Lonesome Dove, Volume 2: Comanche Moon by Larry McMurtry

THERE WAS GREEN spring grass in the little graveyard when they buried Long Bill Coleman. Trees were leafing out, green on the distant slopes; fine clear sunlight shone on the mourners; mocking-birds sang on after the hymn singing stopped and the mound of red dirt was shoveled back in the grave. Maggie, fearing censure, hadn't followed very close. Pearl Coleman, bereft, heaved her deep cow sobs throughout the brief service.

"I'm a poor talker, you talk over him," Call whispered to Augustus, when the time had come for someone to speak a few words over the departed.