"But I feel like that."
"Women always get ideas like that of yours in their heads. If somebody looks cross at a feller, they can see a funeral with all his friends sending Gates Ajar wreaths. No, ma'am. I ain't ready for mine yet awhile."
"Why don't you throw it all up?" she asked abruptly.
"You mean my job? Resign? Quit being sheriff?"
"Yes, I do. Oh, you're bound to get killed some day. And for heaven's sake, what is there in it? If things go right—well, that's what they're supposed to do, anyhow. But if things go wrong, you get blamed." Hetty spun around to the window when she saw Lafe's expression of amazement. She gazed out at the ugly, huddled nakedness of Badger, and there was loathing in her eyes.
"The place ain't fit for a human to live in."
"You won't have to stay here long, hon," the sheriff reminded her.
"But anything's apt to happen before that. We've put it off twice already."
"Once," Lafe corrected.
He rose and stood before her. She kept her face averted, but did not withdraw her hand when he took it. At last he said: "You'd have me quit? You'd have me back down when they—all these here people—done put me in just because they thought I was the best man to clean up this here place? I don't believe it. Not for a minute, Hetty. It ain't like you."