was given?
He got the initial six, and we’re hanging another six right now.
“Sir? Could you tell us what kind of snake bit you?”
Were they talking to him?
“Sir? Were you bitten by a rattlesnake?”
Marsh tried nodding but couldn’t be sure if he’d even moved.
“Sir, judging by the severity of your symptoms, we need to double-check you weren’t bitten by something more exotic. Are you sure it was a rattler?”
“Y-yes,” Marsh managed. After having to put down one of his grandfather’s best horses when it broke its leg in a prairie dog hole, Marsh had been out on the range, filling as many of the damned things as he could, when the snake lunged without warning. It clamped onto the webby flesh between his thumb and forefinger for an eternity before Marsh shook him free. He’d done his best to stay calm, drunk as much water as he could, then climbed into his chestnut’s saddle, strapping himself in before aiming the horse for home.
Sounds definitive to me. Look at the poor guy. He’s twitching all over. See the fasciculations? How his muscles look like worms under his skin. It’s bad. One of the worst snakebites I’ve seen in a while.
“Marsh Langtree...” Mabel held up the stranger’s ID to check it with her reading glasses. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Is he a neighbor?” They’d finished lunch, and while Mabel fed Cassidy her baby food pears, Effie cleared the kitchen table. “I mean, think about it. I found him on horseback, so he couldn’t have come from too far away.”
“Hmm...” Mabel wiped drool from the baby’s chin.
Cassidy grinned and blew a raspberry.
Effie’s daughter had her blue eyes, but the twins had Moody’s soulful brown gaze. Every time she looked at her boys, Effie could be bitter, but she was only thankful that her brief marriage had created such blessings.
“Seems to me—” Mabel fed Cassidy another bite “—Wallace Stokes has family out east.”
“Who’s Wallace?”
“Let’s just say he’s a neighbor and leave it at that.”
“Why haven’t you mentioned him before? You had to have known him, right?”
“Girl, leave it alone.”
“I’m intrigued.” Effie fitted the stopper in the sink, turned on hot water, then added a squirt of dish soap. “This sounds like a good story.”
“Ha! He’s got a fresh mouth.”
“This just keeps getting better...” Effie didn’t try hiding her grin. Mabel might be a great-grandma three times over, but that didn’t stop her from flirting up a storm every Saturday night she went square dancing. “What did he do?”
“Poor Dwayne had barely been in his grave a year when Wallace showed up at the Grange Hall for dancing and told me I was shakin’ my behind like a wet dog.”
Effie tried not to laugh—really, she did—but Mabel’s pinched scowl was too funny.
“How’s that funny? The man’s a scoundrel.”
“Grandma, even you have to admit that when you’ve had a few beers—”
“I don’t imbibe in spirits, and shame on you for inferring I do. I might have had cider, but that’s all.”
“If you say so.” Effie winked.
“Girl, you’d better be glad you’re too big for a spanking, or else.”
“Sorry, Grandma. But do you have Wallace’s phone number? If so, I’ll give him a call to save you the trouble.”
“Why would I have the old coot’s number?”
“We could try calling information or looking it up online.”
“Girl, I’ve got no patience for your fancy detective work. Go see him in person. It’s that rock house a fair piece down the road with the leaning barn. Not only is the man foulmouthed, but lazy.”
“I’ve never heard you say a bad word about anyone. Is this Wallace character really so bad?”
As if on cue, Cassidy spit out her last bite of pears.
“See?” Mabel said. “If even hearing about the man left a sour taste in this sweet baby’s mouth, then you know what I say is true.”
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Effie had finished cleaning the lunch dishes, gotten the sulking twins started on their afternoon chores and allowed her grandmother to coerce her into visiting this supposedly wretched Wallace who might or might not have kin named Marsh Langtree.
She now stood on the man’s front porch, wishing for even a hint of a breeze to cut the oppressive heat.
At least his yard sported three cottonwoods. She welcomed the shade.
Effie had just raised her hand to knock on the peeling red front door when it opened. Startled, she jumped back, pressing her hand over her pounding heart. “You scared me.”
“Good. I don’t need religion or a new vacuum, so you’d best be on your way.”
“No, sir. I’m Effie Washington—your neighbor from down the road. My grandma says we share a property line with you, and—”
“Mabel’s your grandmother?”
“Yessir...” Effie held her breath. If he harbored half as many hard feelings toward Mabel as she did toward him, this visit might turn even more unpleasant.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on in.” He stepped back to hold open the door.
She entered, and nearly purred with pleasure from a humming window-mounted air conditioner’s chill. “Wow, does this feel nice.”
“Mabel doesn’t have AC?”
“No, sir.”
“Humph.” The tall, slender man with a shock of white hair and an impressive handlebar mustache wandered to a sagging brown recliner. A massive Maine coon cat took up the entire seat. He hefted it up to toss onto the sofa, then settled into his chair. “Have a seat.”
The offended cat glared before starting a tongue bath.
Effie chose a simple oak rocker, unsure how to broach the matter that had brought her here.
“How is Mabel? I trust she’s okay?” Interesting. Far from being the monster Mabel had portrayed, Wallace seemed cordial enough—at least once he’d confirmed she wasn’t
