operation
he planned with Sam Burnham was a success. The woman he'd met and taken for his
wife was here.
A sense of hopelessness washed over him at the thought of Amy.
He couldn't see the spot from here, but his gaze unerringly
traveled in the direction of the rise of land that already held two markers.
He'd almost had everything he'd ever wanted. He didn't know what he
wanted or needed anymore, except the ability to survive nights and days he'd
just as soon forget.
The horses knew their feed and stalls were just ahead, and he had
to keep a tight rein, finally halting them in the door yard.
Pitch hurried out with his peculiar bowlegged stride. His gaze
moved across the tarp-covered coffin in the back of the wagon.
"Unhitch this pair and bring a fresh team," Jesse said.
"These fine girls deserve a rest."
"Sure thing." Pitch hurried to do the chore.
Amy came down the porch steps then, as pretty and fresh as the
first time he'd seen her.
"How was your trip?"
"Mostly uneventful."
Cay climbed down and set the little dog on its feet. The critter
scurried to sniff the corner of the porch and the last dying blooms of Amy's
flower garden.
"That your dog?" Amy asked Cay, shading her eyes with
her hand.
Cay looked at Jesse, then replied, "Yeah."
"Yes, ma'am," Jesse corrected.
"Yes, ma'am," he amended.
"Teach him not to water my flower bed, will you?"
Cay made a dash to stop Biscuit from peeing on Amy's petunias, but
he was too late. He chased the dog across the yard.
Jesse took off his hat to run a hand through his hair, then
settled it back on his head.
"What will you do now?" Amy asked.
"Get a shovel, I reckon."
"Already saw to that." Sam approached. "Me'n Hermie
took turns the last couple o' days. Thought it would make it easier for
you."
"Thanks, Sam."
"No thanks needed."
"Cay and I need a bath. After that, I'll pull the wagon up to
the site. Will you ask some of the men to give us a hand with the...." He
gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "With this?"
Sam nodded.
"We could send for the preacher and wait, I reckon,"
Jesse said. "Or we could lay her to rest our own way." He glanced at
Amy. "What do you think?"
"I think she'd like it just fine if you said a few words
yourself. We can sing a hymn."
Jesse's chest felt so tight he couldn't speak, so he nodded.
"I'll send Adele to get your water, and I'll bring you
clothes," she said.
With a jerking movement, he got himself headed toward the
bathhouse.
Half an hour later, clean-shaven and dressed in his dark trousers
and white shirt, Jesse watched as his men carried his mother's plain wooden
coffin from the wagon bed to the side of the grave, then laid it on ropes and
lowered it into the hole. He had always thought there was time left. Time to
visit his mother, time to bring her here to meet Amy... But his mother's time
had run out.
He couldn't even be sure Amy was breathing beside him. Her face
was pale, and she looked steadfastly at Jesse, not at the box that held his
mother or at the small grave beside it.
As far as Jesse knew, Amy had not been to their son's grave site
since the day of his burial. If the rosebush Jesse'd planted was a surprise,
she didn't let on.
Something was expected of him now, so Jesse opened the Bible he'd
found among his mother's belongings and located the page she had marked.
"'The Lord is my shepherd,'" he read. "'I shall not want. He
maketh me to lie down in green pastures.'"
It wasn't a long Psalm, and when he was finished, he looked at Cay
to find the boy's face pinched, tears glistening in his eyes. Jesse's mother
was the only mother Cay had known; she had raised him from the time he was
small.
With Jesse's permission, Cay had brought the dog, and Biscuit lay
at his feet, its keen brown gaze watching the proceedings of the humans with
curiosity.
Jesse looked at Amy then, and gave her an encouraging nod.
Her sweet girlish voice led them in all the verses of
"Amazing Grace." His mother would have loved this place,
he planned with Sam Burnham was a success. The woman he'd met and taken for his
wife was here.
A sense of hopelessness washed over him at the thought of Amy.
He couldn't see the spot from here, but his gaze unerringly
traveled in the direction of the rise of land that already held two markers.
He'd almost had everything he'd ever wanted. He didn't know what he
wanted or needed anymore, except the ability to survive nights and days he'd
just as soon forget.
The horses knew their feed and stalls were just ahead, and he had
to keep a tight rein, finally halting them in the door yard.
Pitch hurried out with his peculiar bowlegged stride. His gaze
moved across the tarp-covered coffin in the back of the wagon.
"Unhitch this pair and bring a fresh team," Jesse said.
"These fine girls deserve a rest."
"Sure thing." Pitch hurried to do the chore.
Amy came down the porch steps then, as pretty and fresh as the
first time he'd seen her.
"How was your trip?"
"Mostly uneventful."
Cay climbed down and set the little dog on its feet. The critter
scurried to sniff the corner of the porch and the last dying blooms of Amy's
flower garden.
"That your dog?" Amy asked Cay, shading her eyes with
her hand.
Cay looked at Jesse, then replied, "Yeah."
"Yes, ma'am," Jesse corrected.
"Yes, ma'am," he amended.
"Teach him not to water my flower bed, will you?"
Cay made a dash to stop Biscuit from peeing on Amy's petunias, but
he was too late. He chased the dog across the yard.
Jesse took off his hat to run a hand through his hair, then
settled it back on his head.
"What will you do now?" Amy asked.
"Get a shovel, I reckon."
"Already saw to that." Sam approached. "Me'n Hermie
took turns the last couple o' days. Thought it would make it easier for
you."
"Thanks, Sam."
"No thanks needed."
"Cay and I need a bath. After that, I'll pull the wagon up to
the site. Will you ask some of the men to give us a hand with the...." He
gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "With this?"
Sam nodded.
"We could send for the preacher and wait, I reckon,"
Jesse said. "Or we could lay her to rest our own way." He glanced at
Amy. "What do you think?"
"I think she'd like it just fine if you said a few words
yourself. We can sing a hymn."
Jesse's chest felt so tight he couldn't speak, so he nodded.
"I'll send Adele to get your water, and I'll bring you
clothes," she said.
With a jerking movement, he got himself headed toward the
bathhouse.
Half an hour later, clean-shaven and dressed in his dark trousers
and white shirt, Jesse watched as his men carried his mother's plain wooden
coffin from the wagon bed to the side of the grave, then laid it on ropes and
lowered it into the hole. He had always thought there was time left. Time to
visit his mother, time to bring her here to meet Amy... But his mother's time
had run out.
He couldn't even be sure Amy was breathing beside him. Her face
was pale, and she looked steadfastly at Jesse, not at the box that held his
mother or at the small grave beside it.
As far as Jesse knew, Amy had not been to their son's grave site
since the day of his burial. If the rosebush Jesse'd planted was a surprise,
she didn't let on.
Something was expected of him now, so Jesse opened the Bible he'd
found among his mother's belongings and located the page she had marked.
"'The Lord is my shepherd,'" he read. "'I shall not want. He
maketh me to lie down in green pastures.'"
It wasn't a long Psalm, and when he was finished, he looked at Cay
to find the boy's face pinched, tears glistening in his eyes. Jesse's mother
was the only mother Cay had known; she had raised him from the time he was
small.
With Jesse's permission, Cay had brought the dog, and Biscuit lay
at his feet, its keen brown gaze watching the proceedings of the humans with
curiosity.
Jesse looked at Amy then, and gave her an encouraging nod.
Her sweet girlish voice led them in all the verses of
"Amazing Grace." His mother would have loved this place,
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