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Sybil hurried to her room, grateful that Mercy had gone out and Linette was busy elsewhere. Sybil needed to be alone. She didn’t want to forgive any of the Duggans. And it bothered her more than she cared to admit.
In an attempt to forget about the whole business, she pulled out her notebook, intending to write something imaginary that had nothing to do with outlaws and cowboys—a story for children that ended happily in victory. But her fingers went instead to the pages she’d written about Brand.
She should send the story away as it was. A nameless cowboy. Only he was more than that—less than that. A cowboy with a shameful name, a shameful life. She jammed the pages back into her drawer and flung herself facedown on her bed, burying her sobs in her pillow.
She deserved every bit of pain she would endure. All along she’d known she should avoid the man.
She and Linette, with Mercy’s help, cared for Mr. Duggan the rest of the day and throughout the night, but he died as dawn broke over the horizon on Sunday morning.
Both Sybil and Linette were in the room when he breathed his last.
Brand hovered at his side, knowing the end would be soon.
Linette reached over and touched his shoulder. “He’s gone. I’m sorry.”
Brand sank to the chair, his face drained of all color.
Eddie, who was guarding him, went to his side and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
For all he showed, Brand might not even have heard.
Sybil stood immobile. He’d lost his father and that had to hurt, even for an outlaw. It reminded her of her own pain and sense of loss and loneliness when her parents had died. Even her anger at Brand for his deception could not block out her concern.
She joined Eddie at Brand’s side.
He lifted his head enough to see the hem of her dress. She waited, wanting more. So much more. All of which she could never have.
Slowly, his head came up until he met her eyes. She knew he tried to bank his emotions, but his eyes darkened until they were almost black. She sensed his difficulty in breathing. Her own throat constricted and her eyes stung with tears. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nodded, his eyes narrowing, his breathing deepening. “Thank you.” He turned to Linette and then Eddie. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Linette smiled. “It’s what we do.”
The rancher cleared his throat. “We’ll give you a moment to say goodbye to your father.”
Linette headed for the door. Sybil hesitated. There was so much more she wanted to say. But it was to the Brand of unknown name. Not Brand, one of the Duggan gang.
For just a moment she let herself believe he was still the former, and touched his shoulder as Eddie had. “You have my deepest sympathy.” And then, lest anyone misjudge her actions, she hurried after Linette.
Eddie stayed behind, his back to Brand and his father, out of respect for Brand’s loss.
That afternoon they buried Morton Duggan in the little graveyard on top of the hill.
Jayne had questioned it. “He’s a criminal. Should he be buried in the same ground as these good people?” Four graves of those who had died passing through the territory stood in the small plot.
“He’s a sinner saved by grace,” Linette said in her decisive way. “Aren’t the angels in heaven rejoicing? How can we be less than charitable?”
And so a little assembly accompanied the body to its final resting place. Most of the cowboys refused to attend on principle. Cookie and Bertie came. Jayne and Seth, Cassie and Roper joined the procession, as did Mercy and Sybil. Linette and Eddie led the way, with Brand following them.
Eddie spoke a few words over the open grave. Sybil was not the only one who wiped away a tear. Perhaps, like herself, they were recalling their own pain. Jayne had seen her fiancé shot dead before her eyes. Cassie had buried a husband and two infants. Sybil didn’t know what loss the others remembered, but it seemed each had a share of pain. Her own seemed fresh in her mind—a mother and father who’d died within weeks of each other.
A best friend who had died way too young.
Despite who and what Brand was, she felt his sorrow as if it was her own.
He stood before the grave, head bowed, hat in his hands almost hiding the ropes that bound him. Seth had been appointed to carry a gun to guard him. Out of respect the others had come unarmed.
