The Able McLaughlins
She cuddled against him.
"Don't cry!" he had to say.
"I won't look at him!" she sobbed. "You know I don't want to go back to him! You oughtn't to have said that! You know I don't like him! If you want to know how much I hate him, I'll tell you! It was me that shot him that time. It wasn't his foot I was aiming at, either!" She wept unrestrainedly.
"You shot him!" Wully gasped.
"He would come back! What could I do! There was no place to hide. I shot at him!"
She had shot him! She had been as desperate as that. He was horrified anew. She bent down to feel the baby's hands, to cover him more securely. She wanted to say something else, but she couldn't speak plainly because of her sobs. Yet she managed to urge the horses eastward.
"I'll never look at him!" she cried passionately. "You needn't think I like him! You oughtn't to have said that!"
"I know it, Chirstie! I oughtn't to have said such a thing. But you oughtn't to have jumped out and run away that way."
"Yes, I ought!" she retorted, swallowing, choking. "I couldn't help it. It wasn't my place to do it. But my husband wouldn't do his part! Wully, if you hurry now, hurry enough, they'll just think you've been unloading. You won't need to explain! I won't have you doing such a mean thing. I've got enough bad things to tell without that! Hurry!"
