![]() ![]() ![]() As a solution she'd sewn an extra layer of cloth into her blouses at that spot and learned to live with any lingering irritation. In the past her heavy pistol in the belt holster had scraped uncomfortably against her side, causing a scab. The woman, in her early thirties and dressed in a black pantsuit, was in step behind the tall man. Then he took a nip of refreshment from a flask pulled from his pocket and returned to his artful wood carving. The elderly gent just shook his head and grinned at this spectacle, showing the few tobacco-stained teeth he had left. The old fellow looked up curiously as the procession passed by with a tall, distinguished-looking man ceremoniously in the middle. ![]() It was just that sort of a place, rural to the hilt, stock car racing and bluegrass ballads forever. An old man in a tattered suit that was too large for him and wearing a battered, oily Stetson sat on a bench outside the front entrance, whittling. A few bereaved trickled out the door, sobbing quietly into handkerchiefs. Appropriately somber gentlemen in black suits stood next to hearses of the same color. The structure had been many things in its time and currently housed a decrepit funeral home that was thriving solely because there was no other such facility within thirty miles and the dead, of course, had to go somewhere. The miniature army marched toward the ugly white brick building. T HE MOTORCADE STREAMED into the tree-shaded parking lot, where it disgorged numerous people who looked hot, tired and genuinely unhappy. ![]()
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