by Risner, Fay
Melinda stepped over in front of the two coffins and said, “We're going to sing Amazing Grace. You all know that hymn well enough. I'll start, and the rest of you join in good and loud. We want to make sure the Lord and the angels know we're sending these two precious souls their way.” She took a deep breath, looked up at Heaven sliding behind the large puffy clouds and began in a clean, even voice, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”
As soon as the song died down, Gracie stepped forward again. She opened up her family bible. “Now I'm going to read a favorite bible verse of mine. I reckon as far back as I can remember every one of my kin buried in this cemetery was sent off with the twenty third psalm.
We figure these two little babies are in good hands now that they will be resting here. They have my brother to keep them company. He wasn't any bigger than they were when he was laid to rest here. The rest of my kin rest here to help look after them.” She looked down at her bible and opened it to the marker. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” Gracie backed up and turned to Melinda. “Now we will let Melinda lead us in another hymn.”
Melinda stepped forward. “We're going to sing The Old Rugged Cross this time.” She ran her tongue over her lips and began, “On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, The emblem of suffering and shame. And I love that old cross where the dearest and best, for a world of lost sinners was slain. So I will cherish the old rugged cross, Til my trophies at last I lay down, I will cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it some day for a crown.”
While everyone concentrated on the hymn, Gracie caught a glimpse of someone standing behind a tree near the front of the timber line. She kept an eye on that tree, but the one glimpse was all she got. Frieda had told the father about the funeral after all. He just wasn't going to get out in the open for them to see him. Everyone thought they were paying their respects for a Graves baby and a mysterious baby whom no one knew. That's the way things were best left.
When the hymn ended, Gracie stepped forward again. “Now, Shana Lang wants to say a piece for the babies. Shana, your turn.”
Shana stepped forward, patted each tiny coffin and said, “When these two wee babes wake in the dawn with the angels, they will be in a home where they're safe. Each of them will be cradled in the comforting arms of angels who will stay with the babes forever. Safe journey wee ones.” She looked at the people gathered around the fence. “In Ireland, there's an old Irish saying used to wish people a safe journey to Heaven. I want to say it for you now.” She looked down at the coffins and recited, “May the road rise to meet the two of you, May the wind be always at your backs. May the sunshine be warm upon your faces as you rise to Heaven. The rains fall soft upon your graves, and until we meet again, may God hold you as gently in the palm of his hand as the angels are this very minute.”
Shana stepped back by Gracie and took her hand. Gracie squeezed gently and said softly, “Good job, Girl.”
“That was lovely,” Melinda complimented.
Gracie stepped back out of the line. “That concludes our service. On behalf of the Graves family we want to thank all of you for sharing this funeral with us. Now if you want to form a line and file in to pay your respects to the family and throw dirt or flowers on the coffins give Mr. Orie and Mr. Sokal a moment to lower the coffins. Just remember walk in a line between the graves. Don't be stepping on any of my kin.”
Back at the house, Shana took Orie and Millard to the barn to show them the kittens and Clara the jersey cow. The Moser Manson women sat around the table. Melinda poured all of them a cup of coffee and refilled the pot to simmer until the men came inside with Shana.
Gracie figured she might as well not stall any longer. “Miss Molly, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes, Earl got word from the marshal at Solon that Shana's hobo friend was found dead beside the train tracks. I wondered what Melinda and you thought about telling Shana it happened. Or, should we just not say anything?” Molly asked.
“How did he die?” Melinda asked.
“It looked like he missed the freight car door trying to jump aboard and fell under the train wheels,” Molly said.
Melinda said, “I think Shana has had all of life's reality she needs for a while. I'm for not telling her this.”
“I think Melinda is right,” Gracie agreed. “Shana thinks the hobo is long gone. She ain't going to be looking for him anymore. If she was to hear something, you have to be truthful with her, but I doubt this ever comes up by the time we get back to town. If she needs to know, say the man lived his life the way he wanted. Part of the dangers of riding the rails is losing their grip the freight car door when they're trying to catch the train.”
“I tend to agree with both of you. I haven't had much time to be around Shana for almost a month now. I wanted to get your take on this,” Molly said. “How's she doing out here away from town?”
“Wonderful,” Melinda said.
“She's turned into quite the little farmer,” Gracie added. “You should ask her to make sure, but I think she'd come back again if I asked her.”
“That isn't going to happen right away I hope,” Molly said. “I don't think I could stand knowing the three of you were out here again any time soon.”
Gracie cleared her throat. “About what has happened with Neff Graves, I really am sorry about that. If I had dreamed that this month would be so bad, I'd turned Sawyer down.”
“Good thing we can't know what's going to happen,” Melinda said. She winked at Madeline. “Any further than Madeline's tea leaf reading could tell us, of course.”
After supper that evening, Shana sat down on the porch and turned to face Gracie and Melinda. “I have been wonderin' something. Are you goin' to tell me who the father of Frieda's baby is?”
“Nope, cause we don't know. I figured you knew. You mean May Jean didn't tell you?” Gracie asked.
“No, she said she didn't know. Frieda wouldn't tell anyone,” Shana said.
“That's what Joanne and Frieda said in the parlor to the sheriff. At the time, I didn't know if they were being straight with him,” Gracie said.
The rest of their stay at the farm was quiet. Millard came over for lunch one day near the end. Gracie asked, “You want to do me a favor?”
Millard smiled. “Been waiting for you to come up with something you would let me help you with willingly.”
Gracie gave him a sharp look. “All I wanted was for you to look Black Eagle up and tell him it's safe to come back into my timber if the game is getting thinned out where they're camped.”
“All right, I can take care of that,” Millard said.
One afternoon, Gracie said to Melinda and Shana, “Want to go for one last walk in the timber. Thad and his family will be back soon. We'll have to go home.”
Melinda and Shana were all for that. The walk in the timber was fun as Melinda and Shana asked Gracie questions about everything in nature around them. That is until Black Eagle stepped out from behind a tree.
Melinda cried, “Mercy.”
Shana giggled. “For sure, a real Indian.”
“That's right,” Gracie said. “Hello, Black Eagle. I want you to meet a couple friends of mine. This is Melinda and that little one is Shana.”
“How do, Gracie's friends,” Black Eagle said.
They were standing close to where the babies had been buried. Orie and Millard had filled in the holes. Shana
shook Gracie's long sleeve. “You should look over yonder, Aunt Gracie.”
A young Indian brave was down on his hands and knees, planting wild flowers back in the bare spots where the babies graves had been.
“Black Eagle, who is that over there?” Gracie asked.
“That my nephew. His name is Brown Bear.”
“Why is he putting flowers there?” Melinda asked.
“He has a baby son buried in that spot,” Black Eagle said.
“The baby happened to be buried in a woven stick basket?” Gracie asked.
“That so,” Black Eagle said.
“We didn't know that the baby was kin to you Black Eagle. There was a white baby buried by Brown Bear's baby son. When we found that out, we dug both babies up. I had them buried in my family cemetery. You know the one at the end of the timber by my lane?”
“I know the one.”
“Tell Brown Eagle the cemetery is mine. He is welcome to put flowers on the grave any time. Right now, his son's stone is blank. You wouldn't happen to know what he named the baby, would you?”
“Tiny Deer,” Brown Eagle said.
“I'll have that engraved on the stone,” Gracie said.
“I tell Black Bear of this. See if he wants to bring flowers to that spot or continue to put them on the spot here that he has come to mourn,” Brown Eagle said.
As they walked back out of the timber, Melinda said, “Does this mean that young Indian boy was the father of Frieda's baby?”
“Sure seems like it,” Gracie said.
“Oh dear,” Melinda said. “No wonder she wouldn't tell anyone the father's name or the baby's name.”
“Why wouldn't Frieda want anyone to know?” Shana asked.
Gracie stopped. “Shana, you can't tell anyone that you know this. Not even May Jean. We promised Frieda not to talk about it.”
“Why?”
“Indians aren't always welcomed in this neighborhood. Some people don't give them a chance. Frieda knows her lot in life would be even harder if it got out she had an Indian boyfriend, and they had a baby together. That family has suffered enough. We don't want to do anything to make matters worse for them,” Gracie said.
“Will it make someone mad if you put Tiny Deer on the gravestone? People are going to know that sounds like an Indian name,” Melinda wondered.
Gracie thought about that. “We have always said we didn't know who the mystery baby in the basket was. With the name Tiny Deer engraved on the stone, that sounds like an Indian name. I didn't see it that way when I knew the baby's first grave was in the timber. I always thought an Indian baby would be buried at the settlement. This would have for sure if he wasn't half white.
If anyone complains, I'll tell them those two babies have been dug up and planted twice. They both deserved a name of some kind so I came up with Tiny Deer.”
“Sounds good to me. Don't that sound good to you, Shana?” Melinda said.
“I think that's the right thing to say,” Shana said.
Before they left Three Oaks, it was close to Decoration day. Gracie told Shana and Melinda to help her pick flowers to take to the cemetery.
The ones Gracie chose were the purple irises growing next to the house. She held her bouquet down for Shana to stick her nose in. “Mama always called these flags. She loved their soft, sweet smell and the way they waved in the breeze.”
Melinda cut some large, pink peonies from the bush in the corner of the back yard. Shana kept an eye out for wild flowers to pick on the edge of the lane. She picked honeysuckle and white morning glories growing on the soddy rubble. She added a few Dutchmen britches to her bouquet, and she had her hands full by the time they got to the cemetery.
They were surprised when they found wild flowers planted on both babies graves. Shana's lower lip jutted out. “Sure and I was going to leave some of my flowers here.”
“Put yours on my baby brother's grave. He'd appreciate the attention since it seems these two boys are getting their fair share,” Gracie said. “Melinda, remind me to tell Ivy to bring some water out here once in a while and water the flowers until their roots take hold.”
“Of course, I will. Suppose it was the father who was so thoughtful?” Melinda asked.
“I reckon so,” Gracie said.
Melinda placed her peonies on Gracie's mother's grave, and Gracie laid her flowers on her father's grave just like her mother used to put her irises.
“What you said at the funeral about your little brother being company for the babies and your kin here to look after them was nice,” Melinda mused.
Gracie nodded. “I might a stretched that a might if they had known much about Uncle Hiram, but it was just something to say.”
Melinda chuckled then said quietly, “I have to go to the cemetery when we get back to Locked Rock and put some flowers on my husband's grave.”
“I will go with you,” Gracie said.
“And so will I,” Shana added.
Gracie and her charges arrived back at Moser Mansion in time for supper on Saturday night. They were almost too tired to eat and plenty ready for their comfortable beds. All three of them went to bed early.
The next morning, the residents were all up and headed for church. Molly told the ladies about how the church women cleaned the parsonage for the new preacher. They didn't have to work really hard at it, and the man didn't bring much furniture with him. The church took up a collection and donations of furniture to make the parsonage livable.
Gracie and Melinda were curious to meet the new preacher, a sandy haired man. He was average built and good looking. Gracie had to admit he was friendly and personable as he greeted everyone at the front door and shook hand with each of them when Miss Molly introduced them.
Preacher James Mayfield was a younger than the preachers Gracie was used to being around. During the sermon, he paced back and forth as if he had trouble standing still. That was all right, but it kept Gracie busy trying to move her head back and forth to keep up with the preacher.
When the service was over, the preacher walked briskly down the aisle headed for the back double doors. He stood off to one side and spoke everyone as they filed out. He kept his visit with each short, trying to get to know his parishioners.
The Moser Mansion residents were farther back in the line. The Sawyer family was behind Gracie. Ivy asked, “You rested up yet from sleeping on a strange bed, Miss Gracie?”
“Yip, but most nights at your place, I slept like a log though,” Gracie said.
“Miss Gracie, we been wondering something. Do you have any idea why there was six eggs in between the stack of blankets in Abigail's room?” Thad asked.
Ivy said, “We didn't know about the eggs until the closet got hot, and the eggs started smelling.”
Gracie got Shana by the arm. “Shana, do you know anything about eggs in Abigail's closet?”
Shana looked from one to the other, figuring she was in trouble. She focused on Abigail. “Have you been leaving the window open in your room?”
“Of course I do,” Abigail said. “It's too hot to sleep in there if I don't.”
“That's it then, Aunt Gracie. Two Feathers has been trying to start a family,” Shana declared. “Come on, Abigail. Let's slip by the line and get outside. I want to hear about the kittens.”
As the line shortened, Gracie had plenty of time to observe the new preacher. He didn't take very long to talk to most of the older married couples. When the young women were next , he was very interested in every word the women spoke. In fact, he reached to shake hands with them, and he didn't give their hands back any too soon.
Gracie wondered if anyone else noticed? Frankly, she saw the start of a problem with this new preacher. He just might be a pervert trying to entice some of the young women to do God knows what with him. Or, was he checking out possible wife material? She'd have to keep her eye on Preacher James Mayfield.
About The Author
The Will O Wisp seemed like a good mystery for the Lan
g's Irish daughter Shana. I write this historical Amazing Gracie mystery series set in Iowa for the readers enjoyment. A romance such as Christmas With Hover Hill thrown into the mixture of books is a good way to switch genres. I have written westerns and Alzheimer's care books. When an idea comes to me, I write the story.
Changing genres gives me flexibility as a writer. All my books are designed to offer some humor along with the serious moments. I write in 12 font to make my books reader friendly, and all my stories are suitable for any age group.
My husband and I live on an acreage with chickens, rabbits and cats. We enjoy raising a large garden and flowers. For fun, we go fishing in the summer and read a lot of books in the winter.
If you have time to write a review for any of my books, please do that for me.
