Post by catgirl63 on Dec 5, 2010 11:34:32 GMT -4
Chapter 103
Matt walked slowly down the path to the plot where his sister and the woman who gave life to his nephew’s daughter lay in eternal sleep. It had been two weeks since the prominent family had gone home and for the second time in as many weeks, the blond spent time digging a grave in the earth. The grave this time for the livery owner who had befriended Heath as a boy and whose livery became a haven all those years ago. He knew his nephew would always remember the times spent working and learning beside Jeb Collins, a man who knew horses inside and out and who had willingly passed on his knowledge to the next generation.
“Heath, I’m finished…” informed Matt as he walked up to the outside of the small cemetery plot as his nephew stood brushing loose dirt from his clothes. “I think its exactly what Jeb would have wanted.”
Meeting his uncle outside the plot, Heath walked beside him to the livery and stopped before a pine box setting on two sawhorses. Hesitating for a moment, the blond reached up and ran his fingers over the two horses on the lid, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.
“They’re beautiful, Uncle Matt.” Heath offered catching his uncle’s eyes. “Jeb would have been pleased to have such a fine box for his final spot. Thanks for getting it done.”
Waving off his nephew’s words, the hotel owner sighed as he glanced around the livery, unable to comprehend standing in the building without the stoop shouldered man shuffling amidst its space. Jeb had been a staple in their lives and now, he was gone to live in their memories.
“Do you need help with Jeb? Inquired Heath receiving a negative head shake from his uncle who replied, “I’ll get him settled while you get Rachel and Hannah.”
“I unloaded the wagon earlier and I’ll bring it around,” said the blond studying his uncle’s pensive face. “You okay?”
“Huh? Yea, I’m fine….just thinking how in a way I’m relieved about Jeb,” confessed the elderly man with a deep sigh. “I was uneasy about leaving him here alone.”
Reaching over and squeezing his uncle’s shoulder, Heath nodded in agreement, “I know Uncle Matt….I wasn’t exactly too keen on the idea none either. Course Jeb sure wasn’t too quiet about our mollycoddling, was he?”
Chuckling at the words the livery owner had conjured up in response to their concern he would be alone in the town, Matt smiled, “No, he made sure we heard exactly what he thought….he was quite a man.”
“Yep he was….a good friend.” Acknowledged the blond before giving his uncle’s shoulder a final squeeze. “I’ll get the ladies and the wagon.”
Turning and walking to the door, Heath looked back and watched as his uncle headed towards the sleeping quarters in the back of the livery where they’d found Jeb the day before. The man had fallen asleep to never waken, a peaceful finality settled into the withered lines on his face. Opening the door to the corral attached to the livery, Heath grabbed the harness from its hook and approached one of the stocky chestnuts. Leading the equine from the corral and down the street, he hitched the horse to the wagon standing in front of the hotel. Dodging crates sitting on the boardwalk, he entered the hotel and rushed forward taking a crate from the hands of Hannah.
“Hannah, I told ya’ no carrying anything heavy,” scolded Heath as he set the crate with the others on the boardwalk. “That’s what you got me for.”
“Heath my boy, its just one,” protested the petite woman.
“That’s what you said when I caught you carrying the other one,” reminded Heath shaking his finger at her. “That makes two.”
“No, it twas just one then too…sur’ nuf,” countered Hannah with a smile.
Rolling his eyes, Heath felt a small hand slapping his arm and he found the chocolate eyes looking up at him, “No sass’g yer Hannah now, boy”
“No, ma’am,” replied Heath with a grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Ya’s best rem’ber.” Stated Hannah firmly before asking, “Is we ready?”
The reminder of what was to happen sombered his blue eyes and he nodded, “I have the wagon ready…..its waiting.”
Gathering Rachel and Joy, he escorted the ladies in his famly to the wagon and pulled it to the livery where the sound of a hammer rang out. With the help of his uncle, the pine box was loaded in the back and taken to the cemetery. Speaking over the grave of the man they’d known since he came to Strawberry, Rachel closed the bible in her hands and bowed her head in prayer with the others standing beside the grave. The final amen was completed and Heath took up the shovel, covering the box while his uncle took the wagon and the others back to the hotel.
Taking a few minutes, he sat on the bench inside the plot with his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his entwined hands. Blue eyes studied the crosses of the three now gone for several minutes before standing and kneeling by his mother’s grave. Strong fingers made short work of a few runaway weeds and he tossed them to the side. Crouching in the spot between his mama and Riley, Heath closed his eyes and took a breath, letting it out slowly. Allowing his eyes to open, he shook his head at a sudden flaring of indecision and wondered for a moment if instead it wasn’t a flash of cowardice.
If any man alive had called him a coward, they would have found themselves subject to his wrath and indignation via guns or fists.
Yet here he was again second guessing….no more like hundredth guessing the decision he had made in regards to their futures. He was responsible for those in the hotel and he wanted only the best for them. They had weighed their opinions but in the end left it to him. They wanted to be where he was, helping raise Joy and assisting however they could.
“Mama…Riley….I ‘spect this will be goodbye…I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back and sure hope you understand.” offered Heath before standing and walking to the gate. Looking back after he closed the gate, the blond took a moment before continuing onto the hotel where the family waited.
It had been a little over three weeks since he had ridden down the street of the desolate town of Strawberry, leaving behind a man who had left scars on his face from their clashing. He could have blamed his lack of judgment on the whiskey clouding his mind if someone had asked but truth be told, it was simply a facet of his character. He had quite frankly chosen the wrong time and place for his true identity to flare up. It had been three weeks and the spark of anger over being run from the lackluster town like a painted woman who had come up against the town’s temperance movement slowly kindled to a flicker and then a flame.
Revenge was not a word in his vocabulary; it was more like getting a pound of flesh for the wrong done to him. For he had been wronged…wronged by the man he felt owed him….he could have left him to die in the desert instead of helping him through. He had been tossed aside for others deemed more worthy than him and it stuck in his craw, creating a gnawing in his gut. While his flame of anger wanted to burst into a forest fire, he kept it under control for he was not about to give way to an emotional outburst against the one he was watching. No, time would give him an opportunity and he smiled in anticipation of the morsel he would soon be tasting.
It had been easy to find a spot in the town after he had licked his wounds for the place was nearly void of all human life. He had not returned until he had found the means to replenish the bullets taken from him….no….the particles of his own sought justice. Yeah, mused Gil to himself, that sounds better. It sounded like something the attorney Barkley would say. Shifting on the box he was sitting, his brown eyes watched as his former cellmate and uncle tied down the well used canopy on the wagon. The wagon loaded down with their possessions looked more like it was owned by a bunch of rawhiders than a man with the wealth of the prominent family in his pocket.
He was in no hurry and so did not follow right away as the wagon headed west out of town, the team of chestnuts pulling and straining in their harness. The man he was looking forward to meeting again rode beside the wagon on his modoc. Gil watched from the paneless window on the second story of the forgotten saloon as the wagon lumbered along and Heath stopped. Turning in the saddle and staring back upon the street for a minute before urging his horse forward and following the wagon’s tracks in the dust.
Taking hold of his rifle, Gil stood and picked his way down to the first floor, skirting holes in the flooring and the scattered debris left behind by its former inhabitants. Exiting through the back, he made his way to the horse he’d left in a haphazard corral he’d erected hidden back in a glen. He was in no rush as he saddled and led his horse out of the pen before mounting.
West….looked like someone was maybe going to meet up with his family in Stockton.
‘Interesting’, thought Gil as wry grin spread across his face and he nudged his black with his heels.
Matt walked slowly down the path to the plot where his sister and the woman who gave life to his nephew’s daughter lay in eternal sleep. It had been two weeks since the prominent family had gone home and for the second time in as many weeks, the blond spent time digging a grave in the earth. The grave this time for the livery owner who had befriended Heath as a boy and whose livery became a haven all those years ago. He knew his nephew would always remember the times spent working and learning beside Jeb Collins, a man who knew horses inside and out and who had willingly passed on his knowledge to the next generation.
“Heath, I’m finished…” informed Matt as he walked up to the outside of the small cemetery plot as his nephew stood brushing loose dirt from his clothes. “I think its exactly what Jeb would have wanted.”
Meeting his uncle outside the plot, Heath walked beside him to the livery and stopped before a pine box setting on two sawhorses. Hesitating for a moment, the blond reached up and ran his fingers over the two horses on the lid, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.
“They’re beautiful, Uncle Matt.” Heath offered catching his uncle’s eyes. “Jeb would have been pleased to have such a fine box for his final spot. Thanks for getting it done.”
Waving off his nephew’s words, the hotel owner sighed as he glanced around the livery, unable to comprehend standing in the building without the stoop shouldered man shuffling amidst its space. Jeb had been a staple in their lives and now, he was gone to live in their memories.
“Do you need help with Jeb? Inquired Heath receiving a negative head shake from his uncle who replied, “I’ll get him settled while you get Rachel and Hannah.”
“I unloaded the wagon earlier and I’ll bring it around,” said the blond studying his uncle’s pensive face. “You okay?”
“Huh? Yea, I’m fine….just thinking how in a way I’m relieved about Jeb,” confessed the elderly man with a deep sigh. “I was uneasy about leaving him here alone.”
Reaching over and squeezing his uncle’s shoulder, Heath nodded in agreement, “I know Uncle Matt….I wasn’t exactly too keen on the idea none either. Course Jeb sure wasn’t too quiet about our mollycoddling, was he?”
Chuckling at the words the livery owner had conjured up in response to their concern he would be alone in the town, Matt smiled, “No, he made sure we heard exactly what he thought….he was quite a man.”
“Yep he was….a good friend.” Acknowledged the blond before giving his uncle’s shoulder a final squeeze. “I’ll get the ladies and the wagon.”
Turning and walking to the door, Heath looked back and watched as his uncle headed towards the sleeping quarters in the back of the livery where they’d found Jeb the day before. The man had fallen asleep to never waken, a peaceful finality settled into the withered lines on his face. Opening the door to the corral attached to the livery, Heath grabbed the harness from its hook and approached one of the stocky chestnuts. Leading the equine from the corral and down the street, he hitched the horse to the wagon standing in front of the hotel. Dodging crates sitting on the boardwalk, he entered the hotel and rushed forward taking a crate from the hands of Hannah.
“Hannah, I told ya’ no carrying anything heavy,” scolded Heath as he set the crate with the others on the boardwalk. “That’s what you got me for.”
“Heath my boy, its just one,” protested the petite woman.
“That’s what you said when I caught you carrying the other one,” reminded Heath shaking his finger at her. “That makes two.”
“No, it twas just one then too…sur’ nuf,” countered Hannah with a smile.
Rolling his eyes, Heath felt a small hand slapping his arm and he found the chocolate eyes looking up at him, “No sass’g yer Hannah now, boy”
“No, ma’am,” replied Heath with a grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Ya’s best rem’ber.” Stated Hannah firmly before asking, “Is we ready?”
The reminder of what was to happen sombered his blue eyes and he nodded, “I have the wagon ready…..its waiting.”
Gathering Rachel and Joy, he escorted the ladies in his famly to the wagon and pulled it to the livery where the sound of a hammer rang out. With the help of his uncle, the pine box was loaded in the back and taken to the cemetery. Speaking over the grave of the man they’d known since he came to Strawberry, Rachel closed the bible in her hands and bowed her head in prayer with the others standing beside the grave. The final amen was completed and Heath took up the shovel, covering the box while his uncle took the wagon and the others back to the hotel.
Taking a few minutes, he sat on the bench inside the plot with his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his entwined hands. Blue eyes studied the crosses of the three now gone for several minutes before standing and kneeling by his mother’s grave. Strong fingers made short work of a few runaway weeds and he tossed them to the side. Crouching in the spot between his mama and Riley, Heath closed his eyes and took a breath, letting it out slowly. Allowing his eyes to open, he shook his head at a sudden flaring of indecision and wondered for a moment if instead it wasn’t a flash of cowardice.
If any man alive had called him a coward, they would have found themselves subject to his wrath and indignation via guns or fists.
Yet here he was again second guessing….no more like hundredth guessing the decision he had made in regards to their futures. He was responsible for those in the hotel and he wanted only the best for them. They had weighed their opinions but in the end left it to him. They wanted to be where he was, helping raise Joy and assisting however they could.
“Mama…Riley….I ‘spect this will be goodbye…I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back and sure hope you understand.” offered Heath before standing and walking to the gate. Looking back after he closed the gate, the blond took a moment before continuing onto the hotel where the family waited.
It had been a little over three weeks since he had ridden down the street of the desolate town of Strawberry, leaving behind a man who had left scars on his face from their clashing. He could have blamed his lack of judgment on the whiskey clouding his mind if someone had asked but truth be told, it was simply a facet of his character. He had quite frankly chosen the wrong time and place for his true identity to flare up. It had been three weeks and the spark of anger over being run from the lackluster town like a painted woman who had come up against the town’s temperance movement slowly kindled to a flicker and then a flame.
Revenge was not a word in his vocabulary; it was more like getting a pound of flesh for the wrong done to him. For he had been wronged…wronged by the man he felt owed him….he could have left him to die in the desert instead of helping him through. He had been tossed aside for others deemed more worthy than him and it stuck in his craw, creating a gnawing in his gut. While his flame of anger wanted to burst into a forest fire, he kept it under control for he was not about to give way to an emotional outburst against the one he was watching. No, time would give him an opportunity and he smiled in anticipation of the morsel he would soon be tasting.
It had been easy to find a spot in the town after he had licked his wounds for the place was nearly void of all human life. He had not returned until he had found the means to replenish the bullets taken from him….no….the particles of his own sought justice. Yeah, mused Gil to himself, that sounds better. It sounded like something the attorney Barkley would say. Shifting on the box he was sitting, his brown eyes watched as his former cellmate and uncle tied down the well used canopy on the wagon. The wagon loaded down with their possessions looked more like it was owned by a bunch of rawhiders than a man with the wealth of the prominent family in his pocket.
He was in no hurry and so did not follow right away as the wagon headed west out of town, the team of chestnuts pulling and straining in their harness. The man he was looking forward to meeting again rode beside the wagon on his modoc. Gil watched from the paneless window on the second story of the forgotten saloon as the wagon lumbered along and Heath stopped. Turning in the saddle and staring back upon the street for a minute before urging his horse forward and following the wagon’s tracks in the dust.
Taking hold of his rifle, Gil stood and picked his way down to the first floor, skirting holes in the flooring and the scattered debris left behind by its former inhabitants. Exiting through the back, he made his way to the horse he’d left in a haphazard corral he’d erected hidden back in a glen. He was in no rush as he saddled and led his horse out of the pen before mounting.
West….looked like someone was maybe going to meet up with his family in Stockton.
‘Interesting’, thought Gil as wry grin spread across his face and he nudged his black with his heels.
