The sun rose over farm the next morning. Simon, showered, bandaged and in fresh clothes, shoveled the last load of dirt upon Virgil’s grave. He was buried at the foot of the prairie on his own property. It seemed appropriate. Wyatt, however, lay in a mass grave out in the prairie with Callum Marks and his sons and goons, never having even laid eyes upon his daughter.
Toews wiped the sweat from his brow, his last hard day’s work on the farm. The entire time, he couldn’t get the sound of Millie’s horrified shriek from his mind. The monster inside of him had gotten loose and the redneck Kate identified as “Hank”, had taken the full brunt of its rage. But afterwards, the girl wouldn’t speak to him. Wouldn’t so much as look at him. He’d changed in her eyes, and it ate him up inside. What she’d seen, she would carry with her for the rest of her life, and it was his fault for not keeping control.
While he worked, Kate packed. The farm was no longer their home. It was just the place where Virgil had died and bad men had tried to kill Millie and her mama. Where a good man had turned into something that would haunt the girl’s dreams for years to come.
Simon hammered a cross into the ground over Virgil’s grave and finally stepped back, giving the old cowboy a moment of silence. Simon wasn’t a praying man, but for Virgil, he could at least give him that.
Kate stepped up beside him, bruised, scraped and a butterfly bandage adorning her left eyebrow. She watched Virgil’s grave in silence standing beside Simon. She reached out and took his hand, clasping it tight as she said a little prayer for Virgil...and one for Simon.
After a moment, she released his hand, the pair of them ambling toward the house. “She alright?” Simon asked.
Kate eyed the gravel, giving a rock a little kick as she did. “I think she will be. Eventually.” She glanced at him with a weak little smile. “What about you?”
Simon smirked bitterly, hand stuffed into his pockets. “I always am.”
She gazed at him doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s true.”
His smirk faded, his eyes lowering just slightly. “You might be right.”
“What are you gonna do?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know. Get back into town. Spend a few days in bed with a beautiful blonde I got waiting for me back home.” He grinned. “Just see where life takes me.”
A knowing little smirk crossed Kate’s lips. “Maybe go see a doctor before you go hopping into bed. Don’t want to break a hip.”
Simon chuckled. “Yeah, might have to do that. What about you?”
Kate glanced over. “Me?”
“Yeah. What’s next?”
Kate stopped in her tracks and looked out over the farm that had been her hiding spot for 8 years. She gave up everything to eek out a life spent in fear of even a single misstep. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she realized what this all meant. Wyatt was gone. Callum was gone.
“I’m going home.” She said, turning to Simon. Kate Wilder stood a little taller in that moment, a weight lifted from her shoulders.
The tatted fighter smiled brightly to her. He took in the image of her in that moment, a proud, strong, confident...and most of all...free woman about to embark on a new path, a new life. For now, the guilt faded.
The pair of them glanced to the truck where Millie sat. Kate glanced at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. Simon knew. He knew she didn’t want to see him or say goodbye. He even understood why.
Her smile was fleeting, replaced with concern and bit of sadness. The pair just stood there and stared, neither daring to speak. Kate reached up and carefully wrapped her arms around him, embracing him tightly, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Thank you.” She whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
“Don’t.” He responded. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. Virgil would still be alive.”
“Or we’d all be dead.” She corrected him. “You saved us. We get a second chance. That’s on you, Simon.”
He wasn’t entirely convinced of that, but he didn’t argue.
“Sooner or later...you’re gonna have to forgive yourself.” She said, pulling back. “You deserve to.”
Simon forced a smile and nodded. “You just take care of that girl.”
“With all my life.” she assured him. “Goodbye, Simon Toews.”
“Goodbye, Kate Wilder.” He responded warmly.
She leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And Simon….”
“Yeah?”
“Be good.”
Simon watched as she released him and walked over to the truck, climbing inside with her daughter. She pulled down a pair of aviators from the visor and slid them on, a blissful little grin on her lips as she turned on the engine. Kate took Millie under one arm and kissed the top of her head. She put the truck into gear and head on out of his life for good.
Simon smiled to himself, walking over to his bullet-ridden car. It still ran perfectly, it just wasn’t pretty. It suited him, he decided. The battered fighter climbed into the driver’s seat and fired the old Charger up. With his last moment on the farm, he turned and looked out to Virgil’s grave, silently said goodbye, leaving the farm, the death, and a part of himself he’d carried for years behind. He didn’t know where the road would take him, or what fate had in store. But he would meet it nonetheless.
The makeshift cross stood strong as the wind blew across the prairie lands, Virgil in his home, and Wyatt much like in life, on the outskirts, his father just out of reach until the Prairie eventually reclaimed them both.
Simon threw the car into gear and drove off, leaving behind a trail of dust in the afternoon sun.
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie
Where the coyotes wail and the wind blows free
And when I die, don't bury me
'neath the Western sky on the lone prairie
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie
These words came soft and painfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay
On his dying bed at the break of day
But we buried him there, on the lone prairie
Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free
In a shallow grave, no one to grieve
'neath the Western sky on the lone prairie
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie
These words came soft and painfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay
On his dying bed at the break of day
On his dying bed at the break of dayWilliam Elliot Whitmore-Bury Me Not on The Lone Prairie