Page 488 of Conveniently Wed
Lorinda picked it up and flipped open the cover to read the inscription inside.To Mike from Lorinda.She closed the cover and clutched it in her right hand, remembering how proud she’d been when she gave it to her husband on their first anniversary. And Mike had been just as proud.So this really is him.Her moment of hope evaporated taking most of her fragile strength with it.
“How did he die?” She almost hesitated to ask. Did she really want to know what horror befell her husband?
“We’re not sure...” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand again. “No way to tell.”
Numbness settled so deeply inside her that she didn’t think she’d ever feel anything again.
“I’ve been thinking about what needs to happen now.” Like a caged animal, the rancher walked toward the stove, then back while he talked. “I’ve decided the best thing would be for you to come back to the homestead. I have a housekeeper who would be glad to have you there. You don’t need to stay here alone.”
He has decided?Another man who wanted to tell her what to do. Just like Pa... Just like Mike. Well,hewouldn’t get away with it. She didn’t have to obey him. Lorinda stood and pulled herself to her full height before facing him. “Idon’t think it’s a good idea.”
His eyes widened. Obviously, he’d expected her to be compliant.
“Before Mike left, he bought plenty of supplies to last through the winter. I’ll be just fine.” She lifted her chin at the end of the last statement, hoping it would show her determination.
“You’ll be snowed in before long. Besides, you’ll need people around you while you grieve. Maybe you could go stay with your family. I’d be glad to make sure you have a way to get there.” His eyes held sympathy as they bored into hers.
Lorinda turned away from his intense gaze. “I. Have. No. Family.” She bit out the words one at a time, and they fell like stones against the hard floor.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the man rub the bridge of his nose between two fingers of one hand. Lorinda looked him full in the face and was surprised that pain had drawn his eyes into a squint, and his mouth tightened before he relaxed. Perhaps he had a headache.
“Can you tell me anything about my husband’s death?” She was glad she got all the words out without sobbing.
“Not really. We don’t know exactly what day he was killed.” When his foreman opened the front door and came in, Mr. Vine looked relieved.
“I’ve found a good spot.” Thomas Walker took off his hat and held it in front of his waist. “If it’s all right with you, Ma’am, we’ll bury him under the large aspen tree to the west of the dugout. The one that stands off to itself.”
Lorinda nodded. Any place was fine with her. At least she didn’t need to think about choosing a spot anymore.
“If the ground’s frozen too hard, we’ll use some of your wood for a fire to soften it, if that’s all right with you, Ma’am.” The tall rancher didn’t move until she nodded.
Burying her husband took far longer than Lorinda ever dreamed it would. While the two men dug in the ground they thawed, she sat in the rocking chair by the stove remembering all the good times with Mike. She didn’t want to think about the hard times. The pain from her loss was too intense.
Memories assailed her–Mike when he came for her and carried her away from her father’s house while he was passed out drunk on the bed. Tall, strong, and handsome, Mike had earned her trust. He took her to the next town where he had a preacher ready to marry them. After that, they’d ridden across country for over a week, camping at night until they reached the Rocky Mountains.
Lorinda had never seen anything so majestic. They’d spied the hazy purple peaks that reached to the cloudy sky for three days before they reached the foothills. The stop in Denver had only taken a couple of days while Mike bought all they needed to prospect for gold. As they climbed up the rugged roads, then the tiny trails, toward the gold mine Mike had discovered, she’d been happy, loving this man who’d brought sunshine into her meager existence.
Tears continued to stream down her face, and she dabbed them away with the damp handkerchief she pulled from her pocket.
Their first home had been the dugout, where all her provisions for winter now resided. They’d worked side by side felling trees, then building the cabin. Even though Mike was bossy, she’d loved him with all her heart, reveling in the freedom from the pain that had filled her life before.
By the time the rancher and his foreman returned to the house, tears had soaked every thread of the handkerchief she twisted in her hands. She looked up as they came through the door.
“Ma’am, we’re ready to say a few words over the grave. Would you like to join us?” Once again, Mr. Vine’s voice sounded calm and soothing. No man in her life had ever spoken to her as he did.
Lorinda patted her eyes, but the sodden cotton couldn’t hold another tear. Mr. Vine reached into his pocket and pulled out a bandanna that had been ironed into a neat compact square. He unfolded it and handed it to her.
Franklin stood behind the crude cross Thomas made out of a limb and a leather thong he had in his saddlebags. His foreman and Mrs. Sullivan were on opposite sides of the new mound of dirt. Both stared at the ground. Franklin cleared his throat.
“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”’ The words he’d often read poured from his mouth as if he had spent time memorizing them.Thank you, Lord, for bringing them to mind.
Mrs. Sullivan’s quiet sob pierced his heart. How he wished he could somehow comfort the forlorn woman. If only she’d let them take her away from this lonely mountain.
‘“Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”’ Franklin searched his memory for the next words, but nothing came. This woman needed all the comfort he could give her. ‘“And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”’
Thomas murmured a quiet “Amen,” and another sob wrenched from Mrs. Sullivan. Slowly, she sank to her knees on the cold, wet ground and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, but no other sound escaped her.
A tiny crack slithered down the hard shell Franklin had built around his heart. If only things were different. If only...
