“Yesterday morning or day before—just after you left. I reckon he was waitin' for you to go. I'm glad you went first.” The man looked up at the rifle resting on the pegs above the fireplace. “Laban, don't!” she cried. “I looked at it when he was walkin' away, and I know what you're thinkin'.”
“What is he goin' to do?” the man asked from his daze.
“Nothing. He said he wouldn't do nothing if I didn't. If he hadn't said it I might believe it!”
Laban shifted his weight where he stood from one foot to the other.
“He passed the night at David's. He's passed two nights there.”
“Was it the snorting man?”
“I reckon.”
“I heard about him at the Cross Roads. Why didn't David tell us yesterday?”
“Maybe he hadn't thought it out. David thinks slow. He likes to be sure before he speaks. He was sure enough this morning!” the woman ended bitterly.
“What did he say?”