volunteered, "Can't miss her. 'Bout as high as my pocket, and 'bout as big around as Simon's cracker barrel. Talks all the time, too, and don't say nothin'."
That description was accurate to a fault. Julie heard the cheerful, non-stop voice well before she walked into the post office and found the expected figure standing at the window. Miss Upshaw lacked a good two inches of being five feet tall. There was a slight indentation at her waist, but otherwise she did indeed resemble the cracker barrel in the middle of McCrory's General Store, especially as she wore a brown calico dress just the color of aged wood.
"Now, you promise me that letter'll go out on tomorrow's stage to Yuma, right, Mr. Nisely? I don't want anything to happen to delay it, because my sister in San Francisco always worries if she doesn't hear from me faithfully every month. She thinks I'm out here in some wilderness with Apaches surrounding me and coyotes howling at my door." She halted only briefly to turn and see who had come into the post office. "Oh, hello, Miss Hollstrom. How's your little brother? I saw him come running through the trees there Monday afternoon, and he certainly--"
"He's just fine now," Julie interrupted. She wondered how long the woman would have gone on if she hadn't broken into the steady stream of chatter.
"Well, that's good. Of course, Dr. Morgan always was a one with children. Why, I remember when Dennis McCrory broke his leg falling out of the livery stable loft that Hallowe'en night when him and those horrible Sanderson boys--"
"Do you happen to know where I might find Dr. Morgan now?" Julie interrupted again. She must assert herself or run the risk of listening to Winnie Upshaw for an hour or more. "I was told he might be at home, but I wanted to make certain first, before I disturbed him."
"He's home, all right!" Winnie laughed. Her voice was bright, almost childish. "I stopped by there on my way here and he was still asleep. Last night, though, well, he was roaring in there until almost dawn, and I can't say as I blame him. Of course, most of those people who stole the roses were new folks to town, ones who weren't here when Amy Morgan was killed, but still, it ain't right to go pickin' flowers off somebody else's grave."
Julie hesitated despite the break in Winnie's conversation.
"If he's still asleep, then perhaps I'd best wait."
"What did you want him for anyway? Somebody else get hurt?"
Julie wished she hadn't taken off her apron, for it would have given her something to twist her hands in. She felt awkward here in the post office with Mr. Nisely listening carefully to her every word.
"It's about some medication Dr. Opper had given my mother," she muttered.
Winnie laughed again.
"You'd better not call old Horace's concoctions 'medication' in Dr. Morgan's presence! Come on. You and me'll go wake him up and see what he has to say. Don't worry," she said, turning toward the door and taking Julie's arm in a firm grasp. "He won't bite, though he barks a lot."
Del Morgan's house was set back from the street down a short lane, just past the Olympia House Hotel and almost directly across Main Street from the late Dr. Opper's house and office. Unlike nearly all the other buildings in Plato, Morgan's house was built of adobe, not timber, and the dull brown color blended well with the dusty surroundings. Flourishing vines shaded the west-facing porch; someone obviously watered and tended the plants carefully, for there were no others like them in Plato. Even Julie's rows of petunias seemed pathetic in comparison, and she wondered, remembering the rosebush in the cemetery, if Morgan himself did all the watering and weeding.
The house seemed larger than its neighbors, too, but Julie noticed as she and Winnie walked up to it that it had only a partial second floor, with stairs leading up the outside to a roof-top patio.
"Mr. Morgan lives here?" Julie asked. This was
That description was accurate to a fault. Julie heard the cheerful, non-stop voice well before she walked into the post office and found the expected figure standing at the window. Miss Upshaw lacked a good two inches of being five feet tall. There was a slight indentation at her waist, but otherwise she did indeed resemble the cracker barrel in the middle of McCrory's General Store, especially as she wore a brown calico dress just the color of aged wood.
"Now, you promise me that letter'll go out on tomorrow's stage to Yuma, right, Mr. Nisely? I don't want anything to happen to delay it, because my sister in San Francisco always worries if she doesn't hear from me faithfully every month. She thinks I'm out here in some wilderness with Apaches surrounding me and coyotes howling at my door." She halted only briefly to turn and see who had come into the post office. "Oh, hello, Miss Hollstrom. How's your little brother? I saw him come running through the trees there Monday afternoon, and he certainly--"
"He's just fine now," Julie interrupted. She wondered how long the woman would have gone on if she hadn't broken into the steady stream of chatter.
"Well, that's good. Of course, Dr. Morgan always was a one with children. Why, I remember when Dennis McCrory broke his leg falling out of the livery stable loft that Hallowe'en night when him and those horrible Sanderson boys--"
"Do you happen to know where I might find Dr. Morgan now?" Julie interrupted again. She must assert herself or run the risk of listening to Winnie Upshaw for an hour or more. "I was told he might be at home, but I wanted to make certain first, before I disturbed him."
"He's home, all right!" Winnie laughed. Her voice was bright, almost childish. "I stopped by there on my way here and he was still asleep. Last night, though, well, he was roaring in there until almost dawn, and I can't say as I blame him. Of course, most of those people who stole the roses were new folks to town, ones who weren't here when Amy Morgan was killed, but still, it ain't right to go pickin' flowers off somebody else's grave."
Julie hesitated despite the break in Winnie's conversation.
"If he's still asleep, then perhaps I'd best wait."
"What did you want him for anyway? Somebody else get hurt?"
Julie wished she hadn't taken off her apron, for it would have given her something to twist her hands in. She felt awkward here in the post office with Mr. Nisely listening carefully to her every word.
"It's about some medication Dr. Opper had given my mother," she muttered.
Winnie laughed again.
"You'd better not call old Horace's concoctions 'medication' in Dr. Morgan's presence! Come on. You and me'll go wake him up and see what he has to say. Don't worry," she said, turning toward the door and taking Julie's arm in a firm grasp. "He won't bite, though he barks a lot."
Del Morgan's house was set back from the street down a short lane, just past the Olympia House Hotel and almost directly across Main Street from the late Dr. Opper's house and office. Unlike nearly all the other buildings in Plato, Morgan's house was built of adobe, not timber, and the dull brown color blended well with the dusty surroundings. Flourishing vines shaded the west-facing porch; someone obviously watered and tended the plants carefully, for there were no others like them in Plato. Even Julie's rows of petunias seemed pathetic in comparison, and she wondered, remembering the rosebush in the cemetery, if Morgan himself did all the watering and weeding.
The house seemed larger than its neighbors, too, but Julie noticed as she and Winnie walked up to it that it had only a partial second floor, with stairs leading up the outside to a roof-top patio.
"Mr. Morgan lives here?" Julie asked. This was
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