It was all so bare.
No flowers. No trinkets left in his honor. No proof of the lives he’d impacted. Only unruly weeds and climbing vines that had taken over the gravesite, covering the bottom half of the granite marker.
I avoided the stinging bull thistle while carefully clearing the other invading weeds, then removed the vines that clung to the solid gray headstone, revealing the rest of the sandblasted letters beneath his name that had been enhanced with black lithichrome paint.
In honor of a husband, a friend, and a hero.
Saddened by the words, I lifted myself from the ground and trudged ten feet away to gather some wildflowers into a nice bouquet. White heath aster and blue-eyed grass were the closest, but I bypassed them, opting for the Indian blankets I had spotted a yard away. They looked similar to a sunflower, but were smaller and had bright reddish-orange petals with yellow tips. I took my time gathering a small bundle, and with my gaze trained on the grass in front of me, solemnly strolled back to the grave.
I kneeled down once more, arranging the flowers neatly together before placing them at the base of the stone. I’d been there for almost half an hour and hadn’t cried once, but that one little good deed filled my heart with sorrow and had my eyes brimming with blinding tears. The only reason I’d chosen those particular flowers was because they were also sometimes referred to as “firewheels” and I thought it was a gesture Chief Swanson would appreciate.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, kissing my fingertips and pressing them lightly to his gravestone.
It wasn’t until that moment I felt his presence behind me. Or maybe I’d detected the vibrations of his irritation. Because when I glanced over my shoulder and shaded my eyes from the sun, Cowboy was standing there, holding his white Stetson in a death grip, and frowning at me like I’d just slapped his mother.
“What are you doing here?” he growled.
I pushed myself off the ground and straightened, dusting my hands together to remove any loose debris. “Just paying my respects.”
“Oh, really?” He nodded to Chief Swanson’s grave. “Thought you’d only been in town for a few weeks? Last night, you failed to mention you knew the chief.”
“That’s because I didn’t know him.” Not really, anyway.
He gave me a strange look, one I assumed meant he wasn’t buying it. “I just saw you kiss the man’s grave and tell him you were sorry.”
Christ, how long had he been standing there? “I am sorry. Sorry something so tragic happened to him. Is that a crime?”
Cowboy’s brow raised in suspicion. “No, but do you normally visit the graves of people you don’t know?”
“When I feel it’s necessary, yes.” I moved past him, heading in the direction of my car. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and change my clothes before I go to work.”
His stride was much longer than mine, so it didn’t take him more than a second to catch up to me. “If you know anything about this case, you need to tell me.”
I kept walking as he slowed his pace to match mine. “I told you already. I didn’t know Chief Swanson.”
“Yet I still find it odd that you’re at a cemetery visiting a man you claim you didn’t know.” Cowboy placed his hand on my arm to still me. “I’m looking for his brother, Anna.”
“Good for you.”
“I’m serious, damn it!” His grip tightened, and my gaze lowered to his hand clasped around my elbow. With a frustrated sigh, he released me and ran his fingers through his thick sand-colored hair before slapping the white Stetson back onto his head. “Look, I promised the chief if something ever happened to him I would find Ned Swanson and hand deliver a letter to him. If you know anything—”
I scowled at him. “I told you I don’t. I don’t know this Ned guy, and I didn’t know Chief Swanson. Why do you keep pushing me? I have no reason to hide anything from you.”