Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read Free Page B

of
the rifle squad moved smoothly through the ceremonious steps of
lowering the weapons, then on cue, placing them back against their
shoulders in preparation for firing the second volley of
blanks.
    Felicity leaned against me. I slipped my arm
around her and held her tight; her body was tense, as if she was
steeling herself against what we all knew was coming next. Even so,
she started as the second round and then the third sounded their
reports across the cemetery grounds.
    Behind us, as the echoes faded, bagpipes
began filling in the void, starting as a low hum that escalated
into the melancholy strains of Amazing Grace . Felicity was
trembling now, and even without looking I knew she was no longer
holding her tears at bay. I shoved my hand inside my overcoat and
sent it searching for a handkerchief. Finding the one I’d stashed
in an inner pocket, I pulled it out and carefully dabbed her cheeks
before slipping the square of cloth into her hand. She pressed
herself harder against me and allowed her head to hang, chin
against her chest as she quietly expressed her grief.
    The rifle squad was now standing at
attention, their weapons ordered at their sides, while the honor
guard carefully removed the flag from the casket and proceeded to
fold it into a tight triangle. I was having trouble containing my
own tears at this point, but I took a deep breath and bit them
back. I would have to find time to grieve later. Right now I needed
to be strong for my wife. Even though “fragile” was almost never an
accurate description where she was concerned, “temporarily
breakable” definitely fit the bill at the moment. Emotionally she
was still floundering in the dangerous wake of her own far too
recent crisis, and that left her vulnerable. One of us had to hold
it together awhile longer, and it might as well be me. She had seen
me through my share of moments in recent years, and I owed her.
    I hugged Felicity closer and allowed her to
cry as I stared past the ranks in front of us. My eyes eventually
settled on the casket at the center of the crowd. I could see Ben
standing off to the side of it along with the other pallbearers. Of
course, being six-foot-six, and full-blooded Native American, he
would have been hard to miss even if he was with the rest of the
masses.
    One by one, the half dozen men came forward
and placed their boutonnieres atop the casket. Then each of them
stepped over to the row of seated family members and offered their
personal condolences before continuing on and melting into the
crowd. My friend was the last of them, and he lingered silently for
several moments before finally placing his flower with the rest. At
this distance it was hard to tell for sure, but I thought I could
see the glisten of tears welling in his dark eyes too.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “That was a nice service,” I commented,
offering the platitude because I wasn’t really sure what else to
say.
    “Yeah,” Ben acknowledged, nodding his head
slightly as he spoke. “Yeah… it was.”
    We were standing on the walkway between the
gravesite and the access road that ran through the cemetery. Ben’s
van was parked nearby along one side of the narrow, paved stretch.
Since Felicity and I had been farther behind in the procession, my
truck was out of sight around the corner at the back of the
memorial gardens.
    People were still in the process of leaving,
and we had decided to give them a few minutes to clear out before
we added ourselves to the crush of traffic trying to exit onto the
main road. I really didn’t mind the wait, especially since this was
the first chance in several days that I’d had to speak with my
friend at any length. Between everything that had happened only a
few nights ago and him being so involved in the funeral
arrangements, he had been scarce. Of course I couldn’t blame it all
on him. We had been doing our fair share of hiding out as well, so
it hadn’t been easy for him to reach us either.
    There was a cold breeze