The priest had finished with his eulogy and let the mourners stand alone with their thoughts and silent prayers. A few folks paying their respects had already moved back to their cars and trucks and would go about their day like it was any other—feeding and milking their cows, getting to their shift at Taylor’s, making the necessary deliveries.

Scott and Skeeter were on either side of their mother. Sarah looked beat up pretty bad. She had insisted on having Mindy’s funeral separate from her husband’s. Johnny’s was yesterday, and only the boys and Sarah and Lester had been at the ceremony. Johnny wasn’t liked so much in town, and that was pretty apparent by the turnout.

Lester’s leg was in a cast, and the meds that the doctor gave him weren’t doing much for the pain. He fought back the urge to pull out his pack of Camels, but he knew that Bonnie would give him “the look,” and he didn’t need that grief right about now.

Lester’s memories of getting shot by the deputy were a bit muddy—like a pail full of pond water. He remembered going down, seeing Danny kneel next to him, and then he drifted off. He didn’t remember a thing about the boy carrying him the three miles back to town. Lester didn’t weigh much more than one-fifty, but that was a hell of a lot of pounds to be carrying off the mountain in the cold and snow and dark—especially in the condition Danny was in. Turned out that the cold did Lester a favor by slowing the bleeding a little. And how his ticker survived all that craziness—Lester knew that the man upstairs must have seen to that. He guessed that the big man must not be needing his services just yet.

Lester watched Scott and Skeeter help their mother to her feet. Then he saw how Sarah looked at Danny. She nodded at him, and Danny nodded back. They’d both lost someone special to them. It didn’t make it any easier, but at least it was something.

Lester put his hand to Sarah’s shoulder as she passed him by. “If I can do anything.”

She nodded her thanks, and as the boys guided her frail form toward the parking lot, Scott whispered something to them and walked back over to Danny. Scott looked up at the sky that was slowly turning blue and thought for a minute about what he wanted to say. Danny waited for him to take his time. Finally Scott locked eyes with Danny.

Danny looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. “I was the lucky one. Mindy will always be my special friend.”

Scott took a deep breath, tried to keep himself composed. “A lot of bad things happened out in those woods, Danny. To you, Lester, and that state-trooper fella.” Scott looked toward Mindy’s grave for a second. “We all had it wrong about you. All of us. And the state trooper . . . I guess he’s gonna be okay. Thank God for that.”

Danny nodded—he had heard about what happened to the state trooper from Towanda.

“I’m real sorry. I know things haven’t been easy for you.” Scott blew on his hands to warm them up a little. “If you had yourself a car, I’d offer to fix it up for you for free.”

“That’s nice of you. Maybe if one of my washers goes down,” Danny said.

“Okay. That’s a deal.” Scott extended his hand to Danny, and Danny shook it. They looked at each other for another moment, and then Scott rejoined his mother and brother.

Lester glanced to his wife, and she knew his signals. Bonnie kissed him on the cheek, then stepped in front of Danny. She appeared especially small and vulnerable before Danny’s wide mass, like a bear cub standing in front of its papa bear. Bonnie put an arthritic finger to Danny’s cheek and stroked it gingerly.

“You’re gonna heal up just fine, Danny. You’re a strong boy. You take care, now.” She gave Danny a wink, pulled her jacket around her neck to protect it from the wind, and left him at the grave site in silence.

Only Lester and Danny stayed behind. Lester limped over and stood beside him for a few moments. Not much left to say.

“Naw. I don’t mind, Sheriff.”

The sheriff nodded his appreciation. “How you feeling, son?”

“Okay, I guess.”

Lester played with his cigarette a little and then remembered something. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small wooden robin figurine and held it toward Danny. Danny looked at it and smiled the best he could around the metal pins in his jaw.

“Been carrying this around for you. Nice piece of work. She would’ve liked it, I bet.”

Danny accepted the robin from the sheriff and turned it over in his hands. He noticed that the bird’s head and back had been gently sanded and repainted with a fresh coat of orange.

“Touched it up a little for you. The blood sanded right off. Hope you don’t mind.”

“It looks fine. Thank you.” Danny limped up to the coffin and placed the figurine on top of the wooden box. The small bird seemed at home nestled in the flower wreath that was draped over the coffin.

“Happy birthday, Mindy. I’ll see you soon,” Danny said softly.

Lester flicked his cigarette into the snow and hobbled beside Danny as they made their way back toward the parking lot where Bonnie was waiting.

“Give you a ride, son?”

“Thank you, Sheriff, but I guess I’ll walk.”

“You sure? Colder than hell out here.”

“I like the cold just fine.”

Danny nodded that he would. Lester gave him a smile, patted him on the back, and climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. He watched Danny from the sideview mirror, standing all alone in the cold, feet set in the gravel, like he wasn’t quite ready to leave the cemetery.