall with Lorene on his heels. “Knight!” he said, drawing up. “Lorene tells me Marshal Woodard let Jordan out of jail a day early. And you’re here because you thought he would be home.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Knight, “but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He kept saying day after day that you didn’t want him to come home. He’s gone somewhere else, for sure.”

  Sylvia’s face was ashen. Jordan’s words he had spoken that day at the jail echoed through her mind. “Papa doesn’t want me to come home. Ever.”

  “Oh no!” she gasped, putting her hands to her cheeks. “Oh no!”

  WITH HER HANDS STILL PRESSED TO HER CHEEKS, Sylvia Shaw looked at her husband. Tears filled her eyes. She was having a struggle within herself to keep from saying, “William, I told you this would happen! You’ve gone too far in shunning your own son!”

  Though she said nothing aloud, William met her accusing gaze and was well aware of the message in her eyes. Swallowing hard and lowering his head to hide the excess moisture in his own eyes, he looked toward the floor. “Honey, I—I’m sorry. I was only trying to teach him that he must learn to be responsible for his own actions.”

  Immediately, Sylvia’s heart went out to her husband as he raised his head and looked at her. Quickly covering the few steps that separated them, she put her arms around his neck.

  Making a soft, wordless sound, he closed her in his embrace. “I’m sorry, Sylvia, dear. I should have listened to your reasoning. I have been too hard and too calloused. Now look what I’ve done.”

  Gripping his upper arms, Sylvia looked up into his ravaged face. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll find our boy. You did only what you thought was best. We can only hope he has, indeed, learned his lesson. He knows we love him.”

  Lorene moved to her parents and embraced them both. “Yes,” she said softly, “we’ll find him.”

  As the three of them clung to each other, Knight asked hesitantly, “Do … do you have any idea where Jordan might have gone?”

  The trio let go of each other and turned toward him. William wiped a hand across his eyes. “It’s hard to say, Knight. As you know, he’s got friends on ranches and in town.”

  Sylvia dabbed at her reddened eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Knowing Jordan, he might have gone somewhere to be by himself, but we sure need to explore all the possibilities.”

  “I’ll saddle up and ride to every one of the ranches where he has friends,” said William. “And if I don’t find him on one of those, I’ll go into town and check there.”

  “I’ll go with you, Mr. Shaw,” said Knight.

  William smiled. “You’re welcome to come along, son, but shouldn’t you get back to school?”

  “It won’t hurt to miss a little school, sir. While you’re saddling your horse, I’ll run back to the house and tell Mom what’s happened, and that I’m going with you.”

  “All right. Meet you at the barn.”

  The sun’s last red glow was fading in the western sky as William Shaw and Knight Colburn rode onto the Bar-S and headed for the ranch house.

  As they drew up to the front porch and glanced northward while dismounting, they could see out over the Sawtooth foothills where twilight was settling gray on the crests, dark in the hollows. High up on the jagged snowcapped peaks, the final vestige of the sun’s light glowed weakly on rocky crags.

  Two ranch hands were moving past the house in the direction of the barn. When they saw their boss and Jordan’s best friend dismounting, they hurried toward them.

  “Here come Shorty and Vic,” said Knight.

  “Good,” said William, turning to observe as the two men drew near. “I’ll have them unsaddle our horses and put them in the corral.”

  “Boss,” said Shorty, “Mrs. Shaw told all of us about Jordan. Since he’s not with you, I assume you didn’t find him.”

  “No, we didn’t,” said William. “But we’ll pick up the search again in the morning.”

  “Sure hope he’s all right,” said Vic.

  “He has to be,” said William. “Would you boys mind unsaddling our horses and putting them in the corral for us?”

  “Be glad to, boss,” said Shorty.

  William and Knight thanked them, and as the horses were being led away, William sighed. “Well, I wish we had good news to carry in there.”

  “Me too,” said Knight.

  As they started across the porch, the door swung open, and three female faces appeared.

  Looking past them into the fading light of day, Sylvia said, “Y-you didn’t find him?”

  “No,” William said heavily. “We checked on every ranch where Jordan has friends, and at every friend’s house in town, but no one has seen him.”

  Sylvia burst into tears.

  Annie Colburn wrapped her arms around her. “Now, honey, don’t despair. Jordan’s a loner in some ways. He’s probably holed up somewhere by himself.”

  “Right, Mama,” said Lorene, taking hold of her mother’s hand. Then she said to her father and Knight: “We’ve got supper cooking. Get washed up, and we’ll be ready to eat in a few minutes.”

  Whenever Annie and Knight ate with the Shaws, William always asked Knight to pray over the food. T
hough the Shaws were not Christians, Annie and her son appreciated the respect they gave them.

  After Knight had prayed, and the food was being passed around, Sylvia said, “William, do you suppose Jordan has gone into the mountains? He really loves it up there.”

  “I was about to tell you, Knight and I were talking about that very thing while riding back from town. Remember last winter—what was it?—November or December, when Jordan went hunting alone and told us about finding an old abandoned cabin up there? Said he stayed in it a couple of nights.”

  “I remember that, Papa,” said Lorene. “Did he say where it was?”

  “Only that it was south of Castle Peak and west of the east fork of the Salmon River.”

  “That takes in a lot of territory,” said Sylvia.

  “Yes, but it also narrows it down a great deal, when you consider the entire Sawtooth range,” said William.

  Sylvia nodded.

  Looking at Annie, Knight said, “Mr. Shaw is going into the mountains to look for the cabin tomorrow, Mom. He said I could go with him if you gave me permission. May I go?”

  Annie smiled. “Your grades are excellent, and I know how much you want to go, Knight. I’m sure you can catch up on your schoolwork. Yes, you may go with him.”

  “Thank you,” said the sixteen-year-old with a smile. “I want to be with him when he finds Jordan.”

  Being afoot, travel was slow for Jordan Shaw, but by noon, he had made his way through the thick forest of the foothills, and by the time the sun was setting, he was in the high country with the granite mountains towering over him on all sides. Just north of him stood majestic Castle Peak, with the brilliant, golden light of sunset adorning its summit.

  Jordan was following a familiar ridge of blue granite as the air cooled with the elevation, and he spotted the old abandoned cabin in the deep shade of the surrounding pines.

  His heart quickened pace as he drew near the cabin. “Nobody here,” he told himself aloud. “Sure hope that jerky and dried fruit are still in the cupboard.”

  Eyeing the stack of uncut logs at the side of the house, he was glad to see that its supply had not been diminished.

  The rusty latch resisted his thumb pressure but gave way after a few seconds, and the hinges complained loudly as he opened the door. Looking around by what little light was left, the interior of the cabin appeared exactly as it had when he last saw it. Hurrying to the cupboard, he smiled when he found the packages of beef jerky and dried fruit intact. He was also glad to find the box of matches untouched.

  “Yes!” he said with elation. “Nobody’s been in this old cabin at all since I stayed here!”

  At the fireplace, Jordan found enough wood to do him for the night. The old ax he had used before still leaned against the wall. Knowing that even in the spring the nights were cold at that altitude, he told himself he would cut more wood for the fireplace in the morning.

  The morning sun sent its rosy and golden shafts over the eastern elevations to tip the pines around their cabin in the foothills while Ace Decker and Keith Nolan saddled their horses and put a bridle on their pack mule.

  When they were ready to go, Nolan picked up his rifle and slid it in the saddleboot. “Well, Ace, ol’ pal, it feels good to get a day off and have some time for huntin’ deer.”

  “Sure does,” said Decker, putting his foot in the stirrup and swinging into the saddle. “I can taste that venison already. Let’s go.”

  Some two hours later, they topped a pine-covered ridge and Decker said, “Well, we’re at about seven thousand feet now. Best to go on foot from here.”

  Dismounting, they tied the horses and mule to spruce trees and proceeded toward higher ground, rifles in hand.

  A thousand feet higher up, Jordan Shaw left the old cabin just before nine o’clock and climbed up through the dense forest, carrying the battered bucket he had used when staying in the cabin before. The air was quite chilly, and Jordan was glad he had worn his denim jacket.

  Soon he came to the broad, shallow stream he remembered and dipped the bucket in the ice-cold water. He took a long drink, filled the bucket to the brim, and headed back to the cabin. Breakfast would only be jerky and dried fruit, but at least he was in a place where he felt welcome. He missed his family, and wished his mother and sister had not been subjected to grief because of his deeds, but since his father didn’t want him there anymore, he would never go home again.

  By ten o’clock, Jordan had devoured his breakfast and stepped out of the cabin, ax in hand. Going to the side of the cabin, he rolled a log off the stack and began chopping pieces small enough to fit in the fireplace. A fallen tree lay close by. Soon the warmth of the sun and the exertion of chopping made him warm.

  He took off the denim jacket, draped it over the fallen tree, and resumed his work.

  Ace Decker and Keith Nolan steadily made their way up the steep, tree-laden slope, talking in low tones, eyes running back and forth for any sign of deer.

  At one spot, they stopped to catch their breath, and Decker touched his friend’s arm. “Listen! What’s that?”

  “What?” whispered Nolan. “I didn’t hear anything. Are you talkin’ animal or—”

  “Shh! There it is again!”

  This time it came sharp and clear, from somewhere higher up.

  “Oh,” said Decker. “Somebody’s choppin’ wood up there.”

  Suddenly there was movement among the trees about fifty yards up the slope.

  “Hey!” said Nolan in a subdued voice as he shouldered his rifle.

  Decker spotted the small buck deer, and was bringing his rifle to bear when Nolan took quick aim and fired.

  The bullet struck the buck in the hind quarters. He leaped out of sight into the dense forest, and the hunters were in quick pursuit.

  Beside the old cabin, Jordan Shaw was about to finish cutting wood when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. Turning to see what it was, he focused on a small buck deer stumbling his direction through the trees, its coat dripping blood. He had thought he heard a shot a few minutes ago while chopping wood, but wasn’t sure. Now he knew it was someone shooting the deer.

  As the buck came closer, it was evident to Jordan that he was in extreme pain, and his bulging eyes didn’t even notice the human who stood at the woodpile beside the cabin.

  Jordan dropped the ax and ducked down behind the woodpile so as not to startle the wounded animal if it did happen to see him.

  The buck was grinding his teeth in agony as he staggered blindly up to where Jordan had stood seconds before, then suddenly collapsed, falling on the dead tree where Jordan’s jacket lay. Jordan knew the deer was dying as his blood soaked the jacket. His eyes had rolled back in his head, and his sides were heaving as he sucked hard for breath.

  Unable to allow the dying deer to suffer any longer, Jordan decided to end its life by striking it on the head with the ax. Hurrying to the spot, he picked up the ax, and raised it over his head. But before he brought it down, the buck let out his last breath.

  He was lowering the ax when suddenly he heard a male voice shout, “Jordan Shaw! What are you doing here?”

  Turning, Jordan saw Ace Decker and Keith Nolan running toward him amid the trees.

  While they ran, Ace spoke in a low voice from the side of his mouth. “I have an idea how to get back at William Shaw for what he did to us if Jordan is alone. If I give you the nod, put your gun on him.”

  Nolan grinned. “Will do.”

  Though his father had fired the two men, Jordan decided to be friendly. Still gripping the ax, he smiled. “I heard the shot a while ago, then the deer showed up. He fell and died where you see him.”

  “All right,” said Nolan. “We’ll go down, get our horses and pack mule, and haul him home.”

  Running his gaze to the cabin, Decker asked, “Who’s with you, Jordan?”

  “Nobody. I’m here by myself.”

  Decker’s eyebrows arched. “By yourself? You’re stayin’ here in the cabin b
y yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Decker flicked a glance at Nolan and nodded.

  Suddenly Nolan worked the lever of his rifle and from the hip, pointed it at Jordan’s midsection. In a cold voice, he said, “Drop the ax, kid.”

  Jordan frowned, shock showing in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Why are you stayin’ here by yourself?” asked Decker.

  Jordan looked at the ominous black muzzle, then at Decker. “Why is he holding the gun on me?”

  “You’ll find out in a minute,” said Decker. “Now, answer my question. But do as Keith told you first. Drop the ax.”

  Letting the ax slip from his fingers and fall to the ground, Jordan said, “All right. I’ll tell you.”

  While the two former Bar-S cowhands listened intently, Jordan explained about his breaking the window at George Crum’s feed store, and being arrested and sentenced to fourteen days in jail by the marshal. He told them how he was released from jail a day early yesterday, and wanted to get away from everything and everybody for a few days, so he came to the old cabin, where he had stayed before.

  “So when you plannin’ to go home?” asked Nolan.

  Figuring it was none of their business about the problem between his father and himself, Jordan said, “I don’t know, yet. I’ll go home when I’m ready. Why are you pointing that gun at me, Keith?”

  “Because we just found a way to get back at your father for firin’ us over Buck Colburn’s death,” Nolan said evenly.

  Jordan’s face blanched. “Y-you’re going to kill me?”

  Ace Decker laughed. “Naw, we ain’t gonna kill you, kid. We ain’t murderers. But we’re gonna get back at your pa by makin’ him think you’re dead. We’re gonna take you to the cabin where we live in the foothills. You’ll be our prisoner. When you don’t show up at home in a few days, your ol’ pa will be lookin’ for you. When he doesn’t find you in a month or so, he’ll think you’re dead. This will cause him great sorrow, which will give us our revenge.”