Boldly Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Forgiveness 

"Where's yer courage, McCulloch? Th' courage t' do what ye ken ye need t' do."

words echoed in Jason's mind over and over as he slowly rode the seven miles back to the ranch. She was right. He knew she was. And he knew what he needed to do. Had always known it, since the first time he had come back after the Carter robbery. And that had somehow kept him from using any of the money he had helped to steal. Every last coin and bill was still tied up in the leather bag, hidden back in the cabin.

"Cougar in the area," Hank called out as he rode in from the range to meet him. Jason noticed the long rifle laid across the pommel of his saddle. A cougar was bad news. "Lost another of th' steers last night. Found th' carcass, but couldn't save anythin'. Figger there's maybe more 'n one of 'em."

"Another one?" Jason grit his teeth. "That's the seventh this month. Better patrol th' area tonight, see if we can find that cougar."

"I thought ya would want t' do that," Hank nodded. "Probably th' only way we kin get after it. Wish them blame wildcats would jes stay in the hills."

"Once they get a taste of fresh beef, there's no stoppin' them."

The two men rode in silence back to the cabin. The ranch hands came in to report and were sent to the east side of the range to watch. The cougar had been sited on the west side, but there was no telling how far it would go. Hank and Jason set out after supper for the western side.

Darkness settled like a blanket over the roaming prairie. The hills in the distance seemed almost to vanish into the night. The stars hung glittering in the sky, but the moon was absent. The cattle were but shadows, almost unseen in the darkness. Hank refused to light a fire that night, knowing the cougar would be warded off by the firelight and simply return another night. Neither of them were worried about shooting in the darkness. It was a skill almost vital to survival in that wild land.

Jason finally told Hank about Slade that night. It wasn't like him. He usually kept to himself... never before confiding in anyone. But it was no longer something he could bear alone.

"The Carter Bank Robbery," he began slowly. "I was involved. But I didn't kill anyone. Slade jes added that in fer interest. I still don't know who shot Carter... maybe twas Slade himself. Wasn't me. But I... helped to haul th' money out. Forty thousand dollars in solid gold. And I didn't get a cent of it, thank the Lord fer that."

"I heard what happened," Hank continued quietly. "The posse recovered the money... at least most of it. Captured some of Slade's gang. But five got away."

"Yep. Slade, Sam Higgins, Bill Turney, Charlie Davis... an' me." he paused. "They're still lookin' fer th' man that killed Carter. He was a prominent man in the area. An' the wealthiest. A reward is even posted fer anyone else that was involved that night. But they didn't know my name. An' I was always glad fer it... Glad t' think that I got away scot-free. But I didn't. Hank, the memory o' that night has haunted me ever since. An' sometimes I wonder if I should..." he stopped.

"Should what?" Hank prompted quietly.

"Turn myself in." He was silent another long moment before continuing again. "I intended never t' do anythin' like that again. But Slade came back... he threatened me... I was afraid. I'm ashamed t' admit it, but I was. I don't want t' spend time in jail. An' what if they still pin th' blame fer Carter's murder on me? So I helped him... rob a train. Three trains, actually."

"I know."

"So ya guessed it then? I thought ya would... There was... a... a girl... on th' last train. I had t'... t' take her things. She put a Bible in with them an'... well... I found out yesterday that she's th' new teacher in town. I went back today... gave her things back. An' she told me... where's yer courage? An' I've asked myself that over and over ever since."

"I didn't say anythin' afore," Hank began slowly, "Because I wasn't sure how ya would take it. But I think ya need t' hear it. The only way t' truly free yerself of somethin' is t' make up fer it somehow. Now, I understand that nothin' can change what ya've done but you kin make restitution fer it. An' that's between you an' God, son. If ye're ready to take care of it, then tell Him so. An' I'll stand behind ya all I can. I believe you when ya say that you never killed Carter. An' I'll tell anyone so. Whatever you may have done, ya've always been honest, an' I'm proud of you fer that. Proud of you fer knowin' that you were wrong."

"Sometimes... God seems so... far away." Jason shook his head. "I've tried. Guess I haven't been tryin' hard enough."

"Oh, He's here, son. He's always here. Maybe you've jes not been listenin' hard enough. Maybe if ya look into His word... the Bible... you'll find Him there."

oOo

Hank offered to go with Jason into town the next day, but Jason refused.

"This is something I have t' do on my own," he explained as he saddled his horse. "But I sure wouldn't object t' ya prayin' fer me."

"If ya can't get back tonight... whatever happens," Hank answered. "I'm comin' after ya."

In spite of his worry, Jason grinned. He knew as well as Hank did that there was a high risk that came with what he intended to do. Anything could happen... but he was determined. And once Jason made up his mind, there was no changing it. Which was sometimes a good quality, and sometimes not.

The sheriff in Keystone had only come a few years back and most people didn't know him well. He was a quiet man, keeping to himself. And, for the most part, he hated to be bothered by anyone. And so he was rather annoyed when Jason entered his office that morning.

"Can I help ya?" he mumbled, barely glancing up from the spread of papers on his desk. It had not been a good week. The news of the train robberies, thirty miles from town, had come late and by that time, the gang had moved further down the line. It was impossible to tell where they would hit next. But, thank goodness, from what he had been told, the top rider in the gang had left, no one knew why. And since then, they hadn't had as much success. But the posse set out to capture the outlaws had so far been unsuccessful. At this point, the sheriff felt he would do anything to get his hands on any of that gang. But he was entirely unexpectant of what the man who now stood in front of him would say.

But Jason didn't say anything at first. Simply set the bag of money on the desk in front of the sheriff. The man frowned up at him for a moment, then shrugged and opened the bag, dumping the shining gold and silver contents in a heap over his papers. His mouth fell open in astonishment.

"Where in sam hill did ya get all that?"

"You've heard of the robberies takin' place in the Black Hills?"

"Sure have. But..."

"And you've heard of the Carter Bank Robbery?"

"What is this? Th' Carter Bank Robbery? Are ya sayin' that these train robberies are connected in some way t' that? And where did ya get this money? What does all this have t' do with you?"

"I was one of Slade's men," Jason answered simply. He hardly knew what to say. He hadn't really thought of what to say beforehand. And confession was more difficult than he had thought.

The sheriff simply stared at him in astonishment which changed to disbelief. At his dumfounded silence, Jason continued, telling his story in the fewest words possible.

"How old where you when that Carter Bank Robbery happened?" the sheriff said, rather weakly, after a long silence.

"Eighteen."

With a sigh, the man at the desk leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Jason waited, surprised suddenly to find that he felt no more fear. Only relief. What would follow, he didn't know. But it didn't matter.

"I've never seen... never heard... of anyone ever doing such a crazy thing." the sheriff looked up... and he was smiling. "I appreciate your honesty. I know what I should be doing... I should be puttin' ya on trial... Lockin' ya up for five... maybe ten years. But... I'm not gonna do it. I admire courage. And ya shore have that. An' I believe you when ya say that you're not gonna get involved with Slade again. So, go. You're a free man."

But as Jason turned to go, the sheriff called him back

"Ya see that?" he nodded toward the tattered reward poster nailed to the wall behind his desk. "Offers a hundred dollar reward for the capture of any of th' men that was involved in the Carter Bank Robbery. 'Ceptin Slade. Five hundred dollars on his head." He unlocked a drawer of his desk and began to count out a stack of ten dollar bills. "You take that reward and pay off some o' yer land. Best o' luck t' you."

"God bless ya." Jason reached over to shake his hand as the sheriff handed him the money. Such forgiveness he had never dreamed of.