Crockett stood still for a moment, his lips twitching. At last he said. “It’s all right, Jane. I don’t mind. And it will be easier for Mr. Brown, when he lays out your pa.”
“He does all that?” She wasn’t quite sure what the process involved. Washing, surely. “He will, unless you want someone else to do it. My sisters-in-law might help you, and the pastor’s wife.”
Jane’s lower lip trembled. She didn’t want to touch Pa now. Didn’t want to wash his body or peel off his filthy clothes or dress him afterward in someone else’s clean, soft things that were better than anything Pa ever owned. But mostly, she just didn’t want to touch his clammy skin.
Tears coursed down her face.
Crockett walked over and knelt in the dirt before her. “Jane.”
She tried to blink back the tears, but there were too many.
He took off his bandanna and blotted her cheeks. “Janie, it’s all right.”
She shook her head. “Y–you must think we’re the worst scum in Texas.”
His mouth almost smiled, then went sober. “I would never think that.”
Next thing she knew, she was in his arms. He knelt there by the bench, holding her, and she sobbed into his shirtfront. Ma would have fits if she saw her behave this way, but Jane couldn’t stop crying.
“I’m s–sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Crockett said.
She cried some more and then slowly pulled away. Crockett stuck the bandanna in her hand, and she wiped her face. Over at the new house, Bowie was climbing the ladder.
“I didn’t mean to make a fuss in front of you. Or your brother, either.”
“Bowie won’t tell anyone.”
A little laugh jerked out of her.
Crockett smiled. “There, that’s better. I want to help you. I want to make this as easy as I can. I feel all kinds of guilty about what happened between your pa and me, and now I’ll do anything to make you not hate me for it.”
“I could never hate you, Crockett.”
“You sure?”
She nodded and sniffed. “I don’t blame you for Pa’s dying. It was his own fault. But I’ve been thinking … that you’d think less of Ben and me after you saw all you’ve seen here.”
“Not a bit.”
“Even if I tell you I’m not sorry for what happened?”
Crockett’s eyes narrowed. “You mean, that he’s dead?”
“Well not that especially. But I’m glad you tried to protect Ben. Pa might have hurt Ben real bad. He has before. Broke his arm once, when Ben was twelve.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not exactly glad he’s dead, but I despaired of him ever changing his ways.” She looked up at him. “Your mother’s Bible. I’ve been reading it.”
“I’m glad.”
Jane couldn’t help a tiny smile. “She underlined things.”
“Yes, she did. I used to leaf through it and read the verses she thought were special.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing, and you know what I found?”
Crockett shook his head.
“It’s in Isaiah. It says, ‘When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.’ I don’t think I’d ever read that verse before.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it jumped out at me, because of the fire we had.”
“And the fire didn’t hurt you,” he said softly. “Not any of you. Just your house and your stuff.” He took her hand. “I can’t imagine how hard it would be if our house burned, and everything in it. But I know it would be a hundred times worse if even one person was burned in that fire.”
Jane sighed and looked toward the new house, where Bowie had started nailing down shingles. “Pa got out. He set that fire by accident, but he got out. And I’m glad Ben wasn’t here. He’d have tried to salvage some of Ma’s things. You’re right—it’s not worth it.”
“And you were smart enough not to try to do that.”
“I just hoped I could save the barn and the stock.” She gazed into his dark eyes. “Why did Pa survive the fire and die a week later?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought to myself the night after the house burned that it might have been better if he hadn’t got out. And then I felt so guilty!”
“You don’t need to. Your pa has caused you and Ben a lot of grief.” He slid his arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad Ma’s Bible has been a comfort for you.”
“I’m sure it has a lot of things in it about forgiveness, too. Did you hear the sermon yesterday, when Reverend Longley talked about forgiving seventy times seven?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess that means I should forgive Pa for all the mean things he did to Ben and me.”
“I reckon so,” Crockett said. “Can you forgive me for what I did today?”
Her face softened. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
Chapter Nine
Crockett and Chisholm rode side by side into the Haymakers’ yard. The roof was now finished, and so was the stone wall around the well.
“The place looks nice,” Chisholm said. He hadn’t been back since the house-raising two weeks earlier.
“Thanks,” Crockett said. “Bowie and Houston helped Ben and me finish the roof, and Ben and I did the well this week.”
“Real nice.” Chisholm stopped his horse in front of the barn and swung down. “Think they’re inside?”