information.
âIâd admire to hear your thoughts on what I should do about the boy,â he said. âI donât reckon heâs got any other kin, least not until somebody catches up to his mother and sets her free from her captives. Heâs a lot more scared than he lets on.â
Sister reached across the porch swing and placed her hand on her brotherâs shoulder, then leaned forward to brush a kiss against his cheek. âHeâs welcome to stay right here,â she said.
He smiled. âI got a strong impression that he liked your cooking.â
They talked late into the night. He told her of his plan to soon leave again, this time to return Tater Barclayâs rig and join Marshal Thorntreeâs posse. âIâm thinking,â he said, âthat if we can catch up to those who killed our father, we might also learn the whereabouts of Jakeyâs mama.â
âBut youâll be staying here until we can have a proper funeral for Daddy,â she said. âFirst thing tomorrow, Iâll see to it that things get set in motion.â
Her brother slapped his hands against his knees, nodded, and rose. âFair enough.â
He had taken only a few weary steps in the direction of the barn when Sister called out, âSeeing as how youâre now the man of the family, maybe itâs time you moved back into the house.â
Taylor waved an arm in response. âIâll think on it,â he said as he continued walking toward his makeshift room.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
The funeral of Dr. Winslow Taylor was the largest anyone in Independence could remember. A caravan of buckboards and horses made its way to the farm, where people gathered in the shade of two spreading oak trees. Women fannedthemselves, men shuffled uncomfortably, and children whom the doctor had helped bring into the world played nearby. Members of the church choir sang âOld Rugged Crossâ and âAmazing Graceâ and the preacher read scripture and used words like
beloved
and
respected
as he eulogized the departed.
After the casket was lowered into the ground, guests were invited to the house, where ladies of the church helped Sister serve lemonade and cake.
Jakey, attending his first funeral, stayed close to Thadâs side. âSeems folks really admired your pa,â he said.
âSeems so.â
âI wish my pa could have had himself a proper burying.â
Taylor placed an arm across the youngsterâs shoulders. âBoy,â he said, âIâm gonna see to that right soon. Come first light, Iâll be heading out to tend some business. And itâs my plan to stop by your folksâ place on the way.â
As he spoke, Stubby June, having closed his saloon to come pay his respects, approached. âIâm mighty sorry âbout your daddy,â he said. In his hand was the hat Taylor had lost in his last drunken skirmish. âItâs a bit stomped on, but I was thinking you might be needing it.â
Taylor smiled. âWonât be,â he said. âIâve got me another.â
Chapter 6
The smell of charred wood still hung in the hot air and buzzards glided in lazy circles over the small clearing where Jakey and his parents had lived. Coyotes and rats had also visited, leaving little more than a grotesque skeleton for Taylor to find upon his arrival.
He tied a bandanna over his face in an effort to mask the stench, then lifted a pick and shovel from the wagon and walked toward the soft ground where the familyâs garden had been before it was trampled by Indian ponies. There, in the eerie quiet, he began to dig a final resting place for a man heâd never known.
He cut the leather bindings from what remained of the body, wrapped it in a tarp heâd brought along, and dragged it to the grave site.
His father had been a devout Presbyterian, but Thad was not a religious man, so he knew no scriptures
Justin Tilley, Mike Mcnair