eyes widened in surprise. The man continually shocked her by blurting out important feelings at totally unexpected times. Her heartbeat quickened at the realization he was finally telling her something about his wife. She waited, afraid that one word might shut him up again.
“She was only twenty-one. I was twenty-six. We’d gone into town for supplies, and I—I decided to go look at some horses for sale at the livery while she shopped and did the banking. Little Ethan was with her. He was—”
Now the words came hard.
“—only two years old…a blue-eyed, blond-haired, chubby-cheeked and happy little boy who knew only joy in life.” He cleared his throat. “While they were in the bank it was quietly robbed by four men with guns. No shots were fired, so no one realized what was going on. They rode off with Jen and Ethan, figuring that if they had a woman and child with them anyone who came after them would hesitate to shoot at them. If they had only used them for shields, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But once they decided they weren’t of use any longer, they…raped Jen…and shot her in the head. Even worse…they shot Ethan, too. I expect he was crying, and they didn’t like the noise. Who knows? I only know that if I’d gone to the bank with her…if I’d only gone with her…”
“You probably would have been shot trying to help them, Clint.”
“At least then I would have done something. Just some- thing. Until you have a child of your own, Liz, you’ll never understand how it felt to know my baby was out there somewhere crying over his mommy, wondering where his daddy was….” He rolled to his side, his back to her. “By the time we found them the deed was done…and wolves had torn at their bodies…my precious beautiful wife…and my sweet, innocent little boy.”
The last words were spoken with a strained voice, and by the time he was finished his shoulders were shaking in sobs. “That’s when I knew—” he groaned “—that there was no God. I’d prayed and prayed and prayed that we’d find them alive.”
Elizabeth could not help tears of her own. Dear God, help me! Help me know what to say! Should she speak at all? Should she hold him? Here was a big, strong, brave, able, grown man who, since the awful death of his wife and child, had killed other men and likely slept with other women and drank and smoked and gambled and got into fights. Here he lay weeping. To think of what it must have been like finding his wife and child that way. No wonder he doubted God. No wonder he was so full of rage and hatred and revenge. And part of it was aimed at himself, thinking he might have been able to prevent what had happened. Surely his own undeserved guilt made it all worse.
“I miss him so much,” he sobbed. “I miss my little boy…his smile…his little arms around my neck. I was his father. Fathers protect their sons!”
Elizabeth leaned forward, putting her head in her hands, scrambling for the right words. Lord Jesus I pray that whatever comes out of my mouth will be Your words, not mine.
Hesitantly she reached over to touch his shoulder, swallowing back a lump in her throat. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Clint. If I can even come close to helping you feel the happiness you once knew with Jen and Ethan, I’ll be glad. But first you have to face the fact that…sometimes things happen that we can’t do anything about. A man can’t be in two different places at once, and nothing led you to believe that your wife and son would be in any danger that day. So the first thing you absolutely must realize is that none of it is your fault…none of it. No one on earth or in heaven above would blame you for not being there.”
He took a deep breath and sat up, his back still to her. He reached over for a towel and wiped at his face and nose with it. “This is embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? Clint, you are grieving over the two most important people in your life and the awful way they died! There is nothing embarrassing about weeping over that. Sometimes crying can cleanse the soul.”
He took several more deep breaths. “After they were buried—” He made a choking sound. “Putting my son in the