Part 20 (2/2)

We both jumped.

I looked quick at the fireplace mantel. The General's revolver was there, where he always kept it.

Sarah and I raced upstairs.

I knew what we'd be finding, but we had to go and see for ourselves, anyhow.

In the room, Mable and the General were stretched out side by side on their bed. It almost looked like they'd laid down for a nap, except for the b.l.o.o.d.y mess on the headboard behind the General.

He was holding one of Mable's hands.

His other hand hung over the side of the bed.

I didn't see any gun.

But he had a string looped around the toe of his right house slipper.

I stepped past the end of the bed. The string dangled down from his foot to a rifle on the floor, where it was tied to the trigger. The rifle must've been thrown off him by the recoil.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Mourning and Night Sarah was their only surviving relation, but the General and Mable had a pa.s.sel of friends she had to notify. About thirty of them showed up, mostly old men, some with their wives in tow. Just about all the men came in full dress uniform. They looked just splendid, sabers hanging at their sides, chests full of medals.

A service was held at the local Methodist church. One old fellow after another stood up front and eulogized the General and Mable. They had some mighty fine things to say about the couple.

When it came time to pay our last respects, we all lined up and filed past the coffins. Mable, she was rouged up pretty good and looked peculiar, but she was dressed in a fine satin gown like she was on her way to a party. The General looked ready to escort her there. A military ball, maybe. He was decked out in his uniform. He had more medals than most of the mourners put together. He'd shot himself through the mouth, so he didn't have any holes that showed.

I tucked one of his briar pipes into the coffin with him.

Sarah, she kissed each of her grandparents on the forehead.

They were planted in a graveyard behind the church. A powdered lady wearing more rouge than Mable sang ”Nearer My G.o.d to Thee” and then a skinny little soldier who looked older than dirt raised a bugle to his lips and played ”Taps.” It was a sunny afternoon, but we all watered the gra.s.s something awful.

When that part was over, everybody came to the house. There was more food laid out than I'd ever seen in one place. We all ate, and the men got liquored up. Later on, some of the folks cleared out. Others stayed on, though. Some servants Sarah'd hired for the occasion made up guest rooms for them.

There wasn't a bedroom left for me, so I figured I'd settle down in the parlor. A drunk with a white beard down to his belt buckle snored on the sofa. I sat in the General's old chair. Its cus.h.i.+ons were all sunken in from him.

The snoring wouldn't let me fall asleep, so I just sat there missing him and Mable, and wis.h.i.+ng I'd known them better. By and by, I lit up one of the General's pipes. I figured he wouldn't mind. Back when he was alive and we'd sat up talking, he'd offered to let me smoke one. I'd always turned him down, but now I wished I'd smoked with him. When the pipe died out, I fetched the General's bottle of rum. That stuff always had a way of making me doze off. So I took a few sips of it, judging I'd need some help if I was to get any sleep at all.

I tucked the bottle out of sight quick when Sarah suddenly wandered in. She came silently through the parlor, her hair down and gleaming, her white nightdress as.h.i.+ver with the firelight, floating soft around her. She looked just lovely.

Leaning down over me, she whispered, ”You don't want to spend the night in a chair.”

”It's quite all right, really.”

”I know a better place,” she said, and took my hand.

She hadn't brought a lamp along with her, so after we left the parlor we had to navigate our way in the dark. She kept hold of my hand, and didn't utter a sound as we climbed the stairs and started down the hallway.

I figured there must be a spare room, after all. But she led me to hers. She let us in, then shut the door real easy so as not to make a sound. Over by the bed, her lamp was burning.

”This should be much more comfortable for you,” she said in a hushed voice.

”It's your your bed,” I told her. bed,” I told her.

”It's roomy enough for both of us.” With that, she went to it and stepped out of her slippers and climbed aboard. She pulled the covers over her, then scooched to one side. ”I brought in your nights.h.i.+rt,” she said. Taking out an arm, she pointed to a chair by the wall. My flannel nights.h.i.+rt was neatly folded on top of it.

Well, I didn't hanker to strip down in front of Sarah even if she had been a regular visitor during my baths. Those times, I'd been sitting in a tubful of water. So I doused the lamp before getting out of my funeral duds and slipping into the nights.h.i.+rt.

I eased under the covers and lay on my back, close to the mattress edge so as not to bother her. The rum I'd drunk made my head a trifle foggy, but I felt so strange about being in the same bed as Sarah that I was wide awake. My heart wouldn't slow down, and I was shaking some even though the bed was warm and cozy.

By and by, Sarah's hand snuck over and found mine. She gave it a gentle squeeze. ”I'm so very glad you're here,” she whispered.

”This is vastly more comfortable than a chair, isn't it?” I said.

”You're all I have, now.”

When she said that, I feared she'd take to weeping. But she didn't. She rolled over warm against my side and said, ”Hold me. Please.”

So I turned and hooked an arm over her back, and she snuggled against me. ”It'll be all right,” I told her. I wanted to cheer her up. More than that, though, I needed to talk and take my mind off the feel of her. Sarah's head was tucked against the side of my neck, her breath tickling me. The way we were stretched out, she was pressing me tight all the way down to our knees. There wasn't a thing but our nightclothes between us. Her skin was hot through the cloth. I could feel every breath she took, and even her heartbeats.

”It'll be all right,” I said again, stroking her back. ”You'll see.”

Right off, I could tell that talking wouldn't do the job. I bent myself away from her and hoped she hadn't noticed the reason for it.

”Why,” I went on, ”I imagine you'll find yourself a husband in no time at all and you'll have a whole houseful of children.”

”If only that were so.”

”Just wait and see.”

”It's too late for me, Trevor. I'll never marry. I'll be an old spinster.”

”Don't talk that way. Why, I should think there must be fifty fifty men in town who fancy you. There's Henry at the general store, for one. And the chap who owns the pharmacy. I could see just by how they...” men in town who fancy you. There's Henry at the general store, for one. And the chap who owns the pharmacy. I could see just by how they...”

”I'll be twenty-seven years old, come October.”

”That isn't old. old. Besides, you're beautiful. I've not seen another woman in the whole town who could hold a candle to you, in the way of looks.” Besides, you're beautiful. I've not seen another woman in the whole town who could hold a candle to you, in the way of looks.”

”You're so sweet, Trevor.” She kissed the side of my neck. It sent s.h.i.+vers down to my toes.

I tried not to think about that.

”If you should set your mind to it,” I hurried on, ”I've no doubt but that you could find yourself married before summer. No doubt at all. I'll help you. We'll pick out a fine chap for you, and...”

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