Gone

“Your father is dead.”

April heard her mother inhale sharply and then release a shaking sob. The sheriff standing in the doorway averted his gaze to the wooden floor boards of the dusty shack the McClain family called home, but April continued to stare at him expressionlessly.

“Thank you for telling us, sheriff. It was kind of you to make the lengthy trip. We will tend to the funeral arrangements by the day’s end,” said April, inclining her head in a respectful nod.

Sheriff Powell glanced nervously from April to her mother, Catherine, who had braced herself against the doorframe by now and was breathing raggedly through cutting tears.

Carefully, the lawman replied, “You- You’re welcome, ma’am. It ain’t nuthin’ I take pride in though. You have my condolences.”

Powell turned toward the open door, looking relieved to step back from the emotional turmoil Missis Catherine McClain was currently enduring. He replaced his hat to his head and strode out of the house toward his horse, passing a little boy with messy black tufts of hair.
Seeing her little brother’s big dark eyes inquisitively staring at their mother, April quickly gathered her skirts and stepped out to meet the young boy as Sheriff Powell pulled himself up onto a saddled bay mare.

“Calvin,” April murmured softly, kneeling in front of her little brother so she could hold his tenebrous stare.

“What happened?” Cal asked, a soft frown forming on his freckled facial features.

Despite his difficultly learning letters and numbers, April had always known her baby brother was intelligent. Calvin had a way of watching people that gave them the sense that he was precocious. Their parents had never taken the time to see past his slightly unnerving curious gaze, but April knew Cal could potentially be the best of them.

Long ago, April had promised Calvin that she would never lie to him. Even though this was not going to be a pleasant conversation, she knew it would be simpler to speak forthrightly. She answered, “Papa was killed last night in the saloon, Cal. He’s gone.”

For a moment, Calvin continued to stare at his older sister and then his eyes shifted around her to look at their mother, still inside the house. Catherine had slumped down to the floor and her hands covered her mouth as if she could trap the emphatic cries and whimpers inside her body, but they could be heard even over the sound of the sheriff’s horse trotting away down the dusty path that led to the weathered farmhouse.

Slowly, Cal pulled away from April and walked into the house. He sat down beside Catherine at the open door and reached out for one of her hands. April stood and watched from outside as Catherine wrapped her arms around Calvin and pulled him closer so she could cry against his shoulder. He was only a scrawny little boy, but April knew he understood things other children his age did not grasp.

Watching him now, April could see hidden away within him were the makings of a caring heart. Cal had just learned that his father was dead, yet he sought to comfort his grieving mother before beginning to mourn the loss himself. Granted, their father had never been an overly kind man. He’d attempted to teach Cal to survive in this harsh world – a lesson April had done her best to counteract with encouraging compassion.

“You don’t have to be what they want you to be, Cal,” April remembered telling him.

Catherine broke April away from her recollections of the past by whispering hoarsely, “Emerson. You’ve left me all alone, Emerson.”  

Emerson McClain. Once a father, husband, and drunken farmer. Now a dead man.

Before April could intercede between Catherine and her demons, Calvin spoke up.

“You’re not alone, Ma,” he said.

April blinked at her little brother, feeling a sense of pride overwhelm the sorrow of the tragedy looming over them. If nothing else, they would grow stronger from their misfortune.