First Epilogue

When the Sparrow Dies

He'd been back at home for a couple of weeks now. The doctor had kept him for observation for a few days upon his awakening. His swelling had subsided to a manageable amount. After which, he'd sent him home to finish his recovery there. He'd visit everyday that first week. The next, he'd only been up twice.

There had been whisperings, rumors around town, with the shoemaker's strange departure and his son being left behind. Higgins had told his closest companions of what took place in that store and they their friends and so on. It was like this the word spread. Like this, the town buzzed. They knew the patient in docs office, the Cartwright boy, had a large part to do with that.

When it was time to go home from the docs, the Cartwright boy was smuggled away in a covered wagon to protect his confidentiality and since then the boy had been hidden away, his only visitor being the doc.

The people having sufficient time to form their own opinions on what took place between them and the shoemaker. Many people took Tomlinson's side with what little information they had.

A typical discussion might go something like this.

"How a boy could provoke a well-bred man like that into such a brash. Boy's who challenge adults should be put in their place. Tomlinson was right for that. Wildly unfair to have to go and give up your son for that."

The diseased steer would sometimes be offered as an argument as to why the boy might have challenged his father's enemy.

"That boy's a wild bear in nature. From what I hear, he's had his own run-ins with the law already."

"The kid likes to fight."

"He got his comeuppance, is what I say."

There were fewer that took their side. Usually it was well known friends. They'd argue on their behalf.

"There has to be more to the story then just that." But they were usually arguing against a larger party.

"No doubt it was the Cartwright's and their influence that got the pendulum of the law to swing to their side."

"That's an unfair assessment. The Cartwright's are good people and don't use their status like that."

"If the Cartwright's were just in their actions then why aren't they telling people their side of it?"

"Maybe they've got more on their plate than what we think of it. I trust we'll get our answers when the family's ready to give them."

"Sounds like a copout. Sounds to me like they're trying to hide something."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

This discussion represents the general talk of the town.

~.~

For two weeks Joe had regained his strength. The complications with his head swelling had subsided and he could move around more. The first few days he kept to his room. By the end of that first week he was down the stairs, eating suppers with them again. Still it seemed he was afraid to venture into the world beyond their little ranch-house. Getting him to even walk out the door and get some sun on his face came with some ado. The few times he'd given in, he didn't remain for long. This, only reminding the family of how much Joe had been changed in those 8 weeks. Getting that wild, rambunctious kid home in time for supper was their struggle then.

Too fragile too take on the world or in this case, questions that concerned friends and citizens would undoubtedly have, Joe had refused every offer to go into town. Not to the market nor anywhere else. Even refusing to make play dates with Scotty, and Ben hadn't pushed him. So when Joe had taken him up on the suggestion of going to church that second Sunday morning, Ben was genuinely surprised.

When two weeks ago, he wanted nothing more than to hide away, now he was strong enough, to at least breach back into Virginia City.

Joe had been feeling it. Oh, not at first but as the days passed by he felt himself becoming more and more recluse. Adapting to that lifestyle. Becoming comfortable in it. His heart began to ache because of it. At the loss of his former self. He loved that boy he used to be. As he was rediscovering, so did his family. They only mourn for the boy he is now. He could see it in them, though they try to hide it. So why then was he still clinging to this new self? Tomlinson was gone now. There was no threat of him coming back to make sure Joe lived the "good boy" life. Joe began to realize that becoming a recluse was letting Tom win. It was what Tom wanted of them always. To keep them shut up. Away from the world. So now that he was gone why was Joe still abiding to this. He was scared sure. Not scared of harm. A different kind of scared. Lamer almost. He was scared of the attention his bruises would draw. He was scared of having to answer questions and not having the right answers to give, or of having to tell his story over and over again. Memories he'd rather just let die. This was also different than the boy he used to be. 8 weeks ago, every bruise or scar he got, he'd worn with pride. For they were the bruises of a boy who was not afraid to live life. Even the ones he'd obtain by doing something stupid, he'd tell the story like it was some great adventure. Balancing on the dining chairs with his epee outstretched, or jumping from the second story.

He was a long ways from being that kid he used to be, but allowing himself to be in the house all shut up like was not getting him there any faster. Besides, after 2 weeks the house was starting to get a bit stuffy.

He had to make the decision for himself that he wasn't going to spend his life as a recluse and stepping foot in God's house was a good way to start.

None the wiser to the buzzing and rumors that carried along outside his presence, he and his family braved that white Chapel.

When the boy made his appearance after those two weeks, and greeting the family, a few did ask how Joe was feeling, which he answered shortly; but all were too polite to ask the boy about the marks. Most treated Joe as if the bruises weren't even there when addressing him but for a softer handshake, a gentler smile and a kinder voice. The family showed their gratitude in this, knowing their son was still very fragile. The boy's smile back was generally subdued. He was but a shadow of the boy they knew so many weeks ago.

Seeing the boy, whose face was a mask of healing bruises, their minds were made up. No one, they thought, has cause to do that to a young'un such as Joe and there was no one that's going to convince them otherwise. They committed that if the family wasn't going to advocate for themselves than they would advocate for them. From that day going forward, the pendulum of the town's opinions would be swayed in the Cartwright's favor and no one ever questioned their resolve in this matter again. What happened between father Tomlison and his son Scotty was something that had to be done.

"Come on." The father guided him away from the open door. "Let's go find our seats."

You know, there are times in your life, any church-goer will tell you, where it seems that the sermon is read for your ears directly. Most notably this happens when the person is most in need of hearing them. Was it the pastor, whom upon hearing that Joe would be there that morning who decided to change his sermon? Or was it a higher providence?

Such was the sermon this Autumn morning.

"I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore, be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. Be on your guard; you will be handed over to the local councils and be flogged in the synagogues. On my account you will be brought before governors and kings as witnesses to them and to the Gentiles. But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time, you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

Ben gulped in a grimace, faltering, wondering how his son would receive this. He glanced down at his young boy next to him. Joe's face was hard to read, but his eyes were wide, imbibing every word.

His first appearance to church upon his recovery. In fact, it was his first appearance since this whole fiasco began. Not just upon being back home as this mess came out before the first Sunday rolled around but even being with Tom. Tom never took them to church. He never took the boys to town at all.

He couldn't say he never took them anywhere. They weren't like prisoners the entire time. He recalls the trip to the lake and the trip to Swallow's Flat. Those had been good times. Joe thought, was it really fair for the man to have to give up his child for that?

All the many beatings, starvation and general depravation flooded in.

The drownings. Everything else his younger companion had to endure.

~.~

His boy had been characteristically quiet the ride back to the house, tucked up in the blanket in the bed of the wagon. Eyes closed most of the trip but not in a relaxed state. His head bobbing with the bumps of the road and face looking ill at ease. Both Ben and Adam wished it had been a different sermon that morning.

Joe had gone straight to his room and closed the door. Ben considered, after some time that he should go and speak to his boy.

He was sitting up in his bed deeply studying a book in his lap.

"What's wrong son?" Joe placed the ribbon and closed the book before turning over.

It was the sacred book Joe held.

"Son. You could talk to me." He was silent for a while as if considering.

"I don't get it pa."

"Get what?"

Instead of answering that question though, he slaked.

"Nevermind. It's nothing."

"What son? Talk to me."

"I can't."

"Please. Open up."

"No. It's wrong."

"Son?"

"I'm sorry pa. I'm having these thoughts I know I shouldn't be having but… I am. I can't help it pa."

"You can tell me about it? You don't have to be afraid."

Joe took a moment to search his pa's eyes for the truth. Finally, he opened the book to where the ribbon had saved. He read allowed:

"So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs."

This was the sermon which they heard that morning.

"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell."

"Son don't." His pa worried and tried gently to take the book from him but Joe stopped him.

"Wait! "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?" He continued. "Yet, not one of them will fall to the ground outside your father's presence. Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." At that, Joe closed the book and looked up.

"It's just… God's eye is on the sparrow, right?"

"That's right."

Ben felt better that this was where his focus was, instead of the previous paragraph about being broken in hell. He wouldn't know if he'd have the words to talk him through that one.

He asked, "If I am really worth more than a sparrow, then why did he let that happen to me? Why Scotty? Why anybody? If he loves us so much?"

Ben was taken aback. Now he wasn't sure if this would be any easier. He prayed a silent prayer that God would give him the words to ease his son's troubled heart.

At his father's incommode he turned away as if ashamed.

"I told you these were bad thoughts." He wiped a tear before falling into his pillow, face turned away from his pa.

"No son." His father snapped back reaching for his boy. "This is healthy to be asking questions like these. It's healthy to want answers." This gave Joe the courage to turn over.

Ben had to reach deep to say this.

"God covers his people in a protective shield." Joe was about to debate. "What does that mean?" He continued. "That bad will never happen in this world? That we will never be hurt?"

"I almost died by Tom's hands. More than once." He remonstrated passionately.

Ben gulped at this truth, mourning the pain his son had been through. This only reminding Ben how dire his stay was. His son had almost died just two weeks ago proving to the family and finally to the world just how dangerous Tomlinson was. For this they had been by Joe's side. But many more times, while father had been away indulging in life's grandeur, none the wiser to his son's tortures, his boy was fighting to survive. These battles his boy was forced to face without his father to carry him through. But, he wasn't alone. Ben might not have been there, but a greater force was.

"But you didn't." He reminded. "God spared you and he spared Scotty. You may not have known it then, but He protected you like He protected Scotty. From death. What happened to you was bad. Horrible. It never should have happened."

"Then why did God make it?" He interrupted.

"I don't believe he did. But he used it. He turned this bad thing that happened as horrible as it was and made good come from it."

"What good? He argued.

Joe didn't understand so Ben explained.

"Scotty was in a dark place long before we showed up and nobody knew. Nobody might have known until it was too late. Your entrance into their world shook things up. Tomlinson may have tried but he couldn't hide the evil within him for too long. Don't you see? We were able to save Scotty because of what happened to you."

It appeared as if he was letting this sit with him. At once a darkness drew over.

"That may be pa, but what happens when the sparrow dies?" He spoke this with almost angry tears.

Joe's thoughts, from the moment he heard this passage in church, were on that baby bird among the trees, while his mother mourned above him. He thought of Scotty collapsing down losing life before being dunked into consciousness. Then he thought of all the thousands of children around this globe that perish in their surroundings.

"You know, sometimes the sparrow dies." His son challenged. Ben stared a moment but God gave him his words.

"Even in death, He will be there to gather His people." It seemed like too easy of an answer.

"I don't get it. Why would God allow this? Why would a good God allow the young to die?"

"Sometimes its more merciful to bring them home. Outside of the sufferings of this world there is something greater." Joe grimaced at this.

"Let me see the book son." His father scanned through the pages as if looking for something. He stopped on one page and read. Flipped a few more pages over and read. "Here, read this. He handed the book back to his son. "Isaiah, chapter 57 verse 1." His father pointed out.

When Joe found it, he read. "The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart: and merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come. He shall enter into peace: they shall rest in their beds, each one walking in his uprightness."

"I don't understand. What does this mean?"

"It means, well, what I just said. It's telling you that sometimes good people die. In taking them away from this earth, God is protecting them from the evil that was to come. When the innocent die, they get to spend eternity with God in Heaven, forever. Where there's no tears, no pain, no suffering."

Joe closed the book and looked up.

"Do you understand now son?"

He sat with this a bit.

"I'm tired. I'd like to be left alone."

"Son?"

"Please pa." His voice was weak. He turned over again to face the wall and dwell in this new thought.

"Okay son." He got up and closed the door behind him, hoping his words reached him.

They did, but what his pa didn't know was that now Joe was conflicted with another thought. His pa's words had touched him so effectively that he was actually starting to wonder if it would have been better for Scotty to have died, or he for that matter.