and helping in precisely such
situations as birth –“
“No, no, an evil Satan rules my
life. You don’t know. I’ve done terrible things.” Hawkins was sobbing.
Hannah had never seen a grown man lose
his senses during a wife’s labor. “Mr. Hawkins, there’s nothing you’ve done
can’t be forgiven. Good Lord, have you killed a man? Mr. Hawkins, every life
has it’s share of broken dreams, of falls, of hard knocks. Believe me, I know,
but we’re going to bring a healthy baby today. You’re due for a break.”
John Hawkins grabbed her arm and pushed
her to his private parlor, where Hannah sat on a wooden chair, and he slumped onto
the sofa. He pulled a handkerchief from a vest pocket and blew his nose.
When he finally lifted his gaze
and spoke his words were tortured and painful. “As a boy I learned the hard way.
Trust me. You’ll want to fetch Rutherford. Look, Doctor Sutton, I know who you
are, and why you’re here. You’re Amy Sutton. When I was a young man I worked at
the Dullen ranch, next to your place. Do you remember it?”
It was Hannah’s turn to be fearful
and exposed, like a windmill facing a gale for the first time. “How?” She
choked. “I mean, when, when did you know?”
His eyes were red and misted, and
he looked away from her. “The first we met. I couldn’t forget your face after
it happened. You’re Amy, all growed up.”
“Oh, please, oh please. You
haven’t told anyone?”
“No, and I won’t, because there’s
something about me nobody knows, not even my wife. I –I was one of the
men who set the fire.”
Hannah gasped and the blood ran
from her face. She felt weak and suddenly disconnected from the conversation.
His voice broke and he sobbed. “I-I
was just a kid,” he pleaded. “Dullen made me do it with another cowpuncher. He
wanted to drive your family off the land so he could take it. If we’d known
there were kids in the barn –“
Hannah put up a hand to stop him. She’d
expected the stress of a birthing, and what she got was reliving a personal
nightmare. Her arm was wrapped around her midsection. She rocked to and fro on
the hard chair. “Oh, heavens. Oh, my.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hawkins continued.
“In truth, I’m sorry every damn day. You now you see. God punishes me by taking
my babies. And then you show up, and the loneliness and pain start all over
again . . . and I know my regrets aren’t enough . . . I try to be a good man.“
“You say you were just a boy,” Mr.
Hawkins. “You were a boy,” she repeated. “Where is Dullen?”
“Dead. Sarah Easton killed him.”
She heard a shudder in his heavy sigh. “Dullen fired off a range war with the
Eastons. He wanted their spread, too, so he kidnapped Sarah and little Emily
for ransom. Mrs. Easton had a gun hidden in her skirts, and when she got a
fighting chance she shot the Satan. Miss, I wouldn’t blame you if you called
for my hanging.”
The chair creaked as Hannah leaned
forward. She took Hawkins’ hand, and squeezed. “I forgive you. I forgive you,
John Hawkins.”
He retreated to a stunned reverential
silence. At last he whispered. “You absolve me? Why?”
“Mr. Hawkins, as I look at the
vast expanse of life I see endless possibilities for healing and, yes,
forgiveness. Every day I face the emotional toll of physical and mental pain,
for myself, and others. We all have lingering fears, and regret of errors. I
see veterans who struggle with the senselessness of taking lives during the
war. I see widows and mothers who have lost children.”
“My purpose is to ease pain and
suffering. What good would it do either of us to continue in a contemptuous
fashion? We cannot forget, but we can forgive, and we can do right by others to
atone for the past. I wake up every morning and ask myself what I can do to
make the world better. Mr. Hawkins, I know you do the same. Your love for
situations as birth –“
“No, no, an evil Satan rules my
life. You don’t know. I’ve done terrible things.” Hawkins was sobbing.
Hannah had never seen a grown man lose
his senses during a wife’s labor. “Mr. Hawkins, there’s nothing you’ve done
can’t be forgiven. Good Lord, have you killed a man? Mr. Hawkins, every life
has it’s share of broken dreams, of falls, of hard knocks. Believe me, I know,
but we’re going to bring a healthy baby today. You’re due for a break.”
John Hawkins grabbed her arm and pushed
her to his private parlor, where Hannah sat on a wooden chair, and he slumped onto
the sofa. He pulled a handkerchief from a vest pocket and blew his nose.
When he finally lifted his gaze
and spoke his words were tortured and painful. “As a boy I learned the hard way.
Trust me. You’ll want to fetch Rutherford. Look, Doctor Sutton, I know who you
are, and why you’re here. You’re Amy Sutton. When I was a young man I worked at
the Dullen ranch, next to your place. Do you remember it?”
It was Hannah’s turn to be fearful
and exposed, like a windmill facing a gale for the first time. “How?” She
choked. “I mean, when, when did you know?”
His eyes were red and misted, and
he looked away from her. “The first we met. I couldn’t forget your face after
it happened. You’re Amy, all growed up.”
“Oh, please, oh please. You
haven’t told anyone?”
“No, and I won’t, because there’s
something about me nobody knows, not even my wife. I –I was one of the
men who set the fire.”
Hannah gasped and the blood ran
from her face. She felt weak and suddenly disconnected from the conversation.
His voice broke and he sobbed. “I-I
was just a kid,” he pleaded. “Dullen made me do it with another cowpuncher. He
wanted to drive your family off the land so he could take it. If we’d known
there were kids in the barn –“
Hannah put up a hand to stop him. She’d
expected the stress of a birthing, and what she got was reliving a personal
nightmare. Her arm was wrapped around her midsection. She rocked to and fro on
the hard chair. “Oh, heavens. Oh, my.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hawkins continued.
“In truth, I’m sorry every damn day. You now you see. God punishes me by taking
my babies. And then you show up, and the loneliness and pain start all over
again . . . and I know my regrets aren’t enough . . . I try to be a good man.“
“You say you were just a boy,” Mr.
Hawkins. “You were a boy,” she repeated. “Where is Dullen?”
“Dead. Sarah Easton killed him.”
She heard a shudder in his heavy sigh. “Dullen fired off a range war with the
Eastons. He wanted their spread, too, so he kidnapped Sarah and little Emily
for ransom. Mrs. Easton had a gun hidden in her skirts, and when she got a
fighting chance she shot the Satan. Miss, I wouldn’t blame you if you called
for my hanging.”
The chair creaked as Hannah leaned
forward. She took Hawkins’ hand, and squeezed. “I forgive you. I forgive you,
John Hawkins.”
He retreated to a stunned reverential
silence. At last he whispered. “You absolve me? Why?”
“Mr. Hawkins, as I look at the
vast expanse of life I see endless possibilities for healing and, yes,
forgiveness. Every day I face the emotional toll of physical and mental pain,
for myself, and others. We all have lingering fears, and regret of errors. I
see veterans who struggle with the senselessness of taking lives during the
war. I see widows and mothers who have lost children.”
“My purpose is to ease pain and
suffering. What good would it do either of us to continue in a contemptuous
fashion? We cannot forget, but we can forgive, and we can do right by others to
atone for the past. I wake up every morning and ask myself what I can do to
make the world better. Mr. Hawkins, I know you do the same. Your love for
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