involuntarily escaping her.
Wellman stood there in stunned silence, mutely aware for the first time, that his life—at least the life he had known up till now—was probably over.
Carl was at the door. He put his hand on the knob, turned it and yanked it open. Sheriff Dugan was indeed standing on the other side, hat in hand.
He was a young man, perhaps no more than thirty, tall, good looking, with a manner that was quiet and overly polite. He had grown up in Tyler and knew the Landers and Doctor Wellman quite well. “Hi,” he said a little shyly. “Is everything okay here?”
“Why yes, Jimmy,” replied Carl in the calmest, sanest voice Wellman had heard out of him all night. “Why do you ask?”
The sheriff leaned forward cautiously, and craned his neck so as to take in the entire room. He saw Mary sitting by the window in her rocking chair, Doctor Wellman standing there, white as a bleached sheet, and Carl who looked like he’d been out in the pen playing with the hogs. “Just checking,” he said. “I was driving by and saw Doctor Wellman’s car, and all the lights were on in the house and barn so I thought I’d check and see if there was a problem. Sorry if I disturbed you. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Carl said, “We appreciate that.”
“Why don’t you invite the young man in,” Mary said, and Wellman looked up sharply.
Jesus, why don’t you just get rid of him, he thought, and then suddenly he suspected he might know the answer to his own question. Gooseflesh played along his backbone like mallets on a xylophone.
“Of course,” Carl said. “Come in, Jimmy, won’t you?” Carl was smiling sweetly, as was Mary now. Wellman looked from one to the other wanting to scream. Carl stepped aside and Sheriff Dugan walked across the threshold.
“Their little girl was sick,” Wellman volunteered. “They were worried and called, so I drove over.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?” said the soft-spoken sheriff with concern.
“Oh no, just a bellyache. I’ve given her something for it and now she’s sleeping peacefully. I was just about to be on my way.”
“I see,” said the sheriff. He surveyed everybody again. “Oh, by the way, I noticed the lights on in the barn so I took the liberty of looking around before I came to the door. I hope you don’t mind?”
“No . . . of course not,” Carl said, the smile frozen on his face.
The sheriff pulled a flashlight from beneath his cap and showed it to them. “I noticed a fresh mound of earth out back. Looks like someone’s been digging. That’s the same soil on your coveralls isn’t it, Carl?”
“That’s right, Jimmy,” Carl replied a little too tersely. “Got two hundred acres of it.”
“I see,” said the sheriff.
“You’ll have to excuse Carl,” Mary said apologetically. “It’s been a long day.”
“One of the herd died this afternoon.” Carl explained. “And I had to bury her. Big job. Just got through with it. Don’t mind telling you I’m beat.”
“I’ll bet,” the sheriff said in that same insanely calm voice of his. “She have an accident?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Your cow. I noticed the blood all over the barn floor, and it looks like you’ve got some of it on your coveralls there.” He pointed.
Carl looked down at his coveralls, then back at the sheriff and that’s when Wellman saw him change. One moment he was the Carl he had known for thirty years and the next he was . . . well, he was different. Wellman caught just a flicker of it, a shimmering glimpse of Carl’s face changing into something else. And then suddenly Carl seemed normal again.
I imagined it, Wellman thought. I’m not a young man anymore and all this stress has overloaded my circuitry. That’s all it is. Just my imagination.
“Had to butcher her where she died,” Carl was saying. “Much too heavy for me to drag out back in one piece.”
Wellman was unsure as to whether the sheriff had seen the change or
Wellman stood there in stunned silence, mutely aware for the first time, that his life—at least the life he had known up till now—was probably over.
Carl was at the door. He put his hand on the knob, turned it and yanked it open. Sheriff Dugan was indeed standing on the other side, hat in hand.
He was a young man, perhaps no more than thirty, tall, good looking, with a manner that was quiet and overly polite. He had grown up in Tyler and knew the Landers and Doctor Wellman quite well. “Hi,” he said a little shyly. “Is everything okay here?”
“Why yes, Jimmy,” replied Carl in the calmest, sanest voice Wellman had heard out of him all night. “Why do you ask?”
The sheriff leaned forward cautiously, and craned his neck so as to take in the entire room. He saw Mary sitting by the window in her rocking chair, Doctor Wellman standing there, white as a bleached sheet, and Carl who looked like he’d been out in the pen playing with the hogs. “Just checking,” he said. “I was driving by and saw Doctor Wellman’s car, and all the lights were on in the house and barn so I thought I’d check and see if there was a problem. Sorry if I disturbed you. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Carl said, “We appreciate that.”
“Why don’t you invite the young man in,” Mary said, and Wellman looked up sharply.
Jesus, why don’t you just get rid of him, he thought, and then suddenly he suspected he might know the answer to his own question. Gooseflesh played along his backbone like mallets on a xylophone.
“Of course,” Carl said. “Come in, Jimmy, won’t you?” Carl was smiling sweetly, as was Mary now. Wellman looked from one to the other wanting to scream. Carl stepped aside and Sheriff Dugan walked across the threshold.
“Their little girl was sick,” Wellman volunteered. “They were worried and called, so I drove over.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?” said the soft-spoken sheriff with concern.
“Oh no, just a bellyache. I’ve given her something for it and now she’s sleeping peacefully. I was just about to be on my way.”
“I see,” said the sheriff. He surveyed everybody again. “Oh, by the way, I noticed the lights on in the barn so I took the liberty of looking around before I came to the door. I hope you don’t mind?”
“No . . . of course not,” Carl said, the smile frozen on his face.
The sheriff pulled a flashlight from beneath his cap and showed it to them. “I noticed a fresh mound of earth out back. Looks like someone’s been digging. That’s the same soil on your coveralls isn’t it, Carl?”
“That’s right, Jimmy,” Carl replied a little too tersely. “Got two hundred acres of it.”
“I see,” said the sheriff.
“You’ll have to excuse Carl,” Mary said apologetically. “It’s been a long day.”
“One of the herd died this afternoon.” Carl explained. “And I had to bury her. Big job. Just got through with it. Don’t mind telling you I’m beat.”
“I’ll bet,” the sheriff said in that same insanely calm voice of his. “She have an accident?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Your cow. I noticed the blood all over the barn floor, and it looks like you’ve got some of it on your coveralls there.” He pointed.
Carl looked down at his coveralls, then back at the sheriff and that’s when Wellman saw him change. One moment he was the Carl he had known for thirty years and the next he was . . . well, he was different. Wellman caught just a flicker of it, a shimmering glimpse of Carl’s face changing into something else. And then suddenly Carl seemed normal again.
I imagined it, Wellman thought. I’m not a young man anymore and all this stress has overloaded my circuitry. That’s all it is. Just my imagination.
“Had to butcher her where she died,” Carl was saying. “Much too heavy for me to drag out back in one piece.”
Wellman was unsure as to whether the sheriff had seen the change or