Free Veils of Silk by Mary Jo Putney

it's going to be a difficult day."
    * *
*
    For Laura, the hours passed with the distorted, heightened reality of a dream. By the time she had dressed in her one dark gown, the headman of Nanda had arrived. After praising Kenneth's justice and wisdom, the headman offered a burial site on a hill overlooking the small local river. Two "untouchable" women came from the village to help Laura prepare her stepfather's body for burial. She was grateful for the women's sympathy and experienced help, and was unsurprised to learn that they had come at Major Cameron's request. His aid was nothing if not practical.
    In a hot climate, burials took place as soon as possible, and all too soon it was time to take Kenneth Stephenson to his final resting spot. His wrapped body was carried on a bamboo bed borne by eight men. In a Hindu family the pallbearers would be close relatives, but these were a mixture of Kenneth's most senior servants and volunteers from the village.
    Laura walked behind her stepfather's bier. Major Cameron was beside her, silent but quick to help when her steps faltered. Behind them followed the whole population of the village, the women wailing with grief at the loss of the man who had been not only the face of the British Sirkar, but their friend.
    The grave had already been dug and a sturdy wooden cross planted at the head. It was a peaceful place, shaded by a jacaranda tree and cooled by the breeze from the river. In spring, the air would be fragrant with blossoms. Laura watched numbly, her only goal to get through the burial without breaking down in public. This was one occasion when she might have discarded British calm for tempestuous Russian emotion, but over the years control had become second nature to her.
    With no clergyman or prepared service, there was an awkward moment of silence after the interment. Smoothly, before the interval grew too long, Major Cameron began to recite in English, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…"
    Laura blinked back stinging tears, grateful that Cameron had chosen a psalm that Kenneth had loved rather than the somber burial service.
    After ending, "and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever," Cameron added, "By a man's works we shall know him. Though I did not have the privilege of knowing Kenneth Stephenson in life, the love and honor shown today by those he served is the highest tribute a man can receive. May he rest in peace."
    The major repeated everything he had said in Urdu, the villagers nodding in approval. After the grave had been filled in, people pressed forward to lay garlands of marigolds on the earthen mound, many of the women openly weeping. As the major had observed, Kenneth Stephenson had been much loved.
    But no one would miss him as much as Laura. As she walked stiffly back to camp, she had never felt so alone in her life.

----
Chapter 6

     
    After the funeral, Laura went straight to her tent, for only there could she allow herself to cry. Tears racked her as afternoon faded and night fell. She was shamed by the knowledge that she wept not only for her stepfather, but also from sorrow for the empty life that lay ahead of her. It was unlikely that she would ever again be so close to another person.
    Eventually her tears dried from sheer exhaustion. She managed to sleep for a few hours, only to wake again in the still hour before dawn. This time there was no disorientation; she knew exactly where she was and what had happened. Nothing would bring her stepfather back; it was time to face the rest of her life. Getting to her feet, she located by touch the robe and slippers that her maid always left by the bed.
    Outside the air was pleasantly cool. The forest never slept, and she paused in the door of her tent to take stock. The scene was rather like the morning before, with the servants sleeping around the larger fire. In the distance a hyena howled.
    Much closer was Major Cameron, who sat cleaning a shotgun by the nearer fire. His figure was