A Good Day To Kill
Page 31
“Saddle Cole a good horse. He needs to take a package back to town in a hurry.”
“What is wrong?” Jenn shouted from the porch.
“I need her best dress and the second best one wrapped. Mark them. Cole has to take them back to town.”
Jenn turned to face all the women and they went inside in a rush.
“Why two dresses?” Monica asked as she caught his arm going through.
“One to wear. One for draping the casket.”
“Oh. You still alright?”
“Do I look crazy?”
She smiled. “No, you look like you do when you’re mad enough to fire everyone.”
“I never get that mad at my people.”
“Sit down. You can’t help this dress selection business. There are enough of them to do it right.” She brought a coffeepot. “That boy coming in?”
“He’s taking them back tonight. Too much to explain.”
“I wondered if I should feed him.”
“Is May here?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I want May to sing ‘Nearer My God to Thee.’”
“I already asked her for you. She agreed. Was that all right?”
“Very good. I love that girl, but it saved me another crying session.”
“I have the horse saddled,” Cole said, coming in the back door.
“Sit down,” Chet said. “They’re choosing the dresses. They’ll select the right ones and wrap them. That isn’t a man’s way of sweep them up and go.”
Cole agreed.
“I have some fried ham and I can make some German potatoes,” Monica said to Cole.
“That will be fine. Don’t go to any trouble, Monica.”
“You stay and eat. Those dresses won’t melt. They can be a little late.”
Chet chuckled. Monica was in charge again.
She poked him going by. “You stop laughing.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He straightened up to listen to her.
“What if it snows?”
“The service at the Methodist cemetery will be short.”
“Very well.”
He got up. “I’m going to see about my son and Rhea.”
“That girl works hard. That boy is her life and she dotes on him.”
“I know, and Marge knew how good she was with him.”
He heard a dog bark and knew they had more people coming. Who now?
“It’s Susie and her man,” Monica announced.
Susie. He had dreaded that face-to-face meeting more than any other. With heavy heart, he turned and went to greet her.
She had her baby boy, Erwin, in her arms, and she about fell in his. Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, dear God. How are you? I can’t believe this happened to her.”
He took the boy and handed him to Monica. “Susie, it really happened. God needed her. We know she’s in a better place.” Then he rocked her shaking body in his arms and all those emotions he’d held down began to rise inside him. He could feel her sobs and wanted to stop them.
“We all have lost someone close. Why did we lose them? There’s no answer here on earth for the ones left behind. We can all savor the good days we had and face the future. May, Lucie, you, and I have babies to carry on our legacies. Some day they can worry about cattle sales, droughts, challenges, and planting us. I’m going to bury her in the Methodist cemetery. She loved that church, and this ranch may not be here someday. The cemetery will always be there.”
“Good. Chet, I’m going to move back to the Verde River Ranch. I can keep the ranch books. Sarge and I talked, and he and Victor can share the drives to New Mexico. Millie’s been helping Marge do the bookkeeping, but she’s unsure she could do it all. When we have time to think on it . . .” She broke off with a gut-wrenching sob, but stopped herself to continue. “Then, we can make other decisions.” She rested her forehead on his chest and used his kerchief to dry her face.
“That will work.”
“Good. I knew you could see it. What about Adam?”
“Rhea and him have a good connection. Between her and Monica they can manage him. If I see anything different, I’ll reconsider it.”
“When is the funeral?”
“Thursday afternoon.”
“Will Reg and JD be here?”
“We sent them word.”
“Oh, I understand. They are a long ways away.”
“Have you two eaten?” Monica asked.
Susie shook her head.
“Here, hold him, and I’ll fix some food.” She handed the boy back to his mother.
“Thanks. Who else is here?”
“Jenn and her girls.”
“You have it planned?”
“Yes. May has agreed to sing ‘Nearer My God to Thee.’ The service will be short. The family and close friends will gather here that night. Several of the ranch women will help Monica cook and serve that meal and breakfast.”
“You have it all planned.”
“Yes. Go in the living room and rest. Thanks for your concern.”
Thursday afternoon, all the family from the far corners were there. Jesus drove him and Monica to the cemetery, along with Sarge and Susie and their baby. Cole and Valerie, JD and Bonnie, and Jenn came in a coach. Reg and JD’s mother, Louise Byrnes, with Harold Parker, came dressed warm enough in a two-seat buggy. May and Hampt and the kids, and Reg and Lucie and their baby were there. Marge’s father and his wife also attended. All their friends, the other ranch people, business associates, rancher families—best he could calculate, everyone was there.
The preacher said a prayer in the cold air. May sang the hymn, and it stabbed Chet’s heart. But he knew Marge had loved it. The sermon was short and they asked him to say some words, if he could.
He held his hat in front of him, head bowed, and thought for a moment. Then he began, “Marge Byrnes was a generous woman, a loving mother and wife, and a great partner to me. This afternoon, she is in a better place. Her son, Adam, and I will use the strength she gave us to continue on with our lives. Marge, we will miss you, but we will try to have the conviction you had to lead our lives. God bless you. Lord, keep her in your hands. Amen.”
He shook hands and accepted their kind words. Under his heavy coat, he hardly felt the chilly temperature. Jesus had taken Monica back to get ready for the crowd that would gather to mourn Marge, but also to celebrate her life.
Hampt had brought along one of his good roan horses for him to ride back. There were so many well-wishers, he thought they would never end. But he knew they only came to help him overcome his loss, and each one meant well.
The last were a ranch couple he’d spent the night with once. He’d only met them that one time, but they’d traveled a long distance to be there for him during the loss of his dear wife. Though swamped in grief, he couldn’t help thinking of all the people whose lives had been touched by both he and Marge.
Hampt rode up leading the roan and handed him the reins. “Time to go home.”
And he did.
A note from Dusty for his friends and fans
With this book, we close another chapter in Chet Byrnes’s life. Nothing ever comes easy, and life is left for the living to carry on.
In my computer is book number seven, and Chet Byrnes has a lot of things to face in his future—but this may be the greatest challenge of his life. An old friend who helped him get into the cattle-driving business years before, a banker in San Antonio, Texas, desperately needs his help. The past spring he financed a large herd of cattle headed from south Texas for Ogallala, Nebraska. Thirty-five hundred head of steers.
His man, a black drover, Bo Decker, and thirty some ex-slave boys are driving these cattle north with a greasy sack outfit. Only thing is, no one has heard from them in months. The banker makes Chet an offer to go find them and save the loan. I call it “The Lost Herd” Book.
Thanks to your continuing support, the Byrnes family series rides on, and within its pages, so does the West. I appreciate all
of you who make that happen. Like the Lone Ranger on radio so many years ago always said—Hi, Ho, Silver. Thanks to you all.
—Dusty Richards
dustyrichards@cox.net
dustyrichards.com
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-3531-1
First electronic edition: February 2015
ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-3532-8
ISBN-10: 0-7860-3532-3