An unfinished monument would forever stand in memory of those who deserved more.
Reluctantly, she admitted the granite was the better choice … not only for his purpose, but for hers. She lifted her eyes to his and took a deep, cleansing breath. “You can purchase the granite.”
Warily, he studied her. “Not the marble?”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, I’ve decided in favor of the granite.”
“You won’t be sorry.”
She nodded, hoping that he was right and that she hadn’t made a mistake. “You’ll need the money.” She pulled out a drawstring bag she’d tucked behind the waistband of her trousers earlier. She opened the pouch and spilled the contents into his scarred palm. “Will that be enough?” she asked.
He shifted the coins around with his finger. “Should be.”
“Oh, wait.” She plucked a silver coin out of his palm. “Kirk’s tossing coin. I don’t want to get rid of that.”
He stared at her, his dark brows drawing together. “His tossing coin?”
Holding it up, she turned it so he could see one side, then the other. “It has Lady Liberty on both sides.”
“What?” he fairly roared as he snatched it from her fingers and examined it.
“He always used it to win bets against my brothers.”
His eyes showed disbelief. “That son of a …”
Knowingly, she smiled. “Don’t tell me he used it on you as well?”
“A time or two.” Handing the coin back to her, he smiled sadly. “But it worked out for the best.”
Mesmerized, Meg wore a path around the wagon, viewing the rock from all sides. The glow from the fire’s flames washed over one side of the granite, bringing out the red tint. The moonlight spilled across the other side, creating an ethereal quality.
Had Clay envisioned the stone as it would appear surrounded by night shadows, with moonlight whispering across it?
She wished he had brought his tools so he could begin work this evening. “Where will you put Kirk?” she asked as she touched one side of the rock. “Here?”
Clay lifted his head. What was the woman on about now? Since they left Schultz’s quarry, she’d been chattering to her horse, the oxen, the damned rock, and now him. She was hopping around the wagon as though someone had set hot coals beneath her feet.
“Which side do you think Kirk will be on?” she repeated.
Slowly, he unfolded his weary body and wandered to the wagon. He touched the side of the rock at the end of the wagon. “I’ll probably make this the base, so … I guess I’ll carve the horse and rider here.”
Meg scurried to the side of the wagon away from the fire. “I can’t see them.”
“You will when I’m done.”
He began to walk away. She ran around to the other side. “And I’ll be here?”
“I reckon.” He rubbed his hand up and down his rough cheek. “If you don’t want to sleep on the ground, you’re small enough that you ought to be able to curl up on the wagon seat.”
“Are you going to sleep now?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, I aim to keep watch.”
Meg watched as Clay meandered back to the tree. He dropped to the ground and pressed his back against the trunk. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in the granite now that they’d acquired it. She should have purchased the marble. At least their conversation carried a spark to it when they were in disagreement.
She climbed onto the wagon and arranged the blankets on the bench seat. Stilling her hands, she looked at the granite. It was just a piece of stone, and yet she was drawn to it. “Which direction …”
She stopped speaking as Clay snapped his head back. He looked around. “What?”
