Andy, Katherine, Aunt Lydia, and Charley gathered in the parlor. Andy sat in the chair across from Kat and Lydia while Charley stood by the French door. A slight breeze stirred the brocade curtains.
Charley wanted to bury her head in those curtains. Katherine’s weeping was driving her crazy. She gulped her brandy and placed her glass on the table.
She stared outside and pushed her hands into her pockets, tortured by the waiting. How was her father? Doc Henderson had been upstairs for what had seemed like an eternity. “How much longer, do you think?”
“It’s going to depend on how deep the bullet is,” Aunt Lydia said.
Charley looked at her aunt. “And if it can’t be removed?”
“Don’t even think that.” Aunt Lydia twisted her handkerchief in her hands.
“But it’s a possibility,” Charley said
