“I’m not against my own son! I’ve been against him—yes. I’m a big man in Lo Lo Valley. They say that Marsh Hartwell is the biggest man in this county. I know I am.” His voice softened as he looked at the two astonished woman. “I’m big—in this valley—but I’m just findin’ out that I’m a ——ed small man in my own home.”
“Marsh!” Mrs. Hartwell got to her feet and crossed to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Marsh, you—you’ll help Jack and Molly?”
“Yes, I’ll help them, Mother—if they’ll let me. It’s awful late in the game to talk about helpin’ ’em, but I’ll do all I can to make up for what I’ve done to them.”
He got to his feet, shoved her gently aside and started for the door.
“I’m goin’ after my horse,” he told them. “I’ll see if I can coax Molly into comin’ over here to stay until this trouble is all over.”
He went out, leaving the door open. Mrs. Hartwell sank down in a rocking-chair, burying her head in her arms. Mrs. Brownlee patted her on the shoulder, the tears running down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Ma,” she begged. “Don’t cry about it.”
“Cry about it?” Mrs. Hartwell lifted her old face, her eyes misty with tears. “Cry about it? I’m not crying—I’m laughing. It has taken your father twenty years to find out that God made him just like other men.”
“Maybe,” said Mrs. Brownlee softly, “Maybe dad has found out that he isn’t such a big man after all, Ma.”
“And maybe,” said Mrs. Hartwell wistfully, “I have found out that he is bigger than he was.”