spit in his drink. If he said anything else, if he said what he was truly feeling in that moment, it would reveal all Leah had confided. Because if Will Gunderson kept a shack in those woods, then Steve, his predecessor, surely knew about it. Seemed like everyone knew but Grizz.
“You’re a hard man to reach,” Steve said when Grizz came back outside. He licked his lips. “Church council met last night. It was decided your son would be buried in the suicide corner of the cemetery.”
“No,” Grizz said. How could he have forgotten? This town and its sick traditions. “You wait just a goddamn minute. I want him buried next to his mother. I own the plot.”
“And you signed a contract that spells out what happens in the event of a suicide. The rules are very clear on this. He’ll have to be buried in the corner with the other suicides.”
Grizz felt the heat of the sun on the back of his neck, filling him up. His fists tightened around the shovel. “I intend to speak to the pastor about all of this.”
“Pastor Logan has already been informed of the council’s decision.”
Was it his imagination, or did Steve’s mouth curve in a small smile under the mustache? He turned his back on the sheriff and headed for the broken fence. Steve followed just as he knew he would. When Grizz heard his footsteps behind him, he turned and swung the shovel with all his might. He pivoted, planting his feet and throwing his entire body into the swing. The clamps and staves fell away in a clatter. In his mind’s eye, he saw the fanged edge of that old shovel cleave into Steve’s neck, saw the first bright geyser of red erupt, saw him fall, his mouth opening in surprise.
But Steve was a cunning man and knew what Grizz was about, so where he thought the man’s head or neck might be instead there was only air, and the violence of that swing twisted him badly on his hips, and he felt something tear inside when he fell.
Steve stood over him. “It’s not a good idea to try assaulting an officer of the law,” he said. “But I’m going to forget this happened. I don’t know what that girl told you. I can understand your anger, why you might try to hurt me in the heat of the moment.” He paused, made a sound in his throat, and spit to the side. “What I don’t understand is your boy. I mean his pockets were full of ammunition, Grizz. Took his time sawing down that shotgun. I can’t imagine such coldness.”
Even if Grizz wanted to rise, he couldn’t. It felt like there was a saw working in his gut, an old hernia tear he had torn again. He breathed in the dust where he had fallen and tried not to cry. How had he not seen this moment coming? Of course they would do this. They couldn’t just let Seth be dead. They had to find some further way to punish him, send him on to hell.
“This town’s had a terrible shock. They don’t feel safe. The world is changing, and they don’t know their place in it. Let go of your anger. If you want to be angry, be angry with your son.”
Grizz put one hand over his eyes. It was good advice. He should have been furious with Seth, but when he searched himself all he felt was the shock of his boy’s death. An emptiness, chaff in his palm.
Grizz didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice. Steve knelt in the grass beside him. “A group of us will come this fall and combine your crop. No charge.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“We both know you don’t have the money. Probably don’t have enough for Seth’s funeral services. You’re going to need help to get through this.” Steve extended his hand, but Grizz didn’t take it.
Grunting, Grizz climbed to his feet and picked up his shovel and the rest of his things. Steve shrugged and walked away. A moment later his car started. Only after the sheriff’s car disappeared up the driveway did Grizz allow himself to lean over and vomit up what he’d drank last night. He let the sick come up, all liquid and no solids, until he was scoured out.
Then he walked to the broken place in the fence line where one post had been shattered in half. The bull must have been shocked by the electricity,