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“True…” He rubbed his chin.
“They both have unfinished business—but they’re dead. Who better to turn to than their descendants?”
Groaning, Luke ran his hand through his still-damp hair.
“After all they’ve been through, they deserve our help.” I appealed with a smile. “Besides, who knows where the venture will lead?”
He sighed. “So, which ‘loose end’ do we tie up first?”
****
After the rain stopped, Luke and I got shovels from the shed, moved the headstone aside, and began digging.
At roughly four feet, my shovel caught on a decomposed cotton remnant. “This might be part of the quilt Marianna used to wrap Kenneth.” I rubbed the muddy, threadbare scrap between my fingers, trying to sense its history.
“If we’ve already dug to the burial depth, this soil could be the baby’s decomposed body. Notice the darker color?”
“Hallowed ground.” Speaking in a whisper, I replaced the decayed cloth scrap. “We should keep it intact. Be right back.” Minutes later, I returned with a plastic storage container. “How’s this?”
“For now, it’s perfect.” After several minutes of shoveling the wet soil, Luke unearthed a rusted tin can. “Will you look at this?”
Only the word tobacco was legible.
He caught my gaze. “What’s a tobacco can doing in a baby’s burial?”
“Open it and find out.”
He undid its disintegrating metal hinge, tipped its contents into his hand, then unfolded the damp paper.
“This certifies that Mr. Mateo Ramirez and Miss Marianna Rodriguez were united in holy matrimony according to the ordinance of God and the laws of Texas.”
“The date’s right.” I pointed to the words. “March 6, 1898, but why would she bury their wedding certificate along with their baby?”
“She believed her husband had been killed in the war. Then her premature baby died. Maybe she wanted to bury that entire chapter of her life.”
“That would make sense since she married Ramon two weeks later.” I scratched my head. “But finding this wedding certificate the day after Mateo revealed the deed is too coincidental to be a coincidence.”
“Maybe your dream was a visitation.”
I stared at the yellowed paper, trying to fit it into the puzzle. “Marianna’s in-laws stole her inheritance, and this document may play a role in restoring it. Let’s not rebury it.”
“Good idea.” He refolded the paper and tucked it in his pocket, but he added the can to the container.
“That soil’s all that’s left of Marianna’s baby. I can’t imagine her grief.” I blinked away unexpected tears. “I know we’re doing the right thing.”
****
The next morning, I compared notes with Luke on our ride back from town. “The funeral director recommends a green reburial with a graveside service.” The desert marigolds sprouting along the road brightened my spirits. Spring. Life. “He also suggests drawing a map of the property to show the burial site, then filing it with the property deed, so Kenneth’s grave won’t be forgotten.”
“I think Marianna would like that.” Luke side-glanced as he drove.
“How’d it go with the lawyer?”
“Sounds like we have a good case. The deed map clearly includes Bea’s property, and the deed was recorded, so its authenticity is rock solid.”
“What’s next?” I glanced at the stream paralleling the road. Early catkins dangled from the cottonwoods.
“The lawyer’s going to check Bea’s deed. If it’s quitclaim, as he suspects, he’ll challenge it—and he’s prepared to go to court.”
