Callie's Cowboy Read Online Free

I’d much prefer that to a picture of the pitiful widow with a handkerchief to her face.”
    â€œYou’re not a pitiful widow.” Will slipped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “We’ll get through this, Mother. It’ll be okay. I’m here to help you.”
    Sam cast a jaundiced eye at his half brother. Will had never in his life helped anyone but himself. Still, Sam had to admit that he had been very supportive during the ordeal of the past few days, and even before Johnny’s accident he’d shown signs of wanting to heal the family rift. He’d been out of prison for almost four months, paroled for good behavior, and claimed he was straightening out his life. He’d married a girl he’d been corresponding with in prison, and he even had a job he seemed to like at a paper recycling plant.
    Maybe Will had changed, Sam thought, and it was his own cynical outlook that cast everyone in a bad light.
    â€œThe limo driver’s waiting,” Will said.
    Sam realized that everyone else had left, even Reverend Snyder. One last limo ride to the farm, and the funeral would be over. Then Sam could concentrate on getting his mother’s affairs in order. He intended to try to talk her into coming back to Nevada with him, at least for a visit.
    â€œYou should call poor Callie and tell her you don’t really mind about the picture,” Beverly said as she picked her way cautiously over the uneven grass in her high heels. “She would never take advantage of any situation to sell newspapers. She’s not like that.”
    Sam snorted in disbelief. “Callie Calloway? The girl who once dressed up as a football player so she could get inside the boys’ locker room and find out if we really had centerfold girls pinned up on the walls?”
    â€œOh, Sam, for heaven’s sake, that was when she was in high school. She’s matured a lot since then. You haven’t lived here day in and day out, reading the paper. She’s done a very responsible job since she took over as editor last year—the youngest editor the
Record
’s ever had, mind you. She covers every issue fairly, from both sides, and she’s never too sensational.”
    â€œThat remains to be seen. I think we all need to be cautious.”
    Sam had already read the accounts Callie had written of his father’s death. So far the stories had been low-key, bare facts only. But Sam wasn’t naive enough to think that would be the end of it. The people of Destiny were hungry for more information about Johnny Sanger. And Callie was the type to answer demands, fillneeds, fill vacuums. She wouldn’t let a past connection with the victim’s son stand in the way of her career.
    Callie yawned expansively as she waited for Millicent and Lana in a back booth at the Pie Pantry tea-room. The three women met for lunch every month, a tradition they’d started in high school. In the beginning they’d met to discuss their strange encounter with the mysterious fortune-teller Theodora, analyzing the incident endlessly, trying to extract some meaning from it. But eventually, as Theodora’s predictions faded into a distant memory, the monthly lunches had become strictly social events.
    Lana, who worked at the florist’s shop next door, arrived first, but Millicent was right behind. They all placed their usual orders with the waitress, who knew them by name and always held the back booth open for their monthly meetings.
    â€œYou look tired,” Millicent said to Callie when the waitress had gone.
    â€œI was late at the paper last night,” Callie explained, stifling another yawn. In truth, she’d been writing and rewriting the account of Johnny Sanger’s funeral until her production manager had forced her to send the story to typesetting. She still wasn’t happy with it.
    â€œThe story on the funeral was very nice,” Millicent said, as if she’d