Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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KfiC. C, PAGE 12—The Newberry Sun, Newberry, S. C., Thurs., Dec. 25, 1969 vr ' ■ tnui* m % H * W'. WHITTEN VILLAGE FLOAT started to walk by, then stopped, eyeing them carefully, one by one. Bill Webb came forward. Bill, the jury foreman. He was older now, almost bald, with worry lines about his forehead and eyes. "Sam,” he began hesitatingly. "I . . . I don’t know how to say it. There is no right way, except that we’re all sorry. We can’t make it up to you, but we’ll try. Please come to the • Christmas party tonight at city hall so we can all try.” And, then they were all gone, except Bo Hawkins. "Hello, Sam.” He said it casually. "Sheriff.” Hawkins held out his hand. "I want you to look at this picture, Sam.” Sam took it, studied it thoughtfully. "You and me, at the courthouse. But I don’t remember when it was taken and I never saw it before.” Hawkins smiled. "It isn’t you, Sam. It’s Dirkens — the man who robbed Hinton’s and killed Zack. You’re identical, even the scar on the forehead. His scar is just a little longer than yours. Never happen again in a million years." Sam tried to smile, but couldn’t. "Once was enough." Hawkins took the photo graph. "Will you come to the party, Sam? It’s a sticky situa tion, but it’s Christmas. I want you to know the Christmas spirit around here needs a little help from you. Will you try?” Once again, the words of the chaplain rang in Sam’s ears. "Go with the spirit of Christ mas, with forgiveness in your heart.” Sam wasn’t sure exactly what was in his heart. But he was suddenly aware that somewhere nearby carolers were giving forth with "Silent Ni^ht" reached out his hand. "See you later, Bo.” And he turned and walked toward the sound of music. Have a "bumper crop" Yuletide! MARTIN FEED & SEED CO. 630 Caldwell Street Phone 276-4011 Newberry, S. C. Christmas Sam Darby settled back and looked at the small earth below. The drone of the plane’s powerful engines seemed mixed with the voice of the prison chaplain. He thought by now he would have forgotten the words. But, they persisted. They ran through his mind ^again and again. "It’s over, Sam, so leave it iwhere it is. You have many food and useful years left to you. Use them. Don’t throw them away for some hollow ^vengeance. Go home, if you Tmust, but go with the spirit of -Christmas, with forgiveness in pyour heart.” Sam closed his eyes and the f memory of that last day in court became alive again. The face of Zeb Hinton, with that odd little half smile, turned first [ to the judge, then to the jury, with staccato words rolling endlessly from his lips. "It was “lim, plain as day. It was Him. was Sam Darby. I’d have [known him anywhere. It was (vhim. The scar. I saw the scar, mask or no mask. Mask or no mask, it was Sam Darby. It .was him it was ...” "Humbug.” Sam realized | that he had said it aloud and that nearby passengers were looking at him curiously. He closed his eyes once more. And the face of the chaplain reap peared. "Old man Hinton died last |week, Sam. Had been sick for a long time. He heard you were coming home and he sent this letter. Will you read it?” "I’ll be da. . ."Again, Sam realized he was talking aloud. He cleared his throat and looked out the window. The plane was dropping now, pre paring to land and suddenly snow pelted against the win dow. It reminded him of the shredded letter he had thrown against the wall of the prison room. V \\ "Sorry, sir, End of theline.” He looked up at the pretty l stewardess, smiled weakly, then picked up his small bag * and walked out into the night. They were all there, every one of them, except Zeb. They were somber, waiting. Sam uCetide yieetUtyt fo oh Tfoaxf <foec% AoUctcufO 6c cpty Turner Taylor JEWELERS Main Street Newberry, S. C.