An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Twenty-Two

Present Day – February 1867

Ivy May Clayton. Weston pondered to himself at the possibility of Rachel's friend truly being her...he was quite certain of it, but he wouldn't know for sure until he met her father. He wasn't at all sure if he was ready to do that, however. He'd dreamed of meeting up with him again for so long, that now, he wasn't at all sure if he could go through with his original plan. Regardless of what Everett Clayton had done to him personally, he knew he had still made a promise, and he also knew that he didn't have it in his heart to murder anyone, despite how much they might deserve it.

This town had become complicated for him...it had disrupted his life. One moment he was running away from a posse after robbing the bank, and now he was living life as a completely different man, under a different name.

He'd fallen in love with a woman he'd met by chance, was working for a man with a similar background, had made friends, seen past acquaintances, victims of his robberies, and even the girl of the man who had his mother murdered. It seemed too convenient to be a coincidence. Could it be possible that none of it was a coincidence and somehow it had all been orchestrated by God?

God has a way of putting you back together right in front of the people that broke you...

The Reverends words echoed back in his mind. He glanced down at the Bible Lincoln had given him and sighed deeply. He'd opened it hoping that somehow it would magically fall to a place that would tell him what to do. The verse it fell to didn't help much...but on the other hand, it did talk about being honest.

Better is a poor man who walks in his integrity than a rich man who is crooked in his ways. Proverbs 28:6

While it was not what he was looking for, it did perhaps give him an answer. He had to tell the truth, he had to walk in integrity. Facing up to his mistakes might not be the easiest thing to do, but he had to stop running away. Closing the Bible, he stood and headed to Jack's cabin. Perhaps his wise friend could shed some wisdom into his situation.

It was dark now. Everyone had ended their day's work and were relaxing in their bunks as Weston left the small bunker. It only took twenty steps to get from there to the stairs leading up to the front porch. Knocking on the door of the cabin it opened without much give.

Strange. Since when does Jack leave this door unlocked and open? Peeking his head inside, Weston tapped on the door again and called, "Hey, Jack? Everything alright?"

No answer.

Weston entered the cabin and called again, "Jack? You alright?"

Again, no response.

Something told Weston to get out of there, but instead, he headed toward the bedroom; thinking that perhaps something was wrong with his friend. Whether he admitted it or not, Weston knew Jack's heart was failing. He'd seen the signs before and he knew if Jack didn't take care of himself, he might — no, he couldn't let his mind go there.

He entered the bedroom to find nothing, so he entered the second room. The trunk he'd seen on numerous occasions lay open and rummaged through as though Jack had been desperately searching for something.

Don't do it, Barlow...just get out of here.

He couldn't resist the temptation any longer to look inside that open chest...it seemed like it was calling to him to take a glimpse within. Nearing it, he peeked into it and froze immediately. It was filled with old clothes, an empty holster with the initials 'R.B.' engraved into the leather, a worn Bible, several letters tied with a string, but it was the tin-plated photo that captured his attention. His brow creased as he bent down and retrieved an old photograph laying on top. It was a wedding photo of a young bride and groom on their wedding day. He recognized the groom immediately as a much younger version of Jack, but it was the bride's face that made his lungs stall. She had the same tender eyes he knew by memory.