"The Lord is my shepherd. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He restoreth my soulů" Josiah Sanchez solemnly read the remaining verses of the 23rd Psalms.
His blue eyes flickered off the pages of his worn Bible, glancing over the sorrowful figures of the mourners gathered around the freshly dug grave.
Zebediah Pierce had given his life to protect the little Ames girl. She'd gotten away from her ma and run out of the General Store, straight into the path of an oncoming wagon. Zebediah had been shooting the breeze with his pal Otis Tiegs on the porch of the General Store. He'd sprung up faster than his 67-year-old body normally moved and managed to push little Annie out of the way, saving her life, only to be trampled to death for his efforts.
Josiah ended his eulogy with a prayer and then watched as the mourners tossed handfuls of soil onto the coffin in the open grave. He hoped that he had done Zebediah justice with his words. Giving a eulogy was never an easy thing to do and he was far from an ordained minister.
Hell, most of the time he was a heathen playing at being one. He didn't do it to dupe the good citizens of Four Corners out of their money. Nor did he think he was particularly good at it. He did believe in the Almighty and had read the Bible from cover to cover more than once over the course of his life.
The words within the Bible gave him comfort in ways nothing else ever had and he wanted to share that comfort with others.
Obviously, he'd been doing something right because his church was crowded every Sunday, and folks continued to ask him to officiate over their weddings, births, deaths, and other festivities. Until they chased him out with pitchforks and angry curses, he supposed he would keep comforting their grieving souls and enriching their spirits.
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