The Man and The Outlaw

Chapter Twenty Six

A letter to Gloria Valdez dated September 28, 2222:

Dear Ms. Gloria,
I hate to be writing this letter to you, but I couldn't bring myself to phone in. As you've told me once, you've already answered a call from a sobbing woman before and I'd hate to bring about bad memories by having you do it again.
Your grandson, Hector, passed away yesterday. He'd been suffering from lead poisoning, leeched from a bullet of which I believe you know the origin. I'm terribly sorry for your loss. I didn't know Hector for very long, but sometimes a short while is just long enough for a heart to find love.
He was a good man at the end, despite what the rumors and gossips say about his past. He was never without a smile, even when the pain was awful, and the seizures had worn him thin. He spoke lovingly about you, and he deeply regretted having grown so distant. He said he'd thought about visiting you a million times, but he didn't want to risk involving you somehow in his crimes. He was grateful to see you one last time when we came to talk to you. You didn't recognize him, but he was glad that he got the chance for one last visit.
I took him home, to the house between the quarry and the gulch that you told us about. It was where he wanted to be, where he wanted to spend the rest of his time. I had been right about that after all. He didn't rest when he got there but started to put things together, tallying up what he could sell off in order to pay back the debts he'd created as The Outlaw. He was ashamed of what he'd done, said he'd gotten lost, caught up in his anger at his mother, at who he was, and when he ran away, he saw no other option to get the money he needed to survive. "That was my foolish excuse, Clara," he told me once before drifting off to sleep. "That was my foolish lie."
He'd paid it all back before he left, every last cent. I helped him finish up when he got too sick to do it on his own. At the end, he'd forgiven his mother for what she'd done to him all those years ago, he didn't possess the energy for a grudge like that anymore, but I don't think he ever really forgave himself. The guilt stayed with him through his last days. I saw it in his eyes whenever he was staring off somewhere, into a place where I couldn't see or go, a place where bad things happened. For what it's worth, I've forgiven him, and I hope, in time, that you and everyone else can forgive him too.
As I'm writing this, there's a shovel by the door of his childhood home. I plan to bury his body in the back field behind that big oak tree. It will keep him cool in the summers, protecting him with its shade, and its branches and leaves will keep him covered during winter snows and springtime rains. It's the best place I could think for him to finally rest.
I have to go now, Ms. Gloria. Digging is hard work, especially when it's done alone, and I can't wait any longer. I won't be able to put him to rest in my mind until it's done with my hands. It was that way with my father too.
Thank you for all the help you've been, all the insight that you were able to offer. Without you, I never would've found Hector or realized just how wrong I was about him. If you ever should need anything, or maybe just want to visit again, I hope you'll give me a call. Your nurse, Brenda, has my number.
I will miss Hector forever. He will always be my first true love. I can only hope that one day, the world will come to know him as I have, not as The Outlaw, but as The Man.
Signed,
Clara Thompson