into the part of the cemetery known as Potter’s Corner. There, the two men dug three graves, alongside the recent grave of Carlos Garcia, Mole having been brought in last evening. There was another recent grave in the cemetery, that of Sam Logan, but as Logan had not been without standing or funds when he died, he was spared Potter’s Corner and was buried in the main part of the cemetery.
But, just as the town of Medbury had paid to bury Carlos Garcia, they were also footing the bill for Andrew “Poke” Terrell, John “Mole” Mueller, and Harold “Cooter” Cotter. The three men had been put into plain pine boxes and, once the graves were opened, they were lowered by a rope into the ground. Not one person, other than the grave diggers themselves, was there for the interment.
Gene Welch, the undertaker and proprietor of the Eternal Rest Mortuary, had thought Millie would be buried in the same way. After all, she was a whore with no known relatives and the only thing that was known about her was that she had told one of the other soiled doves who worked at the Sand Spur that she was originally from Springfield, Illinois. All that changed, though, when Kitty came to town.
“You will not put her in a pine box,” Kitty said, when she learned of Welch’s plans.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wellington, but the city is paying for her funeral, same as they done for Mr. Poke and Mr. Cooter. And with what the city pays, a pine box is all she gets,” Welch said.
“I am paying for her funeral,” Kitty said. “I want to see the finest coffin you have.”
A big smile spread across Welch’s face. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I got one here for you to look at that is as fine a coffin as you’ll find anywhere in the country. Why, you could bury the president of the United States in this coffin. It’s called the Heaven’s Cloud, and it’s all lined with silk, don’t you know. Why, I promise you, the young lady will be as comfortable lyin’ in that coffin as she would be sleepin’ in her own bed.”
“Good. I want her in that coffin, and I want you to use all the artifice and skill at your command to see to it that she looks beautiful,” Kitty said. “Also when she is taken to the cemetery, you take her in the glass-sided hearse. I will provide a team of horses to pull the hearse.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Welch said. “Mrs. Wellington, if you don’t mind my askin’, why are you willin’ to go all out for this woman? She wasn’t anything but a whore.”
“I do mind your asking,” Kitty replied. “You just do what you are paid to do, without asking questions. Otherwise I can hire Mr. Stallings from King Hill to conduct the funeral.”
“No, no, you don’t have to go be doing that, now,” Welch said quickly. “There’s no need for you to go over to King Hill. I assure you, Mrs. Wellington, I can give the young lady as nice, if not a nicer, funeral than anything Paul Stallings can do.”
“Have her ready tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be back with the team of horses then.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I have a fine team of draft horses.”
“I will bring carriage horses,” Kitty said. “That is what you will use to draw the hearse.”
“Yes, ma’am, if you say so. I’ll have her all ready, looking as pretty as a picture. What about a marker? Will you be wantin’ a marker?”
“Yes, of course I want a marker.”
“The problem is, as far I know there don’t nobody in town know her whole name. The only name anyone knows is Millie. And we don’t even know if that’s her real name or not, seein’ as whores often takes other names that aren’t their own. They do that to keep their family from findin’ out what they are doin’, don’t you know.”
“I know her real name.”
“You do? You know her real name, do you? Well that’s good. What is it?”
“Her real name is Millicent McMurtry,” Kitty said. “I’ll write it down for you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Millicent McMurtry. I’ll have that carved on her marker, along with a flower, or somethin’ real pretty.”
“You do that,” Kitty said as she left the morturary.
“Mrs. Wellington?” Welch called.
At the call, Kitty stopped and turned around.
“About callin’ Miss McMurtry a whore and all. I hope you didn’t take that personal.”
“Oh? And tell me, Mr. Welch, why should I take it personal?”
“You know, you bein’, uh, I mean what some folks say ’bout you one time, uh…”
“Yes, Mr. Welch?” Kitty said, pointedly.
“Uh, nothin’, I just, uh, like I say, I’ll have the—young lady—all ready in time for the funeral tomorrow.”
“You do that,” Kitty said, as she walked out the front door of Welch’s funeral establishment.
Chapter Eighteen
Shortly after Matt woke up on the day of the funeral, there was a light knock on the door to his bedroom.
“Yes?” he called.
“Senor Yensen, it is Frederica,” a voice called from the other side of the door.
“Just a minute.”
Quickly, Matt pulled on his pants, and put on a shirt. Then, with his shirt tucked into his trousers, he opened the door. Frederica was standing there, holding a cloth garment bag.
“Senora Wellington asks if you would please wear this for the funeral,” Frederica said, handing him the garment
