Charley puffed his pipe in satisfaction. Luke and Sam grinned. They
waited for the fat lady to emerge.
When she did, a moment later, it was looking puzzled as usual--but
there was a difference. She stalked ten feet away from the outhouse,
about-faced, and stared up at the cowbell. The men saw the back of her
neck get red and redder still. Then she turned and came toward the
porch. Her eyes were narrowed, her hands were clenched into fists, her
mouth was a determined slash.
She marched across the yard and stood facing the three men on the
porch. She put her fists on her hips and glared.
Luke and Sam stopped grinning. Charley's pipe drooped.
The sun beat down on the valley, the town, the yard, the outhouse,
the fat woman. Her brow was shiny with perspiration. She stood there,
turned her cold blue glare on one man after another, like you'd sweep a
gatling against enemy ranks.