Chapter 67

“Captain Marriott brought him home, Georgie.”

“Papa’s home?” There was a quiet sob, and the kid held onto Hall. His fingers turned white from the force of his grip, but Hall didn’t complain.

Steve cleared his throat, reluctant to interrupt this moment of grief—he’d seen plenty similar during the war—but it would be best if they got the coffin in the house. “Do you have something to set the coffin on?”

The kid shook his head. “Father Ed most likely will. I’ll…We’ll…” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. The only funeral I’ve seen was for my first Mama. I was four when she died, and I reckon Papa took care of everything.”

“Shall I bring the wagon around to the side?” Steve needed a moment to himself. Seeing the kid’s grief made his own return.

“Yes, please.”