"I declare, this sun will spoil my skin and produce freckles on my nose," remarked Darcie.
"Well, at least we'll hardly have to worry about frost-bite in winter," replied Charlotte.
"Still we have to make the best of it since father had to be the preacher of the district, and the worst possible thing would be for us to separate."
"Yes, we need father and he needs us especially since mother,... mother...,"
"Died," whispered Darcie.
"She would have wanted us to stay together," replied Charlotte.
After working on their little homestead, Mr Rose announced that he would take a look at the church building and see what repairs were needed. Darcie was to stay at the homestead to clean and do what-ever was necessary to turn the run-down building into a liveable home. Charlotte wanted to help her father with the church's building, so she walked along the road, hand-in-hand with the pastor and father she loved.
After deciding what needed to be done, and tidying up the place, an urgent messenger arrived.
"Sir," he said holding his hat, "we have no sheriff in this town, and two men have held up the banker, and that banker, sir, is as stubborn as a mule and as stupid as an goose, he won't give the men that they want."
"What can I do about it?"
"Can you kinda smooth things over?"
Mr Rose pondered, bowed his head, and nodded.
"Yes I'll come in a minute, Charlotte you must go back home to Darcie, this is an order, you mustn't be involved."
Charlotte obeyed and started off on the lonely walk home. An uncomfortable prickly feeling soon got the better of her, and before she knew it, her legs were running back towards the town.
"Imagine what Darcie would think of me running" she thought.
Charlotte had little time to think much more about the matter, for at that moment was a gun shot; a horrible cry; and nothing more.
Unable to think of anything more then her father's safety, Charlotte ran inside the bank.
Mr Rose was slumped against the wall, dead.