Chapter 36
Huddled under his umbrella, Marshall squeezed his mother’s shoulder.
“They’re coming,” Evan said, turning to look beside the mass of people that gathered for the funeral. Marshall watched the group of five women clad in black suits and coats, with a variety of hats propped stylishly on each of their heads.
“It’s sweet how they hold each other up,” Marshall said quietly, his gaze following the older women as they came to join them in front of the casket.
“Yeah, but like, only one of them lost their husband. Why do they all have to make such a dramatic entrance like that?” Evan grumbled. “It’s pure theater.”
“Isn’t Rosebud known for its theater?” Marshall commented with a shrug.
Marshall released his mother and moved to close the distance between himself and the widow, Edith Ellis. Rowena King took her place at the front of the crowd, giving Edith her moment.
Emotion clogged his throat as he wrapped his arms around the widow, absorbing a little sob in his shoulder. Marshall hugged her tight, as though trying to infuse her with his strength.
“I can’t believe it, Edith,” his voice quaked as he spoke.
Edith was so small, especially after multiple rounds of chemo, which had left her weak and fragile.
Marshall held her carefully, afraid to break her.
He wrapped an arm around the narrow shoulders, watching the priest arrive at the podium.
The silence of the moment was sobering, and reality began to sink in. Jack was gone.
Holding onto Edith was giving him strength as much as he thought he was giving it to her. He would make sure all her needs were met once the dust settled. What was the point of money if he couldn’t use the King fortune to help the people who devoted their lives to the ranch?
A shiver ran through him as he watched Edith step up to the coffin after the priest had spoken his final words. She placed a hand on the gleaming casket and closed her eyes.
The tears that he had been holding back all day broke free, and Marshall raised his arm to cover his eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of his jacket.
He couldn’t bear to watch her, the lonely widow, facing a life alone, knowing how much they had meant to each other.
With no children, they were the center of each other’s lives.
Even though he could only imagine the pain she was feeling, agony ripped through his heart at her loss.
At their loss. He sobbed softly into his sleeve, desperate to gather himself and be strong for Edith.
Next to him, Evan reached an arm across Marshall’s shoulders and bent his head to whisper in his ear.
“We’re all gonna miss him,” Evan choked, hugging Marshall tightly.
Edith walked back to Marshall’s side a few moments later. “It’s your turn, Marshall,” she said.
Lifting his head, he could see a line-up of friends and members of the King family, reaching into the dirt and throwing some onto the casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground.
A few people dropped flowers, pops of bright color sprinkled among the dark earth.
Marshall patted his pocket where his own offering to his friend lay.
He waited until most of the guests had wandered off, chatting in groups and drifting away from the burial site.
Edith stood watching, as though waiting for Jack to somehow come back. For this all to be a dream.
Marshall walked up to the grave, his eyes taking in the casket covered in clumps of brown dirt and flowers.
The reassuring weight of the horseshoe belonging to Jack’s horse, Magnolia, sat beneath his hand as it covered his breast pocket.
He pulled the shoe out of his pocket and took a calming breath.
Bringing the treasured item to his lips, he gave the cool metal a soft kiss and dropped it in the grave. It slid off the coffin with a soft thud as it hit the ground.
“Me and Magnolia are going to miss you, buddy,” Marshall said, his breath shuddering in his chest. “I’ll take care of your wife and your horse. I promise.” He doubled over, resting his hands on his thighs as a wave of grief tore through him.
It was so unfair.
Jack was a man in his early sixties, fit as a fiddle.
Above Marshall, the sky grumbled with thunder.
The weather forced people to hurry to their cars to escape the sudden sheets of rain that fell from the sky.
Turning his face up to the rain, Marshall let the cold water numb his skin and wash away the traces of his tears.
The cool air was bracing. Strengthening.
He tucked his hands in his coat pockets as he watched the dirt on Jack’s grave turn to mud.
Mesmerized by the sight, Marshall looked around only to realize everyone had gone.
There was no one left, just him and Jack.
Like it had always been, for one last time.
He could almost feel Jack pushing him to go, to get on with it.
Casting one last glance at the hole in the ground, he turned and walked to his truck, his boots digging into the waterlogged grass with each step. Time to face everyone at the wake.
He breathed a weary sigh. At this moment, he would prefer the company of the rain.
When Marshall arrived at the ranch house, the main floor was buzzing with energy.
The warmth of the kitchen was a welcome change to the icy chill of his body.
Guests stood around the kitchen island, helping themselves to sandwiches and baked goods catered by The Buttercup Bakery.
His mother was doling out hot coffee and sometimes, stronger drinks depending on what their guests requested, with a loving smile and a cheerful quip.
It was funny how Jack could be gone, and yet, life kept on going.
Laughter rang out in the kitchen as people shared their stories from happier times.
Memories of Jack abounded, since the man seemed to always take time to know those around him.
The group of older women, the widows in black, crowded around Evan, who was nervously tugging at his collar.
Brushing past the food, Marshall sought to rescue his friend, who was obviously being cornered by the nosy older women.
“Betty, for such a sad occasion, I must say, you look stunning today,” Marshall said, eyeing all the women surrounding him. “You all look beautiful.”
“Well, at my age, all my friends are dying, so it should come as no surprise that I have a funeral wardrobe. Did you know I have six different black funeral hats? I pick them depending on my mood that day,” Betty said, taking a sip from her glass of white wine.
“Shouldn’t your mood be sad if it’s a funeral?” Evan asked, his brows drawing together in confusion.
“You would think,” Betty answered, a smirk tugging on her lips. “Depends on who died.” She winked at Evan as her friends tittered.
After a hearty chuckle, Edna pressed a hand to her chest. “It doesn’t matter if you’re sad, Evan; you should always take the time to look good.”
Marshall noted the large earrings Edna wore today, black roses shaking every time she spoke. Edna had special funeral earrings, of course.
Evan’s mouth dropped open in shock. Scandalized, Evan moved to say something. Marshall tugged on his friend’s arm, announcing that he needed help with something.
“Those women,” Evan said softly. “I can’t believe the things they say.”
Marshall chuckled softly. “I think they like to tease you because you always react.”
Evan’s eyes narrowed, and he turned back to look at the group of women. “Maybe. I just don’t trust them.”
Catching his eye, Betty waved at him with what Marshall could only call a taunting wink. Evan scoffed, turning to admire the food.
“What can I get you?” Marshall asked, noticing his friend’s hands were empty. He walked behind the kitchen island, where his mother was pouring drinks and handing them to their guests as Fletcher King stood, clasping his elbows and laughing with Evan’s father, Thomas Thomson.
It was nice to see that Evan’s parents and his siblings had all shown up to support Edith.
Marshall could see them all dispersed throughout the crowd.
Evan had two brothers and a sister who all lived in town or on the Thomson family ranch.
The Kings and Thomsons had grown close throughout the years.
It was no surprise to see them turning up after such an awful tragedy.
Pulling two glasses from the cupboard, Marshall poured them each a healthy dose of whiskey. Clinking their glasses together in a salute to Jack, they leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the crowd of guests milling about.
“Did I miss anything?” Marshall asked.
“The town council is here,” Evan explained. “Apparently, everyone is very nervous about the murder.”
“It hasn’t been confirmed yet. Can’t those gossips wait a damn minute?”
“I guess not,” Evan said with a shrug. His friend took a small plate from the counter and selected a sandwich.
Marshall rolled his eyes at how long it took Evan to choose. He had no appetite since the funeral. Eating to survive was his strategy. Maybe he would pick a sandwich too.
“Mmm… This tuna salad looks amazing,” Evan said as he took a large bite. “Have some, Marshall.”
Marshall watched as his friend spoke, his mouth stuffed.
All Marshall could manage was a shake of his head. He grabbed a cookie from a platter and bit into it. The cookie was good, though not as tasty as the ones Colette had made him.
“Who do you think would have killed Jack?” Evan asked, his eyes wandering to the cluster of old women having a lively discussion in the living room. Eyes narrowing, Evan took another bite of his sandwich, mumbling a barely comprehensible. “They’re so shady.”
“What do you have against a group of sweet old ladies?”
Evan snorted. “Please. You know what they did to my little brother. I will never forget.”
“Isn’t Harry happy in a relationship now? Doesn’t seem so evil to me,” Marshall noted.