The Secret

by

Beppina

Pa’s hand rested on my shoulder. A gentle squeeze kept me aware he was still at my side. The Preacher’s voice droned on with his liturgy for the dead as soft sobbing reached me from across the graveside. Sunlight filtered through the tall pines in patches, dappling the ground with bright gold that surrounded the Johnson family burial site. It was too bright for a day meant for mourning.

I could feel the sweat trickle down my neck and stick to my shirt. The stifling heat became suffocating, unbearable. I ached to pull my string tie from my neck, anything to ease the tight lump in my throat that threatened to choke me. I twisted my hat again, fiddled with it, then held it still. A gentle nudge from my father reminded me to stop my fidgeting and pay attention.

Ellie-May Johnson stood across from me, dressed in a harsh black two-piece. Her face drained of her usual rosy glow. Her copper-coloured hair swept up in a tight bun and covered by a sheer veil. Tears coursed down her pale cheeks. Her lilac-hued eyes were swollen and red from grief. To one side, an arm around her waist, stood her father, Jed. On the other, Tommy’s father, Matt, held her elbow.

“We commit Tommy Johnson—” the Preacher intoned.

 I could feel the tears welling up, my vision blurred. I bit down hard on my lip and tasted the coppery blood flow. I couldn’t break down here, not in front of Tommy’s wife. I would wait until I was in the privacy of my home.

Ellie-May’s tears became a flood as she screamed for her dead husband. Breaking free of Jed, she fell to her knees by the open grave. Calling his name, she scrabbled at the disturbed soil. Her cries cut straight to my heart. There was so much I knew but had promised never to share. I wouldn’t break her heart with the secret I was privy to.

Three days earlier.

“I’m going over to see Tommy, Pa.” I grabbed my gun and hat, “I’ll be back by nightfall.”

“Say hello to Ellie-May and the baby for me. Ask if they’d like to come over for lunch after church on Sunday.” Pa waved me off. He was going into town on business and for lunch, so not bothered about my doings for the day.

Tommy and I were old friends. A year older than me, a pleasant, quiet, kind of guy. We met at the excuse for a school we had back then, a small room tucked at the back of the mercantile store. Tommy didn’t have many friends. I was the only one who stuck around. Most of the boys who showed up for class bullied him and made his life a misery. I’d had some of that treatment, being on the small side for my age at fourteen. Tommy had a bad stutter, which made him an easy target.

Well, here I am at twenty-three, and we’re still good friends. We’ve had fights and arguments, but never anything serious. Now I was going to help him train a couple of draft horses for his timber hauling business.

The two dark-dappled greys stood in the corral, big heads hanging over the top rail, watching as I rode across the yard.

“Hey, Tommy, where’re you hiding? Johnson?” I shouted in greeting, expecting him to emerge from the house or barn. I took the steps to the house two at a time, then tried the door and looked in. My first glance showed the place was empty. That wasn’t unusual; Ellie-May often took the baby to visit her grandparents in Virginia City.

I jogged across the yard to the barn, calling Tommy as I ran. A bad feeling crept up my spine as I tried the doors, only to find they were locked—probably bolted, from the inside. Now I was worried. Tommy knew I was going over and would have sent word if he’d gone out.

I pushed at the double doors. Neither moved. Leaping the corral rails, I climbed up to the tack room window. A quick tap with my gun butt, and the window shattered inwards.

“Tommy…” I shouted as I pulled myself through the small opening. “F—!” Pain flared as blood poured from a cut across my palm. It could wait; I wouldn’t bleed to death with this injury.

I moved from the tack room into the main barn. Tommy’s bay stood quiet in its stall. Ellie-May’s mare was in hers, though she was blowing and stamping with fear.

“Okay, girl,” I crossed to her, patted her rump, “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

I turned to the bigger loose box behind the partition. My heart stopped.

“No…Tommy… oh God, no!”

Tommy hung from the cross member. A barrel lay on its side under his feet. His face swollen, distorted, and frozen in a grimace I will never forget.

How the heck could I get Tommy down? There was nothing I could stand on, nowhere to brace the ladder. I climbed into the loft, grabbed another rope and moved across towards the beam. With shaking hands, I lowered Tommy to the floor—though I knew he was beyond help.

I pulled Tommy clear of the horses, then found a clean blanket. I couldn’t carry him to the house, so I decided to leave him in the barn. A swift check of his pockets produced three envelopes: one for Ellie-May, one for his father, and one for me. Pocketing mine, I shut and secured the barn, then went in search of help.

Later, alone in my room, I read the letter. My heart breaking for Tommy as I read his last words.

“I can’t live the lie any longer, Joe. You’re the only one who knows the truth. I beg you never to tell. I’m sorry that you had to find me. I’m sorry for so many things. Thank you for being my friend. Tommy.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I promised.

Then my tears fell—for my friend.

                                   The End

Word count 1014

15.01.2026