Page 148 of The Mountain Echoes
“Now, I’m a man of scripture,” he continues, glancing out over the crowd, “but Earl believed more in work than in words—more in action than praise. And I think God makes special room for men like him. Men who love the land. Who tell the truth straight, even when it stings. Who’d rather mend a fence than talk about their feelings.”
Aria squeezes my hand. She told me last night that she finally has the courage to lean on me. I told her it’s my honor—and I mean it.
When a woman as strong as Aria chooses to stand beside you, to let you care for her, it’s not just trust. It’s a gift.
I feel lucky. Deeply, immeasurably lucky.
Father McKay pauses, clearing his throat, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Earl was a straight shooter, asy’all know. He always said, ‘If I die and find out heaven’s a dry county with no brothel in sight, I’m turnin’ right around.’”
A low ripple of laughter rolls through the gathered crowd.
The priest grins. “And I always asked, ‘You think you’re headed to heaven, Earl?’ Earl would slap his thigh and go, ‘Damn right, Padre—God owes me for puttin’ up with half the jackasses in this town.’”
Laughter rises, some of it through tears. Even Aria lets out a choked laugh.
“Earl, I hope heaven is everything you want it to be.” Father McKay’s voice drops. “We’ll miss you, old friend.”
He nods at Aria. She smiles and tips her chin in acknowledgement.
Nadine wipes her eyes. Vera is holding Benji’s hand tightly. He’s been bawling his eyes out. Tomas is quiet, standing a little away from the few of us here, his hat close to his chest, as if he’s saying his own goodbye.
“So, you know Earl wasn’t a eulogy kinda cowboy, and he’d roll his eyes if he knew I was standing up here talking about him. He always said a man’s work should speak louder than his name ever could. But today, I have to speak because Earl was Longhorn’s backbone, and for me, he was family.”
She pauses as if gearing herself for the really hard stuff. She looks at me, and I nod, silently telling her, ‘You’ve got this.’
“He didn’t say much. Y’all know, he mostly grunted.”
Nadine laughs. Others join in.
“But when he did talk, you listened because beneath all that gruff was a steady, loyal heart. He taught me what it means to belong to the land, to fight for something even when you’re tired and out of hope. He believed in doing what was right, not what was easy. And he believed in this place. In me.”
She stops to collect herself again. She doesn’t want to cry, she told me earlier, not here, not now, maybe later, “I can fall apart, and you can hold me?”
Like I said, it’s an honor to be the man who holds her.
“I don’t know how we’ll fill the space he’s left behind except”—her voice breaks, but she keeps reading—"to keep showing up like he did. Early, stubborn, and ready to get to work. That’s how I’ll honor him. Goodbye, friend and father figure.”
She didn’t cry then.
She didn’t cry as Wildflower Canyon gathered at the ranch house—neighbors, old hands, distant cousins, people showing up with casseroles and careful expressions. Some came to pay their respects. Some came because they truly loved Earl.
And some came to gossip. About Hudson and Celine. About Tate, who—according to not-so-secret grand jury whispers—has turned state’s witness against Celine. Nothing stays quiet long in Wildflower Canyon.
It’s the juiciest thing to hit this town of sprawling ranches since someone tried to shoot Duke and ended up wounding Elena instead.
But now it’s just us, and Ariaiscrying.
We’re where Earl’s been put to rest.
Aria kneels by the grave, palms resting in the dirt like she’s anchoring herself to it. I sit beside her in the dirt, letting the silence fall where words can’t go. I watch her reach out and brush some of the freshly turned soil like she’s smoothing down a blanket.
“I’m not running, Earl,” she says, her voice splintering. “I’m here. I stayed. I’m going to fight for this place. Just like you did.”
She lies down like she did with Rami. Her cheek to the earth, one hand curled beside the simple wooden cross.
“Goodnight, old man,” she murmurs. “Get some rest, okay? Say hi to Papa for me.”
My throat tightens like there’s a rope pulled taut across it.
