An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Twenty-Six

Present Day - March 1867

A soft heart, yes, Weston Barlow had a soft heart; but he had a good one, too. He forced his mind to forget that night, forget the screams, forget the looks in their eyes when he told him he couldn't save them all. He told himself these men staring at him now were not the same men that had done those terrible things. They were simply employees of the man he'd come to see.

As he neared the steps, he yelled out, "Colonel Harding, come out here and get your messenger!"

The large door opened and there stood the man who had been watching him from the back corner of the prairie, in town, and in the shadows. The silver-haired man, dressed in black with black silver toed boots. There, standing right in front of him, not more than five feet away was the very man he'd despised for twenty years.

Everett Clayton.

Sure, he had aged in twenty years, but Weston still knew him on sight without having to take a second glance. You don't forget the man who had your mother killed. Gritting his teeth, he tried with all his might not to draw for his gun, but it took everything within himself to stop his hand from taking the weapon from his side and ending the man's life as quickly as he could.

Mr. Clayton smiled with a crooked grin, "I guess Jack got my message before you disposed of him?"
He doesn't even recognize me.

"Yeah, he got the message. Now, I'm delivering one of my own. Stay away from Jack and the ranch. He's not selling and he's not running either."

The Colonel smiled, "Come in a minute, I'd like to speak with you."
The arrogance of this man...he hasn't changed a bit.

"No, thanks."

The Colonel narrowed his eyes, "I'm afraid I must insist." Doris appeared in the doorway and smiled, "Jesse! What brings you all the way out here?"

Weston didn't respond to her, he just glanced from her eyes back to her father's and the Colonel cleared his throat, "He, uh, he's returning a favor. In fact, I was trying to persuade him to come in, I have a business proposition for him, but he's unswayable it seems."

She dropped her eyes to the ground and then offered Weston another smile, "Won't you come in for a while? I just made a small batch of cookies and lemonade."

He wanted to refuse, but there was an unhidden plea in Doris' eyes that reminded him of when she had been too scared to tell him the older boys were picking on her in school back when she had been Ivy May. This look told him she was still frightened, but of what? Perhaps, she too, was afraid of her father as so many seemed to be.

There went his soft heart again...getting him into situations he had better stay out of. It was easy to hate the idea of someone, it was a lot harder to hate them face to face. With a small nod, he dismounted Dimples and tied her to the post as the Colonel called to one of the men to remove the "trash" from the porch. The term was used loosely and for the ranch hand Weston had just delivered. Clearly, Everett Clayton, or whatever he chose to call himself now, did not care about one person in this world other than himself.

Taking two steps at a time, Weston entered the home behind the Colonel and Doris. As she went to get the refreshments, Weston stood and listened to the man's business proposal.
"How much is Jack paying you, son?"

"I am not your son."

The Colonel smirked, "It's just an expression. Now, what is your monthly wages?"

"Enough."

With a chuckle the Colonel concluded, "You don't say much, do you?" When Weston didn't respond, he added, "I will triple whatever he's paying you if you will work for me."