years.
"What we have to discuss is your resuming of your duties as a physician."
" What ?"
"I am prepared to assist with your rehabilitation and--"
"And what if I'm not prepared to be rehabilitated?" he fired back at her so sharply that she hopped a step away from him. "I happen to like being drunk. It's a hell of a lot better than being sober when..."
His anger lost its edge almost immediately, and he turned away from the determined stare she leveled at him over the rims of the sliding spectacles. No matter how good the breakfast, he couldn't stay here any longer. Controlling his temper only so he didn't sweep the tray and its contents to the porch, he set it on the railing and got to his feet. Now he was taller than the girl, and though he had intended to use that to his advantage, he discovered he didn't like the frightened look that came into those eyes of hers.
"Good day, Miss Hollstrom," was all he said before he strode down the stairs and out toward the street.
* * *
The cemetery, with its shivering cottonwoods, was a welcome relief after the stifling heat inside the church. Reverend Wintergarden kept the service mercifully short, extolling the late doctor's virtues in as few words as decently possible, but even with all the windows and the front door open, the church quickly became an oven when packed with townspeople in the middle of the afternoon. The service began at two o'clock, and before half-past, the preacher issued the order to have the casket removed to the cemetery for burial.
Julie sat with Willy and Katharine in the next to front pew and didn't notice until they rose to depart that Del Morgan had not attended. She hadn't really expected him to; he was probably down at the saloon. She shook him out of her thoughts and ushered Willy ahead of her towards the door.
The grave had been dug in a corner of the churchyard where there was little shade, but Julie herded her mother and brother towards the back of the crowd and thereby found a cooler place under one of the trees. She had been surprised when Katharine expressed a wish to attend the funeral, but she had not argued. And Katharine seemed to be bearing up quite well, considering she had had so much excitement the day before and hadn't even had a nap all day today. That in itself was unusual.
With fans and folded pieces of paper fluttering to provide some breeze on this still afternoon, the mourners gathered quietly while the Reverend Wintergarden intoned the familiar service. He was halfway through it when Julie caught something out the corner of her eye, some movement at the edge of the crowd. She dared to chance a peek and saw Del Morgan shoving people out of his way.
What nerve! He had scolded her and Hans that Sunday evening for disturbing him, so what did he think he was doing now? And she had thought to reform him. He was better off drunk and disreputable.
Horace Opper was laid to rest with no family but the town of Plato to mourn him, and they dispersed rather quickly when the token spade of dirt had been tossed into the open grave. Julie linked her mother's arm through hers and then clasped her brother's hand to keep him from running off in his good clothes.
The rosebush caught her attention though she hadn't looked for it and had in fact almost forgotten it. And it wasn't the blaze of red blossoms that she remembered either, for only two or three half-faded blooms still hung on the canes. Julie peered over the rims of her glasses and saw the damage done when rough, greedy hands had pulled the lovely flowers off.
And while contemplating that destruction, she saw the name cut into the polished granite marker.
"Amalia Morgan, born April 12, 1851, innocent victim of violence August 3, 1878. Beloved wife of Delbert, mother of their son Jason, who lies with his mother now and for all eternity."
Chapter Five
By Wednesday afternoon, Willy's stitches were driving him crazy, and Julie, too. And if
"What we have to discuss is your resuming of your duties as a physician."
" What ?"
"I am prepared to assist with your rehabilitation and--"
"And what if I'm not prepared to be rehabilitated?" he fired back at her so sharply that she hopped a step away from him. "I happen to like being drunk. It's a hell of a lot better than being sober when..."
His anger lost its edge almost immediately, and he turned away from the determined stare she leveled at him over the rims of the sliding spectacles. No matter how good the breakfast, he couldn't stay here any longer. Controlling his temper only so he didn't sweep the tray and its contents to the porch, he set it on the railing and got to his feet. Now he was taller than the girl, and though he had intended to use that to his advantage, he discovered he didn't like the frightened look that came into those eyes of hers.
"Good day, Miss Hollstrom," was all he said before he strode down the stairs and out toward the street.
* * *
The cemetery, with its shivering cottonwoods, was a welcome relief after the stifling heat inside the church. Reverend Wintergarden kept the service mercifully short, extolling the late doctor's virtues in as few words as decently possible, but even with all the windows and the front door open, the church quickly became an oven when packed with townspeople in the middle of the afternoon. The service began at two o'clock, and before half-past, the preacher issued the order to have the casket removed to the cemetery for burial.
Julie sat with Willy and Katharine in the next to front pew and didn't notice until they rose to depart that Del Morgan had not attended. She hadn't really expected him to; he was probably down at the saloon. She shook him out of her thoughts and ushered Willy ahead of her towards the door.
The grave had been dug in a corner of the churchyard where there was little shade, but Julie herded her mother and brother towards the back of the crowd and thereby found a cooler place under one of the trees. She had been surprised when Katharine expressed a wish to attend the funeral, but she had not argued. And Katharine seemed to be bearing up quite well, considering she had had so much excitement the day before and hadn't even had a nap all day today. That in itself was unusual.
With fans and folded pieces of paper fluttering to provide some breeze on this still afternoon, the mourners gathered quietly while the Reverend Wintergarden intoned the familiar service. He was halfway through it when Julie caught something out the corner of her eye, some movement at the edge of the crowd. She dared to chance a peek and saw Del Morgan shoving people out of his way.
What nerve! He had scolded her and Hans that Sunday evening for disturbing him, so what did he think he was doing now? And she had thought to reform him. He was better off drunk and disreputable.
Horace Opper was laid to rest with no family but the town of Plato to mourn him, and they dispersed rather quickly when the token spade of dirt had been tossed into the open grave. Julie linked her mother's arm through hers and then clasped her brother's hand to keep him from running off in his good clothes.
The rosebush caught her attention though she hadn't looked for it and had in fact almost forgotten it. And it wasn't the blaze of red blossoms that she remembered either, for only two or three half-faded blooms still hung on the canes. Julie peered over the rims of her glasses and saw the damage done when rough, greedy hands had pulled the lovely flowers off.
And while contemplating that destruction, she saw the name cut into the polished granite marker.
"Amalia Morgan, born April 12, 1851, innocent victim of violence August 3, 1878. Beloved wife of Delbert, mother of their son Jason, who lies with his mother now and for all eternity."
Chapter Five
By Wednesday afternoon, Willy's stitches were driving him crazy, and Julie, too. And if
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