Measure of Grace (6 page)

Knight decided there was nothing else he could say on the subject that would make his friend feel any better. He would have a talk with Mr. Shaw when he got back to the ranch.

Lorene Shaw answered Knight’s knock on the back door of the big ranch house. “Hello, Knight. What can I do for you?”

“I just came from town, Lorene,” said Knight. “I spent some time with Jordan, and he’s very despondent because your father won’t come see him. Could I talk to your father, please?”

At that moment, Sylvia drew up, having heard Knight’s words. “Of course you can,” she said. “He’s in his den. Come in. I’ll take you.”

Lorene stayed at the door and watched her mother lead Knight down the hall.

The den door was open. William looked up from his desk where he was working on some important looking papers.

“Knight just came from visiting Jordan in the jail,” said Sylvia, pausing at the door. “He asked to see you.”

“Of course,” said William. “Come in, Knight. What’s this about?”

Sylvia moved into the room, pausing a few steps from the desk.

Standing in front of the desk, Knight said, “First of all, sir, I want to express my appreciation for what you’ve done to help Mom and me. It was very generous of you.”

“Glad I could do it,” said William, laying down the pencil he was holding. He let his edgy glance dart momentarily to Sylvia. “And what about Jordan?”

Knight could sense that a tense atmosphere hung over the Shaw household. He, too, flicked a glance to Sylvia, then looking down at the Bar-S owner, said, “Sir, I’m concerned about Jordan. He—well, he’s very despondent because you won’t come and see him. He wants to tell you how sorry he is for what he did, and to ask you to forgive him. Would you go see him, sir? Please?”

William shook his head doggedly. “No, I will not. Jordan has shamed the family name in this community, and he needs to stew in his own juices while he sits in that cell and thinks about getting that temper under control. I assume you’ll be seeing him tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will, sir.”

William’s face was like granite. “Well, you tell him for me that
I’m not walking into that jail for people in the town to gawk at me. And that’s final. He can just sit there and consider what he’s done to this family. Anything else?”

“No, sir,” said Knight, his tone showing the disappointment he was feeling.

“I’ll walk you out, Knight,” said Sylvia.

Affording her a thin smile, he said, “That won’t be necessary, ma’am. Thank you for bringing me in so I could talk to Mr. Shaw.”

Sylvia nodded, her face a bit pale.

Knight walked to the door, stopped, and looked back. “Thank you again, Mr. Shaw, for what you did for my mother and me.”

William’s face softened. “Like I said, glad I could do it.”

Knight moved into the hall and disappeared. Sylvia set harried eyes on her husband. In her heart, she was fighting a battle. One that mothers the world over have fought from time immemorial: having to stand as a mediator between a stubborn husband and a wayward child.

Sylvia felt that William was being too hard on Jordan, and that his wounded pride was causing him to be too stubborn to give a little in the situation.

Sylvia said in a soft tone, “Dear, I think you’ve gone too far in shunning your own son.”

William shook his head, jutting his jaw. “No. I’ve been much too lenient with the boy for far too long. The only way our son is going to learn the lesson he needs to learn is to show him what he has done to this family, and that he must suffer the consequences for his behavior. In life, you can’t just go about doing as you please regardless of who it hurts. Jordan needs to learn that no man is an island, and whatever you do affects other people around you … especially those closest to you. What he did in this situation is bad, and I’m trying to teach him to be responsible. Always getting him out of scrapes will not help him to learn his lesson.”

“But all he’s asking—”

“Sylvia, don’t you know it hurts me to see my son behind bars? I would much rather have paid bail for him again, brought him home, and saved all of us the shame we’ve had to bear. But: I can’t
do that this time. I must be strong about it in order to help him learn a valuable lesson.”

Tears surfaced in Sylvia’s tender eyes. “I’m not asking you to bail him out. I’m asking you to go and let him confess his wrong and ask your forgiveness.”

William left his chair and folded Sylvia in his arms. Holding her close, he said, “Please try to understand, honey. Please back me in this.”

She eased back in his arms so she could look into his eyes. “William, I’ll back you in letting him stew while sitting in that cell, but while he’s stewing, can’t you at least go to him and let him ask your forgiveness?”

“No. He won’t stew properly if I go to him. I must do it my way, Sylvia. Please try to understand.”

Sylvia rose on her tiptoes and kissed her husband’s cheek. “I’ll try,” she said, then turned and slowly left the room, her heart still very heavy.

The next day, when Jordan was eating the lunch Woodard had brought him, he heard footsteps in the hall and looked up to see his friend enter the cell block.

“Knight! I didn’t expect to see you till after school.”

Moving up to the cell, Knight said, “I passed up lunch so I’d have time to come see you. Has your mother been here today?”

“No. I expect her and Lorene to come soon.”

Knight nodded. “Well, you wanted me to talk to your father and ask him to come see you. I did. But he said he won’t be coming. I’m sorry.”

Jordan’s face sagged. “Thanks for trying.”

“Sure. Wish I could have convinced him, but his mind is made up. But listen, Jordan, don’t give up on him. I’m sure it will be all right when you get out of here and go home.”

Jordan moved his head slowly back and forth. “No, it won’t. Papa doesn’t want me to come home.”

“Oh, sure he does,” Knight insisted. “He’s just upset and hurt over what you did. He’ll get over it.”

“I wish you were right, but he won’t get over it. He’s washed his hands of me.”

Knight couldn’t think of anything else to say on the subject. “Well, I wanted to let you know as soon as I could that I had talked to him. See you later.”

“Thanks for trying, pal,” said Jordan. “See you later.”

Knight had been gone only a few minutes when Marshal Woodard once again ushered Sylvia and Lorene into the cell block and placed the chairs in front of the cell so they could sit down. He picked up the food tray Jordan had slid under the cell door and left. Sylvia and Lorene hugged Jordan through the bars.

As they sat down, Sylvia said, “Knight came to the house yesterday afternoon right after he had been here to see you. He talked to your father, and—”

“I know, Mama,” cut in Jordan. “He was here about fifteen minutes ago. Passed up lunch at school to come and tell me what Papa said.”

“Your father loves you, son,” said Sylvia. “He’s just trying to teach you a lesson. He doesn’t want anything like this to ever happen again.”

“I’ve learned my lesson, Mama,” said Jordan. “I won’t ever do anything like that again. But all I want is to know my father is willing to forgive me.”

“I know, son. But it will just have to wait till you finish your sentence and come home.”

Looking at his mother with steady eyes, Jordan said, “Papa doesn’t want me to come home. Ever.”

“Oh, of course he does,” she said, reaching through the bars to grasp his hand. “Of course he does.”

“It’ll all be different when you get home, Jordan,” said Lorene. “You’ll see.”

Looking past her son to the denim jacket that lay across the foot of his cot, Sylvia said, “Would you like me to take your jacket home, son? It’s getting warmer every day. By the time you get out, you won’t need it.”

“No, that’s all right, Mama. Thanks, but I’ll just keep it with me.”

Sylvia nodded. “All right.”

Sylvia and Lorene stayed a while longer, then embraced Jordan another time through the bars and left.

Ace Decker and Keith Nolan now had jobs at Fletcher’s Sawmill several miles northwest of Ketcham, near a dense forest, and had rented a small cabin in the foothills of the Sawtooth Mountains. They were still fuming at the treatment they were given by William Shaw and talked about their desire to get even with him. They would do so when they could come up with just the right plan.

Knight Colburn continued to visit his best friend every day, but was not able to convince him that things would work out between him and his father. Sylvia and Lorene also came every day, and sometimes Mark Hedren was with them. They, too, were unable to persuade Jordan that his father would ever forgive him.

Early on the morning of Jordan’s thirteenth day in jail, Marshal Woodard entered the cell block, carrying the usual breakfast tray. On some days, there had been other prisoners, but once again Jordan was alone.

Instead of sliding the tray under the cell door, Woodard balanced it in one hand, took the keys off his belt, and unlocked the door. Handing the tray to Jordan, he said, “I’ve been thinking … how would you like to get out a day early?”

Jordan widened his eyes. “A day early?”

“Mm-hmm. You’ve been a model prisoner. I think you should be rewarded. As soon as you’ve eaten your breakfast, you’re free to go. I just need you to stop in the office and sign a paper, saying I let you out a day early. That way, if there’s ever any question about it, I can show that it was by mutual agreement.”

A broad smile spread over Jordan’s face. “Sure! I’ll be in the office in a few minutes! Thanks, Marshal.”

While Jordan ate his breakfast, he pondered the situation. He was more convinced than ever that his father did not want him to come home. He had not planned to go home, but would go into the Sawtooth Mountains and stay in an old abandoned cabin he
had come across a few months earlier while hunting big game alone. The cabin was situated in dense timber at about eight thousand feet above sea level. He had found packaged beef jerky and dried fruit in the cupboard and had eaten some. He hoped it was still there, because he was going to the cabin. This was already settled in his mind when his mother had offered to take his denim jacket home. Even in late spring, the morning air was cold in the mountains, and he would need it.

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.”