Measure of Grace

by Al Lacy

  “He’s in here sort of because of me, ma’am. It’s the least I could do. I’ll be going, now,” he said to Jordan. “But you can look for me every day while you’re in here.”

  Tears were in Jordan’s eyes. “You’re a real, true friend, Knight. Thanks for coming. See you tomorrow.”

  As Knight headed through the door, the marshal picked up two straight-backed wooden chairs from the corner of the cell block and placed them in front of Jordan’s cell. “Here, ladies. Sit down.”

  Sylvia and Lorene thanked him. Both wiped tears from their cheeks and the strain of the situation showed in their eyes. As they sat on the chairs, Woodard unlocked Willie Beemer’s cell. Beemer had been sitting on his cot, silently looking on. “All right, Willie,” he said, “you’ve done your time for the latest trouble you’ve gotten into. Let’s go.”

  When the marshal and Beemer were gone, Sylvia and Lorene scooted their chairs closer to the bars. Tears were spilling down Jordan’s face. “Mama, Lorene,” he said, sniffling, “I’m sorry for bringing this grief on you. I’m sorry for bringing it on the whole family. Please forgive me.”

  Mother and sister both reached through the bars.

  “I forgive you, son,” said Sylvia. “I wish you’d learn to control that temper. I know you were defending Knight and his parents, and what George and Lester did was wrong, but throwing the rock through the window was wrong, too. But, as I said, I forgive you.”

  “I forgive you, too,” said Lorene.

  “Thank you, sis. And thank you, Mama. I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t forgive me. Mama …”

  “Yes, son?”

  “Would—would you tell Papa I want to see him so I can ask his forgiveness, too?”

  “I’ll tell him. I’m not sure what he’ll say, but I’ll tell him.”

  Sylvia and Lorene stayed for better than half an hour, then left, saying they would see him the next morning.

  The next morning, when Sylvia and Lorene were ushered into the cell block by Marshal Woodard, they embraced Jordan through the bars, then sat down once again on the chairs. Woodard returned to the office.

  Concern was evident in Jordan’s eyes as he said, “So Papa didn’t come with you.”

  “No,” Sylvia said softly. “We told him you wanted to see him so you could ask his forgiveness, but he won’t be coming. He said you need to sit here alone in your cell and think about what you did.”

  Jordan’s features pinched. “So he doesn’t want you and Lorene to be here, either?”

  “Not really, but he said he wouldn’t stop us if we wanted to come back.”

  Lorene’s features were pinched. She drew a shuddering breath and said, “Mama, I hope Papa will get over this soon. Mark and I are getting married in just over a month. If this issue isn’t settled, it will hurt the spirit of the wedding.”

  Sylvia patted her arm. “Don’t worry, honey. It will be all right. Papa will cool down by then.”

  “I’m so sorry, sis,” said Jordan. “This whole thing is my fault.”

  “I can’t argue that it is,” said Lorene, “but Papa doesn’t need to be so stubborn. You’ve apologized to George Crum for breaking his window, and you are going to pay for the new one. You sent a message to Papa through Mama and me that you want to apologize to him. What else does he want?”

  “He’ll get over it once Jordan’s home and they can talk, honey,” said Sylvia. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Jordan did not let on, but he doubted that everything was going to be fine. By William Shaw’s actions, it was clear he didn’t want his son around anymore. He wasn’t welcome at home. And no matter how hard his mother tried, everything was not going to be fine.

  That afternoon when school let out, Knight hurried to the jail to see Jordan. When he walked into the cell block and approached the cell, Jordan was sitting on the cot with his head bent down and his face in his hands. When he looked up, Knight knew something was wrong.

  Slowly Jordan rose from the cot and moved to the bars. “Hello, Knight,” he said, “it’s good to see you again.”

  Reaching through the bars, Knight laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, pal. What’s got you looking so despondent?”

  “It’s my father.”

  “What about him?”

  “Yesterday after you left, I asked Mama and Lorene to tell Papa I wanted to see him so I could ask his forgiveness for bringing this shame on the family. When they came to see me this morning, they told me Papa said he isn’t coming. He just wants me to sit here in the cell and think about what I’ve done.” He took a shaky breath. “And now Lorene is afraid Papa’s attitude is going to ruin her wedding.”

  Knight shook his head. “No, no. Your father isn’t going to let anything hurt the wedding. He’ll get over this thing in a few days. You’ve got a good father, Jordan. Let me tell you what he did last night.”

  “What?”

  “He called Mom over to the house and talked to her in his den. He wants her to stay on as ranch cook. He’s going to raise her wages so we can make it, and he said Mom and I could still live in the ranch foreman’s house. He hired Lloyd Jensen as foreman, and since Lloyd is single, he’s going to keep living in the bunkhouse. Lloyd volunteered, so Mom and I would have a place to live. Your father is paying Lloyd even more because of this.”

  Jordan let a slight smile curve his lips. “Well, I’m glad for both you and your mother, and I’m glad Papa is treating you so well. But he sure doesn’t think much of me.”

  “Sure he does. Like I said, he’ll get over it in a few days. He’ll still want to set you up with your own ranch when you’re of age.”

  “I’m not sure he will,” said Jordan, “but one way or another, I’m still going to have my own ranch someday. I’m going to get married, have a family, and be a cattle rancher for the rest of my life. It’s all I want.”

  “You think you’ll marry Nellie Freeman?”

  Jordan’s eyebrows arched. “Well, that sort of depends on whether you are going to want her, doesn’t it?”

  “It did till I got saved. Now I know Nellie isn’t for me. Somewhere in this world, God has a Christian girl all picked out for me, and in His own time and His own way, He will bring us together.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess that does shed a new light on the Nellie situation. Have I been seeing right? Has she been a little distant to you since you got saved?”

  “Yes. But that’s all right. Like I said, God’s got the right girl all picked out for me.”

  “We haven’t talked about the future for a long time, Knight. Are you still settled on journalism as your life’s career?”

  “Sure am. I definitely know that my main talent is with words.”

  Knight went on to say that Claude Hayward, owner of the Elkton Sentinel, was teaching him how to write newspaper articles, and every week he would give him an assignment for a particular article to write as if it was actually going in the paper. He also said that two weeks ago, Mr. Hayward had printed the article he had written about Idaho’s wildlife, surprising him.

  “And that was a good article,” said Jordan. “I really liked it.”

  “Thanks,” said Knight. “Having it actually printed was a real encouragement. My parents, Pastor and Mrs. Steele, and many of the townspeople told me how well they liked it. Mr. Hayward says I definitely should pursue writing as my career. I really love journalism. I hope someday I can own a newspaper, myself.”

  “That would be great,” said Jordan. “I hope you can, too.” He sighed. “I wish your father was alive to see you become a success. My father doesn’t care what happens to me, just so he doesn’t have to look at me. If he really cared, he’d have been here to see me by now. All I wanted was for him to come so I could ask his forgiveness. But he’s so ashamed of me, he isn’t about to forgive me for what I did.”

  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.”
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  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.