Page 68 of Charlotte's Reckoning
He ached to comfort her, and, despite the blood, reached for her hand.
She recoiled, whispering, “You mustn’t,” and pulled away. “Will you do something for me, Seth?”
“Anything,” he murmured.
“End my nightmare.”
He gripped her forearm, ignoring the grisly stains. “Believe me, I want that as much as you do.” Seth hated to leave her, but every minute he lingered, Thorn put distance between them. “We’ll talk more when it’s done.”
With one last reassuring squeeze, he rose and strode out, his resolve to end Thorn’s reign of terror unwavering—for her, and for himself.
Chapter 16
The Poignant Farewell
A steady drizzle fell from the dull gray sky, its patter blending with the hushed sobs of the mourners gathered around the gravesite. The scent of fragrant wildflowers several of the women had picked for Fenton’s final resting place—orange hawkweed, buttercups, and black-eyed Susans—mixed with the earthy aroma of wet soil, and fresh-cut wood from the made-to-order casket. Charlotte stood beneath a black umbrella, her heart heavy with grief. Among the small gathering—except for the preacher, all Red Eye Saloon employees—tears mixed with raindrops on their somber faces.
The preacher’s words were kind but impersonal. How could they be anything else? He didn’t know Fen. Those who knew him best shared a story, some humorous, others heartfelt. Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to do so without breaking down but appreciated those who could.
Fen would have loathed the poignant farewell. He would have preferred a toast with his best whiskey.He once told her he wasn’t spiritual and only went to church for weddings and funerals. She had been raised differently. With her in charge of his final send-off, she insisted on a preacher, and found solace in his plea for Fenton’s absolution.
Charlotte wiped away a tear—something else he would have hated—as she reflected on the times they had shared. Not all of them were bad. Beneath his often-gruff exterior, Fen had hidden a kind heart. She’d seen it. The others had witnessed it too; otherwise, they wouldn’t be here for him now.
When the service was over and everyone had filed out of the small public cemetery, Charlotte lingered while Fen’s casket was lowered into the ground, flinching as the first clump of wet dirt hit the wooden box. She stayed through it all until her feet grew wet from the puddle forming around her.
When the gravediggers finished, she laid the wildflowers she’d clutched in her hand on the grave, and, with a heavy heart, moved toward the gate. When she looked up and saw the four Jackson women waiting just inside the fence, she halted. Compassion shone on their faces, and Charlotte felt a swell of gratitude for their support.
Jenny, who she knew best from her brief stint playing piano at the Red Eye, stepped forward and hugged her close. “Please accept my condolences, Charlotte. Mr. Sneed’s booming bellows scared me half to death, but I know you were close.”
“Much of that was bluster,” she said in Fen’s defense.
“It was effective.”
“That’s why he did it so often,” Charlotte disclosed.
Wisteria moved forward next and gripped her hands. “I never know what to say at a time like this.”
“That’s because there are no words. I’ve been through it before, and it’s never easy.”
Janelle moved up next to her sisters-in-law, Leticia Jackson, mother-in-law to all three young women, beside her.
“What can we do?” the eldest Mrs. Jackson asked.
“Name it,” Janelle offered. “You’ve done so much for us. We want to be there for you, too.”
Overwhelmed by their kindness, a stark contrast to the treatment she’d received from the other decent folk in town, she blinked back tears. “Having you here means everything. But what will your husbands say?”
Jenny leaned in and murmured, “Nothing, if they’re smart.”
“Or you could ask them yourself,” Wisteria suggested, angling her head to the side.
When Charlotte looked in that direction, she saw a wall of tall, broad-shouldered Jackson men standing beside a covered surrey, and behind it a line of four horses.
She nodded her thanks to them.
“We consider you our friend, and so do they, no matter how much they grumble,” Leticia confided. She wrapped her arm around her waist. “Let’s get you home and out of this rain, dear. Maybe for a cup of hot tea.”
“The saloon is closed this evening. We’re having a gathering in Fen’s honor. I’d invite you all, but…” She glanced meaningfully at their husbands.
