“I didn’t kill him,” she said quietly. “You ought to know that, Sam.”
“You killed him all right,” Sam said, his eyes gleaming evilly.
“Well, this is where you get yours.”
“Look out!” Whisky shouted and sprang forward.
He was too late. Sam fired from his hip. I saw the flash from the gun. Myra took two tottering steps forward. Then she spread out on the floor.
No one could do anything but stare. Sam let the gun slide out of his hand.
Then I ran to Myra. As I bent over her, I heard Sam’s voice wailing.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he kept saying “Honest to Gawd, I didn’t mean to do it.”
I went into the little room with Whisky.
Myra was lying flat. She looked small and white and just to see her turned my heart over.