'Cemetery?' Jack said, frowning. 'You've got a state-certified
private cemetery on your grounds,' the attorney said. 'Twelve plots,
though only four have been used.' Staring toward the knoll, where she
could vaguely see part of what might have been a low stone wall and a
pair of gateposts in the plum-dark light, Heather said, 'Who's buried
there?'
'Stan Quartermass, Ed Fernandez, Margaret, and Tommy.'
'Tommy, my old partner, he's buried up there?' Jack asked. 'Private
cemetery,' Heather said. She told herself that the only reason she
shivered was because the air was growing colder by the minute. 'That's
a little macabre.'
'Not so strange around here,' Paul assured her. 'A lot of these
ranches, the same family has been on the land for generations. It's
not only their home, it's their hometown, the only place they love.
Eagle's Roost is JUST somewhere to shop. When it comes to being put to
eternal rest, they want to be part of the land they've given their
lives to.'
'Wow,' Toby said. 'How cool can you get? We live in a graveyard.'
'Hardly that,' Paul said. 'My grandfolks and my parents are buried
over to our place, and there's really nothing creepy about it.
Comforting. Gives you a sense of hentage, continuity. Carolyn and I
figure to be put to rest there too, though I can't say what our kids
want to do, now they're off in medical school and law school making new
lives that don't have anything to do with the ranch.'
'Darn it, we just missed Halloween,' Toby said, more to himself than to
them. He stared toward the cemetery, caught up in a personal fantasy
that no doubt involved the challenge of walking through a graveyard on
All Hallows' Eve. They stood quietly for a moment.
The dusk was heavy, silent, still. Uphill, the cemetery seemed to cast
off the fading light and pull the night down like a shroud, covering
it-self with darkness faster than any of the land around it. Heather
glanced at Jack to see if he showed any sign of being troubled by
having Tommy Fernandez's remains buried nearby. Tommy had died at his
side, after 11, eleven months before Luther Bryson had been shot.
With Tommy's grave so close, Jack couldn't help but recall, perhaps too
vividly, violent events best condemmed forever to the deeper vaults of
memory. As if sensing her concern, Jack smiled. 'Makes me feel better
to know Tommy found rest in a place as beautiful as this.'
As they walked back to the house, the attorney invited them to dinner
and to stay overnight with him and his wife. 'One, you arrived too
late today to get the place cleaned and livable. Two, you don't have
any fresh food here, only what might be in the freezer. And three, you
don't want to have to cook after putting in a long day on the road.
Why not relax this evening, get a start on it first thing in the
morning, when you're rested?'
Heather was grateful for the invitation, not merely for the reasons
Paul had enumerated but because she remained uneasy about the house and
the isolation in which it stood. She had decided that her jumpiness
was nothing other than a city person's initial response to more wide
