said.
“Stop grumbling, darling. Now, tell me about Goodwin. I mean, could you detect any curiosity at all when you met him out there at the rifle range? And don’t forget, never hurry him. You have to play it hard to get all the way.”
Progress report and pep talk in the moonlight, I thought bitterly as I lay in bed in the bleak cabin afterward. Vice-president making a swing through the territory to keep the district managers on their toes. Damn her. But what about San Antonio that night? She could relax and be human when she wanted to.
I cursed myself. That was nice. So I was finding out all over again all the things I’d learned in two years of being married to her and a lifetime of knowing her, and now they were big revelations. We were just going around again. She was a whirlpool I was trapped in. I ground the cigarette savagely against the ash tray and tried to get back to Goodwin.
* * *
It began to break faster than I had expected. Little things tip you off. You turn your head suddenly while walking along the street and find the two people you have just passed are staring after you and talking. You come in the door and a sudden hush falls over a group of three or four men enjoying some joke along the counter in the restaurant. You get a lot of innocent-sounding and thinly disguised questions along with simple transactions like buying a pack of cigarettes or picking up your laundry. Are you going to work here? How do you like our town? Good, healthy climate, isn’t it?
People were beginning to wonder what I was doing here.
And what in the name of God was in those boxes I mailed every day?
On Tuesday I mailed four of them. The clerk at the window smiled. “You’re our best customer,” he said, with a lame attempt at joking. “We ought to give you a rate.”
“Oh?” I said coldly.
During the week I dropped into the bank a couple of times to cash small checks, and both times Goodwin looked up from his paper work to nod and smile. And then, on Saturday, I got another break. Taking a chance he’d be out at the rifle range, I put two of the larger boxes in my coat pocket before I took off on my daily walk east of town. Filled with sand, they weighed over five pounds each.
Late in the afternoon I circled around to the rifle range. I was in luck. Goodwin was there, with two other men. I leaned my .22 against a mesquite and sat down to watch them. After a while Goodwin asked me if I’d like to try the gun again. Before I shot, I took off the coat with its bulging pockets and left it by the .22.
When the session broke up he offered me a lift back to town, as I had hoped. I put the rifle and coat on the back seat and got in up front with him.
“Well, how do you like our town?” he asked, as we wound through the mesquite on the little dirt road.
“Just fine,” I said. “It’s just what I was looking for.”
He didn’t ask me what it was I was looking for. I didn’t think he would. He was by nature rather reserved himself, apparently well educated, and had better manners than the town loafers and most of the other natives. He might be curious, but he wouldn’t pry.
“We’re trying to build up our rifle club,” he said. “How’d you like to join?”
I hesitated a little. “Thanks,” I said. “It sounds fine, but I’ll be frank with you. Those guns are a little steep for me right now.”
He nodded. “Yes, they are pretty expensive. But it’s a fine hobby, and keeps you out in the open.” He stopped suddenly, as if he’d said more than he intended.
I knew then it was beginning to work. He’d thought about me. And he’d decided it was health that brought me here, or rather the lack of it. The next thing, of course, was to make him wonder if that was it.
“Well anyway,” he said, “come on out on Saturday afternoons and take a few shots with this gun of mine.”
We were in town now, but he ran on out to the end of the street and dropped me off in front of the motel. I thanked
“Stop grumbling, darling. Now, tell me about Goodwin. I mean, could you detect any curiosity at all when you met him out there at the rifle range? And don’t forget, never hurry him. You have to play it hard to get all the way.”
Progress report and pep talk in the moonlight, I thought bitterly as I lay in bed in the bleak cabin afterward. Vice-president making a swing through the territory to keep the district managers on their toes. Damn her. But what about San Antonio that night? She could relax and be human when she wanted to.
I cursed myself. That was nice. So I was finding out all over again all the things I’d learned in two years of being married to her and a lifetime of knowing her, and now they were big revelations. We were just going around again. She was a whirlpool I was trapped in. I ground the cigarette savagely against the ash tray and tried to get back to Goodwin.
* * *
It began to break faster than I had expected. Little things tip you off. You turn your head suddenly while walking along the street and find the two people you have just passed are staring after you and talking. You come in the door and a sudden hush falls over a group of three or four men enjoying some joke along the counter in the restaurant. You get a lot of innocent-sounding and thinly disguised questions along with simple transactions like buying a pack of cigarettes or picking up your laundry. Are you going to work here? How do you like our town? Good, healthy climate, isn’t it?
People were beginning to wonder what I was doing here.
And what in the name of God was in those boxes I mailed every day?
On Tuesday I mailed four of them. The clerk at the window smiled. “You’re our best customer,” he said, with a lame attempt at joking. “We ought to give you a rate.”
“Oh?” I said coldly.
During the week I dropped into the bank a couple of times to cash small checks, and both times Goodwin looked up from his paper work to nod and smile. And then, on Saturday, I got another break. Taking a chance he’d be out at the rifle range, I put two of the larger boxes in my coat pocket before I took off on my daily walk east of town. Filled with sand, they weighed over five pounds each.
Late in the afternoon I circled around to the rifle range. I was in luck. Goodwin was there, with two other men. I leaned my .22 against a mesquite and sat down to watch them. After a while Goodwin asked me if I’d like to try the gun again. Before I shot, I took off the coat with its bulging pockets and left it by the .22.
When the session broke up he offered me a lift back to town, as I had hoped. I put the rifle and coat on the back seat and got in up front with him.
“Well, how do you like our town?” he asked, as we wound through the mesquite on the little dirt road.
“Just fine,” I said. “It’s just what I was looking for.”
He didn’t ask me what it was I was looking for. I didn’t think he would. He was by nature rather reserved himself, apparently well educated, and had better manners than the town loafers and most of the other natives. He might be curious, but he wouldn’t pry.
“We’re trying to build up our rifle club,” he said. “How’d you like to join?”
I hesitated a little. “Thanks,” I said. “It sounds fine, but I’ll be frank with you. Those guns are a little steep for me right now.”
He nodded. “Yes, they are pretty expensive. But it’s a fine hobby, and keeps you out in the open.” He stopped suddenly, as if he’d said more than he intended.
I knew then it was beginning to work. He’d thought about me. And he’d decided it was health that brought me here, or rather the lack of it. The next thing, of course, was to make him wonder if that was it.
“Well anyway,” he said, “come on out on Saturday afternoons and take a few shots with this gun of mine.”
We were in town now, but he ran on out to the end of the street and dropped me off in front of the motel. I thanked
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