The Burial Read Online Free PDF

hell, finally, was the place she had found herself. The dog was in a fit, savaging the blanket to get to the source of her blood, and she thought, This is what happens in hell. Dogs disembowel you.
    But what my mother took as other dogs of hell moving in on her was the old man and the old woman swinging down from their horses and grunting and croaking as they scrambled down the bank, and then the sound of the old man lifting the yellow dog with his boot and the dog’s mournful howling.
    Soon their pale faces hovered over her. And with their strange eyes and mess of silvery hair my mother took them to be harbingers of death, as surely as she knew a frost was a harbinger of winter.
    You’re late , she said. Because in truth she believed that death had already come to her.
    But she was not dead and nor were they harbingers of death. They were old and they were human and they began quarrelling about what to do with her.

MY MOTHER HAD been set up. It began years before my birth. She was just five months out of prison. She was still in the land of hope then, and she hoped directly to the leaf and the dirt as much as to the sky and the mountain that things would get better. She buried herself in her work and tried to prove herself to Fitz through her efficiency and her talent for breaking in horses. But the only acknowledgement he had given her was a walloping when he found her petting the horses in the evening when she should have been preparing his dinner.
    She hated him already and it was only the beginning of her first autumn there.
    There was some reprieve. Mostly, Fitz disappeared during the day and only returned to the house just before sunset. That left her alone to do her work and enjoy the peace and challenge of the horses. Day by working day she could feel her balance and her strength returning. But with the turning of the season, she noticed the nights were coming sooner. And although there was a time she thought she would welcome every change of nature, she knew that soon there would be much less daylight to get things done and much less time to be free of him. She feared what a winter alone with him would bring.
    The night of the set-up, it was just on dusk, the time she expected him. The sun was her clock and it had all but sunk and there was no sign of Fitz—or, rather, no ranging sound of him.
    She set the table as he had instructed her to do, with the fork lined up beside the knife and the spoon and a napkin folded in a triangle. She wrapped the plates in a tea towel and put them on the stovetop to warm. She sampled the stew. She waited, warding off an uneasy feeling.
    It was fully dark when she heard a cavalcade of horses and it was not the sound she expected to hear or the sound she was used to. She pulled at the wooden door of the gun cabinet and was thankful Fitz had forgotten to lock it. He usually always locked it and he usually always kept his guns loaded. She grabbed a rifle, crouched down and peered through the front window.
    There were two men approaching the house and neither of them was Fitz. Beyond them she couldn’t quite see but she knew she was hearing the muster of at least half a dozen horses, and if they were being mustered there must be more men.
    There was a banging on the door.
    Fitz? yelled one of them .
    Jessie crawled beneath the window and stood behind the door. She yelled back, What? It was her best impression of Fitz.
    We’ve got the horses , said the voice on the other side of the door.
    Fitz had not told her of any delivery. But he never told her of anything. She concealed the rifle on one side of her and opened the door.
    Sorry, ma’am , said one of them, surprised to see her. Is Fitz in?
    Both men looked like droving types. Tall and lean. They kept their hats on.
    He’ll be back soon , said Jessie. Do you have business with him?
    We do, but we won’t stick around if he’s not in.
    Was he expecting you?
    Yes, ma’am. Told us to deliver the