Blood Wedding

“What choice does he have?” Talley asked. “Besides, when you’re dead, you’re dead. Where you’re lying doesn’t matter.”

“It might matter to Murray,” Wesley said.

“Too bad, then,” Molly said. “He’s buried already. And that’s another good reason not to put any markers up. No need to let Murray know where he is. If he knew, he might come after him.”

“Might come anyway,” Wesley said. “Might be better if finding him was easy.”

Molly threw the shovel she’d used into the wagon. It bounced off the bed and clattered against the side.

“If Murray comes,” she said, “Fargo can take care of him. Isn’t that right, Fargo.”

“I don’t even know that I’ll be around,” Fargo said.

“Oh, you’ll be here, all right,” Molly said, as if she knew something he didn’t. “And if you need any help and these ‘men’ won’t side with you, you just let me know. You can count on me.”

“That’s nice to know,” Fargo said, and they all got in the wagon and rode back to the barn.

4

After everyone had finally gone home, Fargo went back to the Watkins house. He had slept in the spare room the previous night, but he didn’t want to disturb anyone now. He could sleep just as well in the barn or outside. He’d spent many a night in less pleasant circumstances.

But there was lantern light shining through a window in the house, and Fargo was curious. He thought that Abby and her father might be talking about Jed’s funeral, so he decided to join them.

Fargo went inside the house and heard talking from the kitchen. Fargo walked to the room and looked through the door. Lem hadn’t gone to bed after all. He was sitting there not far from the table where Jed’s body lay covered with a sheet, and there were two other men with him. Fargo recognized them, having met them before the dance. They were Cass Ellis and Bob Tabor, two of Lem’s friends. Ellis was holding a bottle of whiskey, and it was evident from their red faces that they’d been passing it around.

“Come on in, Fargo,” Lem said. “We’re just sitting up with the body. You want a drink?”

“Might as well,” Fargo said.

Ellis extended his arm, and Fargo took the bottle. He took a swallow, and tears came to his eyes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed the bottle back to Ellis.

“A little raw, ain’t it?” Ellis said. “But it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Fargo nodded and looked at the sheet-covered body on the table. He knew that sitting up was the custom in some parts of the country. He didn’t know the reason for it, unless there were places where you had to keep the animals away. There were no animals likely to get into the Watkins’ kitchen, so maybe it was just a matter of respect.

“We washed him while you were gone,” Lem said. “Dressed him nice and put wet soda cloths on his face and hands. They’ll keep his color looking natural. Couldn’t do much with that wound, though.”

Fargo thought about the wound. He wanted to take another look at it, so he walked to the table and lifted the sheet. Jed’s head, what was left of it, was supported on a stained pillow. There was another cloth over Jed’s face. Fargo lifted that one off, too.

It appeared to Fargo that the bullet had entered the back of Jed’s head and pretty much removed it, though Jed’s face was hardly altered. Fargo replaced the cloth and lowered the sheet.

“Gonna bury him tomorrow,” Tabor said. He had pale blue eyes and a fringe of white hair around his bald head. “Cass here will make him a good strong coffin in the morning, and we’ll bury him in the churchyard in the afternoon. Put him in a real grave, six foot long, six foot deep and four foot wide, not like the ones you dug down in the river bottom.”

Fargo didn’t think Tabor really knew what kind of graves had been dug for the outlaws, but he was right. Nobody had paid much attention to doing it right. The graves were deep enough to keep animals off the bodies, and that was about all.

“Jed was a fine fella,” Ellis said, flexing the fingers of his big hands. “We’ll put him facin’ the east, all right and proper, the way it should be. Him and Abby would’ve made a fine couple, Lem. You’d have had some good-lookin’ grandchildren, for certain and sure.”

Lem didn’t reply. Instead he reached out his hand, and Ellis passed him the bottle.

“How’s Abby taking it?” Fargo asked.

Lem drank from the bottle. When he could talk again, he said, “About as well as you could expect. She’s trying to get some sleep, but I don’t know if she’ll manage it. You might as well have a try, too. We’ll stay here all night, but there’s no need for you to do it.”

Fargo had thought of offering, but he was glad to be relieved of the responsibility. He’d liked and respected Jed, but now that his friend was dead, he didn’t see the need in losing sleep over the matter. He’d do what he could to see that Jed’s killer was brought to justice, however. He owed him that much.

“I think I’ll go on to bed, then,” Fargo said. “Abby asked me earlier if I’d stay around for a few days and help out around the place, and I might be doing that.”