Chapter Three
T hree weeks later…
The funeral service would bring closure, Cal thought as he fiddled with the button of his new coat. He’d had to buy a new shirt, too. He’d bulked out across the shoulders and thighs since they’d buried his father and his old church clothes no longer fit him. His stomach had stayed trim, courtesy of riding and ranching… pulling calves and mending fences, splitting wood and a million other everyday tasks he got through in a solid day’s work, but it wouldn’t do for a man to split his trousers at the funeral of his long-lost best friend.
He stood with his brothers outside the tiny church that had been in the valley for generations. People from the valley and beyond had turned out to pay their final respects. If they were anything like him, they’d put in a prayer for peace for the living while they were at it. He was a pallbearer, alongside his brothers, and Sam was a pallbearer, too.
Beth had refused her son’s request to walk the coffin into the church at first.
And the second and third time, too.
And then Savannah Casey, mother of men, had taken Beth aside, and by the time Savannah had finished talking, Beth had changed her mind.
“I told her that if Sam didn’t think himself capable of undertaking that duty, he wouldn’t have asked for it three times over,” Savannah had told him later. She’d fixed all five of her sons with a steely gaze. “And I told her that my sons would be there to steady her son if he faltered. I trust you’ll prove me right.”
The yes, ma’ams had come thick and fast but she’d held Cal back, wanting a word with him alone. “It’s you he looks up to the most. And there’s not a doubt in my mind that he won’t take strength from you on the day.”
“I’ll be there,” he’d promised.
And here he was, with Sam in his Sunday best, sticking to him like glue as they lined up around the coffin. Sam, in front of him and Seth behind. Mason, TJ, and Jett on the other side.
They’d be carrying the coffin by its handles, down low so that Sam could shoulder a little of the weight as well. Cal had never been derelict in any duty laid upon him yet, and to the best of his ability, he’d see this one through, too.
He crouched down next to the boy, last minute, as the funeral music began. The kid’s tie was fit to strangle him, and Cal loosened it off a touch before placing a hand on Sam’s painfully thin shoulder. “I know you’ll do your father proud today. An’ you can stick close to me all day long or you can talk with the people who want to pay their respects to you and your mom. I’ll be watching out for you no matter what. That’s a promise I’m making to you, your father, and God. Got it?”
The boy nodded.
“Your dad was a good man—you’re going to hear a lot of that today. He loved you and your mom something fierce. He would never have left you voluntarily, and he didn’t, and you know that now, beyond any doubt. You can be proud of the man he was.”
Cal didn’t rightly know if he believed that about Red or not, but now was not the time to dwell on it.
Sam needed to believe that his father was a good man, and if that meant not examining the past too closely, so be it.
Eyes bright, the boy nodded.
“Be grateful for the people who’ve come to grieve with you today. They’re a tough crowd, but you’re one of them, and they’re proud to stand beside you while you lay your father to rest. This is one of the hardest days you’ll ever put in, but you’ve got this.”
Another nod, firmer this time.
“Let’s do it.” Cal straightened and took his place, and on his count of three they lifted the coffin from the trolley. With a few more quiet left, right mutterings, they fell into step and entered the church.
And, after almost three long years of not knowing, finally laid Owen ‘Red’ Evans to rest.
*
Funny things, funerals, Beth thought wearily as this one neared its end. For her, the torture of not knowing what had happened to Red had come to a close, and there was solace in that. She was a proper widow now, and there was comfort in that. Not a woman whose husband might have abandoned her for someone else and never looked back. Not someone living her life in limbo, wondering if one day her missing husband might walk through the door. She could move on now. People kept saying that. Good, charitable people all wanting the best for her.
You’re still young. Beautiful, with a son to be proud of. You can start over.
What did that even mean?
She caught Sam’s eye and gave him a small nod. They’d been mingling for hours, Sam a small and somber shadow at her side when he wasn’t tailing Cal. The food that had been set out on long trestle tables was long gone and there was no more tea or coffee in the shiny boiler urns. She’d spoken to everyone and thanked them for coming. All except for one very important person who’d spent most of the funeral avoiding her.
He looked so fine in his shiny cowboy boots and neatly pressed black trousers. So very solid in his black shirt and gray suede coat that ended somewhere around his knees. Below the knees on anyone else, but this was Cal Casey. Big in stature, great big heart.
“Ready to go home soon?” she asked as Sam reached her side.
“Soon as you do that thing you said you would.”
Right. That thing she’d promised to do today, in front of God and anyone else within hearing distance.
She knew where Cal was. She’d known where he was every moment of the morning, often without even having to look. Standing on the other side of her son in the church. Shaking hands with neighbors. He was the calm in the eye of a storm, the king pole in a circus tent, bringer of towering strength and shelter.
Tolerant.
To a fault.
His brother Mason had been right to defend him, and she’d been so very wrong.
She glanced down at Sam and took a deep breath. “Back me up?”
“You bet.”
She shook out her hands, did a little dance on the spot the way boxers sometimes did before entering the ring for a big title fight.
Time to be the best mom, the best person , she could be.
Stepping up into a circle of Casey men wasn’t easy, even if Jett and Seth automatically made room for her.
She held out her hand to the nearest one, starting off small and warming her way up to the big event. “Thank you, Jett, for everything. I won’t forget the honor you’ve afforded Red, or me, or Sam, by being a pallbearer today. TJ, you, too. Thank you for making the journey. Mason, I know you were supposed to be at the big stock auction in Dallas today, so thank you for being here instead. I won’t forget that courtesy. Seth, you’re a rock, thank you so much. I’ve left you each a little something at your mom’s place.” Whiskey, the best she could afford, and a thank you note written by Sam and signed by them both.
Finally, she stood in front of Cal and looked up into that craggy face and forever kind eyes. “Cal, thank you for showing up in spite of all the horrible accusations I leveled at you up on the mountain.”
“You were in shock.”
“I was a witch.”
Someone coughed to hide a laugh, but her gaze never left Cal’s wary face, so she didn’t know who. “I’m ashamed of myself and deeply regret hurting you with my hateful words.” How many nights had she lain awake trying to get the words of this apology exactly right? She dug around in her clutch purse that held little more than tissues and a folded sheet of paper crammed full of words on both sides. “Do you have a moment? I have an apology memorized, but I wrote it all out just in case I got too nervous.” And boy, was she nervous.
“I don’t need to hear it,” he said quietly.
“I might,” Mason said, and Beth didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified when Cal’s gaze left hers and landed on his older brother with the chill of a thousand winter mornings. Mason lifted his hands in surrender, and said nothing more, but he was right. Word of her outburst had gotten around. Hopefully word of her apology would make the rounds too.
She cleared her throat and fingered the edge of the paper, risking a paper cut, and tried not to lose her nerve. She glanced down at the starting words and then back at Cal and let memory take over, hoping her voice wouldn’t sound as shaky as her hands. “Dear Cal.” She hoped the dear wouldn’t count as overstepping. “You’ve been a better friend and neighbor these past years than I ever deserved. You eased my load so many times, and Sam’s, too, and for that we can never repay you.” She caught her son’s eye and he gave an encouraging nod. So far, so good. “You’re generous, honorable, hardworking, and as solid as the mountains. There is no better role model for Sam than you, and he’s blessed to have you as his godfather. And instead of thanking you for such a blessing, I abused the privilege of your friendship and I—”
“Dog, just shoot him now,” one of his brothers muttered, and she glanced over to find Seth’s big hand covering his face as if he simply couldn’t watch.
What? What was she doing wrong this time?
“Cal, I deeply regret my behavior. Not one word of what I said was true. It was unfair of me to skewer you with my issues, possibly even unforgivable—”
“Apology accepted,” Cal interrupted gruffly.
“But I still have a page and a half to—”
“ Beth. ”
The way he said her name, just a gentle, pained kind of weariness.
“ Enough. I know you’re hurting. I know you want to put this behind you and move on. You’re not the only one. I’ve heard you out. I accept your apology. Your outburst that day doesn’t keep me awake. Let it go.”
It sounded like good advice.
She nodded jerkily and refolded the apology and held it out to him.
He sure could back up fast for a big man.
“It’s for you.”
“He can’t read.” His brother Seth tried to make a joke out of the awkward moment.
“Allergic to limelight,” Jett offered.
“I’ll take it for safekeeping,” Mason offered, and it was this comment that had Cal reaching for the paper and hastily pocketing it.
The way Cal and his big brother locked hard gazes seemed only to confirm that Cal had just been soundly outmaneuvered. They butted heads, those two. Like two bucks fighting for dominance, and yet they would also defend each other to the death.
All she had to do was remember Mason’s words up on the mountain to know that.
“Thank you, all of you.” It didn’t seem like her apology had been nearly enough, but at least she’d kept her promise to her son and to herself and delivered it. “Ready to roll, Sam?”
Sam stepped up to Cal and hugged him hard, burying his head in the man’s waist. Cal’s big arm came around her son’s shoulder as he returned the hug. “You did your father proud today. I knew you would.”
“You helped.”
“Always will.”
And there it was. The steadfastness she didn’t know how to respond to because it called to her and always would.
“Come by for a coffee one morning this week if you have the time,” she said to Cal, as Sam solemnly shook hands with the rest of the Casey men before making his way to her side. “I have a thought or two about what I want to do with the ranch that I’d like to run past you.”
“We all invited?” Mason asked. “Because I’m away next week but back the week after.” He knew, or at least suspected, where her ranch conversation was going. They probably all did.
The simple fact being that she couldn’t keep running it into the ground.
“Just Cal to start. And if any of you feel a burning need to tell me that Cara Sefton’s buying property in the area and would spend a small fortune to secure mine, I already know.”
“We can counter her,” Seth said swiftly. “I promised mom I wasn’t going to talk about this today and I’m not. But Casey and Sons, and that means all of us, can counter.”
“Good job not talking about it, dude,” TJ offered dryly.
“I can drop by Wednesday morning around ten,” Cal said.
“I’ll make breakfast. Second breakfast.” Was that too neighborly? What rancher ever said no to second breakfast?
“Can I be there, too?” Sam asked, but at this she balked.
“You, light of my life, will be at school.”