Nicolas Hoffmann

“Jesse recited, “ ‘Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.’ ” Bob nodded. “You hear it at funerals.” Jesse let the book divide from his finger and sought Psalm 41, which he scanned, vigorously scratching his two-inch beard, gingerly petting it smooth. He ironed out the page with his fist and knee and smiled wryly at Bob and then began a private study of the words, as if he were without company. Bob tried to imagine how Jesse’s children saw him: he would be the giant figure who could fling them high as the ceiling. They knew his legs, the sting of his mustache against their cheeks, the gentle way that Jesse had of fingering their hair. They didn’t know how he made his living or why they so often moved; they didn’t even know their father’s name; and it all seemed such an injustice to Bob that he asked, “Do you ever give your past life any thought?” Jesse squinted at him. “I don’t get your meaning.” Bob managed a grin and asked, “Do you ever give any thought to the men you’ve killed?”
― Ron Hansen, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford