“I have good news for you, my dear,” the voice at the other end of the wire said. “Rowan and his three friends are to be paroled at once. I am going to make it a full pardon for Rowan and perhaps for the others, too.”
For years Ruth had been waiting for this news. Now that it had come she did not weep or cry out or do anything the least dramatic. She just said: “Oh, I’m so glad! Thank you.”
“I’ve been instructed by the board to tell you how much it appreciates the game fight you made and to add that it gives this parole with more pleasure than any it has ever granted.”
“When can I see Rowan? And when will he be out?”
“He’ll be out just as soon as the papers can be prepared, my dear. I’m coming right home to tell you all about it.”
Two more telegrams were flashed westward from Ruth that night. One was to McCoy, the second to Tim Flanders. The message to Flanders laid upon him the duty of notifying the families of the paroled men. Early next morning Ruth sent still another telegram. It was addressed to Jennings, and gave him instructions that made him get busy at once looking after horses, saddles, pack saddles, a tent, and other camping outfit.
Later in the day Rowan, junior, and his mother entrained for Rawlins. The adventure before her tremendously intrigued the interest of the young wife. It was immensely more significant than her marriage had been. All the threads of her life for years had been converging toward it.