Chapter 15

Libby’s death put thoughts of the marriage aside. “Jake, I don’t know what to do,” Priscilla sobbed. “We can’t just bury her like we did the ones that died on the way here!”

“I don’t know the way of it here, but did she have visitors?” I asked. “Friends?”

“I should have thought of that,” Priscilla said. “If you’ll stay with her, I’ll find Sharon. Her mother will know what to do.”

“I’ll stay,” I said. “Who’s Sharon, and why her mother?”

“I met Sharon right after we got here, and she’s been my best friend ever since. Her mother is Evangeline Plummer, and her family has been in Texas since the beginning. She knows everybody and women, especially the ones who came with us, look up to her.”

She left, and I looked down at Libby. By the looks of things, she had died easy and it didn’t look like she’d felt any pain. I brushed off a couple of flies—seems like they can sense death almost before it shows up—and covered her face with the bedsheet to keep them from coming back. After I’d done what I could for her, I made a pot of fresh coffee, poured myself a cup, then went outside to wait.

By and by, a regular caravan of women walked down the lane and turned in. Up front was a woman I figured had to be Evangeline Plummer. Priscilla was following along behind the older ones and talking to a young woman, red-haired and pretty. Whatever they were talking about, there was a lot of hand-waving and low murmuring going on. Evangeline shooed the two young ones my way and the others swept inside, several carrying bundles in their arms.

They looked like they knowed what they were doing, so I sat there and kept my mouth shut. Being officially promised as I now was, I figured I’d have to get used to all kinds of woman stuff going on behind my back. Priscilla poured coffee for herself and her friend, then sat down by me and introduced Sharon. I nodded politely, said howdy, and then asked what the others were up to.

“They’re preparing my mother’s body,” Priscilla said, her voice catching for a moment. “One of the women donated a dress—they’re going to burn the one she was wearing, and the bloody cloths she used when she coughed—and they contacted Mister Córdova. He said he’d see about having a coffin built and the grave dug, and by tomorrow they’ll have a carved cypress board ready to mark the grave.”

“Who is this Mister Córdova?” I asked curiously. “Seems like he can get things done.”

“He’s the Alcalde, or was,” Sharon explained, “but he’s still in charge until the new government appoints a new one. They may not, because he was one of the original supporters of the Constitution of 1824.”

“I know who he is,” I said, “but I never heard his name.” Pretty, and knowledgeable too! Nearly as pretty as my Priscilla, I figured.

So we talked, and inside mysterious things went on. After a while, a donkey showed up pulling a small cart that was carrying the empty coffin. Evangeline came out and bossed the two men who’d walked alongside of the donkey as they carried the coffin inside. It wasn’t long after that before a small procession came along, led by a black-robed priest and another man. Jean-Louis followed along behind them, but we would have to wait to catch up on the happenings.

“That’s Mister Córdova, the alcalde,” Priscilla said. “I don’t know who the priest is, but I’ll find out because we’ll have another job for him. I don’t want us to get married today, but I don’t want to wait any longer than we have to.” I just nodded back. Seemed like I was doing a lot of that lately.

Priscilla and Sharon went inside and I went over to make my manners to the two leaders. As soon as I did, the alcalde introduced himself and the priest. “I am Vicente Córdova, and this gentleman is Father Michael Muldoon. We are fortunate that he is visiting at this sad time.”

“I regret that we have only a short time to speak,” the priest said, “because I have heard many good things of you, Capitán Jennings. We must arrange to meet again. It is unfortunate, but matters must proceed without delay. It is a hot day, and rain is expected soon. You understand?”

I did. Best to get it done before the body started to smell bad.

The same two who had carried the coffin inside came to the door and motioned to Jean-Louis and me to come help, so we did. The four of us carried the wooden box outside and carefully placed it on the cart. Then, with the priest leading and apparently praying, we started off for the cemetery that was about a mile away. Whatever he was saying, it wasn’t American and it wasn’t Spanish. Maybe it was that Latin I’d heard about.

Priscilla walked behind the cart, with me holding her hand, Jean-Louis and Sharon walked behind us, and behind them came Evangeline Plummer and the rest. We ended up at a pretty spot, on a low hill that was surrounded by magnolia trees in full flower. Off to the side stood boards with writing on them that marked earlier graves. Things had been a lot simpler back on the trail, but I figure that ceremony is important to folks. At least, this time I wouldn’t be the one trying to find proper words to speak over the grave!

Father Muldoon said a final prayer, the men who’d dug the grave began filling it in, and most headed back for town just as the first sprinkles landed on us. Priscilla didn’t seem in any hurry to leave, so the three of us stood with her until after the gravediggers had gone, then we turned her around and started for town ourselves. She had held up well, but now it seemed like she had come to the end of her rope. I kind of knowed how she felt, because I’d felt that way too after I got back and found my family gone.

There’s an aloneness, a realization that the last person you could count on to always take your side wouldn’t be there next time she was needed. We took Priscilla back to the now-empty house, and while Jean-Louis and Sharon waited under the porch with her, I made coffee. After that, I held her while Jean-Louis and Sharon chatted and eventually she came around. It was like she’d just woke up from a sound sleep and hadn’t quite figured out where she was. I reckon the mind can do funny things to hold off the worst of the grieving.

Late afternoon came on and we hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so Sharon and Jean-Louis went in and fixed a simple meal. While we ate, we talked, and eventually the topic got around to us being promised to each other. That put the cat among the pigeons for fair, at least among the two women! Jean-Louis looked spooked by the idea and I reckon I was too, but determined to go ahead with it if it killed me. Or at least killed my former plans to go back to Gonzales and start up my business again.

Jean-Louis walked Sharon back to her mother’s house and Priscilla and me talked. Or rather, she plotted and I listened. For a minute I wondered what I’d let myself in for, then I figured out that it didn’t matter. I had given my word, and a real man, or one who figures himself to be, won’t go back on that. Back when I was a boy, I had it easier than I knowed at the time!

“Did you notice how taken Jean-Louis and Sharon are with each other?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be nice if all four of us got married at the same time? I’m sure the priest would be happy to do that!”

I nodded, but a tiny suspicion was born. Was that what the two had been so talkative about, back when they were coming back with Sharon’s mother? But while I was still untutored in the finer details of how women think, I wasn’t dumb enough to open my big mouth and get myself in trouble! That could wait until after we were married, which I figured was the proper thing to do.