“We’ll take a first at Fort Smith, Big Boy,” she promised, patting him on the shoulder. He moved his head around, and she rubbed his nose, then slid out of the saddle and groomed and fed him. Afterward she went by the Greenleaf Funeral Home, where Megan’s body had been sent after the autopsy.
Dani had never liked funeral homes or the whole business of funerals. There was something pagan in the whole thing to her—something vaguely anti-Christian. She could never pin it down, and did her duty, but the sorrow and grief that permeated the services, as a rule, did not reflect the hope she saw in the New Testament. She had heard the funeral directors’ rationale: “It’s a memory picture,” one had said to her when she had refused to go in and view the body of one of her college classmates. “We make them look as natural as possible. It will be the last time you’ll ever see your friend, so that memory will remain with you.”
But it didn’t work that way for Dani. When the memory of her friend came afterward, it gave her no comfort, for the waxen-faced girl in the coffin lined with white silk was not the happy, glad-hearted girl she had known.
Now, she had no desire to look at Megan’s body. A handsome silver-haired man in an immaculate suit met her as she entered the funeral home, and if he was offended by her jeans and dusty boots, he gave no sign at all. “Miss Carr? Yes, right down that hall. Please sign the book, if you will.”
Dani walked down the thickly carpeted hall, paused outside a room with a stand and the name CARR on a small card over it. She picked up the pen, then looked down at the names. There were only a few, but the body had only been at the funeral home several hours. Bake Dempsey had been there and Hank Lowe. A few others she didn’t know. She signed her own name, then entered the room. To her surprise she found a short, strongly built man standing at the window. He turned at once as she entered, his eyes boring into her.
“I didn’t know anyone was here,” she excused herself. “I’m Dani Ross.”
“You the girl Megan was friends with?” He had a strong face, with a high forehead where his hair had receded, and his lips were strong and determined. Dani could see a little of Megan in his blue eyes and the shape of his nose, but there was a hardness in him somehow.
“Yes. I only knew her for a little while,” she explained. Then she asked, “Are you her father?”
“Rich Carr.” He nodded. He studied her with careful eyes, then smoothed his hair down with a thick hand. The light caught on a large diamond ring as he lowered it. “Yes, she was my daughter.”
Dani asserted, “I loved her very much, Mr. Carr.”
Suspicion flashed out of him instantly. “How could that be? You didn’t know her.”
“I don’t think that’s always the true measurement of love,” Dani responded slowly. She sensed in Carr a strangeness, as if he were holding himself in tightly for fear of showing anger. “Can we sit down? I’d like to tell you what Megan meant to me.”
Carr sat down beside her, his back stiff and his face fixed. “What I mean about time is that I’ve known some people for years and never managed to get close to them. I suppose you’ve done the same.”
“Yeah, I have,” he agreed briefly.
“But sometimes we just feel drawn to people. We know more about them and trust them more after having known them only a brief time than we do others we’ve known for years. It was like that for me with Megan.”
“How’d you two get together?”
Dani hesitated, intimidated by his hard manner. But she took the plunge. “I took her to church with me, Mr. Carr.”
“Church? Megan wasn’t religious. None of us are.” He gave Dani a direct stare, challenging her, “We’re all atheists.”
Dani sat there silently, then gently conceded, “That may be true of your family—but Megan had an experience with God. It changed her completely.”
“I don’t wanna hear it!” Carr snapped. Getting to his feet, he moved to the window and stood staring out at the oaks on the lawn. Dani said no more, but sat there with her head bowed. She began to pray silently and lost track of time. She was thinking of the hours she had spent with Megan, giggling over old movies, sharing experiences, and especially of Megan leafing through her Bible.
“Well, let’s hear it!”
Dani looked up with a startled expression. Mr. Carr had come to stand over her and was staring down at her angrily. He saw her hesitate, then contended, “I don’t believe a word of that Bible, but I wanna know what went on with you and her. I think you messed her mind up! Come on, what happened?”
Dani began to speak, though the words came with difficulty. She went back to her own experience, speaking of how she’d found Christ and how God had been with her ever since. Carr stood there, his feet planted, eyes skeptical, but he said nothing. Dani told him about her time in the silo, when it looked as though she and the others were going to die at the hands of a maniac. She told him how she’d put a woman she loved in jeopardy of life imprisonment by discovering that she had killed someone. She even told him about killing the gunman in New Orleans and how it had almost destroyed her. Then she began to speak of how she had met Megan. Finally she told Carr how Megan had called on God in the little church. “I can’t tell you how happy she was, Mr. Carr! Not only just then, but every day!”
Carr listened as Dani ended, “She kept saying how peaceful she was—and it was true!”
Carr suddenly turned and walked back to the window. He said nothing for a long time, then spoke in a muffled voice, “She called me.” He didn’t go on for what seemed like a long time, but when he turned, his face was contorted. “She told me all you just said—but I wouldn’t listen. I—I told her she’d lost her mind and not to come home until she got religion out of her system.”
Dani rose and went to Carr. “I know. She told me.”
“She hated me, I guess, the way I talked to her?”
“No, Mr. Carr. Megan loved you very much. She thought you were the finest man who ever lived.”
“She said that?”
“Yes, many times.”
“Even after I bawled her out for getting converted?”
“Especially then,” Dani told him. “Won’t you sit down? There’s so much I’d like to tell you about Megan.”
They sat there for an hour, and Dani talked most of that time. The Spirit of God was in her, and as she spoke of the cross and of Jesus’ death she saw what the gospel can do. Carr listened, incredulous at first, but he could not doubt the honesty of the girl who spoke. He knew people well, and he understood that this young woman was telling him the absolute truth.
Finally Dani confided, “She was filled with joy, Mr. Carr. I’ll miss her so much. But I’ll never grieve over her, for I’ll see her again.” Tears were in her eyes, and he saw them glistening there as she whispered, “Christians never say good-bye, you know!”
Seeing tears in Carr’s eyes—which reminded her so much of Megan’s—Dani explained, “I never shove anyone toward God, Mr. Carr. But Jesus said—’ And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me.’ I feel that’s what’s happening to you.”
“Me? Become a Christian?” Carr asked huskily, ineffectually trying to laugh. “I’d be laughed at all over Philadelphia!”
“Do you care about that? Isn’t what you’re feeling right now the most honest thing you’ve ever known?”
He hesitated, then a look of wonder came into his eyes. “You know it is!” he whispered. “What is it that’s happening to me? Is this what Megan felt?”
“Yes. Maybe a little different.” Dani nodded. “A wise man once said something like, ‘Every human being has a God-shaped vacuum in his soul—and he’ll never know a moment’s peace until God fills that space.’ That’s what becoming a Christian means, Mr. Carr. May I tell you how to let Jesus Christ come in and give you that peace?”
As Carr struggled and tried to say no Dani remained silent. Finally he blurted out, “I don’t know how! Tell me!”
Thirty minutes later she was standing outside the funeral hom
e, feeling drained, completely exhausted. Carr had followed her to the truck, and he asked anxiously, “You’ll come?”
Dani nodded. “I’ll be there. I’m no preacher, though.”
Carr had called on God and finally had been able to smile and report, “I’m all right!” After Dani had given him her New Testament and asked him to read it through, he had demanded, “Will you come and help with her funeral?”
Dani had agreed at once to fly to Philadelphia, but now she was wondering if she’d been wise. Carr gave her a close study. His face was pale, and his eyes were red with weeping. “It won’t be pleasant,” he quietly informed her. “None of our friends are Christians. Most of them won’t like what you’ll have to say about Megan.”
She smiled and then moved forward and kissed his cheek. “You’ll be with me, won’t you? That’s all I need.” Then she climbed into the truck, started it, and waved as she pulled away. “Read that Bible, Mr. Carr!” she shouted.
Carr waved back, then looked down at the worn New Testament. He opened it, read a few words, turned, and walked slowly back inside, his eyes on the book. He bumped into a young woman, who gave him an indignant look. “Sorry,” he muttered, scarcely taking his eyes off the page. He disappeared through the door and went back to the room. He halted, then walked over to the casket and looked down.
For a long time he stood there, the New Testament in one hand. Finally he reached out and laid his hand on the lustrous black hair.
“Hello, Megan—,” he whispered, and to his intense surprise, instead of grief, a well of joy arose in him, so strong that he could scarcely stand. Finally he looked down, and the words he’d heard from Dani came to his lips: “Christians never say good-bye!”
Clint Thomas’s funeral the following Wednesday contained every element that Danielle Ross despised.
She went with Ruth, who clung to her. They had been escorted to the small private room, where Dani had looked down at Thomas’s face. She had not intended to take part in this, but Ruth was so unsteady that Dani was afraid to release her hold on the woman.
The face in the casket only superficially resembled the Thomas she had known. The natural lines had disappeared, and with the eyes shut, all the lively spirits were gone. Clint looks younger—but like a statue, Dani thought. He was wearing a new, ornate cowboy shirt, one he would never have chosen in life, and she had heard one of the cowboys whisper in awe that a pair of eelskin boots costing $500 had been put on his feet!
Dani closed her eyes and felt glad when Ruth finally turned away. They went at once to a private room off the main auditorium, reserved for family of the deceased, and the funeral began as soon as four men in dress clothing wheeled the heavy bronze casket into place at the front of the auditorium.
The place was packed, and Dani recognized at least half a dozen celebrities sitting close to the front. Most of them were from show business or were sports stars, and she realized instinctively that they had been placed in the front for publicity purposes. Cameras clicked often, and their flashes reflected in the huge crystal lights overhead.
The front of the auditorium was a mass of flowers, and the heavy, cloying odor of them smelled unpleasant to Dani. Soon an organ began playing, very softly, and she recognized the strains of an old country-gospel song.
A famous, sultry country-Western singer came out, beautiful in a Western skirt and vest, and sang a poor rendition of “There Will Be Peace in the Valley.” When she finished, she waited for the applause, realized there wouldn’t be any, and left in confusion.
Two other thick and sentimental songs were sung by famous country-Western singers. Then the minister rose and came to the microphone. He was one of the most famous preachers in America, his image filling millions of TV screens each week.
He was a dramatic speaker, his eyes sparkling, his hands constantly drawing images in the air, and he told a story well, though Dani found his message shallow. He did not touch on the nature of death, the finality of it, or the possibility of judgment to follow. Instead he spoke with warmth and enthusiasm of the goodness and richness of life.
Then he managed to tie all life’s joys to Clint Thomas, who was, he said, a man who understood life! Finally he dropped his voice to a whisper, saying, “This man is not dead! He will never be dead! As long as one cowboy rides a wild bronc to the last bell, and the pickup man comes by and takes him off—Clint Thomas will live!” A smattering of applause greeted his words, but the minister held his hand up for silence.
“Clint Thomas rode until he heard the buzzer sound! He made a good ride! And now—the Great Pickup Man in the Sky has taken him! Let us rejoice that he’s now riding better horses in the green pastures where he’ll never get thrown!”
Sixkiller was sitting beside Dani. He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, “If you let this jelly bean preach my funeral, I’ll come back and haunt you!”
Out of all the “mourners” who packed the auditorium, fewer than fifty gathered around the open grave at Restview Cemetery. Dani and Luke stayed with Ruth, taking their seats under the green canopy that swayed over the open grave. They were the only ones sitting; the others stood around the tent, looking inside.
Dani saw the long, black hearse disgorge its contents, and the eight pallbearers took the weight of the bronze casket. All were riders, including Bake Dempsey and Bill Baker, who manned the forward end of the coffin. They moved across the dry, brown grass, guided by the silver-haired funeral director, their faces brown and their hair slicked down. Moving under the tent, the director maneuvered the casket onto the thick, web-like strands mounted on a heavy brass framework. Carefully he let it slip forward until it was poised over the open grave; then he nodded, and the undertakers moved outside the tent. Another nod and a man stepped to the head of the casket.
It was not the famed television preacher this time, but a small man who pulled a black book from his pocket and began to read a formal ceremony.
Dani paid no heed to the familiar words. She was looking at the people instead, knowing some of them. One she had never seen before wore a black dress and had a black hat that seemed out of place. Dani studied her carefully. For some reason, the woman looked familiar, though Dani felt certain that she had never seen her before.
The stranger was not large and was slender of build and had very black hair and the dark skin of the south—perhaps Spanish or Mexican. She was staring at Thomas’s casket with a pair of large black eyes and seemed hypnotized by the words the minister was reading in a rather mechanical fashion.
The woman was somewhere in her early forties, Dani judged, and attractive still, despite the lines in her face and the hands that were rough from hard work.
Tears were in her dark eyes, and she mopped them away with a tiny handkerchief. Suddenly she looked across over the top of the casket, and her eyes met Dani’s. At once she flushed, then dropped her eyes.
Something in the gesture triggered a faint memory in Dani, and as the minister closed his book and began a prayer, Dani whispered to Luke, “Take Ruth back to town, then come back for me.”
After the final amen, the three of them rose, and Sixkiller moved off with Ruth. The crowd drifted slowly toward the cars, which were parked on a gravel road a hundred yards away. The mourners were subdued as long as they were close to the swaying tent, but as they moved away, they began speaking more naturally. Dani drifted along, keeping to the rear, always with an eye on the woman in black. A clump of cottonwood trees rose to the left of the gravel road, and as the car doors began slamming and engines came to life, the woman went to stand in the shade of the trees. The cars sped away, raising a curtain of dust that came back as powder. Some of it came to rest on Dani’s hair, but she paid no heed.
All the cars left, with the exception of a gray Toyota bearing the icon of a rental agency on the door. Dani waited for the woman to move away from the trees, but she did not. Finally, Dani walked across the dry grass, coming to stand a few feet behind the woman, who was standing with her arm a
gainst one of the trees, her face pressed against her forearm. Her back was heaving, and Dani heard her sobs.
“May I speak with you?”
At Dani’s words the woman whirled and gave her a startled look. She wiped her eyes on the limp handkerchief, then shook her head. “I don’t want to talk to any reporters.”
“I’m no reporter. I was a friend of Clint’s.”
The woman had started for the Toyota but paused and looked more carefully at Dani. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
Dani took a wild guess, based solely on the impression that she had gotten during the funeral.
“I want to talk to you about your son, Mrs. Hardin.”
Instantly, the woman cried out, and lifted her hand to her throat in a protective gesture. She stared at Dani. “How do you know me?”
Dani said gently, “I know your son. You are Boone’s mother, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Could we talk for a little while, Mrs. Hardin?”
“I—I suppose so.” Mrs. Hardin questioned, “How do you know Boone?”
“I’m a barrel racer. Boone and I got acquainted not too long ago. But I’m afraid he’s in trouble, Mrs. Hardin.”
“You can call me Faye.” The woman shrugged, then gave Dani a frightened look. “Boone didn’t have anything to do with Clint’s death! He couldn’t have!”
“The police are holding him. He was seen coming out of the trailer where Clint was shot.”
“No! He couldn’t do it! Not Boone!”
Dani didn’t want to alarm the woman, but she knew that the police were going to be pressured. Any time a murder made the front page, the police became a target for many people who wanted to see instant results. Dani knew that Captain Little was aware that a murderer was loose and was likely to hold on to Boone Hardin. She explained that carefully to Faye Hardin, then offered, “I’d like to help Boone, Faye. If you’ll tell me why he hated Clint Thomas so much, maybe we can do something.”
“He didn’t hate him!”
“Several times I heard him say things about Clint. Others have noticed it. It’s going to come out when they’re questioned.”
Revenge at the Rodeo Page 22
