Cassandra Austin Read Online Free PDF Page A

storeroom. Lighting a lamp, he crossed to a long narrow table where the body lay covered with a sheet.
    Cally barely glanced at it. She felt her stomach tremble and wanted to run away. But this was what she had come for, and there were things to be settled. “If he’d hanged, would the county have paid then?” she asked.
    “Perhaps. Now, our services can include mourners if your father wasn’t…ahem…well, if he didn’t…”
    Royal growled again, and the man leaned to the side, trying to see the front room.
    Cally knew he imagined more potential customers scurrying down the street. She was as eager as he was to have this done. “He died in jail,” she persisted. “Why won’t the county pay for his funeral?”
    “Look, Miss, if the man was a derelict, the county will bury him in potter’s field. But I can’t imagine a good daughter letting such a thing happen. I am more than willing to discuss some financial arrangement so your father can be buried properly.”
    Cally’s eyes narrowed at the man’s harsh tones. “Maybe the sheriff killed him so the county wouldn’t have to pay for his funeral.”
    The mustache twitched. “That’s an outrageous accusation! The sheriff wouldn’t be paying, in any case.”
    Cally shrugged, as if dismissing a small matter. “I’ll take Pa home,” she said. “My cart’s outside.”
    The mustache seemed to take on a life of its own. “Why, you can’t. That is—you’ll still need a coffin.”
    Cally had already turned to go. “I’ll make him one…from his cot. He won’t be needing it anymore.”
    Cally marched out of the Furniture House, hoping her courage would last until she left town. She untied Jewel from the post in front of Lafferty’s, barely noticing the trace of oats on the mule’s nose, and led her forward until the cart was directly in front of the furniture store.
    The undertaker watched her from his threshold, sputtering. Finally convinced of her determination, hedrafted a passerby to help and went back inside. Cally rubbed Jewel’s nose while she waited, trying not to think.
    In a few minutes they returned and loaded the body into the cart. If the stranger spoke to Cally or even tipped his hat, she didn’t notice. The sheet had slipped to reveal one worn boot hanging over the end of the cart. Cally stared at it, swallowing hard.
    The undertaker delivered a parting shot. “I daresay you’ll regret this, Miss DuBois.”
    It brought Cally back to her senses. Without responding, she swung onto Jewel’s back, turned the mule in a wide circle and headed out of town.
    Andrew watched her go, fighting the urge to follow. The girl intended to take her father’s body home for burial. She intended to dig the grave herself, wrap the body, toss dirt on her own father’s chest. He couldn’t picture it. In fact, he couldn’t allow it.
    He had other responsibilities, however, and couldn’t simply leave town. First, he would have to let his deputy know where he was going. Sick wife or not, the man could relay a message if someone needed to find him. And he would leave a note on his office door as well.
    In less than half an hour, Andrew was on his way to the DuBois farm. He wanted to kick his horse into a run. It was a ridiculous notion, he knew. He needed to arrive in time to help her, but there was no need to beat her home. As slow as that mule was, he could almost do that anyway.
    But he hated to think of Cally making the trip alone, even though it was scarcely two miles. Hisconcern for the girl perplexed him. She had been riding into town every day for weeks, and he had never once worried about her safety. What had caused the change?
    Will you look out for my Cally, Sheriff?
    He heard the words as if they were spoken by a ghost. Was that really all it took to make him feel so protective, or had something about the girl touched him? He felt a twinge in his upper arm and muttered to himself, “Yeah, the tip of her knife is what touched me.”
    In a manner