Second Epilogue

1874

There was a package that had come in for him. Well to all of them he supposed, as it was addressed to: The Cartwright's. They were all scattered about the hillside by now. Tending to various tasks around the ranch.

Many years had gone by since his boys were young. Years of living and growing had happened in this house. His boy's all grown now. Healthy young men. Each one still burning the vibrant vitality of youth.

The brown package was tied with red twine, he knew it was a book even before opening it.

He was right.

The title of which held no significance for him and seem to be an odd choice for a man who has no little ones.

Opening the front cover some papers began to slip but he caught them and held them in place. The one on top was a photo.

A young man appearing to be about mid-thirties. Bright blonde hair combed over to one side. Arms outstretched like a bird protecting its youth, in this case the three young girls in lacy dresses before him. Both hands resting on the shoulders of two of them. The eldest, 10 or so, with jet black hair tied up in laces and curly like the woman who stood above her with her hands on her shoulders too. The middle girl with light brown hair with her hand up by her lips. The youngest, bright blonde hair like her father's appearing to be around three or four caught in the brink of laughter.

A happy family but one in which he did not recognize, therefore he wasn't quite sure how or why such an intimate family portrait would be in his possession now.

Behind the photo was an article torn from The New York Daily News. A newspaper printed out of the east coast. Unfolding the article in the serenity of that quiet morning he read.

All at once he was brought back to those painful memories of when Joe was young. Those memories which he had pushed to the back of his mind as Joe had grown and developed into the fine young man that he is today. There was no need to dwell on them. The scars had faded with the passing of time and the living of new adventures but as he read this article, they came trickling back to him.

It was an article that spoke about the abuse of a young girl, suffered at the hands of her foster parents.

But this article wasn't merely detailing the girl's abuse. It was about something more. It spoke of a trial that was taking place in New York as a result. The first ever of its kind in the United States. At least as far as he was aware.

These were unprecedented events that was happening here. The trial itself would serve to mold the minds of the people. Laws would change. This girl, because of her sufferings, was doing what he and his sons had been unable to do so many years ago. Of course, it was impossible to stop every child from harm, but from this day forward it would be a lot easier to prosecute the offenders. It had been years too late for many, but it was here now, and Ben knew that this was only the beginning. It was a new world they were entering into.

With renewed awareness, he went back and read the front cover. The title had stuck out at him when he read it this time.

Songs In The Opera Of Tom Thumb the Great.

Kane O'Hara

Now he understood its significance.

He folded the article back up and looked at the picture again. He saw it different this time. Of course, he wouldn't have recognized him the first time. Aside from this man being might's older, there was another profound difference in him. There was an easy genuine smile. There was color in his eyes which had replaced the darkness he once knew. The sparkle so profound that it had bled through this brown shaded photo. Looking at it now, he saw the boy in him. The boy which had left him so many years ago. The three girls before him, happy and healthy… and loved. The woman at his side, like a beam of strength and support.

He was just about to tuck both photo and article into their spot when he found one more thing. The papers which hadn't been tucked just under the cover but a few pages in as if being used as a bookmark to mark a specific page. This page contained a passage which had been underlined and underneath this passage was a written note.

Reading the passage first.

"Giants he quelled and rebels he subdued,

Nor in his country's wounds his hands imbrued.

No; he was more than great; for he was good.

Let not his stature prejudice your mind,

True worth is to no certain size confined.

The least may be the greatest of mankind."

A lesson in which I learned from your son a long time ago. Even the smallest of smalls can take down giants.

Thank you.

A word from the author: Thank you to Lynne Coulson, Susan, Jenny and the anonymous guests who has chosen to review my story. I'd like to hear from more of you. Let me know what you think.