know that he had to do that, but that’s what he done. Just to make sure, I suspect. I imagine he knows what he’s about, don’t you, Ted?”
Ted Burley nodded slowly. “I reckon he does.”
“Well, it’s good to have a doc around close. Course, you and me, Ted, we always went over there to Graintown and Doc Orwell. You can’t be too sure about your doc, I always say. I mean, that’s one man you always want to be sure about. Right, Ted?”
“You’re pretty right, I’d say.” Ted Burley blinked, trying to get his thoughts straight. Bob Saywell pressed his advantage.
“Well, I don’t want to talk on about Doc Stewart. Just that somehow he always—well, I don’t know. Just impressed me as kind of out of place here in our little community. He’s got big-city ways or something. Oh, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with someone who’s from a city. Now I guess I know your missus came from Omaha. And your missus is certainly all right! Maybe I’m just small-town all the way through or something, Ted. Maybe it’s just me. Don’t doubt your missus can understand Doc Stewart a good bit better than I can. She seemed to be real pleased to see him there, when she woke up. Wouldn’t doubt they’ve got a whole lot in common. Probably accounts for that long visit they had.”
“Long visit?” Ted Burley asked, face darkening now.
“Well, Doc Stewart took her home there in late morning. When I went by in the afternoon, why, there was Doc Stewart’s car still parked in your yard. Don’t doubt they get along real fine, Ted. Well, I got to get going. You take it easy now, Ted.”
Bob Saywell waved a cheery hand, ducked his head once again into the fatty folds of his neck and hiked off to his car. Ted Burley immediately strode toward the back door of the house, a habit taught to him by his mother, so he could kick the snow from his boots at the stoop and not track the front-room rug.
Ann came into the kitchen as he was stripping off his mackinaw.
“Ted,” Ann said. “I’m glad you’ve come home.” She was, in fact, quite glad he’d come—there was a familiarity in his presence that, at this moment, belied the true feeling she had for him. In comparison to the recent presence of Bob Saywell, he seemed an almost refreshing sight.
Ted Burley did not answer. He washed his large hands silently in the kitchen sink.
“Ted—”
“What was Doc Stewart doing bringing you home?”
“Ted, I fainted in the store!”
He turned, his face twisted into an unbelievable fury of jealously.
“How long did he stay?”
“I don’t know, Ted. I didn’t time how long he was here.”
“What happened while he was here?”
Ann shook her head. “Ted, listen to me—”
“Don’t have to!” he said, churlishly. “Just want to know what happened!”
His face made it plain that he was creating the blackest pictures available to his invention.
“I told you!” he whispered hoarsely.
“Ted, please!”
“Right in this house!” he said, his voice suddenly lifting in power, nearly screaming.
His hand came from nowhere. It struck her solidly across the cheekbone, sending her pitching across the kitchen floor. Half sprawling, she shook her head, amazed at the blow, yet understanding that somehow he’d perceived something had happened between her and Hugh Stewart.
She didn’t argue or defend, only saw the pace of his large boots toward her. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a coat from the hallway, and ran from him. She ran outside to the snow and the bitter wind, and she kept running. She thought he was following her. Her flight became panic, stumbling through the ever-increasing snow, the wind stinging her cheeks. She ran.
Ted Burley stood in the doorway and looked after her disappearing figure. He did not follow. Instead, panting with rage, he allowed his wild imaginings to increase in tempo. The lust rose in him, not to strike her again, but to avenge her in the same way he was sure she had
Ted Burley nodded slowly. “I reckon he does.”
“Well, it’s good to have a doc around close. Course, you and me, Ted, we always went over there to Graintown and Doc Orwell. You can’t be too sure about your doc, I always say. I mean, that’s one man you always want to be sure about. Right, Ted?”
“You’re pretty right, I’d say.” Ted Burley blinked, trying to get his thoughts straight. Bob Saywell pressed his advantage.
“Well, I don’t want to talk on about Doc Stewart. Just that somehow he always—well, I don’t know. Just impressed me as kind of out of place here in our little community. He’s got big-city ways or something. Oh, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with someone who’s from a city. Now I guess I know your missus came from Omaha. And your missus is certainly all right! Maybe I’m just small-town all the way through or something, Ted. Maybe it’s just me. Don’t doubt your missus can understand Doc Stewart a good bit better than I can. She seemed to be real pleased to see him there, when she woke up. Wouldn’t doubt they’ve got a whole lot in common. Probably accounts for that long visit they had.”
“Long visit?” Ted Burley asked, face darkening now.
“Well, Doc Stewart took her home there in late morning. When I went by in the afternoon, why, there was Doc Stewart’s car still parked in your yard. Don’t doubt they get along real fine, Ted. Well, I got to get going. You take it easy now, Ted.”
Bob Saywell waved a cheery hand, ducked his head once again into the fatty folds of his neck and hiked off to his car. Ted Burley immediately strode toward the back door of the house, a habit taught to him by his mother, so he could kick the snow from his boots at the stoop and not track the front-room rug.
Ann came into the kitchen as he was stripping off his mackinaw.
“Ted,” Ann said. “I’m glad you’ve come home.” She was, in fact, quite glad he’d come—there was a familiarity in his presence that, at this moment, belied the true feeling she had for him. In comparison to the recent presence of Bob Saywell, he seemed an almost refreshing sight.
Ted Burley did not answer. He washed his large hands silently in the kitchen sink.
“Ted—”
“What was Doc Stewart doing bringing you home?”
“Ted, I fainted in the store!”
He turned, his face twisted into an unbelievable fury of jealously.
“How long did he stay?”
“I don’t know, Ted. I didn’t time how long he was here.”
“What happened while he was here?”
Ann shook her head. “Ted, listen to me—”
“Don’t have to!” he said, churlishly. “Just want to know what happened!”
His face made it plain that he was creating the blackest pictures available to his invention.
“I told you!” he whispered hoarsely.
“Ted, please!”
“Right in this house!” he said, his voice suddenly lifting in power, nearly screaming.
His hand came from nowhere. It struck her solidly across the cheekbone, sending her pitching across the kitchen floor. Half sprawling, she shook her head, amazed at the blow, yet understanding that somehow he’d perceived something had happened between her and Hugh Stewart.
She didn’t argue or defend, only saw the pace of his large boots toward her. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a coat from the hallway, and ran from him. She ran outside to the snow and the bitter wind, and she kept running. She thought he was following her. Her flight became panic, stumbling through the ever-increasing snow, the wind stinging her cheeks. She ran.
Ted Burley stood in the doorway and looked after her disappearing figure. He did not follow. Instead, panting with rage, he allowed his wild imaginings to increase in tempo. The lust rose in him, not to strike her again, but to avenge her in the same way he was sure she had
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