CHAPTER 42

That same evening the clouds lifted, creating an odd sight: dark cumulus, Prussian blue overhead, with a thin band of turquoise twilight underneath.

Everyone on the farm was behind on their chores because of the long hound walk and the sheriff coming to pick up the rope. He asked questions about everything, which they expected. No doubt he would check today’s reports with Saturday’s, searching for discrepancies or new information. No one could accuse him of not being thorough.

Just as Sister and Doug were bedding down the horses they heard a trailer rumble down the drive.

Raleigh hurried outside, leaving Golly inside. He let out a perfunctory bark, then shut up. Golly was so upset at missing events she spent the remainder of the day following Raleigh around, to his amusement, not to hers.

“I’ll see who it is.” Sister slid back the heavy metal stall door, a mesh to allow cooling breezes in the summer.

In winter Doug or Sister could throw on an extra blanket. Keeping a horse cool in summer’s oppressive heat proved far more difficult than keeping them warm in winter.

The thin band of turquoise above the mountains slowly turned purple.

Sorrel Buruss cut the motor on the Chevy dually truck and stepped out into the cool air. “Sister, will you take Gunpowder and Keepsake? I should have called but I don’t know. I can’t seem to keep anything straight in my head and I know Fontaine would want the horses well cared for and used. They’ll sit around in the barn and that’s not right.”

“Sorrel.” Sister put her arm around the pretty woman’s shoulders. “I’ll give them the best of care. We’ll hunt them and when you’ve had time to think things through if you want to sell them, I will.”

“I’d like to donate them to the hunt.” Her lower lip trembled.

“Let’s wait and see how much money you have left when all is said and done. Okay?”

Sorrel, a well-groomed woman even in grief, cried. She couldn’t speak.

“Doug can unload. Come on. Let me get you a cup of coffee or a drink if it’s too late for coffee. All right?” As Sorrel nodded her agreement, Sister walked back into the stable. “Doug, will you unload Gunsmoke and Keepsake? We’ll be caring for them for a while.”

“Sure.”

Once in Sister’s kitchen, the fire roaring in the huge fireplace, Sorrel relaxed a little. “The funeral is tomorrow and I couldn’t stand one more deeply sympathetic condolence. One more person at the door. God, I must be awful. The kids are at Mom’s. They’re upset but at the same time kind of excited, all the food, flowers, people.”

“I often wonder what stays with them. The telling detail. I don’t know. I remember a great deal from my childhood and yet when my brother was alive he’d recall the same event not so much in contradiction but with a different emphasis. It used to make me wonder about my mind.”

“I gave up on my mind a long time ago.” Sorrel half smiled, grateful to be out of the gloom of her own home. “I apologize for just dropping in on you. I could have called. . . . I just went to the barn and pulled those guys out of their stalls. At least I remembered their halters and lead. I have moments when I can’t remember anything. I’m moving but I’m not functioning. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” Sister offered her some cookies, then sat down herself.

Raleigh reposed by the fireplace. Golly sat on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know how I’m going to get through tomorrow.”

“You will.”

“How did you do it? Twice.”

“I told myself that the men in my life wouldn’t take kindly to a wife or a mother who fell apart in front of God and everybody.”

“I guess we just go on—I mean, I don’t even know why I’m here. I mean here as in alive. I don’t seem to have a purpose. I never did. I had a purpose as a wife and a mother but I can’t see anything. I—”

“Sorrel, maybe we don’t have a purpose. Maybe we’re here to just live. But whatever, right now you go through the motions. The substance of your life may be revealed later.”

“You have a purpose.” Sorrel’s face was so innocent and so open.

“To live.”

“You have the hunt club.”

Sister smiled. “Yes. I doubt that philosophers or even those people eager to live your life for you would find that much of a purpose but I have Nature, I love God’s creation, and this is a way to appreciate it.”

“You’ve lived a fabulous life.”

“Well, let’s just say I may not have done much good in this life but I haven’t done much harm either.” She smiled, pushing another cookie at Sorrel. “Eat. I know it’s hard but if you don’t your blood sugar will go haywire and you’ll feel like you’re on a roller coaster. I’ve got some nice cold chicken. How about a chicken sandwich with lettuce, pumpernickel bread?”

“Yeah!” Golly shouted.

Sister sternly eyed the calico.

“I don’t think so, thank you. Board . . . What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Really.”

“Sister Jane, can you think of anyone who would kill Fontaine?”

After a considerable pause Sister said, “I can think of plenty of people who might want to kill him but none who would.”

“He lived every single second while he was here.” Sorrel smiled ruefully. “I adjusted. I guess you could say my flame didn’t burn as bright as Fontaine’s.”

“No. Your flame burns steadily. It has to, Sorrel; you’re a mother. Men can leave. They can leave us flat out. They can die. They can run off with other women or they can show up on their thirty-seventh birthday and declare they want to climb Mount Everest before they’re forty. We’re tied to the earth. Once the children are grown I suppose we can do those things, too, but how do you break a lifetime of holding back?”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“I think a lot. I’m alone much of the time or I’m doing chores. My mind is always on an adventure.” She picked up a cookie, putting it in Sorrel’s hand. “Okay. You don’t have to eat it but look at it. I’m making a sandwich even if you won’t eat it. Take it with you.”

“There’s enough food in my house to keep a brigade full.”

“Then I’m making one for myself.”

As the older woman buttered the bread she chatted and listened.

Doug knocked on the back door, then came inside. “Horses are fine, Mrs. Buruss. I’ve turned your trailer around.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a great trailer,” he said admiringly.

“Only the best. You know how he was.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” His handsome face radiated honesty.

“There isn’t anything else you can say. Thank you, Doug.”

“Did Sister tell you? We found the rope. We think it’s the rope.”

Sister turned her silver head to face Doug. “I was getting to that.”

Both Sister and Doug explained how they’d found the rope, where they’d found the rope, and what it looked like.

“Sounds like Fontaine’s King’s rope.”