I knew...right then and there. I knew...and I took a lot of comfort in the knowledge. I looked down at him, huddled against that coffin, holding that damn hat tight against his head like it was armor or something. His eyes were wide and full of fear, the black of the pupil nearly touching the black of the corona, hiding the hazel in between. And he was shaking; shaking so hard I almost expected to see him just up and fall apart right there on the ground.

I don't think he could hear anything that was said around him; I hope not anyway. Damn it, why did I have to yell at him like that? But from the looks of the kid, he was only hearing the gunfire all around him as we fought Achilles gang. He looked up once, but I don't think he was seeing us...seeing his friends. Maybe that was a good thing, a man shouldn't have to bear the looks of shock or pity from his friends when he loses control like that. He deserved at least that small shred of dignity.

After the gang had disappeared, leaving the little grove eerily quiet, we finally managed to get him to his feet. Then J.D. climbed up on the wagon seat, insisting that he was fine, and he could drive the wagon back to town. And he did, slumped forward like he'd been gutshot or something, but he did it.

Just like he does everything. J.D. Dunne's got a strength and courage far beyond his years. He might not have the wisdom, but it'll come. Just like he came to mean more to our little band of misfits than I would have ever thought possible. He fought hard to make a place for himself.

Watching him fight to keep that place after the accident was harder than most things we've been through together. I still wonder if I should have done something more, but the fact is that it was something the Kid had to work through alone. We could have bullied the others in town to forgive and forget I suppose; use his age as a reason to do so. But after he had tried so hard to prove himself a man it would have been an insult, plain and simple. Some day they'll forgive and, hopefully, forget. Until then he has us to guard his back. He is one of us after all, and he always will be.

When I saw the tears in his eyes as he fought to keep what dignity remained, I knew. When he boarded the stage to return East, turning me down when I asked him to change his mind, and leaving his dreams busted up in the dust, I knew.

John Dunne will never be a killer. He might have to kill in the future, just as he has in the past, but he will never be a killer. J.D. has too much heart. I envy him that.

cerrado