“I reckon I’m all through in Tumblin’ River, Hozie.”
“Well,” Uncle Hozie bit off a huge chew of tobacco and masticated rapidly, thoughtfully. “Well, Joe, it ain’t for me to say. I got up as far as ‘Silver Threads’ last night myself, but of course it wasn’t my weddin’ night. But, accordin’ to some remarks I heard expressed last night, the folks of the Tumblin’ River ain’t takin’ up no collection to buy yuh a monument. Yuh see, Joe, Peggy is kinda well liked.”
“Kinda well liked! My ⸺!” Joe shut his jaw tightly and fumbled at his reins. “I’ll be goin’, Hozie.”
“Yeah? Well.” Hozie spat thoughtfully, but did not look up at Joe.
“Be good to yourself,” he said slowly.
Joe turned and rode away, never looking back. Hozie sat down on the veranda and Aunt Emma came out. She had been watching from a window.
“What did he have to say?” she asked.
“Joe? Oh, nothin’ much.”
“What excuse did he offer?”
“None.”