Webb’s Funeral

[David Morris]

ATD p.215
They stood huddled together in Lone Tree Cemetery, the miners’ graveyard at
the end of town, Mayva, Lake, Frank, and Reed, beneath the great peaks and
behind them the long, descending trace of Bridal Veil Falls whispering
raggedly into the cold sunlight.  Webb’s life and work had come to this.
[...]
She [Mayva] was quiet
[...]
     “Thought the Union would’ve sent flowers at least.”
     “Not them.”  It is just the meanest kind of disrespect, Reef thought,
and fuck all these people.