His Grave Was Waiting

   Boone knelt at his wife’s grave. “I know, Clara, you never wanted to take up with a man that carried a gun, or took to whipping another man, but I’m determined Larry Barkley has a price to pay.”

   The mourners stood nearby waiting for their turn. “What’s he saying?” Chester asked down the funeral line. “Reverend, what’s he saying?”

   Reverend Kent was trying to protect his bible from the rain. He waved Chester to be silent. Charlotte slapped Chester’s hand to quiet him. “He’s talking to her spirit.”

   Boone stood by the open grave, waiting with a shovel as the town folk paid their respects.

   Morgan told Boone he could count on him to help this year come harvest time. Several families had left food in the house for him. The Sheriff said they’d talk some more about what happened in a few days.

   Holt Barkley apologized for his son and said he hoped they could come to some sort of restitution, not today, but some day. “They were just young man playing. They only wanted to spook Eli’s horse. Eli was always showing it off and claiming it was pure white. The horse bucked at the wrong time. It’s no one’s fault. And it wasn‘t only Larry, but Jasper and Billie Longwood were there, too. I bought that horse from Eli, Boone. I bought it and I put it down. You’ll never see it again. We want to make things right, Boone.”       

   The rain drove the mourners away. Holt Barkley went to the property’s edge to join his sons who waited respectively on their horses in their hats and oil coats. Reverend Kent brought his buggy up to the graveside and hung a lantern from it as the day darkened.

   Boone shovelled over the last of the dirt and smoothed the grave top. A cross had already been put in place. Reverend Kent and Boone prayed again. When that was done Boone moved a few feet over from his wife’s grave and began to dig again.

   The Reverend watched him, wondering if he might stop on his own accord, but when he saw it was clear another six by four grave was being dug, he got out of the shelter of his carriage and put a hand on Boone’s shoulder. Boone stopped, and the Reverend gave him a sympathetic look and head shake. “It’s not your time, yet.”

   Boone gently pushed away the Reverend and kept digging.

   “What’s he doing?” Logan Barkley asked squinting in the darkness.

   His father answered. “He’s digging another grave.” He turned to his son, Larry. “You see this? You see what you’ve done to this man? You and your games. You think because you didn’t mean it, you don’t have to pay for it? We’re all going to pay for it. The whole family. You think the town will forget this? You’re lucky I only put the horse down.”

   Larry Barkley pulled away from his father’s side and rode off. His brother Logan moved as if to follow.

   “Let him go.” Holt said.

   “What are we doing here, pa?”

    “If Boone Mason plans to do himself in I want to know tonight and not hear about it in town days from now. At least then I’d know things were laid to rest for all of us.”

    Boone took his time and carefully dug down the six feet. Finished, he inspected the second grave one last time. Reverend Kent got out of his carriage again. The rain had stopped. It was late.

   “You mustn’t harm yourself, Boone. It would be a sin.”

   Boone touched the Reverend’s shoulder and it seemed as if they would both go into the house now. Instead, Boone moved a few feet over from the open grave and began digging again.

    “Don’t do this, Boone.” The Reverend warned.

   Logan had been sneaking up on foot in the field between the graves and the property’s edge, but now turned to run back to his father.

   “Pa, he’s digging another one!”

   “I saw that.”

   “No, another one!”

   “Lower your voice! I know, his wife is buried and he’s dug another grave for himself.”

   “No, pa, his wife is buried, and he’s digging two graves.”

    “Oh, Lord. Get back home. Tell Mark to get the Sheriff back here. Get Easton and Taylor and find your brother. Logan, listen to me, you find your brother, because when Boone finishes digging that second grave, he’s going to come looking for him.”

   Holt Barkley rode his horse up to the graves and got down. Boone kept digging.

   “Boone? Boone, could you stop this, please?” Holt said.

   Boone kept digging, not looking to Holt. “You know, I taught those boys of yours for years. They didn’t learn much from me, but I taught them. And I’d come home to Clara and I’d complain and she’d tell me, ‘You have to forgive them, Boone, they’re boys.’ And in the last few days she lived since that horse kick, she was still asking me to forgive them. To forgive Larry. But, you know, Holt, that’s not what’s in my heart.”

  After a bit Holt went and sat beside the Reverend in the carriage. Boone kept digging.

   When Boone had finished, he went into the house and slept. Late the next day he got up and helped himself to some pie in the kitchen. Coffee was brewed and around his table were the Reverend, Holt, and the Sheriff. Availing himself of the outhouse Boone saw the rest of Holt’s family by his property’s edge. He waved them over but they kept their distance.

   “Holt, you going invite those sons of yours, and your workers, into my home, too?” Boone said returning to the kitchen. “I don’t remember Larry paying any respect to Clara since the day he was only playing around.”

   Holt got up and went outside. When he came back Larry was with him.

   “I’m sorry, Mr. Mason.” Larry said, hat in hand.

   “Yea, I’m not feeling very forgiving today, Lawrence.”

   “I know, Mr. Mason. I know it’s my fault. Pa, said you dug two graves. It’s like that Confusion man you told us about. It’s vengeance, isn’t it? You dig one for the other fellow, and you dig one for yourself. I was feeling really bad. I was too ashamed to come to the funeral. Then I heard what you were doing and I got really scared and I was going to run off. I thought about being dead and I started making out a last will in my head.” Larry took a paper from his coat and set it down in front of Boone. “I wrote it out. It’s my Last Will and Testament. I want to be buried in the grave you dug for me. I always thought I’d be buried on my pa’s ranch, but I think it be better to be buried here, and maybe if you don’t forgive me, maybe Clara… maybe Mrs. Mason would forgive me if she knew I was nearby.”

   The Reverend reached a hand over to Boone. “There’s been no promise that those graves have to be filled today. They might wait a whole lifetime.”

   Boone held the Last Will and Testament. “Clara’s forgiven you, Larry Barkley. You go on home now.”

   Boone, Holt, the Sheriff, and the Reverend sat at the table drinking coffee in silence for the better part of an hour.

   “Sun’s out. That’s a good sign.” The Reverend announced.

   Boone got up and placed the Will in a lock box on the fireplace mantel. “Okay, everyone, go on home. Go home now. I got some grieving to do.”