Page 33 of The Unbuttoned Ranger
“Actually, why don’t you come with me,” he said.
“Where?”
“I’d like to show you something.”
She felt some excitement. “I’d love to.”
He unhooked the trailer and they loaded up into the truck. She saw a bouquet of wildflower on the backseat. Who was he buying flowers for? And why was she so curious?
Instead of heading onto the lane, he drove through the field. The bumps nearly knocked her out of her seat. “Where are we going?”
“Have patience.” He drove slower as the terrain changed to thicker weeds. He stopped. “All this here is Piper’s land, and on this side is Pa’s. However, this area,” he pointed to a strip of land, “is shared.”
The sun glistened down onto the headstones that dotted the fenced-in plot of land. “You have a cemetery on your property?”
“I wouldn’t call it a cemetery but instead it’s a burial plot for Creeds and Lovelands.” He turned off the engine, grabbed the flowers, and climbed out. CaDee followed.
The view from on the hill could only be described as breathtaking. She could see for miles. Sharp was pulling weeds away from a headstone.
She read the name etched in the marble.Matthew Loveland. Beloved Husband. Father. Brother. Son. Always Remembered.“Is this Piper’s late husband?”
“Yeah,” Sharp said in a lowered voice as if in respect. “And this is their son.”
She read the epitaph.Jonathon. Son. Gone too soon.It was the date that made her heart kick into her ribs. Tears filled her eyes. “They died on the same day. “Yeah.”
What happened to them?”
“Farming accident. The Piper you see now isn’t the woman she was before she lost her world. It nearly destroyed her. She’s suffered more loss than most of us could ever imagine or endure.”
“I-I…she seems so strong.”
“She’s had no choice.” He swiped off his hat and slapped it against his thigh as if releasing tension. “I’m showing you this because everyone has a story.”
“She’s never said anything.” The breeze caught her words.
“It’s not something she goes around telling people.”
“What about you, Sharp?”
He gave her a sideways look. “What about me?”
“What’s your story?”
He nodded and made his way toward a tall, elegant headstone carved into the shape of a horse. “I’ve felt loss too.”
“Your mother?”
He cleared his throat. “Tragedy lingers here, but loved ones' spirits add to this place.” He placed the flowers on the ground in front of the headstone. “I try to make it up here often to bring her flowers. That’s what I remember most about her, that she loved wildflowers. In the morning before anyone was awake she’d pick them from her garden.” There was a hitch to his tone.
“You really love this land.”
“It’s a legacy.”
“What about your scars, Sharp? I’m guessing those aren’t from a farming accident.”
He slammed his hat back on his head. “How about we save that story for another time.” He swiveled and faced her, holding her gaze. “Maybe we both can tell our story soon.” He strode back to the truck.
She watched his back as he retreated then looked down at the beautifully crafted headstone. “Your son is stubborn.”
