by Mason, Zack
I used the gold bars to finance the start-up of my ranch and the orphanage and had plenty left over. I tried to send a good bit of it up to Joshua Miller’s mother, but I never could find her again. She’d moved on or passed on. I never knew which.
The origin of that ancient sword and the more modern gold bars remains a mystery. I mounted the sword on a wooden plaque, and we hung it over our fireplace mantel for years. To me, it symbolized the struggle I’d fought so hard and won to establish myself here and redeem my brother’s name.
It also represented my internal struggle, that inner war which had wrought so much destruction in my soul, the disciplined versus the wild, the Spirit versus the flesh. Years ago, up on that mesa, I’d finally triumphed. The sword was no longer in my hand, yet hung prominently over the fire as a reminder of where we’d been, and what we’d overcome. The war was quenched.
A few years ago, my eldest son, Joseph, took the sword to New York City to see if he could trace down something of its history, but that’s another story for another time.
This life of mine has been an enigma. I killed a man — his wife and daughter freely gave me all his property. My brother is killed, and I inherit the blessing which is his beautiful and gracious wife.
I would gladly give it all up to have either one of those two men back again, yet I have a strong hope to see them once more in the land of golden streets.
I am now in my seventy-third year here on this earth, remembering all that has gone past. Today, after almost fifty years, I finally received a letter from Mrs. Tom Logan.
Dear Mr. Talbot,
I hope this letter finds you in good health, surrounded by family and friends. I am sorry to have disappointed you over the years by not responding to your many correspondences, but did not feel it was appropriate to do so.
No doubt, you may be surprised to find that I am still here on this earth. Even I, myself, expected the Lord to have called me home by now. He did see fit to take my Jinny this last fall through an illness. She was sixty-four.
I have not written to you over the years for a number of reasons, although in the beginning, it was mostly out of hatred and anger. As you can imagine, I held a great hurt in my heart for the loss which you had caused me, and communication with you seemed to aggravate it.
It’s been almost fifty years now since Jinny and I left that peaceful valley (although it wasn’t so peaceful then). It must have seemed odd to you that we would leave so suddenly, and even more so that we would donate our lands to you.
After Doc’s trial and hanging, I knew you would be staying for good. At the time, we couldn’t bear the thought of living and working next to you every day. More than that, however, were the memories of Tom’s life everywhere on that ranch. They were inescapable. We deeply longed to come back to our family here in the east and find familiar comfort in their arms and words.
Still, I knew we could not leave without forgiving you. As the Good Lord taught us, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” As a Christian woman, I knew I had it to do, or I could not face my God, no matter how much hurt or pain you had caused me.
The Lord soon impressed on me that the best way to begin forgiveness was to give you our ranch. To give it to you free and clear required me to forgive a lot of the hurt and loss.
Also, when you came to us wounded, I was able to glimpse a changed man. I saw your manner and character were greatly changed from when I first knew you. For the first time, I could sense a reason why God might have allowed my Tom to be taken, and you to be spared. His ways are often incomprehensible, but sometimes, He allows us a little peek, and that can make all the difference.
I became convinced the Lord would make a great man out of you. If He did it with Paul, I knew He could do it with you. That was the main reason I did not return your correspondence. I wanted to see what you could accomplish without my influence.
Do not think I didn’t follow your progress, though. The reason I write you now, after all these years, is because I realize the Lord may choose to take either one of us home soon, and I need to tell you how I truly feel.
I am impressed with what you have done, Jake. I know about the orphanage. I know about the many children who have been sheltered in it. I am glad our ranch could be used for such a purpose. I also know the orphanage is not the only good you have done with your world.
I rejoice in the knowledge that it was all for God’s glory. I hope you do fully appreciate your blessings. You’ve been given a loving wife, eight wonderful children, and a rich life full of memories to warm the soul. You were given a second chance, Jake, and what a second chance it was.
Sincerely,
Sarah Logan
As I folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope, I considered her words. I looked to my beautiful Jessica, sitting in the rocking chair next to mine. The sunlight still made her hair glow in the afternoon sun, though its golden sheen had long since turned white.
I thought of our children as I held her hand and looked out across the rolling green hills of our ranch where we’d built our home and made our life together. I squeezed her hand, leaned over, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Jessica smiled back at me.
Sarah Logan was right. I’d been given a second chance, and what a second chance it had been!
About the Author
Zack Mason loves the art of the word and the thrill of the story. He has wandered the countryside of Bangladesh, built churches in Costa Rica, roamed the desert in Arizona, hiked the Alps in France, and fought human trafficking in Atlanta. He has been a dishwasher, a house framer, a teacher, a waiter, a salesman, and a businessman, just to name a few. He currently resides with his family outside Atlanta, GA and plans to continue writing for as long as he is allowed to do so.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Lord of the Dance
Epilogue
About the Author
