Earl Dean was astounded by his
hesitation. He should have balked more, but then he also felt defeated that he
was so quick to capitulate. His life was truly not his anymore―seeming to be in
total ruin. The ride home was a nightmare. Although careful not to malign
Lucille in anyway, his aunt and uncle let their feelings and thoughts on the
matter be known. Their voices swirling around his ears like the wind coming through
the open windows―catching a word now and then―nodding his head in
response―grunting out an agreement. But in his mind he had two choices―give up his
wife or fight to keep her. He settled on fighting to keep her. But then he wondered
if it was to save his marriage or to wreck his good-for-nothing cousin’s aims.
He knew in his heart the buffalo was all that mattered to Lucille. Then he
shuddered at the thought of it with a bullet between its eyes. If they found it dead it would be as though he
pulled the trigger himself. In the midst of the entire debacle, a satisfied
smile crept across his face. It occurred to him that he might be as drunk on
the whole messy state of affairs as if he were drunk on moonshine.
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