Chapter Twelve

Father James decided he had allowed the young man enough time to privately ponder whatever was going through his mind and his heart as he walked through the cemetery. Jess Harper was obviously overcome with emotion. The priest headed out the door to go to him.

"May I sit with you?"

Jess jerked his head up from his hands at the sound of the priest's voice. He felt aggravated with himself that someone could have walked up so close to him without his even noticing the approach.

With a melancholy quietness, he replied, "Sure, Padre."

The priest sat down on the small bench beside him.

"It is good to see you, Jess."

Brief surprise showed in the sad dark blue eyes. "Can't believe you recognize me. Been a long time."

"It took me a moment. You were quite young when I last saw you." Father James paused and then poignantly added, "You look like your father."

There was no reaction from the young man, other than looking down at the ground.

"The last I heard, you were off fighting."

Jess' face was a mask of sadness. "Can't hardly remember a time when I ain't been."

For a moment, they sat in silence, as the priest considered how to proceed.

"I noticed you paying your respects at your baby sister's grave. And briefly at those of your grandparents and great-grandmother. You never knew them, did you?"

"No. They died b'fore I was born."

"Did you know the Garrison family? I saw you pause at their graves as well."

Jess shook his head. "No."

"May I ask why you paused there?"

Jess drew a breath. "Heard about some… deaths. Wondered if… if they mighta been… there."

"You're speaking of the Bradys?"

Jess finally made eye contact. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The raw voice was barely audible. Father James had rarely heard anyone sound so weary.

"Would you like to come inside for some coffee, son? Then we can talk."

Jess shook his head, fixing his gaze on the Stetson in his hands. "I just need to know. 'Bout Mister and Missus Brady. And…" He winced. "…my sister." His voice was a tense croak barely above a whisper.

Father James noticed the pinched look around the eyes. "All three of them are alive, Jess."

At that, Jess' eyes closed and his breath rushed out in a huge huff of relief.

"Francie's okay?" His shaky, gravelly voice sought confirmation he had heard right.

"Yes, Jess. She's all right."

Jess' relief was so profound for a minute he felt lightheaded. He sat quietly, trying to make his hands stop crushing the brim of his hat. Yet, he knew there was more he needed to know.

"A man at the Bradys' said… three people died… that used to live there."

"Well, you see," Father James began slowly, wanting to break the news as gently as he could. "The Castor family bought the ranch from a holding company that the Bradys had sold it to."

"Why they'd move?" Jess still stared at his hat. His voice remained low, taut with emotion. "And… who died?"

"The answer to both questions is one in the same, actually." Father James looked compassionately at the young man. "I know you've been good friends with the Brady family. So I'm sorry to tell you the reason Mister and Missus Brady sold out is because they wanted to leave this area. They couldn't stand to live here anymore. They simply lost all will to keep the ranch going because… Jess, I'm sorry to tell you… only one of their four sons made it home from the war."

Jess's head dipped low as he shook it side to side. Oh, Lord. Not agin. How many friends had he lost in that damn war? He couldn't even keep count anymore.

Father James sat quietly, waiting for the sorrowful young man to ask the questions he knew eventually would be forthcoming. And finally, the first whispered question was forced out.

"Which one?"

"The youngest survived. Gil."

Jess sat stoically, his lips pressed together, waiting for the priest to share more.

"The Bradys were informed that Harry and Malcolm had both died at Vicksburg."

Jess swallowed hard. Again, his voice was barely audible. "And Jer?"

"Jerome was killed at Chickamauga."

Jess squeezed his eyes closed as he gritted his teeth.

The priest placed his hand comfortingly on Jess's back. "I'm sorry, son."

The old priest and the young man sat for a couple of minutes with nothing further said. Finally, Jess raised his head. "The Bradys and Francie─where'd they go?"

"I have heard that Mister and Missus Brady were so heartbroken that they didn't actually have much of a plan on where they would settle. They wished only to be away from the home where they had raised three boys that would not return. As far as I know, they left no word at all of where they were going."

"But they took Francie with 'em, didn't they? Or she still around here?"

"She did not go with them."

A sinking feeling hit Jess' stomach. "Is Ebal Harper and his family still here somewheres? Did they send her back to him?"

"No, Ebal and his family joined a wagon train to California quite some time ago. Francie was not with them. And no, she is not still here."

At that word, Jess's eyebrows hiked into a distraught frown.

"But she can't be left alone! I gotta take care of her. How can I find her? Do you know where she headed? How could they leave her?!"

The young man's voice was almost panicked, and the priest grasped his arm.

"Easy, Jess. Let me explain. She is not alone. They did not leave her. She left of her own will. But not alone."

Jess forced himself to calm down, but the frown remained. "Then… what happened?" He asked, trying to control his worry, since the priest didn't seem to be concerned for Francie's welfare.

"She married."

Again, the eyebrows drew further together. "Who'd she marry?"

"Gil Brady. As soon as he got home after the war. They had been keeping company for a while before he left to join the Confederate army."

This was news to Jess, and he sat still, working to make sense of it all.

"Gil, huh?"

Father James nodded.

There was no smile to accompany Jess' words as he thought it all through. "Well, I'll be dadgummed," he murmured. "Oh, sorry, Padre."

"I understand. You did not expect this."

He sure didn't. Of all the Brady boys, Gil was the one Jess really knew least, although they were nearly the same age. But Gil wasn't as rugged as his older brothers. When Jess and the other boys would tussle as children, Gil avoided the rougher play. When they hunted together as youths, Gil went along, occasionally taking a shot at something, but never being willing to work hard enough to become good with a rifle. To Jess, he always seemed much younger than his actual age.

The one and only letter from Francie that had made it through to him during his time in the Confederate Army mentioned nothing about her relationship with Gil, only that he was serving as a drummer boy. That woulda suited him better than bein' a fightin' soldier. Jess couldn't picture Gil in a war. He always seemed like he needed looking after. But Jess could imagine how Francie, who with her tender heart and her way of always taking care of others, would have liked knowing that Gil needed her. But it had been three years since Jess had seen Gil. Surely the service had toughened him up, so that he would be a good protector and provider for Francie. And he couldn't have come from a finer family.

"Reckon he's a good man. I'm glad to know he'll be watchin' over her. Mighty thankful to him for that. Where'd they go?"

"I seem to be saying 'I'm sorry' quite a bit here, Jess. But I am. They did not leave word where they were going. I married them in a simple ceremony with just his parents in attendance. Shortly after that, Mister and Missus Brady left the area; I heard they headed east. Francie and Gil left at the same time, but set off in a different direction. I was told they went south. Perhaps one of the couples, or both, will notify us when they have settled."

Jess sat quietly. So, his only remaining sibling was gone. And he had no idea where. And his best friend, Jer, was dead. Suddenly, Jess felt incredibly tired and burdened. He came to his feet, his hat still in his hands.

"Reckon I'll be headin' out now." He tried to make his voice sound strong, but knew he was missing the mark.

"Are you sure you would not like to come in? Perhaps have a sandwich and some coffee?"

"Thank ya kindly. But to tell ya the truth, Padre… well, I could use somethin' a mite stronger. I think I'll go on ahead farther into town."

"The sun will be setting soon. And what I think you look like you could use, Jess, is a good night's sleep. If you do not have the money for the hotel, you are welcome to sleep in the church or in the small barn that houses my buggy and horse, wherever you would feel more at ease."

Jess didn't have much money. And he hadn't planned on staying in a hotel or needing to buy food, figuring the Bradys would have welcomed him in for a night or two.

"I might take ya up on a place to sleep. If I do, I'll just bed down in the barn."

"You are welcome at any time. And there are plenty of oats for your horse."

"Thanks agin, Padre."

Jess reached out and the priest took his hand in a shake and with his other hand clasped Jess's shoulder, looking into the dark blue eyes that held a large degree of heartache. More sorrow than eyes that age should have seen, the priest thought. The poor boy. He has lost everyone.

"Vaya con Dios, Jess."

Jess gave a quick nod.

As Father James let go of the handshake, his left hand remained on the young man's shoulder in sincere concern. The boy had been remarkably polite and thoughtful, considering the news he had just received. But he looked drained. Positively empty.

"Are you all right, my son?"

It seemed like that question was one everyone asked him. Once again, his father's image and words came to him.

No matter how you're feelin'…
Say that and folks'll believe… you're strong.

Without emotion or a bit of change in expression, he offered his usual response, his voice hushed with weariness.

"I'm fine."

Father James watched sympathetically as Jess turned away and slowly walked down the row of graves, pausing once again at his baby sister's and glancing at his grandparents' and great-grandma's. Then he carefully made his way back through the cemetery and out the gate. He donned his hat and strapped on his gunbelt.

The priest sighed and shook his head as he noted how low the Colt was worn.

And as the young man rode away, the old priest prayed.

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Jess made his way further down the road, not taking any notice of how the town had changed since the last time he had been there. Without thinking of it, he knew which way to turn, which streets to take to get to the business area. He was grateful for the steady stride of his mount. The strength of the horse beneath him was the only solid thing in his world now.

He had just about reached the saloon, when what he was doing hit him as being entirely foolish. He did want a drink. But the last thing in the world he wanted was to talk to anybody. Somebody was bound to recognize him. Maybe even a lot of somebodies. After all, this was his hometown, as close to one as he had anyway. Folks around here knew him. He turned down a side street and rode back to the church.

The sun was going down, and the strain of the day was weighing heavy on him. He was heartsick that he might never see Francie again. At least he knew she was safe, and he tried to take consolation in that. He hoped Gil would make her happy.

He wasn't hungry, but his stomach insisted on growling to remind him that he had not eaten since dawn. He knew he needed to eat for strength, but as much as he could have used some food, he had no intention of asking the priest for any. Tonight he needed sleep more than food anyway.

He dismounted at the barn, unsaddled and wiped down Oak, fed and watered the big bay, and settled him in the stall that was next to the one for Father James' horse. He was about to sack out himself when a small wooden chest, with a paper on top with his name neatly penned on it, caught his eye. He opened the chest and saw a towel-wrapped plate. Lifting the towel, he found three muffins, several pieces of thick beef jerky, a few small carrots, and two peaches.

Kindness. In the world he lived in, a show of kindness was so rare.

For one fleeting second, Jess Harper smiled.

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─end of Part Four─

Author's Note:

I know, Part Four was sad. That makes us appreciate Jess' strength and determination to go on all the more, doesn't it? Part Five will post very soon. And pards, the second half of it is sure to bring you a big smile!