by Danni Roan
“I’m Mary,” she offered, looking at the blonde woman who sat across from Joshua.
“Hello Mary, I’m Joan,” the tall, lean woman replied. Her dark green eyes flicked to Eric’s nervously.
“You tell Nona we’ll be right in,” Joshua said, running a gnarled hand over the girl’s head.
As the screen door swung shut with a soft bang, Joan turned to her new in-law. “Mr. James,” she started her voice soft, “I couldn’t help but notice that you spoke of Sue Lynn in the past tense, did she pass on?”
“Yes,” Joshua said sadly, “she died quite suddenly I’m afraid. At first, we didn’t understand what happened, but over the years I came to understand. She was bitten by an insect and had a reaction to it.” He shook his head, his heart full of longing.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Joan answered, her gentle accent drifting into the golden light as she covered his hand with hers.
Joshua smiled. “Life keeps going darlin’, bad things happen and you can either give up or find a way to keep going.”
Her sad smile made him realize she understood. “Eric you hold tight to this one now,” Joshua added, turning to his grandson, “she’s a keeper.” He winked then looked toward the door, “Now let’s go see what the women have come up with for this festive occasion.”
Eric took the handles of his grandfather’s wheeled chair and began pushing him toward the screened entrance to the ranch house. His blue eyes fell on his new bride and he smiled, hoping that he could be as strong as his grandfather had been.
Chapter 29
“GRANDPA?” ERIC SPOKE, walking into the parlor where his grandfather sat staring into the fire. “I thought you might like to see that new speckled filly Clay and I have been working with. Do you feel up to a trip to the corral?”
“That sounds right nice,” the old man replied, rubbing a blue-veined hand across his brow.
“I’ll get your coat,” Joan said from the doorway. “It’s getting cold now.”
“I always like the fall,” Joshua mused as they moved toward the door. “Like the colors and the taste of crisp air.” He smiled, but his eyes were weary.
Joan tucked the heavy wool rug over his legs and held the door while Eric pulled the dark wooden chair with the spoked wheels through and onto the porch.
Together they rolled down the ramp on the far side of the porch that had been built many years ago for the pony and cart that used to ferry Joshua around the ranch, then bumped over the dry yard toward the corral.
A lean, dark cowboy stood in the middle of the fenced enclosure, holding a long line in his hand as he chirped to a leggy, strawberry roan horse with bright eyes.
“She sure is a looker, Clayton,” Joshua called.
Clayton Allen turned and offered a smile. His once raven-black hair was now streaked with white and his trim body had filled out some.
“She’s gonna be a Christmas present for one lucky little lady ‘round here,” the man drawled, winking at Joan with a smile.
“Where’s Meg today?” Eric asked. His aunt was usually busy giving her husband a hard time, even as her aquamarine eyes sparkled with love.
“She’s out with Katie,” Clay replied, still guiding the pretty horse through her paces.
“I hope she’ll sing for us tonight,” Joshua mused. “Seems it’s been a while.” Again, he ran a hand over his forehead.
“You feeling alright, Grandpa?” Eric asked, leaning down and for the first time noticing how frail the once robust man had become.
“I’m mighty tired,” Joshua replied, “and my head is hurting a bit.” He blinked, his ice-blue eyes dim. “You best take me in,” his voice quavered as he suddenly slumped in his chair.
“Joan, get Nona,” Eric barked, stooping and lifting his grandfather tenderly into his massive arms.
“NONA?” FIONA SNIFFED, but the old woman turned her granddaughter to her husband’s arms as Joshua’s eyes fluttered open.
“I was dreamin’, Nona.” His voice was a bare whisper and his eyes were bright with an unearthly light.
“Dreams are sweet,” Bianca Leone said, stepping close. “What did you dream?”
“I dreamed those that I loved so well and went before me come to visit.” His voice echoed as if from a distance. “They were sure happy to see me.” He smiled crookedly. “Isadoro was there.” He smiled, his bright gaze focusing on her for the first time.
A tear escaped the woman’s dark eyes and she sniffed. Her hair was white as snow now after seeing so many winters.
“Don’t you go cryin’ for me now, woman,” he chided, his voice fading. “I’ve had more blessings than any one man deserved.” He lifted a hand weakly toward his family gathered around him.
Katie’s pale green eyes held back tears as she leaned heavily on Will’s arm. Meg was holding tightly to Clayton as the man’s amber eyes glowed with sorrow. Hank stood behind Fiona, his bulk a solid wall for her to lean on. His beautiful girls were grown and cherished, as they should be.
“Pa?” Alexis spoke, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “Do you need anything?” her voice shook as her dark brown eyes, so much like her mother’s glowed. Isabella joined her sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Cammy’d be proud of you,” he said, his eyes growing heavy. He blinked, then opened them again to see Taylor and Reginald quietly watching their wives. He tried to nod, showing his approval.
“Reese?” Mae’s worried voice drew his eyes to his youngest. Her black hair spilled down her back as it had when she was a girl. “Mae-Mae,” he said reaching for her. “Your Ye-ye is waiting for me and I’ll have to go soon. You mind Reese now.” A spark, a twinkle, entered his eyes. As his family gathered around him, his heart was full as a warm glow engulfed him and the innocent laughter of children followed him into the light.
THE CRISP BRIGHT AIR of an October afternoon embraced the Broken J as together the James family walked toward the grove of large cottonwoods at the corner of the property. Six men hefted the simple wooden box on broad shoulders as the rustle of black skirts accompanied the procession.
The sweet strands of bird song lifted on a gentle wind and the hushed whispers of children spilled into the sun-drenched yard.
With gentle, work-roughened hands, the coffin descended to its final resting place in the depths of the cold earth that backed three age-worn headstones.
Benjamin Smith lifted a fist full of earth in hands wet with tears, “Farewell, my old friend,” he intoned, “sleep sweet.” Releasing the sod on which so many dreams had been built, he turned into the waiting arms of his wife.
Meg lifted her eyes to a bright blue sky as Clay wrapped his arms around her protectively. Her voice caught in her throat as the tears spilled along her cheeks but as her family gathered around her a song, soft and sweet, flitted into life like a bird takes to the sky.
“Sleep in heavenly peace...” fell from her lips as the warmth of an autumn sun moved toward the horizon.
Brion Blakely’s rough baritone picked up the words and together the strands of Silent Night filled the Broken J.
A warm hand tugged at Mae’s hand as the group turned and began the short trek back to the house.
“Mama?” Matthew looked up into his mother’s tear-stained face. “Is Grandpa with the angels now?”
“Yes, love he is,” she answered, her heart skipping at his sweet words.
“Do you think he was sad to go to heaven?”
Mae stopped, her black dress rustling around her ankles as she looked at her six-year-old son. “I think that when we go to heaven we’re met by all those that went before us,” she said, a sad smile gracing her lips.
“Like when we go to visit Aunt Mel and Uncle Carl,” she explained, squeezing his hand. “When we first get there, we need someone to show us where everything is and all of the wonderful things that we have in store.”
“So, when we go to heaven, it’s just like going to a new place.”
“Yes, darl
ing, a new place full of love and grace and mercy.”
Reese stepped up to his wife, slipping his fingers through hers, even as Melinda held tight to his other hand, and together they walked toward the house.
In the distance, a horse whinnied and the soft sounds of cattle settling in for the night greeted their ears. The sound of a screen door opening and closing and the shuffle of a coffee pot being placed on the stove echoed across the porch of the ranch house.
Life moved on, brighter and better for the living of one man who’d opened his heart to so many.
The End
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Danni Roan, a native of western Pennsylvania, spent her childhood roaming the lush green mountains on horseback. She has always loved westerns and specifically western romance and is thrilled to be part of this exciting genre. She has lived and worked overseas with her husband and tries to incorporate the unique quality of the people she has met throughout the years into her books. Although Danni is a relatively new author on the scene she has been a story teller for her entire life, even causing her mother to remark that as a child “If she told a story, she had to tell the whole story.” Danni is truly excited about this new adventure in writing and hopes that you will enjoy reading her stories as much as she enjoys writing them.
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About the Author
About the Author
Danni Roan, a native of western Pennsylvania, spent her childhood roaming the lush green mountains on horseback. She has always loved westerns and specifically western romance and is thrilled to be part of this exciting genre. She has lived and worked overseas with her husband and tries to incorporate the unique quality of the people she has met throughout the years into her books. Although Danni is a relatively new author on the scene she has been a story teller for her entire life, even causing her mother to remark that as a child “If she told a story, she had to tell the whole story.” Danni is truly excited about this new adventure in writing and hopes that you will enjoy reading her stories as much as she enjoys writing them.
Read more at Danni Roan’s site.
