For new readers to this story, I linked Chapter 1. Chapters 2 - 4 are linked under September, 5 - 10 under October, 11 - 18 under November, 19 - 27 under December, 28 - 34 under January 2019, and 35 under February.
Destination Hope – Book 5 – Reconciliation
A Novel By:
Charles J. Patricoff
Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.
Chapter 36
Rite of Passage
Nathaniel learned how difficult it is to train a young man who itches to get his hands on useful tools. He explained all the parts, how they worked, how to load, and how to aim the rifle. After he completed the basic information, he stated, “Before I let you shoot, I need to discuss one more thing with you, son.”
William’s shoulders slumped again. His head dropped between his shoulders like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.
“Don’t quit now, son. This is important, and I need to know you understand.”
William sulked. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you remember how much fun you had when I taught you how to catch fish?”
“Yes, Pa.”
“Well, now, I hope to train you how to hunt this fall. And it is weeks away.”
This tidbit of new information caused William’s countenance to brighten. “Really pa, you’ll take me with you?”
“Yes son. It’s important to me that you know how to take care of yourself just in case, well, let me say it this way…you may have to care for your own family someday. These are things a man must know.”
“Okay, Pa. Now, can I shoot the gun?”
“Not yet. I need to know that you understand this rule about hunting.”
William kicked at another rock. “Now what?”
“William, look at me.”
William wagged his head as if it weighed a full ton. It took him several seconds to make complete eye contact with his father.
Satisfied he had his son’s attention, Nathaniel said, “The most important rule about hunting is this: never waste an animal. Never shoot one just for the fun of it. Almighty God has provided them for our food. If you do not have a clean shot at the animal and beyond, do not take it. Let the animal go. There will be other opportunities. Do you understand?”
William nodded.
“What did I say?”
“Don’t kill an animal for fun. Hunt to eat. Don’t shoot unless it’s a good shot.”
“Good. And what’s a good shot?”
William squinted in thought. “Uh, if a deer stood on a ridge and I was below, even if I can see it, I can’t see what’s beyond the ridge. The bullet could pass through the animal, fly a long way, and it might kill someone or something else.”
Now, Nathaniel nodded. After a few more questions and remarkable answers, Nathaniel believed William was ready to shoulder the firearm.
Over the next hour, Nathaniel watched glass bottles shatter with regular pops from the reliable Henry. Nathaniel decided it was time to take the next step. “William, leave the Henry on the table with the breach open.”
“But I want to shoot some more.”
“You will.” Nathaniel removed his Colt revolver from his backpack.
“Isn’t that your gun from the war?”
“Yes, and this requires more training before I let you shoot it. You need to learn how to hold it, how to stand, and how the hammer works for aiming.”
This time, William paid much closer attention. He seemed to hang on every word his pa spoke. He followed his father’s instructions to the letter, and prepared to fire the small cannon in his shaking hands.
He squeezed the trigger. The hammer slammed into the brass shell casing. An unnerving explosion followed. The kickback threw the gun up and back over William’s head so hard it flew out of his hands and landed in the dirt near his pa’s feet. He swiveled about, almost fell, and his lower jaw dropped.
Nathaniel burst into laughter as he bent down to pick up the smoking pistol. “I think that will be all for today.”
Later that afternoon, Nathaniel and William reached home and Nathaniel continued the days training, talking over the mooing and bleating in the barn. “Whenever you finish shooting, you must clean and oil the gear so these arms won’t rust, and they’ll be ready the next time you want to practice or if you need them.”
William seemed less interested in this part of his instruction. “But, we’re not going hunting tomorrow, are we?”
“No, but it is much easier to clean them now then if they’ve sat for a few days.”
“Oh, okay.” William reached into his overalls back pocket, retrieved his slingshot, and laid it on the workbench. “I guess I won’t need this anymore.”
Nathaniel examined the primitive weapon he had made for William’s fourth birthday. “When I gave that to you, do you remember I told you the story of King David, who saved the nation of Israel when he was a boy because he became skilled at using a sling?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Just because I taught you how to shoot a gun doesn’t mean you’re ready to have one.”
Once again, William’s countenance fell.
“Don’t worry, son. You prove to me that you can handle and care for this equipment, I’ll make sure, when the time is right, you’ll have your own rifle.”
William’s face brightened. “And pistol?”
Nathaniel grinned. “We’ll see.”
William stood on the tip of his toes to watch his pa clean and lubricate the Henry rifle. But before they completed the process, Bailey’s welcome-home barking signaled the arrival of William’s ma and his pa’s bride.
William set the oilcan down on top of the workbench and raced to greet his ma, shouting, “Ma, guess what me and pa did today?”
Nathaniel peered, chagrined, through the dusty back window overlooking the creek. I’m in trouble now. I forgot to tell him the most important rule for today: Don’t tell ma.
Nathaniel received a proper dressing down from Eleanor. She made her position clear. She questioned Nathaniel’s thinking, heritage, intelligence, and wisdom, or lack thereof. No matter how much William appealed that he wanted to go hunting with his pa, his mother would not hear it.
Several days passed and Nathaniel left early one morning to attend a scheduled meeting. Around mid-morning, Eleanor ordered William to take Bailey outside of the house and enjoy the beautiful late summer day. However, she also commanded that he should tend to the farm animals, making sure they all had plenty of food and water.
William completed his assigned chores. Bailey disappeared to patrol the woods, so William entertained himself by shooting smooth small stones with his slingshot at trees along the farm’s clearing.
A sparrow landed on a tree limb. He hopped and bobbed along the branch tilting his head left and right, always looking downward, as if searching for something to eat. William loaded his sling and, in a split second, launched a pebble.
The sparrow fell. William felt a sudden mixed sense of shock, terror, and shame. He raced to the stricken creature. It struggled to breathe. Unable to think, he fell to his knees and watched. The end came for the least important bird in God’s creation, and with its passing, malicious, accusatory, fiery darts of guilt, grief, and shame penetrated William’s young heart.
He threw both hands to his face, hitting his forehead with the slingshot. Weeping, he stared at the weapon in his hand as if it somehow had caused this evil. He rose to his feet, stepped backwards a couple paces from the dead bird as if it were some dark, dreadful monster, and raced for home screaming, “Ma!”
It took Eleanor several minutes to calm her son. Once he stopped crying, she asked, “Why are you so upset?”
As soon as those words left her mouth, she recalled a key point from the conversation she’d had with Nathaniel after Marah’s passing: repentance depends on truth, not feelings. Before she could correct or retract her question, William began to weep again. Through convulsive gasps and flowing tears, he managed to say, “I feel awful terrible.”
Eleanor heard her husband’s voice.“Feelings keep a person self-centered; truth helps them see their need for God’s forgiveness and restoration.” I must focus on facts. “Okay, what happened?”
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
Eleanor took a deep breath. “William, try to remember. What happened?”
“I didn’t think I could hit it from so far away.”
This is hard enough with a five-year-old. No wonder I stumbled with a seasoned soul like Marah. “Son, try to calm down and think. What happened?”
Maybe there is a bit of truth to the old phrase, “Third time is the charm.” Regardless, William confessed, “I killed a bird.”
Now Eleanor had to fight feelings of dumbfounding shock, disbelief, and denial. Keep to the facts. She stuttered, “Y-y-y-you killed a bird. How did you do it?”
Taking the instrument of death from his back pocket, he extended it to his mother.
Eleanor accepted the slingshot from his shaking hand. “Did you shoot the bird with this?”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t mean to.”
“If you didn’t mean to, why did you?”
“I didn’t think I could hit it from so far away.”
“Didn’t your father teach you about killing animals?”
This question brought a new tsunami of emotion. Eleanor realized that she had stumbled into the deeper truth of the matter. He disobeyed his father. She prayed in silence. Now, how do I help him realize it? She stared into her little boy’s weepy eyes. She could see his appeal for relief from the tormenting guilt. Keep him thinking. “What do you think your father would say about this?”
William’s face almost contorted. He shook his head. He seemed out of control as he pleaded, “Ma, no. You can’t tell him. He’d be awful mad at me.”
There it is. Their relationship is broken. “I’m not going to tell him, son.”
“Oh good.” William seemed to relax just a bit.
“But I think you should.”
Horror gripped William. His face looked like he had seen a dead relative walking across the yard between the barn and the house.
A gentle breeze tossed Eleanor’s hair, and she brushed it away from her face. “I know you want to be a man. Well, a real man loves the truth, and he is honest when he commits a wrong. Almighty God desires that a man be honest before Him at all times. I suggest you practice this behavior with your pa when he comes home.”
“What if he—”
Eleanor held up her hand. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. But know this: that awful feeling you have, it won’t go away. It will return every time you see your pa. I’ll stand by your side. You won’t have to face him alone.”
William relaxed his shoulders. This time, he did not slump. He lifted his hanging head and said, “Okay.”
“Very well, then. Go on and wash your face and hands. Dinner will be ready in a little while, and your pa will be home soon.”
When Nathaniel arrived home, he hung his floppy hat on one of the peg hooks attached to the wall next to the front door and asked before facing his family, “How’s everyone this glorious evening?”
Eleanor gave a guttural grunt. “We’ve had an interesting day.”
Nathaniel swiveled toward his stern-faced bride, who stood like unmovable granite with her hands folded at her waist. In an instant, Nathaniel reached a conclusion. “Now, what did I do?”
Then he noted Eleanor’s eyes shift in William’s direction. Nathaniel tilted his head a bit to the left and made a quick assessment of his son’s sunken eyes and drooping posture. “Oh?”
Again, Eleanor cleared her throat. She unfolded her hands and gave William a shove, forcing him to take a few steps in his father’s direction. “Isn’t there something you’d like to say to your father?”
William kept his chin buried in his chest and replied sheepishly, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well,” she stated in an assimilated Tennessee accent, “I think you should get to it.” She raised her gaze and addressed her husband. “I’ll ready supper.”
Nathaniel nodded. As Eleanor almost marched to the fireplace, he padded to his chair at the head of their dinner table. “So, my little man, what’s this all about?”
The confession began. Eleanor served supper—a beef stew blended with chopped carrots, celery, and walnut-size potato chunks. She seasoned the mix with diced onions, salt, pepper, and minced garlic. Nathaniel had to admit, his bride’s talent for cooking blossomed. After he sampled his first bite, his anger diminished toward the foolish behavior admitted by his son.
With inserted, oft-times forceful words of encouragement from his mother, William repeated his side of the story.
“We talked about this, didn’t we, son?”
“Yes, sir.” William stirred his stew. He had yet to take a bite.
“You took aim at the bird, correct?”
“Yes sir.” His eyes indicated his pending appeal. “I didn’t think I could hit it.”
“Son, I do not intend to call you a liar; but, I don’t believe you. The truth is, you failed to stop and think about what you were about to do.”
“But Pa—”
Nathaniel held up his hand. “William, stop. Calm down and listen.”
William folded his arms around his torso and sat like the stump from a broken tree surrounded by a bed of moldering leaves.
Nathaniel recognized that the five-year old had placed his defenses. “Are you listening?”
William gave a half nod.
“Now son, would you say I’m older than you?”
William’s eyes shifted upward. He nodded, this time with what appeared to be a bit more comprehension.
“Good. Do you know more today than you did last year?”
William sat still at first. Then he began to fidget.
While William simmered in his self-made stew, Nathaniel swallowed another spoonful of Eleanor’s recipe. “This is really good, darling.”
Eleanor blinked. “Thank you.”
Nathaniel shoved his meat-and-potato-filled spoon into his mouth. After savoring the moment, he started to wipe his mouth with the back of his left hand but caught Eleanor’s disapproving glare. As if he had a reflexive reaction, he reached for his napkin. I suppose I should think before acting, too.
He addressed William. “All right, then, you understand that I’m older than you, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Since you’ve learned new things over the last year, would you think I’ve learned a few more things?”
“And, we’re still learning, son,” Eleanor said.
Nathaniel let a slight chuckle slip, cleared his throat, then pretended to be serious. “That’s true.” He winked out of the corner of his eye at his bride before speaking to William again. “You haven’t answered my question, son. Do you think your mother and I might know a few more things?”
“Yes sir, but what’s this got to do with me.”
“Look at me, son.”
It took a second, but the boy complied.
“The truth is, you wanted to shoot that bird. Now get up and follow me.”
“Where are you taking him?” Eleanor asked.
“He’s going to show me.” Nathaniel rose from his chair.
“But he hasn’t eaten supper, yet.”
“This is more important than food. You’ll have to trust me. Remember, foolishness is bound in the heart of a child. God commands me to train our son whenever the opportunity arises.” Nathaniel placed his left hand on William’s shoulder. “Take me to where you left the bird.”
Father and son walked to the edge of the farm’s clearing. It took William a minute, but in the brightening moonlight, he found the sparrow’s body and pointed to it. His lip quivered. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
With the gentleness of a mother lifting her sleeping, new-born baby, Nathaniel picked up the stiffened remains. The bird’s eyes were closed, beak opened a bit, and its claws clenched. He held it in front of William and commanded, “Look at it, son. I want you to take a good, long look at it and tell me what you see.”
William hung his wagging head. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can and you will.”
With noticeable reluctance, William raised his droopy head. His eyes shifted as he stared at the fallen creature nestled in his pa’s hands.
“Touch it.”
“No.”
“You must. You have to learn.”
William extended his right index finger and gave the bird a quick poke.
“What does it feel like?”
“I don’t know—maybe, like a piece of wood.
Nathaniel nodded. “Now, smell it. Take in a long, deep breath.”
William looked up at his father. He appealed with his eyes all to no avail. He leaned over his father’s hands and inhaled. The stench of death filled his nostrils. His face grimaced like he had been punched in his stomach. “Pa,” he coughed, “that’s awful bad.”
“Good. Remember that.”
William wiped his nose with his shirtsleeve. “Can’t we go back inside, now? I promise I’ll never do anything like this again.”
Uncertain, Nathaniel asked, “What do you see, what did you feel, what do you hear, and what did you smell?”
William threw his hands over his eyes and started to cry. “It’s dead!”
Nathaniel straightened. Even though he knew William could not see him with his eyes covered, Nathaniel nodded, satisfied. With a gentle tone he asked, “Did this tiny bird need to die?”
William gasped for air. “No, sir.”
“Do you understand that even a little boy like you can cause great harm to others?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know that this bird’s life can never come back because of what you chose to do, don’t you?”
William nodded.
“Very well. Now, let’s give this sparrow, which God loves, a proper burial.”
William glanced up at his father with a wide-eyed stare as if he could not believe what his father just said.
“And you’re going to dig its grave, right here marking the spot.”
Once again, William hung his head.
Nathaniel examined William’s posture. I think he’s ready.
In silence, father and son walked down the slope, passed the house—watched by its human occupant—and entered the barn. It took Nathaniel a few minutes to light an oil lamp, but soon the pair emerged. William carried the shovel over his right shoulder. Nathaniel carried the oil lamp in one hand and a tool box in the other.
As they neared the burial site, Nathaniel continued the training his son needed in this moment, to help shape his character. “Son, as you grow and face challenges in life, you will have to make choices. Often, they will be difficult. If you follow Jesus, He will take you on a wild, sometimes dangerous, adventure. Each new day, you will have to choose whether or not you will continue to follow Him. A choice you can make tonight is to recognize that you made a bad decision when you shot one of our Lord’s creatures.”
“I’m sorry, Pa.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to, son.”
“Ma?”
“No, son.” Nathaniel set the oil lamp on a flat rock and placed his tool box next to it. He pulled a rag out of the box and wrapped the sparrow in it. “Who created this bird, son?”
“God?”
“Yes, God gave it life.” Nathaniel extended the oil lamp’s wick adding light to the scene. “You need to start digging.”
William moaned. “Yes, sir. Are you going to tell me who I need to say I’m sorry to, Pa?” He broke the ground and began moving the earth.
“Hmm.” Nathaniel studied his son. “I’m going to ask you some questions first.” Nathaniel hiked up his trousers and then bent down and fished through his tool box. He removed a pair of foot-long, two-inch wide, and half-inch thick pieces of wood. Straightening, he asked, “Do you remember what we talked about when I taught you to shoot?”
William kept digging but kicked the blade with his boot’s heal a little harder when he answered, “The only time I should use a weapon is to hunt for food, or to protect myself, our property, friends, or family.”
“Good. Now, did this little bird threaten you, your mother, or our farm in anyway?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I suppose you wanted to eat it. Is that why you shot at it?”
“No, Pa.” William stopped digging. He leaned his head against the shovel’s handle and, almost crying said, “I just wanted to try. Honest, Pa, I didn’t want to hurt it.”
Nathaniel held the wrapped corpse in front of William’s face. “Look at it, son and remember this night.”
For the first time since this discussion began, Nathaniel heard his son speak gut-wrenching truth: “I killed it,” William acknowledged without excuses.
Nathaniel extended the shrouded body. “Take it. Place the bird in its grave.”
William laid the shovel down and took the fallen sparrow from his father’s hands. With gentleness, he laid it to rest.
As William began to fill the tiny grave, Nathaniel stated, “William, I want you to remember these truths. First, the heart of man is deceitfully wicked and no one, not even you or me, knows the wickedness that lies within us. This means that we have all done something that breaks God’s heart—like the pain you have right now. These wrongs are called sin. All sin, whether it is against a little bird, or someone else, all sin is against God. But, William, look at me.”
William patted the small mound with the back of the shovel. After he finished sealing the grave, he looked up at his father.
“God has promised that if we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful, which means He’ll always do this—and just, which means He knows it is the right thing to do. He will forgive us of our sins and cleanse us, like giving us a special bath, removing our sins.”
“Will God forgive me?”
“He’s promised to forgive you if you admit what you did and that you wronged Him.”
“Like, killing one of His birds?”
“Yes, son.”
Nathaniel fashioned a small wooden cross, and William pounded it into the ground inches from the grave’s head. Nathaniel offered a quick, solemn prayer. Then he grabbed his tool box and oil lamp by their respective handles and lifted them off the ground. “Pick up the shovel. Let’s go.”
The surrounding night choir of chirping crickets, clicking cicadas, buzzing mosquitoes, and croaking frogs, filled the air just as twinkling witnesses packed the sky. A cool breeze passed, causing the turning trees to wave as father and son left the burial site and walked down the slope, heading for the barn.
Nathaniel broke the silence. “Do you want to ask God to forgive you and take away your sin, son?”
“Yes, Pa, but I don’t know how.”
“Just ask Him, like you would ask me to do something for you, as the other day when we went shooting.” Nathaniel searched the constellations. “You’ve seen me pray many times. There is nothing special you have to say. All you have to do is talk to Him. He will hear you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am positive, son. Just try it.”
They had passed the house when William said, “Okay.” A few paces later he said, “Jesus, I’m so sorry.” His voice rose in pitch as he began to cry. “I’m so sorry I killed your little bird.” He glanced at his father.
Nathaniel noticed the fresh, glistening tears and reassured, “You’re doing fine, son.”
William nodded and bowed his head, “Pa says You’ll forgive me if I ask. Would You, please, Jesus, forgive me? I promise I’ll never do that again. I’ll never kill one of Your creatures just for fun, ever again.”
The release followed and the damn of pent up emotions broke free. William fell to the ground weeping.
Nathaniel got on his knees and wrapped his arms around William. The boy’s body convulsed, almost as if he suffered a fit. He buried his face into his pa’s shirt.
It seemed like an hour passed when Nathaniel said with sincerity and tenderness, “I love you, son. Don’t ever forget it. And God loves you more.”
Calm now, William rubbed his wet face on his father’s shirt. “I know. I love you, Ma, and Jesus, too.”
“Do you feel better?”
“Yes, Pa.”
“Then, let’s put these tools away and tell your mother how God has forgiven you.”
Father and son entered the house, and Eleanor raced to embrace her boy. As she hugged William, Nathaniel said, “He’s taken a giant step toward manhood, tonight. I suspect he’s ready for supper, now.”
Eleanor broke off her embrace and held William at arm’s length. “I kept the stew warm. Would you like some?”
William wiped new tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve, sniffled, and nodded.
This time, William ate and addressed his mother’s questions with a happier tone. Like a man, he accepted one other consequence for his actions. He would have to go to bed right after eating, which he did without raising one objection or complaint. Soon, Nathaniel and Eleanor heard heavier breathing coming from William’s loft.
Once Eleanor cleaned her kitchen space, the parents retired to their chambers to discuss their boy’s now uncertain future.
Nathaniel paced as he reported, “Mr. Eubanks wants to meet with us next week.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Nobody knows, Ellie. But Mr. Eubanks told me that the judge agreed to grant the hearing we requested.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Neither one of us can keep something from you,” Nathaniel peered in the direction of William’s loft and forced a smile. “Mr. Eubanks was surprised that the mayor didn’t raise an objection to holding the hearing.”
“He thinks he’s already won.”
Nathaniel nodded. “Well, we’ll meet with Mr. Eubanks because he wants to prepare both of us for what we should expect, how we should respond to questions, and how we should behave in court.”
Eleanor asked, “I know we talked about it before, but what if Jason wins? Should we take William and run. Maybe we could head out west, find John, and settle in the Colorado territory.”
“Ellie, we must submit to the legal authorities.”
“But Jason is the legal authority.”
“Ellie,” Nathaniel softened his tone, “we’ve been all over this. Where can we go? Wherever we try to hide, he has the resources to hunt us down. He will find us. Even if we reach and settle near John, he would be duty bound to turn us in. We have no choice but to throw ourselves on the mercy of the court, no matter how corrupt it might be, and trust God above all things, and trust Him alone.”
A week later, the Grahams met again with Mr. T. J. Eubanks. After listening to their attorney’s summary of the situation, Nathaniel asked on behalf of his bride, who sat trembling by his side, “So, what do you think?”
“He claims that he and Mrs. Graham had a legitimate engagement and that they planned to marry. That you,” Mr. Eubanks shifted his attention to Eleanor, “and the mayor had an active, romantic relationship, and that you had…many, may I call them, adult encounters.”
Eleanor shot, “That’s a lie.” She twisted her entire body in the leather chair and faced Nathaniel. “We never. It was just the one time.” She swiveled in Mr. Eubanks direction. “He raped and almost killed me.”
“Did you report it to authorities, file any criminal charges, or have him arrested?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“Then I’m afraid it’s his word against yours. He claims that you had a lover’s quarrel and you disappeared. He claims he searched for you and he considers it a stroke of good fortune that he was appointed and later elected Mayor of Franklin.”
Eleanor shook her head. “None of it is true. I don’t know what he did after I left—”
Mr. Eubanks raised his hand. “So you concede—you did disappear?”
“Yes, but if he wanted to find me, he could have. He knew I had one option. He should have known I would stay with Reverend Moody and his wife, my friend, Emma.” She accused in a sharp tone, “The man is a schemer. I know he planned all of this.”
“Can you prove any of your assertions, Mrs. Graham?”
Eleanor shrugged. “You know I can’t.”
Nathaniel patted Eleanor’s thigh. “We’ll just have to trust God. He knows what is best for everyone in this matter.”
The day of the hearing arrived. Mr. Eubanks assured his clients that no permanent decision would result; however, the court could award temporary custody to the mayor pending a more thorough investigation and a final decision based on its findings.
The Williamson County Court House and courtroom filled to its public seating capacity. To the Graham’s misfortune, for the local community this case had become the greatest source of speculative entertainment since the war. Further, the Franklin Herald published editorials and gossip pieces making the Graham’s out to be evil parents and Christian charlatans. Friends of the mayor seemed to have early and easy access to the courtroom, making it all the more difficult for members of the “Glory Barn” Community Fellowship to gain entrance and observe judicial proceedings.
Judge Whitaker Hogan read the Petitioner’s claim and main points regarding the child’s welfare, the Petitioner’s paternal rights, and his greater financial ability to provide for the child’s developmental and higher education needs. Judge Hogan summarized the Respondents’ answers and counter-claim that they represented a family unit, Mrs. Graham was the child’s natural mother, and that Mr. Graham had raised the child as his own son—the only father the child had ever known.
The court granted both sides opportunity to present arguments—those in favor of their respective interests or rebuttals against their opponents. Mr. Eubanks presented the long-recognized, traditional benefit of family discipline and instruction that two parents afford. As devoted followers of Jesus Christ and practitioners of the Gospel, the Grahams would provide the greater influence of Christian moral discipline—the biblical supremacy of Christian ordinances and doctrines over the secularized philosophies of contemporary times, adopted by Petitioner.
Under the Graham’s guidance, Mr. Eubanks said, “The child will develop so as to stand on the platform of Christian character—intelligent, sober, and matured in judgment—a true value to our country, state and community, transformed by personal integrity, and upright manhood.”
Mr. Eubanks concluded his argument and appealed to the court. “Your honor, we as a community must be more diligent and faithful to preserve and protect the early years of childhood.” He pointed to the Respondents—first to Nathaniel on his left and then to Eleanor, who sat in the public section’s first row. “Christian parents must be recognized by this court as the rightful providers of the discipline and religious training over their son.”
“Will that be all, Counselor?” Judge Hogan asked.
“Yes, Your honor.” Nathaniel observed a sweat droplet roll down the back of Mr. Eubanks neck.
Judge Hogan addressed the mayor’s lawyer. “Counsel for Petitioner.”
The mayor’s attorney rose to his feet, tugged at his suit jacket. “We have nothing further to add, Your Honor; however, we do reserve the right to rebut Respondent’s claims, should subsequent information surface during the remainder of this hearing.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel noticed Mr. Eubanks frown. I wonder if he is questioning something he just heard.
Judge Hogan nodded. “Very well. The court has a few questions for Respondent.”
Mr. Eubanks stood. “Your Honor, this is highly irregular. I object to the court’s direct questioning of my client.”
“Counselor, must I remind you that the Respondent requested this hearing?”
Nathaniel watched his attorney’s Adam’s apple rise and fall. Then, Mr. Eubanks said, “No, Your Honor.”
“Then, if the court desires to address your client, in your presence, I am confident that you will protect his interests. Besides, we all want to resolve this matter as soon as practicable. I think you would agree, this court shall be able to render a sound decision if all relevant facts are presented.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well, then.” Judge Hogan shifted his gaze. It bore into Nathaniel, like a drill bit into hardwood. The bushy white-haired, sunken-eyed, Southern aristocrat said, “Mr. Graham, please stand.”
A demonic lump in Nathaniel’s throat attempted to choke him into paralyzing fear as he forced his posture to an almost perfect military attention.
Judge Hogan stroked his white goatee, then shuffled some papers. “Mr. Graham, I have a report here that I find disturbing.” He gazed over the top of his spectacles. “Mr. Graham, is it true you taught the child to shoot a gun?”
A woman seated in the gallery gasped as if horrified by even the thought of someone doing this unimaginable thing. Other rumblings—some for, others against the act—began to ripple through the male-dominated audience.
Judge Hogan pounded his gavel and shouted, “Order. I’ll have order in this court or I’ll have all of you removed.”
The mumbles faded. Relative quiet, returned.
Judge Hogan stared at Nathaniel. “Well, do you have an answer for the court?”
Nathaniel recalled that Judge Hogan chose to remain on his comfortable property rather than defend his State or the Confederacy during the war. Steeled by this memory, Nathaniel refused to allow one blink. “Yes, I taught my son to shoot, Your Honor.”
Another gasp came from behind Nathaniel as Judge Hogan made a note. As he wrote, he said, “I see.” He raised his eyes. “Is it also true, the child killed a wild animal with a weapon?”
This question brought another wave of low-level grumblings, and laughter from some of the men witnessing the spectacle. Nathaniel heard a deep male voice comment, “Brave boy.”
Judge Hogan pounded his gavel several times. “Order,” he shouted.
Nathaniel wondered. Where did he get this information? He let his eye shift to the right a bit and caught Jason’s broad smile. I should have known.
Once the crowd’s tension subsided, Judge Hogan commanded, “Answer the question, Mr. Graham.”
“Yes, Your Honor—a sparrow.”
“Good shot,” another spectator said.
“Bailiff, remove that man from the courtroom,” Judge Hogan shouted.
It took more than a minute, but with the voice favoring the Grahams removed and others silenced, Judge Hogan continued his line of questioning. “Tell the court, Mr. Graham. Do you consider the child’s tendency toward violence appropriate behavior for a five-year old?”
The accusatory question caught Nathaniel off guard. Mr. Eubanks had not prepared him for any of this. He offered the best response he could think of under the circumstances. “Farm life requires us to learn how to defend ourselves, our land, and each other, Your Honor. We must become self-reliant as soon as possible. I can’t always be around to protect my son from predatory wild life. He needs to know how to protect himself from danger.”
Judge Hogan said, “I see.” He lifted his head as if he was about to speak to the back of the courtroom. “Mr. Graham.” He lowered his gaze. “It is the opinion of this court that other interests must be taken into consideration. The State of Tennessee, Williamson County, and the City of Franklin also have an interest in the child’s welfare, safety and future development.”
Nathaniel gulped. He could see where this line of reasoning could lead. His mind recalled the biblical account from the Book of Daniel when Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, destroyed Israel and Jerusalem. Nebuchadnezzar took the youth of Israel—those who showed signs of physical superiority. He captured ones who appeared good-looking, demonstrated intelligence, and who could be useful in the king’s service.
Judge Hogan continued, “Not only does the City, County, and State hold an interest in the child, it is fair to say that government holds a superior interest above that of the parents. Our government will survive long after the parents pass. Therefore, the superior interest must seek the best for the child and his future. Mr. Graham, it is the opinion of this court that the best you can offer is a dangerous life of drudgery, hard-mindless labor, to scratch whatever living from what the ground might yield. Mayor Merritt, on the other hand, possesses the financial resources to enroll the child in the finest, and I might add, safest, educational institutions, in the United States, Great Britain, or Europe. Mr. Graham, would you deny the child these opportunities?”
A trapped feeling rushed over Nathaniel. He choked. Any answer I give ends the argument. Oh, well, I’ll speak my heart and mind. God’s will be done. “Yes, Your Honor, I would.”
An outburst rose from the audience. Eleanor hung her head and started to weep—the anguish of a mother losing her only son. Mrs. Jefferson hugged her to no avail.
Judge Hogan pounded his gavel until the head broke free and flew across the courtroom, almost hitting Mayor Merritt.
Nathaniel stood in silence.
Thanks for reading.
1 comment:
Wow. What a chapter! Child services, so to speak, in practice even then.
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