Outfoxed

CHAPTER 43

Four hundred and sixty people crammed into the pre-Revolutionary Episcopal Church. Built in 1749, laid brick with white lintels, the unadorned structure sheltered by ancient spruces and hickories exuded an inviting presence. It didn’t take a particularly active imagination to envision colonists tying up their horses, doffing their tricornes, or adjusting their Sunday hats if female, to cross the threshold into the vestry.

Every member of Jefferson Hunt attended, many genuinely sorrowful. Crawford, not at all sorrowful, escorted Martha. He walked to the grave site in the churchyard as well, just to make sure the walnut casket would be lowered into the ground.

Martha, keeping her misery in check, wiped her eyes from time to time. Crawford kept his eyes down much of the time.

The Franklins sat together. Jennifer held a lace handkerchief to her eyes, not to dab tears but to hide the laughter. Dean Offendahl, one of her high school boyfriends, in the choir, would wink at her. Betty, outraged, headed straight for Dean once the service was over. A funeral might be a good place to fall in love but it wasn’t a good place to flirt. Jennifer, unaware of her mother’s mission, walked with Cody and Bobby to chat with Sister, Doug, and Shaker. Together they walked out to the parking lot, a light northerly wind mussing everyone’s hair.

They stopped out of respect as the funeral director ushered Sorrel and the kids into the black limousine. Fontaine’s sister from Morgantown, West Virginia, and her family followed in the next black limo.

“She’s holding up remarkably well,” Betty quietly remarked.

“You’d think she’d be glad to get rid of him,” Cody said in a low voice.

Doug firmly said, “Cody.”

She shrugged.

Sister walked over next to her. “If love were logical, you would be one hundred percent correct but love isn’t logical. If it were, no one in their right mind would marry. For all his faults, she loved him. She loved him from the day she met him in college.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I suspect you have mixed emotions yourself.”

This terse sentence from Sister cut to the bone. Cody wondered if Sister knew about her affair. Unlike most people, Sister Jane did not feel compelled to tell people what she knew. A slight chill bumped down Cody’s spine.

“Would you like to ride with me?” Doug offered, hoping for the chance to talk to Cody alone before the gathering at the Buruss home.

Cody agreed and once the door was closed she blurted out, “God, I’d give anything for a drink right now.”

“No.”

“I won’t, I won’t. But funerals make me shaky.”

“Cody, did you ever notice a special rope in Fontaine’s stable?”

“What do you mean?”

“From out west. King’s ropes, I think. Stiff. Used to rope steers and calves.”

“No.”

“Think hard. Maybe he hung it in the tack room or inside his trailer. You’d notice it, as it’s different from the stuff you buy at the co-op.”

“No. I’d show up three times a week, saddle up Keepsake, and that was that. In and out.”