Free Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose by Tessa Berkley

neck. “This may hurt,” he warned her as he eased her arm inside.
    She held her breath. There was a bit of pull, but the pain seemed manageable. “I’d like my robe,” she said, looking over at the widow. “Would you go to my house and get it?”
    “Of course, sweets.” The widow nodded. “I’ll bring a brush and a few things to make you look tidy, too. That nice young man will be stopping back by, won’t he?”
    “Yes.” Mary Rose’s mouth pulled a bit downwards at the thought of his destination.
    “Go ahead and get those things, Mrs. Hatfield,” Doc Martin told her. “I can get her over to the chair.”
    She watched the widow leave and then returned her attention to the doctor, who seemed preoccupied, fiddling with the elbow end of the sling. “Whatever it is you are going to admonish me for, get it over with.”
    Doc Martin looked up at her. His eyes held a father’s glare. “I’ve known you since you were a skinny filly, Mary Rose. You’ve been a bit too silent all morning. I’m here to tell you to put those notions out of your head about going after whoever killed your brother.”
    “My family is my business. I want to bring those villains to justice.”
    “You let the law handle this, my dear girl.” He waggled his finger just beneath her nose.
    She reached up and swatted his hand away. “I’ve a business to run. I’ll let the law do their job, but I won’t stand for them to forget it, either.”
    The doctor stepped back. “Fair enough. Let’s get you over to that chair for a bit. The widow’s brought some fried chicken for lunch. I hear it’s legendary.”
    He helped her to stand, and with slow steady steps she reached the cushioned chair. Feeling a bit lightheaded, she turned, bent her knees, and sat. Her eyes closed for a count of ten and when she opened them, the room had stopped moving. Satisfied, she glanced up at the doctor and smiled. “It sounds like you’re testing the waters for a new wife?”
    “Bite your tongue, young lady,” he snapped, but she noted he left whistling a tune.
    Sitting there alone, she watched the scene outside her window. A few horses and their riders crossed the street as they made their way toward the other end of town. Along the boardwalk, she could see the foot traffic as the ladies of Cobb’s Crossing sought shade from the noonday heat. However, it was the creak of a wagon that garnered her alert attention.
    She held her breath and watched the buckboard with two men move slowly across her field of vision. A sharp pain twisted against her heart as she caught a glimpse of the two pine boxes in the back. “I won’t let this go unchallenged, Daniel. I’ll bring them to justice.” She paused and took a ragged breath. “So help me, God, even if it takes my last breath.”

Chapter Six
    Afternoon’s shadows were long as the undertaker’s wagon pulled back along the main street of Cobb’s Crossing. Trace swayed with the slow steady movement of the horses. Their hoofbeats against the earth pounded out a funeral dirge in heavy clops, a melancholy tune that called the citizens of Cobb’s Crossing to put away their livelihood and step to the edge of the boardwalk out of respect for the dead.
    One by one, shop doors opened and people moved to line the street. Men removed their hats. Women held rambunctious children by the shoulders to keep them still. No man could earn any greater respect. It was evident that word of Daniel Thornton’s death had spread like a prairie wildfire throughout this small town.
    All eyes concentrated on Trace and the badge he wore pinned to his chest. He kept his eyes focused on the hotel up ahead and watched Rand step off the porch, then head toward the undertaker’s. As sheriff, Rand would want to see the bodies and perhaps even have the doctor confirm the cause of death, even though it was quite evident. Then they would compare notes to see if any clues emerged.
    The road broadened and branched off. A force stronger