Doug listened to the preacher’s generic comments but found his mind wandering. Although he felt sad, he should have felt sadder. He should have been as moved by the words he was hearing as by the thoughts and memories in his head. What was missing from the minister’s well-meaning words, he realized, was the spirit of the man himself, and he thought that there were many people who could have given a better, more heartfelt eulogy, people who had known and loved the mailman on a personal level. The bartender at The Corral, for instance. Or George Riley.

Or Howard Crowell.

His eyes scanned the crowd until he found the postmaster. Howard was standing next to Ronda’s family, dressed in a new black suit bought especially for the occasion, sobbing openly. He was obviously listening to every word the preacher said, and his gaze appeared to be riveted on the casket.

Doug frowned. Standing next to the postmaster, wearing a light-blue postal uniform that contrasted sharply with the somber black conservative attire of the other mourners, was a man he had never seen before. Tall and thin, with a shock of red hair topping a long pale face, he was staring off into the distance, obviously bored with the funeral. Though Doug was not close enough to see clearly the expression on the man’s face, he sensed an arrogance in the newcomer’s stance, a disdain in the tilt of his head. The man turned lazily to look at the minister, sunlight glinting off a series of gaudy buttons on his jacket. On anyone else, the uniform might have looked dignified, even respectful, but on him it seemed mocking, clownish, and it served only to trivialize the proceedings. The man turned again, gazing outward across the crowd, and Doug had the sudden inexplicable feeling that he was looking directly at him. It was an unnerving experience, and he glanced quickly away, his eyes shifting back to Howard.

Tritia, too, was looking at the postmaster, but she did not notice the stranger next to him. Her gaze was focused on Howard’s face, on his wet cheeks and shattered expression. He looked so lost, so hopeless, so helpless. They would have to invite him over for dinner sometime, she decided. Probably half the town had extended similar offers to him this week, but she knew that he liked her and Doug more than most, and she thought they might be able to cheer him up a bit.