The Garment

A short story by Sterling Dean Davidson


The procession plodded steadily up the traversing path that made the steep grade manageable. Six men taking turns by pairs and trading places at each switch back pulled a laden travois as they followed the thoughtful and methodical pace set by two saddened elders at the front of the group. The somberness of the group, though obvious, could not completely overwhelm the more subtle spirit of conflict that permeated the mood.

The laboring burden bearers worked together in an attitude of cooperating grief, but slight disagreement could be felt between the elders. Although unfeigned sorrow was evident on every face and genuine grief saddened the step of all of them, there still remained an issue yet to be resolved between the leaders. Only two switchbacks remained to be negotiated and the disagreement would have to come to a final end.

Perhaps the opinion of the lifeless body on the stretcher would have been a mediating factor between the men had it been known, but forethought on the matter was not thorough enough before the dying man took the last of his many breaths. Now, with only a few final steps before reaching his ultimate resting place, the living must make a decision.

The two men, although long acquaintances and good friends, could not come to an agreement concerning the matter of an article of clothing; the one still covering the still form of the deceased. Neither man was denying the fact that there was a special attachment to it by its wearer, but the conflict at hand was what to do with it. This garment was one of only two of its kind and its only possessor was the man around whom it now was wrapped.

The large rock that blocked the entrance to a small cave near the top of a high rising hill was now visible as the funeral procession rounded the last of the numerous tight turns in the path. The approach from here was a straight level path that would be an easy few steps. The decision to be made upon that approach made those same easy steps the most difficult of their trek. The need to contend at this point was greater than the need to mourn, so the difficult matter would have to be resolved and, hopefully, the somberness of the moment could remain intact.

It was deemed appropriate by both elders that the sealing stone remain on the entrance until the final resolution was made.

The bier bearers now lay down their burden and as a group stepped away just enough to give the two the needed privacy that the situation demanded. The dead remained within hearing distance with a face that was not able to hide the sadness of a long life that could have been better, and yet there was still evident on the wrinkled brow and weathered skin a sense that perhaps finally, all was good. Then, too, there was the unnoticed right hand that beneath a heavy woolen blanket still clutched with rigidity the garment of contention.

The two began their discourses and deliberations.

The issues concerning the garment were several, but the decision needing to be made was whether to bury the garment with the man or to save it as a memorial for the living.

Both men were in agreement with the facts that the garment was more than special to the deceased and that he was seldom seen without it. There was no disagreement as to the fact that, although it showed many signs of wear, it still had an integrity to it that seemed would enable it to wear forever. The fact that it was one of only two made it even more a focal point especially since its counter was no longer to be found. Yet the most outstanding consideration of the matter was the claim its wear had always made of its origin.


The story of the old man, if it were to be believed, would make the garment of considerable worth. The manner in which it had held together for so many of the dead man’s years would tend to lead credibility to his story for indeed no one could remember a time when he did not possess it.

Regardless of what others thought concerning the story of the garment’s origin the eight souls that were carrying out the mission of burying the departed had confidence in the man and his words. To them the value of the garment was without question. The question before them was “what to do with it?”

It fell then upon the elders to come to a mutual conclusion on the matter: Bury it with the man or keep it?

The older of the two leaders, (even though age was not clearly evident as either of the two could have easily been the man on the travois) argued in favor of burying the piece of clothing with the man. The younger felt a continued use of it would be the better choice, contending that the significant article should be saved for evidence concerning the dead man’s story. After all, faith in such an incredible account should be backed up by some physical proof.

The elder favoring burial of the garment realized that his was a position of greater sentiment than that of the younger leader. The feeling to bury was strong, but words to convince were not to be found and as the argument continued he felt the strength of his position weakening.

One by one the logical points being made by his opponent caused question and doubt to cloud his mind. Yet, the feeling still remained strong that the garment should remain with the man who wore it almost all of his life. There was, however, no more defending what seemed more and more like a pure emotional point of contention. “Yes, it was evidence of the old man’s story” and “yes, it could literally be an artifact of human history” and “yes, observers of the garment might connect better to a different day and age” and “yes, the only logical thing it could do in the grave would be to rot.” Only the unction saying “bury it” stood as his argument; as if he were speaking the simple unspoken wish of a dead man. But, “It’s what he would have wanted” didn’t seem a very viable position in light of the several logical volleys coming at him with out pause.

At long last he knew he had no more to say; the argument was over. Sensing the defeat of the elder leader the six burden bearers moved close again. The admission of defeat, however, did not cause the feeling to leave; he just understood that there was no way to persuade the opponent. he did feel something new upon the conclusion of the discussion; “if the garment were not to be buried then it shouldn’t see the inside of the tomb at all”.

As if in deference to his defeated partner the younger leader agreed that the garment should be removed before burial.

It was the duty of two of the six to remove the garment. None were comfortable with the prospect of handling the body in such a personal way, but finally the middle man from each side bent to begin the task. The woolen blanket that was the outer covering had by now accumulated a coating of dust from the trail. The two began to roll the blanket keeping the dust contained on the inside of the roll. The leaders looked on; one pleased with the decision the other simply resigned to the conclusion, how be it not without a certain uneasy feeling that let him know inwardly that this was the wrong thing. He just had no more argument left within him.

As the blanket was rolled downward the garment in question began to be unveiled as if it were a master’s work of art. Not that it was fresh and new for, indeed, the garment showed the signs of much wear, yet it remained completely intact and still had the quality of a fine garment. Both elders were observing; quite aware of this piece of clothing’s value. The rolling of the blanket was done in a slow and somber manner that allowed for all to contemplate the entire matter before them.

Although all of the men saw it at the same time, the realization of what they were seeing came to each separately. The first to fathom the significance of the stiff, still hand clinging tenaciously to its own roll of leathery garment was the elder who could not win an argument with words. The silent clutch of a dead man’s hand was now saying more than all the words of either of the contenders just moments before. Resignation to loss was now shifting to the man who formerly had so many good reasons to remove and keep the garment.

Not with the gloating spirit of a victor in more trivial matters, but in the somberness that the occasion demanded, the previously defeated leader now knew he had indeed won. The former victor knew that there was no arguing against the silence of the dead man’s hand. The garment would be buried with its owner.

The seal at the entrance of the cave was made tight with the help of the many years in which it had not been disturbed. Sticks used earlier to aid in climbing the high hill were now being used to scratch, poke, prod, and pry until a stone set in undisturbed clay rocked slightly, making room for better bites. Now the sticks were able to do their work more efficiently. Soon the stone had been completely removed from the entrance to the dead man’s resting place.

With no more obstacles to hinder the final observances of respect, the disposal of the body; and the final settlement of a gentleman’s disagreement, the ordeal was all but finished. The body was now placed adjacent to the entrance by the six men who had born the body these many steps.

It was the duty as well as the honor of the two elders to lovingly place the deceased in his final place of sleep. With no little effort the body was placed on a berth of stone hewn by the forethought and grief of the bed’s final occupant years ago.

The garment, a well worn coat made from the skin of some animal slain early in the man’s life, was neatly fixed a final time around the body, the hand never losing its grip around the precious coat. Retreating in sadness to the caves entrance a final glimpse backward was, as if by design, highlighted by a single shaft of late afternoon sunlight that had invaded the tomb’s darkness. The illumination from the light offered final tribute to the man as well as revealing a halo of silvery strains of long gray hair that had fallen around a now fleshless face of bare bone. The out line of skeletal remains described the long dead body of another person next to whom the newly placed body had been laid.

Around those dry bones was wrapped the other coat of skin.