They're here today to bury the body of Daniel Evans, the preacher begins to speak. A husband to his wife. A father to his sons. A soldier to his country. A hero to the town of Bisbee, and to a good part of the territory. The story made the papers.
(So did the story of Ben Wade's escape from Yuma prison, just a few days later.)
Dan listens while the man speaks, but his eyes aren't on him. Or the coffin. Or Alice and his boys. His eyes are focused on the dust floating across the beam of light from the window, the way it sparkles in the sun as it falls.
Outside the church, a short distance up the hill, a man leans hard on a shovel and wipes the sweat from his brow, swipes at the dust on his pants, and eyes the six foot hole he's just finished digging.
The preacher talks, awhile, then asks if anyone has anything they'd like to say.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-07-07 10:45 pm (UTC)They're here today to bury the body of Daniel Evans, the preacher begins to speak. A husband to his wife. A father to his sons. A soldier to his country. A hero to the town of Bisbee, and to a good part of the territory. The story made the papers.
(So did the story of Ben Wade's escape from Yuma prison, just a few days later.)
Dan listens while the man speaks, but his eyes aren't on him. Or the coffin. Or Alice and his boys. His eyes are focused on the dust floating across the beam of light from the window, the way it sparkles in the sun as it falls.
Outside the church, a short distance up the hill, a man leans hard on a shovel and wipes the sweat from his brow, swipes at the dust on his pants, and eyes the six foot hole he's just finished digging.
The preacher talks, awhile, then asks if anyone has anything they'd like to say.