Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the news.
Thankfully, his eyes glazed over with shock.
    The
young man waited a second more to make sure Bill was calm, and then addressed
Grace. “Do you have a quilt . . . or something . . .
in the wagon?”
    Something
to wrap her in?
    “There’s
one under the seat,” Raney said gently.
    Grace
climbed into the wagon and rifled through the storage box. A moment later she
pulled out a moth-eaten quilt, jumped down, and walked it over to the young
man.
    He
clutched it, but didn’t take it from her. “I’ll need help. You up to it, boy?”
    Grace
swallowed. “I . . .” she cleared her throat, lowered her voice.
“I . . .” But the words didn’t want to work their way past the
lump in her throat, so she nodded.
    Raney
gently rotated Bill away and led him over to the barn. Grace and the young man
entered the house. She followed carefully behind him, thinking it a morbid
coincidence that the man leading her through these dying flames was dressed all
in black. He slid past a beam and told her over his shoulder, “Don’t touch
anything. It’s all still hot.”
    Again,
she merely nodded and followed him to the stove, trying to ignore the
blistering heat and the smell of burnt meat. She didn’t make a sound when she saw
the charred body lying face-down on the floor, but every fiber of her being
wanted to weep. The teacher in her helped her quickly assess the situation in a
more clinical fashion. She assumed the woman had passed out before the flames
got to her, as she was lying on the floor with both hands splayed out beside
her, not curled up like a frightened child attempting to get away from the
smoke and flames. Grace was somewhat comforted knowing the woman hadn’t
suffered too much.
    One
leg was bent; her clothes and hair had burnt completely off; and her entire
body was black and blistered. Marks and abrasions across her back revealed that
the man had moved a beam off her. Viewing these pitiful remains, Grace thought
he had been right to keep the woman’s husband or father out. “Who was she?”
    For
an instant, a wrinkle creased his brow, and Grace realized she had sounded like
a girl. He shrugged, though, and said softly, “Maggie, his wife.” He knelt down
to one knee, raising a hand to his mouth, as if pondering how in the world to
go about covering her, and shook his head. “God, if the independents did this,
there will be hell to pay.”
    Grace
helped the man gently wrap Maggie in the quilt then slowed her pace as he
carried her outside. For some reason, she hung back, as if she shouldn’t be
there when Bill saw his wife. She nearly slapped her hands over her ears when
she heard his mournful cry, the most heart-wrenching sound she had ever heard
in her life. She thought of the times she had sobbed so desperately after a
beating from Bull. She’d only thought that was pain. What Bill was
suffering—that was real pain.
    Muffled
voices reached her ears. Realizing they were discussing how next to proceed,
she quietly wandered out onto the charred remnants of the porch. Maggie lay in
the back of the wagon; the barbed wire had been removed to make room for her.
Bill rested one hand on his wife’s remains and wept quietly beside her. A few
feet away, Raney and the young man were leaning into each other, talking in
hushed tones. The other cowboys stood quietly, faces downcast, hats in their
hands.
    Raney
looked up and saw Grace. She clutched the man’s shoulder then strode over to
her. “I need to go with Bill into town. We need to take Maggie . . .”
she trailed off, shaking her head, as if resisting the grief. “I’m going to let
Nick here take you on to the ranch. He and his brothers help out some times, so
he can show you the routine. Feed up, and then get some rest. I’ll be home in
the morning.”
    Nick
gathered up two saddled horses that had been wandering around the fringes of the
disaster. Moving slowly, he heaved himself onto the back of a black-and-white
pinto, and led a