“Somebody ought to tell Peggy,” he said.
Hozie nodded.
“You want to go, Joe?”
“You know I couldn’t, Hozie.”
“Sure. Lonnie, you go and tell her. Jist tell her—”
“A-a-a-aw, my ⸺!” snorted Lonnie.
“Me? Aw, I’d make a mess of it, Hozie.”
“Thasall right, Lonnie; it’s a mess already. Go ahead.”
Lonnie went, but Lonnie didn’t want to; and he didn’t mind telling the world that his vocation was punching cows and not being a messenger of bad news.
“Thasall right, Lonnie,” assured Hozie. “I won’t forget it.”