Killing Halfbreed (32 page)

Because of Him, I was alive.  I would live another day to cry, laugh, and love.

Doc’s body swayed, but mercifully, the rope didn’t creak.

***

Back at my ranch later that day, I inspected the blackened ruins of my cabin — or Ben’s cabin, I should say.  It was a big sooty mess.  The recent rains had just made it worse.

I thought about heading back east again, selling this land, or even just giving it away.  It had brought me nothing but heartache.

Still, something inside me couldn’t quite let it go.  Maybe it was sentimental attachment to Ben’s legacy, or maybe it was just a stubborn desire to prove I could make something out of it and myself.

“Are you going to stay?”

Jessica was there, hands on her hips, her lips parted expectantly.  Sunlight danced on her golden hair.  Her eyes watched me, two deep pools of blue.

I could easily lose myself for hours in their depths
, I thought.

“I was thinking about it.”

“We both have a right to it.  We’re both heirs, you know.”

“No, ma’am, I guess I don’t rightly know that. 
You
are the rightful heir.”

“Nonsense, Jake.  This land belongs to both of us, and to Ben.”  Her eyes welled up, but no tears spilled.  “I’d take it mighty kindly, Jake, if you would see fit to stay on and help me run the place.”

I couldn’t think of anything I would like better at the moment.

"
Lord of the Dance"

by Sydney Carter

I danced in the morning when the world was young

I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun

I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth

At Bethlehem I had my birth

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the dance, said He

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said He

I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees

They wouldn't dance, they wouldn't follow me

I danced for the fishermen James and John

They came with me so the dance went on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the dance, said He

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said He

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame

The holy people said it was a shame

They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high

Left me there on the cross to die

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the dance, said He

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said He

I danced on a Friday when the world turned black

It's hard to dance with the devil on your back

They buried my body, they thought I was gone

But I am the dance, and the dance goes on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the dance, said He

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said He

They cut me down and I leapt up high

I am the life that will never, never die

I'll live in you if you'll live in me

I am the Lord of the dance, said He

Dance, dance, wherever you may be

I am the Lord of the dance, said He

And I lead you all, wherever you may be

And I lead you all in the dance, said He

A few months later, I was back in town getting supplies when a man arrived from a lawyer in Albuquerque bearing a message addressed to me.

It was simple in content, but it left me floored emotionally for several days.  Looking back now, I don’t think I really ever got over the complete surprise of that notice.

I probably never will.

Mr. Talbot,

We are moving back east to stay with family as certain memories are proving too painful to continue in our current estate.

We have decided not to sell the Logan ranch.  Instead, our attorney has instructions to place all our holdings in your name.  You may inquire with him here in Albuquerque regarding any details.

We do not wish to communicate with you any further about this, or anything else.  Please do not insult us by refusing this endowment or by offering payment.

Sincerely,

Sarah Logan

At first, I thought the note had to be a mistake or some kind of sick joke.  Why would those two women ever want to consider giving me, their man’s killer, all they possessed?  It was ludicrous.

Ludicrous it may have been, but a joke it was not.  I telegraphed the lawyer in Albuquerque several times, and eventually went to see him.  He had the papers in order — all I had to do was sign.

My gut instinct was to refuse.  I could never accept such a gift.  Not from them.  But, crazy as it seemed, this was their last wish.  I’d no choice but to take it.

I wrote them repeatedly over the years, thanking them for their unbelievable generosity.

They never answered.  They wished no further contact with me was all the lawyer from Albuquerque would say.

Elizabeth’s memory faded with time, as all memories soon do, relegated to mere flashes of significant moments, snapshots of bright smiles or heartfelt tears.

Except for her eyes.  The memory of her eyes as she died in that alley never left me, nor did her last words.  That I must make her sacrifice worth it.  I would never forget that.

Jessica brought healing to my spirit as much as she’d doctored me physically in that Apache village.  It wasn’t long before I’d fallen in love with her.  One of the happiest days of my life was the day I got up enough courage to ask her for her hand.  She said yes, and the size of her smile put to rest forever the idea her feelings might be any less than my own.

We were married, and she is the absolute joy of my life.  Over the years, Jessica has blessed me with her heart, her life, her love, and eight wonderful children.

Before number three had even arrived, we decided to open up an orphanage on the old Logan ranch.  Over the years, we’ve helped care for over one hundred children who passed through our doors after losing their parents to one of the many dangers out west.  I cannot begin to explain what a blessing that has been to both of us.

Our natural children are all grown now and have moved on to start their own lives.  A prouder or more content father, I could not be.  I count myself blessed to have seen it all.

I did make that ranch a success, as much for them, and for Ben, as for myself.  More than two thousand head of cattle run on both properties.  It’s quite a sight at round-up time.  I made sure the large water hole on Ben’s original ranch was kept open to Dunagan and Hartford, and thus we've always kept the peace.

Bill Hartford and I did go in together on that mining operation.  Never would have thought we could go into business together, but he softened toward me after all that happened.  We became equal partners in mining the veins I’d seen in that cave and we made a decent go of it.  It’d been profitable enough, but truthfully, neither one of us was really a miner at heart.  We both loved the open range and working cattle more, so eventually, we just stopped.  The ranches did well enough, and we didn’t really need it.

Several men and companies approached us over the years to secure permission to mine it further, but we turned them down.  The only one we let work it was Pick.  Him we let at it as much as wanted, which was off and on.

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.