Free Castillo's Fiery Texas Rose by Tessa Berkley Page A

than his will power turned Trace’s gaze. The low white house stood out against the two taller buildings. His eyes raked the porch. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, until the door opened.
    Trace felt his heart rise as she walked to the edge of the porch. With the doctor close by, Mary Rose’s foot moved down to the first step. The sunlight caught strands of hair, sending flames along the shades of copper. He wondered if her eyes searched for him or if she even cared. Yet he knew. He could feel the gaze of deep blue staring at him, making sure he’d done the right thing. He’d promised to see her as soon as the bodies were settled. A pledge like that a man didn’t soon forget, nor would she. Mr. Malone turned the wagon, and their long gaze ended.
    Rand stood in quiet respect as they pulled to a stop in the alleyway. Trace swung down and fell in behind the two men hired by the undertaker to help remove the bodies. Reaching into the wagon, they grabbed the rope handles and pulled the pine box to them. Another set of boots came into view beside the wagon. He looked up to find the sheriff positioned at the other corner.
    “This way, gentlemen.” Mr. Malone pushed the double doors wide so they could maneuver through. Working together, the four men carried the two caskets into the workroom one by one and placed them on the pine tables provided. Trace stared at the closed lids and paid his respects before stepping back.
    Leaving the undertaker to do his work under the sheriff’s supervision, Trace headed for the open doors of the workroom, where the two workers stood, hats in hand. “Thank you, thank you both,” he murmured and shook both men’s hands. “Miss Thornton requested you be paid for your services.” He pressed a ten-dollar gold piece into each palm. “I would also like to remind you to keep what you saw to yourself.”
    “Yes, sir, Marshal,” they both agreed.
    “Thank you,” he replied again and watched the men walk off.
    Just then Doc Martin came hurrying over to find Rand. They talked quietly for a moment before the doctor moved toward the boxes and Rand stepped away to await his findings. Holding his hat between his hands, Trace walked back to where the sheriff stood.
    “Don’t think I didn’t notice. A nice thing to do,” Rand said.
    Trace looked off out the doorway and pretended to be watching the street. “The least I could do.”
    “Of course,” Rand replied. “The least you could do. I dare say you won’t even bother to tell her.”
    Trace let the jab pass. They stood passively and waited until Mr. Malone looked over to them.
    “Do you need to see the bodies any more, or can we close them up?”
    Rand looked at Trace. He shook his head. In truth, he’d seen enough. Yesterday, when he found them, and then today when removing them from their temporary resting place to bring them back here. No, he wanted no further reminders.
    “If the doc’s through, close them up.”
    Behind him, he could hear the three men talking. He stared into the distance, thinking of Mary Rose, how she’d looked when he passed by. The agonized expression scrawled across her face. How could he find the words to question her about Daniel’s death?
    The coarse words spilling from Rand’s mouth drew him back to the present. The sheriff stepped beside him and paused, his lips thin, his face a bit green. Even the strongest lawman felt his gut twist when he viewed a man who’d been so viciously mutilated. Trace understood and waited.
    “I need a drink.”
    With the sheriff in the lead, Trace fell into step behind him. Neither spoke as they moved to the porch surrounding the Tomahawk and pushed their way through the swinging doors. Inside, away from the sun, the shadows lay long and cool. Rand moved to the bar and motioned for the barkeep. “Two shots.”
    Trace eased beside his friend and hooked the right heel of his boot against the brass rail. The whiskey gurgled from the bottle, and Rand shoved a shot