by Jim Woolard
They drove north from the ranch yard to high ground affording a view in every direction. With pick and shovel they scraped a hole in the ground just large enough to hold the casket, lowered Sam into it, mounded dirt atop him, then heaped stones on the site to serve as a permanent marker and keep digging varmints at bay. Not a soul felt embarrassed about removing their hats and standing silently while Heft said a short prayer over the grave. “It doesn’t matter how many feet you have. Good animals are like good men, hard to come by, and sorely missed when they’re gone. Rest in peace, big fellow.”
They returned to the ST in late afternoon. As the crew was climbing down, Ike Justice spotted them and yelled over from the horse barn, “Phaeton buggy on the road. Appears to be that Payne gal at the reins near as I can make out.”
Sure enough, it was Laura behind the isinglass windshield, cold cheeks matching her red driving gloves. Heft Thomas went to meet her as she halted the Phaeton in front of the horse barn. Nathan hung back, wary of igniting her temper. He couldn’t imagine why she had journeyed from town by herself unless she was on an errand for his aunt.
She and the foreman exchanged words, and then Heft walked back to Nathan and the crew. “All of you except Nathan go on into dinner,” the foreman said with an exaggerated wink. “She’s here to talk with him.”
Clueless as to what kind of reception awaited him, Nathan crossed to the Phaeton and cautiously nodded hello. Laura Payne wrapped the reins about the armrest of the driver’s seat and stepped down, her eyes never leaving him.
Afraid I’ll spook on her, Nathan thought.
Forcing a smile, Laura swallowed nervously and said, “If you’ll let me, I’ve come to apologize. I was wrong about you. I’ve never been more wrong about a person.”
Still leery, Nathan asked, “What made you change your mind so suddenly?”
Laura stepped closer. “Sam.”
“Sam?”
“Alana told me what you’re about. Any man who has a coffin built for his aunt’s dog and drives ten miles to bury him is a man I should love, not hate. That’s what I came to tell you. That I love you.”
Then she was in his arms, clinging to him, and he was muttering into her raven hair:
“Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”
The End
