I stumbled backward on my heels and sat down on the floor. I heard a mean laugh, then another laugh sort of apologetic. She said, "Gosh, sheriff, I didn't mean to-I- you made me so mad II-"
"Sure," I grinned. My vision was clearing and I found my voice again. "Sure, ma'am, I know how it was. Used to get that way myself. Give me a hand, will you?"
"You-you won't hurt me?"
"Me? Aw, now, ma'am."
"No," she said, and she sounded almost disappointed. "I know you won't. Anyone can see you're too easygoing." And she came over to me slowly and gave me her hands.
I pulled myself up. I held her wrists with one hand and swung. It almost stunned her; I didn't want her completely stunned. I wanted her so she would understand what was happening to her.
"No, baby"-my lips drew back from my teeth. "I'm not going to hurt you. I wouldn't think of hurting you. I'm just going to beat the ass plumb off of you.,'
I said it, and I meant it and I damned near did.
I jerked the jersey up over her face and tied the end in a knot. I threw her down on the bed, yanked off her sleeping shorts and tied her feet together with them.
I took off my belt and raised it over my head
I don't know how long it was before I stopped, before I came to my senses. All I know is that my arm ached like hell and her rear end was one big bruise, and I was scared crazy-as scared as a man can get and go on living.
I freed her feet and hands, and pulled the jersey off her head. I soaked a towel in cold water and bathed her with it. I poured coffee between her lips. And all the time I was talking, begging her to forgive me, telling her how sorry I was.
I got down on my knees by the bed, and begged and apologized. At last her eyelids fluttered and opened.
"D-don't," she whispered.
"I won't," I said. "Honest to God, ma'am, I won't ever-"
"Don't talk." She brushed her lips against mine. "Don't say you're sorry."
She kissed me again. She began fumbling at my tie, my shirt; starting to undress me after I'd almost skinned her alive.
I went back the next day and the day after that. I kept going back. And it was like a wind had been turned on a dying fire. I began needling people in that dead-pan way- needling 'em as a substitute for something else. I began thinking about settling scores with Chester Conway, of the Conway Construction Company.
I won't say that I hadn't thought of it before. Maybe I'd stayed on in Central City all these years, just in the hopes of getting even. But except for her I don't think I'd ever have done anything. She'd made the old fire burn again. She even showed me how to square with Conway.
She didn't know she was doing it, but she gave me the answer. It was one day, one night rather, about six weeks after we'd met.
"Lou," she said, "I don't want to go on like this. Let's pull out of this crummy town together, just you and I."
"Why, you're crazy!" I said. I said it before I could stop myself. "You think I'd-I'd-"
"Go on, Lou. Let me hear you say it. Tell me"-she began to drawl-"what a fine ol' family you-all Fords is. Tell me, we-all Fords, ma'am, we wouldn't think of livin' with one of you mizzable
ol' whores, ma'am. Us Fords just ain't built that way, ma'am."
That was part of it, a big part. But it wasn't the main thing. I knew she was making me worse; I knew that if I didn't stop soon I'd never be able to. I'd wind up in a cage or the electric chair.
"Say it, Lou. Say it and I'll say something."
"Don't threaten me, baby," I said. "I don't like threats."
"I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you. You think you're too good for me-I'll-I'll-"
"Go on. It's your turn to do the saying."
"I wouldn't want to, Lou, honey, but I'm not going to give you up. Never, never, never. If you're too good for me now, then I'll make it so you won't be."
I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.
"Well, now, baby," I said, "you've got your bowels in an uproar and all over nothing. I was thinking about the money problem."
"I've got some money. I can get some more. A lot of it."
"Yeah?"
"I can, Lou. I know I can! He's crazy about me and he's dumb as hell. I'll bet if his old man thought I was going to marry him, he-"
"Who?" I said. "Who are you talking about, Joyce?"
"Elmer Conway. You know who he is, don't you? Old Chester-"
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I know the Conways right well. How do you figure on hookin' 'em?"
We talked it over, lying there on her bed together, and off in the night somewhere a voice seemed to whisper to forget it, forget it, Lou, it's not too late if you stop now. And I did try, God knows I tried. But right after that, right after the voice, her hand gripped one of mine and kneaded it into her breasts; and she moaned and shivered and so I didn't forget.
"Well," I said, after a time, "I guess we can work it out. The way I see it is, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again."
"Mmm, darling?"
"In other words," I said, "where there's a will there's a way."
She squirmed a little, and then she snickered. "Oh, Lou, you corny so and so! You slay me!"