She sat huddled with her knees drawn up, elbows pressed into her stomach. Her face was hidden behind muddy gloves, and she made noises like she was injured.
He started the car. "To the airport, ma'am?"
She began rocking back and forth against the door, facing away from the ranch.
"Ma'am?" the driver asked again, braking as he came to the end of the ranch driveway.
"Home," she whispered, and burst into tears.
* * *
William shouted into the microphone again, "Wait! Please! Listen, please!"
The cacophony of protest continued. A pen flew by dangerously close to his head. It was useless. There was no way he could get them to settle down so he could explain the announcement. After ducking another flying object, William turned and made for the curtains. In just a moment the thing would fix itself.
The house lights went out and then a spotlight illuminated center stage. The curtains parted.
And Peter Jones emerged.