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be no arguing today. They’d come to bury two men who’d made the ultimate sacrifice.
    A soft rustling in the crowd made everyone turn around to see what was going on. Entering the church was Mrs. Oswald and her veterans. Each man had on a starched clean uniform, and whether on crutches or being pushed in chairs, they exuded a soldierly pride. Jo’s heart swelled with pride, and she discreetly attempted to spot George. But Trudy clutched Jo’s arm tightly and whispered ecstatically, “There’s Dred.”
    Jo saw him, but she didn’t dare tell Trudy that Dred had asked after her, at least not here. Again, there was no telling what Trudy might do or say, and Jo wanted nothing marring the funeral, at least nothing started by Trudy.
    Jo found George. Their gazes met, but in keeping with the serious atmosphere, he simply nodded respectfully. Jo nodded a similar response, then turned away.
    Belle leaned over to Jo and whispered, “He is a nice-looking man.”
    Jo simply smiled.
    The true purpose of the gathering came back into focus with the appearance of Reverend Harmony standing at the front of the church. He looked properly solemn in his long black robe. The congregation quieted and waited for him to speak.
    “Although I did not know Dexter Firestone, or his son, Isaac, the fact that all of you are here today in their honor tells me they were respected and well-loved members of this community.”
    A few soft amens affirmed his statement, and Jo added one, as well.

    The service lasted less than an hour. At the conclusion, the twin flag-draped coffins were wheeled out of the church. The Firestone family exited next. Vera Firestone looked heartbroken. Jo wiped at her own tears. The congregation followed the family’s exit, then assembled outside for the traditional walk to the cemetery.
    During the wait for the coffins to be hoisted into the hearse, Cecilia came over to where Jo stood with Belle and the cane-clutching George. Mrs. Best stuck out her hand to him. “My name’s Cecilia Best. I’m Josephine’s mother.”
    George seemed not to know what to say to the forceful Cecilia. Jo loved her mother but sometimes wished she weren’t so diligent. Poor George appeared scared to death as Jo watched him shake her mother’s outstretched hand.
    “I’m George Brooks, Mrs. Best. Pleased to meet you.”
    “Pleased to meet you, too. I saw you at Mrs. Oswald’s gathering last Sunday.”
    “Yes, ma’am, you did.”
    Cecilia added, “The family appreciates your coming.”
    “Well, Miss Josephine told us about the funeral, and we decided we would come to pay our respects.”
    Belle asked, “Are you going to the cemetery?”
    He raised his cane. “No, this cane and I don’t do well on long walks, at least not yet. The men and I are going back to Mrs. Oswald’s.”
    Jo was admittedly disappointed.
    Mrs. Best said, “Well, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
    The coffins were now loaded and the procession was ready to begin.
    Cecilia said, “I must go. George, as I said, it was a pleasure meeting you. Jo and Belle, I’ll see you at the cemetery.” She gave George a parting smile, then hurried off.
    Jo quipped, “Now, that wasn’t so bad, George, was it?”
    George fidgeted with his collar. “Your mother’s very forceful. Your father allows it, though, I suppose.”
    Jo wasn’t sure how to take that, but decided to give George the benefit of the doubt. Surely he didn’t think there was anything wrong with a forceful woman, but before she could question him further on the matter, Belle said, “Jo, we should be going. The line’s starting to move.”
    Jo saw that Belle was right, so having George clarify his comment about her mother would have to wait until another time. “I’ll see you on Sunday, George.”
    “I’ll be counting the minutes,” he teased. With a grin and a wave he hobbled off.
    Jo watched him for a moment, then she and Belle got in line with the congregation for the traditional walk to the