Wild Side of the River by Michael Zimmer

Author:Michael Zimmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2011-08-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Leaving the sheriff’s office, Ethan returned to Carver’s snug little home on the edge of town.

Claudia met him at the door, ushered him inside with a finger to her lips. “The doctor is sleeping,” she whispered.

Nodding acknowledgment, Ethan asked softly: “How’s Vic?”

“The same, which gives us hope.”

It wasn’t much, Ethan reflected, yet he felt more relief than he would have expected at her words. Vic was still alive. He’d half anticipated a different answer.

“If you’d like to see him, you may, although the doctor prefers that he not be disturbed.”

“Then I won’t,” Ethan said. “I’ll come back later to check on him.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“I had some breakfast at the Occidental, and I’m not hungry. I expect I’d better go talk to Roy Manson now. I need to ask him about burying Pa, since I don’t figure I’ll get back to the Bar-Five anytime soon.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Thank you for everything, ma’am.”

Claudia pursed her lips in reproach. “How many times must I ask you to address me by my given name, Mister Wilder?”

“I’ll work on that . . . Claudia.”

The woman smiled, gray eyes twinkling with amusement. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Ethan?”

“No, ma’am, it wasn’t,” he replied, stepping through the door. “I’ll be back later to see Vic.”

Most of Sundance’s business district was stretched out along Hide Street, but a few smaller shops ran west down Culver. Roy Manson’s Cabinet Shop and Mortuary was one of them, a narrow building of ship-lapped lumber half a block down from the sheriff’s office. A thumb-sized bell over the door tinkled pleasantly as Ethan entered a nearly empty front room smelling strongly of freshly planed wood and varnish. There was a dusty desk in one corner, a file cabinet beside it; a full-length curtain in the rear wall shielded the rest of the building from outside curiosity. Ethan had barely closed the door when Manson pushed through the curtain, a stocky man of middling age, curly gray hair, bald on top. His expression sobered professionally when he recognized Ethan.

“I’ve been expecting you, Mister Wilder,” Roy said. “I assume you’ve come to make arrangements for your father?”

“I have.”

“Doctor Carver asked me to prepare the deceased yesterday. I hope that wasn’t presumptuous?”

Ethan shrugged, feeling suddenly as awkward as he had the first time he’d viewed his pa’s body, back in Doc’s office. “Where is he?” he asked.

“This way.” Roy held the curtain aside.

Ethan stepped into a large back room. To the left, a corner had been set apart with ornate curtains hanging from the wall, an Oriental rug on the floor. There was a small table with a potted plant, its leaves curled and brown, and a settee upholstered in red and beige paisley. A simple, cherry-stained pine coffin sat on a wooden platform in front of the settee, while an overhead lamp cast forgiving light over the somber nook. Ethan’s puzzled glance took in the rest of the room—a standard carpenter’s shop, carpeted in wood shavings.

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