bag.
“Thank you,” Matt said, taking the bag from her. Closing the door, he took the bag over to his bed, unbuttoned it, and looked inside.
“All right, Katherine,” he said under his breath. “If you want me to wear this, I will.”
“Oh, my,” Kitty said when Matt came down into the parlor a short while later. “You look good in Tommy’s suit. In fact, you look more than good, you look positively handsome.”
“Frederica had to let the jacket out some for me to wear,” Matt said, holding out his arms and looking down at himself. He was wearing a black suit, gray silk vest, and black string tie, the clothes having belonged to Sir Thomas Wellington.
“Yes, in the shoulders,” Kitty said. “She told me.” Kitty smiled. “In fact, I think her exact words were that you were a very strong man.”
“Yeah, well, I have to tell you, Katherine, I don’t feel all that strong right now. That fight with Poke took quite a bit out of me,” Matt said, touching his side, gingerly.
“Are you sure you feel up to going?” Kitty asked. “I mean with your side, and all.”
“My side is bothering me, some, I will admit,” Matt said. “But I would go to Millie’s funeral if I had to hold my guts in with my own hands.”
Kitty chuckled. “Oh, my, how—descriptive—of you. But, hopefully that’s not going to happen.”
“Did you know Millie from somewhere before here?” Matt asked.
“Yes and no,” Kitty said.
When Matt looked confused, Kitty continued.
“I never met Millie before the night she brought you out here. But I knew her, because I’ve known dozens of girls just like her. And, of course, as you know, I was just like her myself, once. I know it might be hard for you to understand why I have this feeling of connection to her but—”
“No,” Matt said, interrupting her and shaking his head. “It isn’t at all hard for me to understand.”
There was a light tapping on the door of the parlor then, and looking toward it Matt and Kitty saw Tyrone Canfield standing just outside the parlor in the hall. Like Matt, Tyrone was wearing a suit, though even as he stood there, he tugged at the collar, giving evidence of his discomfort in such apparel.
“I have the team ready for the hearse,” Tyrone said. “I chose a couple of black Percheron mares.”
“Good choice,” Kitty said. “Go ahead and take them on into town to Mr. Welch. Matt and I will follow in the surrey.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyrone said. “Prew has hitched up the surrey and brought it around, but if you don’t mind, he’d like to ride into town with me.”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Tyrone said. “We’ll see you in town,” he added as he started toward the front door.
Kitty watched Tyrone leave, then she turned back to Matt. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.
“I’m ready,” Matt replied, trying to hide the wince as he rose from the chair.
“Maybe I’d better drive,” Kitty offered, noticing the wince as he stood.
“Yeah, that might not be a bad idea,” Matt agreed.
The surrey was parked in the curved driveway, sitting right in front of the great, stone steps. It was a very attractive vehicle, polished black lacquer with yellow wheels, red leather seats, and a black leather top. And, adding to the overall attractiveness was the fact that it was being pulled by a team of very handsome, matching white Arabians.
Matt reached the top step of the porch, then he stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked. “Do you not feel up to going?”
“No, it isn’t that,” Matt said. He laughed, a low, almost self-deprecating laugh. “It’s just that, well, I don’t have my pistol with me, and this will the first time I’ve gone anywhere without my gun for almost longer than I can remember.”
“Poke Terrell is dead,” Kitty said. “His sorry carcass is lying under six feet of dirt in an unmarked grave in the back corner of the Medbury cemetery. Why do you need your gun now?”
Matt shrugged. “No reason, I guess,” he said. “It’s just that I feel naked without it.”
“Honey, I’ve seen you naked,” Kitty said. “And believe me, you aren’t naked.”
Matt laughed hard at the ribald comment.
There were some in town who thought it unnecessary to have a funeral for a whore—in fact, a few thought it was almost sacrilegious to do so. But the Episcopal priest, Father Walt Pyron, believed that everyone deserved a Christian burial, so when Kitty asked him if he would perform the service, he agreed without hesitation.
Surprisingly, the church was full, and whether the people had come out of a sense of piety and genuine compassion for the young fallen woman, or merely out of curiosity, Kitty didn’t know, nor, did she care. She was just pleased that they were here. Kitty, Matt, Tyrone, Charley, the bartender, Amos, the piano player, and Jenny and the other girls who worked at the Sand Spur had seats on the very front row. The other seats were on a first come, first seated basis and, within moments after the church’s red doors were open, the pews were filled. The spillovers lined the walls on each side, or stood at the rear, crowding even out into the narthex. In addition there were more people outside, waiting for the service to end so they could accompany the funeral cortege to the graveyard.
Father Pyron had come out of the study during the organist’s prelude, and now sat quietly in his chair on the sacristy until the music ended.
