She thought about their letters and how excited Mark had seemed when she’d written back agreeing to travel to Virginia City and marry him.
If things had worked out as planned, Mark would have met her at the train station and then they would have sought out the preacher and said their vows. She would have already been a married woman by the time Mark had taken her home to meet his family.
She looked at the dress one last time, steeling her spine for what needed to be done this day. She climbed from the bed, washed herself off as best as she could, and then spent a few minutes fixing her hair so that it was once again affixed to the top of her head.
She turned to the dress, relieved to see that the buttons that kept it closed were in the front and not the back. She located her stockings and her shoes, quickly getting dressed so that June wouldn’t have to come looking for her again.
She opened the door leading to the rest of the house and stepped out, her eyes taking in everything as she made her way toward what she hoped was the main room.
There were several doors along the hallway, and she finally found herself stepping into a large room with chairs and a bench seated around a large hearth that spanned from the floorboards all the way to the ceiling.
Several quilts were draped over the backs of the chairs and rugs lay on the floor, giving the room a homey feel. Beyond that room she could see a long wooden table, easily big enough to seat a dozen or so. She wandered through, finding the kitchen and the large hearth that encompassed an entire side of the room.
She was pleasantly surprised by how spacious the room was. Dried herbs were hanging in bunches above the hearth to dry and loaves of bread sat on the warming table, covered in flour-sack towels to rise. The place looked like a well-organized home and Lorna felt sad that she wouldn’t be making this place part of her future. She was sure she would have enjoyed living here.
Forcing those thoughts aside, she went in search of June. She found her standing on the veranda, staring out into the distance, sorrow etched on her face. “June?”
The older woman turned, unshed tears in her eyes. June examined Lorna’s attire and then nodded once. “Thank you.”
Lorna nodded and then joined her at the railing. “The funeral is in town?”
June nodded and then took a breath and let it out in a rush. “The men are ready and were only waiting on us. Come along.”
Lorna followed her to the opposite side of the house, where Ethan and Brian were indeed in the wagon ready to go. She noticed Darren wasn’t anywhere to be found and she could only assume he’d already gone ahead to take care of last-minute details. Ethan climbed down and assisted both June and Lorna into the back of the wagon, where a wooden bench had been added.
Brian’s face was a mask of grief and it was evident the man had been crying for quite some time by the way his complexion was blotchy and his eyes were swollen and red. Lorna knew what it was like to lose her parents, but she simply couldn’t fathom what it must feel like to lose a child. She leaned forward and spoke quietly to him.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Mark seemed like an amazing man.”
“He was,” Brian told her, tears once more running down his cheeks. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Mr. Wilson, why don’t you sit back here and talk to me. I’d love to hear more about Mark – that is, if you are able to talk about him. Sometimes it helps.”
Brian looked at her and then asked, “You lost someone close to you?”
“My father. I found talking about him after his death helped to keep his memory alive and forced me to remember the good moments, even though the last ones were horrific.”
Brian nodded and then looked at June. “Would you like to sit up front?”
“Of course, Brian. You come back here.”
After the switch was made, Ethan started them toward town while Lorna continued to speak quietly with Brian. He told her about Mark as a young boy, and along the way, she learned a lot about Darren as well. It seemed that he and Mark had been inseparable in their younger years and their antics had almost always involved one another.
The ride into town took quite some time, and as they drew closer, their conversation faded away. There was no need for words in that moment.
They were headed into town to bury a son, a brother, a friend, a nephew, and an almost husband. The dark clouds overhead matched their spirits, and no one said a word for the last mile, each lost to their own thoughts as they prepared to say their final farewells.
Chapter 4
Darren had left the ranch earlier that morning, arriving in town to make sure the funeral arrangements had all been taken care of. He was now impatiently waiting at the church with Pastor Johnson, pacing back and forth and trying to keep his mind and emotions under control.
“Son, you’re going to wear a hole in those boards if you don’t settle down,” Pastor Johnson told him.
Darren stopped and nodded. “I know. I just want this over with, and yet, I wish it wasn’t happening at all.”
“This is a confusing time, but you will get through it with the help of your family. Speaking of which, here they come.” Pastor Johnson pointed down the street and Darren turned to see Ethan driving the wagon toward them. Ethan had been his best friend for almost as many years as Mark had been, and Darren made a mental note to thank his friend for his support and help during this turbulent time.
He watched as Ethan pulled the wagon to the side of the church. His eyes then went to the two figures huddled on the bench seat: his father and Lorna.
His father was sobbing against her shoulder and she seemed to be talking quietly to him, consoling him. When the wagon stopped, she stayed with him, taking his arm and walking slowly beside him as they approached the church. Brian’s face was etched with grief, but Lorna seemed to be having a calming presence on him.
Darren waited at the bottom of the stairs for them. “Pa.”
“Darren,” his father acknowledged him with a gruff voice.
“Go on inside. We’re almost ready to start,” Darren told them both, meeting Lorna’s eyes for the first time since before she’d fainted the day before. He was immediately struck by how mesmerizing her eyes were. His father began to climb the stairs, but Lorna held back, disengaging her arm from Brian’s with a promise to join him in a few moments.
She extended her hand out to Darren. “I’m sorry I created so much confusion yesterday. I’m Lorna MacPherson.”
Darren took her hand, noticing how soft and fragile it felt in his own grip. “You had a shock yesterday.”
“Still,” she said, inclining her head, “I made a bad situation worse with my arrival.”
“That is all in the past. I’m glad you’re feeling better and appreciate you coming to pay your respects to Mark.”
He watched as her face flushed and she dropped her eyes to the ground momentarily. “It seemed the least I could do, given the circumstances.”
Darren nodded and then held out his forearm. “Shall we go inside?”
Lorna nodded and gingerly laid her hand upon his arm, climbing the stairs beside him. Darren took her straight to the front of the church, seating her with the rest of the family. In his mind, that was precisely where she belonged.
He then turned and watched as the townsfolk began to arrive. Many of them entered carrying wreaths and he met their gazes and nodded his thanks – words were unnecessary in times like these. As people continued to arrive, Darren was reminded of how fond the townsfolk had been of his brother.
Mark had always put others’ interests before his own, making the hard choices at times for the greater good. Mark had become a leader in their small community, earning his place and the respect of men and women alike.
Several months earlier, Mark had formed a committee for the sole purpose of fighting against the railroad. Men had come to Virginia City, spouting their big dreams to bring another rail line to their town and watch it explode in growth. After riding around the countrysi
de for several days, the railroad men had come to the Wilson ranch and several adjoining properties, stating they needed their land and wanted to buy it.
They had offered a nominal rate so low that there was no way the ranchers would have been able to replace the land. They had all turned the railroad men down and held firm, even when threats had been issued.
The men who had settled and founded Virginia City had done so at great sacrifice and they weren’t about to be harassed by a bunch of businessmen who’d never herded cattle or worked a ranch.
Almost as soon as the railroad men left, the town had been dealing with an unknown gang of outlaws who seemed to be intent upon intimidating the gold prospectors and in recent weeks, rustling cattle. Their violence and harassment had been increasing in the days leading up to Mark’s death.
“Darren,” Pastor Johnson touched his elbow. “We’re ready to begin.”
Darren nodded and sat down, wishing he were anywhere but here.
Pastor Johnson stepped to the podium and looked out over the townsfolk. “Thank you, on behalf of the Wilson family, for coming today. Let us begin with a prayer. Please stand.”
Darren stood up and removed his hat, holding it in front of himself as he closed his eyes and listened to the pastor pray.
“Heavenly Father, we come to you today with heavy hearts and questioning minds. We ask for your grace and mercy this day as we remember Mark – a part of our community who will be sorely missed in the coming days. Be with us now and we ask this day for a special dispensation of comfort for the family and those closest to him. Amen.”
Pastor Johnson opened up a hymnal. “Let us all sing together ‘Rock of Ages.’”
The hymn began, the words moving Darren as they meant something different this day:
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die!
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyes shall close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgement throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
As the final strains of the hymn faded away, the congregation sat back down and listened as Pastor Johnson delivered a fitting eulogy for Mark. The pastor spoke of Mark’s commitment to the town and his fight against the railroad. How he’d been a loyal son and brother, and a good friend to many in their community.
After offering up a final prayer, Pastor Johnson dismissed them all and Darren stood with the rest of the family, preparing to listen to the townsfolk offer their condolences in person. He was standing off to one side as the first made his way to where his father stood. Mayor Orvis Harington.
The man had become the mayor of Virginia City six months previously, and as far as Darren could tell, he hadn’t accomplished anything. Many of the townsfolk felt the same way, especially where the sheriff was concerned.
Sheriff Chisholm was getting up in years and his vision was deteriorating rapidly. Mark had suggested, more than once, that the man step down and allow someone else to take his place, but Chisholm refused to do so.
“Brian, terrible thing that happened to your son,” Orvis said as he shook Brian’s hand.
“Thank you for coming, Mayor,” his father murmured.
“We need to put a stop to these foolish situations,” Orvis stated.
Darren said nothing, not wanting to start a ruckus on his brother’s funeral day. The mayor moved on and other members of the town stopped to pay their respects to the family.
When everyone had left, Mark’s casket was removed from the church and loaded into the back of the wagon. It would be taken back to the ranch and buried in the newly designated burial plot on a hill just beyond the first pasture. There was a tree growing there that had been Mark’s favorite spot on the ranch to go and think.
The ride back to the ranch was a somber one, with everyone holding back their tears. Darren rode alongside the wagon, his eyes straying to the wooden casket time and again. Lorna and June were seated on the second bench, their arms around one another as the wagon swayed to and fro. His father sat stiffly on the front seat, his features locked in stone as he struggled to control his emotions.
All too soon, they reached the ranch and headed for the tree in the distance. Ethan and several of the other cowhands had cleared the ground the afternoon before, digging the burial hole and making sure the fence around the area was secure from roaming cows and other wildlife.
Darren, Ethan, Brian, and several cowhands carried the casket toward the burial hold. Two ropes had been draped across the opening and were now picked up and held firmly as the casket was set upon them. Once in the proper position, Pastor Johnson offered up another quick prayer.
“Father in Heaven, we now commit your son, Mark Wilson, back into your safe keeping. May his actions while on the earth continue to bear fruit for years to come, and may his memory inspire us who remain to honor Mark’s life with our actions every day. And every said…”
“Amen,” echoed softly around the gathered burial site.
Pastor Johnson nodded and then picked up a handful of freshly dug dirt. He tossed the dirt onto the wooden casket and then began to recite a prayer. Everyone did likewise and joined him in the prayer:
In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life
through Our Lord Jesus Christ,
we commend to Almighty God Mark,
and we commit his body to the ground:
earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
The Lord bless him and keep him,
the Lord make His Face to shine upon him
and be gracious to him,
the Lord lift up His countenance upon him
and give him peace.
Amen.
Everyone repeated the amen together and then stood for a long moment as the ropes were lowered into the ground. The same men who’d been manning the ropes then picked up shovels and began to fill the hole in with dirt. Darren swallowed back tears as the hole was filled in. He glanced to his left and saw his father sobbing as both June and Lorna tried their best to console him.
As the sound of the dirt hitting the wooden casket echoed back, it all became too much for Brian. Darren watched as his father collapsed to the ground, his hands clutching his chest as if it were being torn asunder.
Darren felt his own heart break as he hurried to the man’s side, knowing that this was all because of him. He’d been the one to insist on going after the rustlers that night. He’d been the one the bullet was intended for, not Mark. Never Mark.
God, if you’re up there listening, please don’t take Brian as well. I couldn’t bear it. Haven’t we all lost enough?
Chapter 5
Lorna sat beside Brian’s bed, waiting for him to regain consciousness. After he’d collapsed at the gravesite, everyone had started to panic, but Lorna’s nurse training had kicked in and she’d taken charge. She’d checked Brian’s pulse, and other than being slightly higher than normal, he’d had a steady heartbeat.
“He’s merely suffering from shock and exhaustion. He’ll be fine,” she’d told Darren and June. Darren hadn’t believed her and had insisted on fetching the town’s doctor.
�
��Ethan, go get Doc Ellsworth and bring him out here. Right away,” Darren had told his friend.
Ethan had started to leave but Lorna called him back. “Wait. There’s no need to go for the doctor. I was a nurse during the war.”
Everyone had turned to look at her and she could see the indecision on their faces. “Truly, his pulse is steady and his heart sounds strong. Today has been very stressful.”
When no one moved or offered any other suggestions, Lorna had looked to June for help. “I don’t think we need the doctor just yet.”
June had nodded and then turned to the men. “Let’s get him back to the house and then we’ll re-evaluate,” she suggested. The men lifted Brian up and placed him in the back of the wagon that had carried his dead son’s casket only minutes before. Lorna sat beside him, holding his wrist, and then assisted June in getting Brian to his bed. They removed his boots and belt, choosing to leave him in his clothing for the time being.
A Bride to Heal His Broken Heart Page 3
