Part 21 (1/2)
”What made you bring Tuckleton back?” she asked pouring fresh water over the b.u.t.ter.
”I met him coming away from here, and I didn't like the way he looked.
I thought maybe--” He let it go at that.
”He was here for a while,” said Hazel, bringing her bowl to the table and beginning again to knead the yellow ma.s.s of b.u.t.ter. ”I don't like that man.”
Billy was at the table instantly. ”Look here, Hazel----”
”Look here, Billy,” she mimicked, lifting calm black eyes to his face.
”Don't you go fussbudgeting. I'm quite capable of managing my admirers.”
”Admirers! Him!” gasped Wingo.
”He proposed to me. I turned him down.”
”Shows your good sense,” said Billy, going over to the chair lately vacated by Rafe Tuckleton and sitting down. ”But I'd like to know what he's thinking of, the old jake.”
Her amused eyes sought his. ”Am I such a poor match as that?”
”You know what I mean,” he grumbled. ”He's got no right proposing to you, no right a-tall. Why, he's old enough to be your father.”
”So he is. Do you know, I never thought of that?”
”You're foolin' now,” grunted Billy. ”Tell you, Hazel, what you want is some young feller with property and all his teeth.”
”I don't want anybody,” she declared, ”young or otherwise. Billy, you're sheriff now--” she continued, changing the subject.
”Not yet,” he interrupted. ”I don't take office till the first of the year.”
She nodded. ”I understand. And I want to ask you a question.
It's--it's--you will say it's none of my business, I expect.”
”Anything's your business you want to ask questions about. Fly at it.”
”Who elected you sheriff, Billy?”
He regarded her in some surprise. ”The voters.”
”I know, but who manages the voters?”
”You mean the party machine?”
”That's it. Well now, Bill, suppose the machine put a man in office, would he have to do what the machine told him?”
”He would, if he was that kind of a man.”
She straightened and gave him a level look. ”Billy, they say the gang that runs this county elected you sheriff.”
”Who's they--Rafe Tuckleton?”