An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Fourteen

Present Day – Winter 1867

As Weston penned the last of his letter to Peter, he sighed. It had been ten years since he'd begun writing the twelve-year-old boy he'd met at the courthouse all those years ago. They had developed quite a friendship over that course of time. He knew his twenty-two-year-old friend wouldn't believe the events that were transpiring lately, nor the name change, but he knew Peter could keep a secret.

As he signed Jesse Clark to the closing of his letter, he chuckled. It seemed that he would have to start adjusting to the new name eventually. Though he knew a new name would not wash away the sins his life had accrued...nor the blood that stained his hands. The only name he knew of that could redeem a soul was Jesus... and try as he might, he just never seemed to cross that path.

Could God truly wash him clean of wrongs and make him new like it said in the Bible Lincoln had given him?

He wanted to believe, prayed just in case, but somehow, in his heart he had never truly asked the Lord for forgiveness...he didn't feel worthy of forgiveness, and he knew he did not deserve mercy. Still, he hoped that it was true, and that somehow, he could find his own path to redemption. He was reminded often of the verse Sherman McMaster had given him. He'd read it many times since then in his Bible:

"He sent redemption unto his people: he hath commanded his covenant for ever: holy and reverend is his name."

He had even found it in another version once when he visited the St. Louis Library. It read a little differently than the King James Version, but still, somehow, he seemed to like this version as well; it seemed a little bit more down to earth for his mind to understand:

"He has paid a full ransom for his people. He has guaranteed his covenant with them forever. What a holy, awe-inspiring name he has!"

Maybe I could learn to be worthy of that kind of redemption?

He wondered as the face of the lady doctor danced across his thoughts and he smiled; she was just as lovely as the wildflowers his mother had once grown in the window boxes of their small home.

Slipping the envelope into the post mailbox, he shook his head and reminded himself that he shouldn't get involved with her. Not because he didn't want to, because he did, but rather because he didn't want to cause her harm or break her heart when he had to go.

He knew that it was only a matter of time before the Sheriff figured things out, and he would be a wanted man again...and if the Sheriff didn't question their story, he still had a gang out there waiting on their share of the bank money. The money that was now back in the bank. They wouldn't appreciate that; especially since it was Barlow who had allowed it to be returned. He sighed, it was only a matter of time, and that was certain. One way or the other he was going to be found out, best not to get his heart wrapped up with Rachel York...regardless of how much she was on his mind.

He shook off the thoughts of her as he headed towards the café. He was thankful that Jack had given him the opportunity to come into town this evening. The ranch hands had also come in to do a little gambling at the saloon. Weston offered to take Jack to dinner, but he had refused, saying that it was "too cold out for his old bones late at night".

Glancing down the street, Weston smiled, despite his attempt to rid himself of thoughts of the lady physician, there she was busying herself around the town as burned orange light of the sunset kissed her chestnut hair. He sighed; he'd never met a woman with such a fighting spirit, yet brimming with softness beneath. He paused in his tracks as he watched a man near the lovely doctor. Words seemed to pass between them, and she placed her hands firmly on her hips as her cheeks flushed, and she spoke with no doubt the same stubbornness he'd witnessed on nearly every encounter.