Part 23 (1/2)
Sam spit again. ”Robbery went sour,” he said simply.
”Where?”
”Over to Elk River. Bank there.”
”What happened?”
”Yer pa figured Skidder sold us out.”
”Skidder?”
There was silence for some time.
”Skiddera”is hea”?” Laramie began to ask.
”Yer pa shot 'im. He'd turned sides.”
Silence again.
”Yer pa got shot. His horse was shot right out from under 'im. He had no place to go. Caught two bullets. IaI got him out but he was. .h.i.t bad. We grabbed another horse an' lit out. We made it back. But he only lasted a few hours.”
Sam clamped his mouth shut and chewed on his mustache. He had said his piece. There was nothing more to say.
Laramie sat silently, letting all of the pieces fit together. White Eagle had said that it wasn't his pa's horse. He'd been right.
Laramie could imagine the scene of the robbery. He'd been there himself on more than one occasion in the past. But he had never walked into an ambush. A double cross of one of their own men.
”Why didn't ya put his name on the cross?” he asked Sam softly.
Sam snorted. ”His name? Which name? Which one of the five or six I knowed about was I gonna put on there?”
Laramie nodded. He had not realized his pa had changed his name so many times. Maybe he was one of the men listed in his mother's Bible. For some reason he could not bring himself to ask.
He stood and set aside his cup. ”I'd better git,” he said. ”I've some ridin' to do.”
”What ya gonna do?” asked Sam. ”Thought ya might stay. This is still the safest placea””
”Not lookin' fer a safe place,” Laramie responded. ”I'm fixin' to turn myself in.”
Sam jerked upright. ”Did you come here toa”?”
”I said, myself. Not you. Not anyone else. I came here to see my paa”thet's all.” He looked evenly at the older man. ”I'm not runnin' anymore, Sam,” he said quietly.
”They'll lock ya awaya”iffen they don't hang ya,” Sam said brusquely.
Laramie nodded. ”They likely will,” he agreed.
”Yer crazy, boy,” spat Sam. ”Plumb crazy.”
”I was sorta hopin' thet you'd decide to join me, Sam. I hate leavin' ya herea”all alone.”
Sam shook his head. ”Got a feelin' I'd rather finish my days here then at the end of a rope,” he said firmly.
”Maybe there wouldn't be a rope. Maybea””
”They'd be a rope,” said Sam, and he spit to the side of the coveted chair with its many-patched wobbly legs.
”Sheriff wouldn't be in his right mind iffen he let me go,” went on Sam simply.
Laramie nodded. Maybe it was so. He hated to think of it. He hated to leave the aging man all alone in the forsaken camp. It didn't seem right. But Sam had chosen his life. There was little that Laramie could do to right the wrongs. Still, he did at least owe him a glimpse at the truth he had found. The man would have to make up his own mind.
”Ya know, Sam,” he said softly as he lifted his hat and fingered the hatband, ”when ya found thet there trunk of my ma'saya opened a whole new world fer me. A world of.a.good. Of law and order andafaith in G.o.d. I didn't know where it would lead at the time, but I've followed the trailaan' it led me toaforgiveness. It feels good, Sam. It feels mighty good.”
Sam only stared.
”An' thet's what I came back to speak to my pa about,” Laramie finished. ”Now thet he ain't herea”not much reason fer me to stay. But I want you to know about it, too, Sam. It really works. G.o.d can forgive. He can turn a man's life around. One has to ask fer the pardon He offers. It's as simple as thet.”
Sam said nothing. He spit again, the brown liquid making one more stain on the already darkened wood of the floor.
”Think on it, Sam,” Laramie prompted gently.
Sam didn't even acknowledge the words that were spoken. Laramie rose to his feet. Reluctantly he moved to go. He nodded toward the older man. ”Thanks, Samafer the coffee an' feracarin' fer meaas a boy. An' feralookin' out fer my pa.” His voice threatened to break on the last words. He settled his Stetson back on his thick hair and turned to leave.
Just as he was stepping through the door, Sam called out after him.
”He wasn't really yer pa, ya know.”
Chapter Twenty-one.
Reunion Heart thudding in his chest, Laramie swung around. ”What are you sayin'?”
Sam eyed him coolly. He took another cut from his chewing tobacco. ”He weren't yer real pa,” he repeated.
Laramie stepped back into the room, moving slowly toward the little man. ”You knowin' somethin' ya haven't come clean ona”or are ya jest talkin'?” he asked tersely.
”Oh, I knowed all right,” replied Sam. ”I was there.”
Laramie felt the strength draining from him. He fought for control, easing himself back to one of the log stools that had served the camp for many years. Sam now claimed the boss's chair.
Laramie swallowed, his eyes intense.
”Are ya sayin' thet wasn't my ma's trunk?” he asked Sam.
Sam fingered the tobacco before returning it to his pocket, spit in the corner, and tipped his head. ”Oh, thet were her trunk, right enough,” he said slowly. ”Not much doubt 'bout thet.”
”Thena”” prompted Laramie.