He took the squirrel, and as soon as Mister Wes pulled the sheet over Mister Ward's face, we all walked out to the front porch. I held to Papa's hand.
"I reckon we may as well let Ward's dogs have this squirrel for their breakfast," Doctor Elton said. "What do you think, Wes?"
"Yeah, just throw it to the dogs, Doc. Ward must've shot it right 'fore he started back to the house. I see he didn't gut it."
Doctor Elton turned the squirrel over again to look at its stomach. "No, he didn't."
Papa gave a shrill whistle. Two hounds asleep at the gate pricked up their ears. He whistled again, and they came trotting toward the porch. Doctor Elton tossed the squirrel to them. Both dogs pounced on it and began pulling it to pieces.
Mister Wes started his loud talking again. "I don't figger there's no need o' havin' a inquest. Do you, Jodie?"
"It's for you to say, Wes. You're the new J.P. But it looks to me like Ward just went squirrel hunting yesterday evening and had an accident right before he got back to the house."
Mister Wes walked across the porch toward Doctor Elton. "What you think, Doc?"
Old Mister Hawk and the man he was talking with both quit chewing their tobacco and moved closer to the doctor, too. Old Mister Hawk cupped a hand behind one ear, like he thought the doctor was going to say something special. All the other men got quiet. And I stayed still, because I didn't know what Doctor Elton was fixing to tell Mister Wes.
"Y'all, this is a bad business. Death always is. A man in his prime is gone. And a sickly young widow has eight young'uns at her knees and another on her lap. Their prospects are mighty bleak. Her kinfolks will have to take them in, I reckon. But it appears that Ward's was a case where a man brought death on himself, one way or another. And I honestly doubt if an inquest would do him or anybody else any good."