Unless something went wrong . . .

11

It rained during the night, and I slept pretty good like I almost always do when it rains. Along about ten the next morning, when I was having a little second breakfast because I hadn’t eaten much the first time but a few eggs and some pancakes and sausage, Rose Hauck called.

She’d been trying to reach me for quite a while, but hadn’t been able to because of Myra’s gossiping about Sam Gaddis. Myra talked to her for a couple of minutes, and then passed the phone to me.

“I’m afraid something’s happened to Tom, Nick,” Rose told me—just as if she didn’t know what had happened to him. “His horse came home without him this morning.”

“Is that a fact?” I said. “You think maybe I should go out and start looking for him?”

“Well, I just don’t know, Nick,” she hesitated. “If Tom is all right, he might be pretty mad if I sent the sheriff after him.”

I said that was for sure, all right. Tom didn’t like anyone butting in on his affairs. “Maybe he holed up somewhere on account of the rain,” I said. “Maybe he’s waitin’ for it to dry up a little before he starts home.”

“I’ll bet that’s it,” she said, making her voice relieved. “He probably didn’t have cover for the mare so he sent her home by herself.”

“That’s probably the way it was, all right,” I said. “After all, he didn’t tell you he was coming home last night, did he?”

“No, no, he didn’t. He never tells me how long he’s going to be gone.”

“Well, don’t worry none about it,” I said. -“Not yet, anyways. If Tom ain’t home by tomorrow, why then I’ll start lookin’ for him.”

Myra was making wild faces and motions, as if to say, what is it all about? I passed her the phone and there was some more jibber-jabbering, and she wound up asking Rose to come have supper with us. “Now, you just must come, dear, because I’ve got all kinds of news to tell you. You can get a ride in with the mailman about four, and I’ll have Nick drive you home afterward.”

She hung up, shaking her head and murmuring, “Poor Rose. That poor, dear, sweet woman.”

I said, “Why, Rose ain’t poor, honey. That’s a right good farm her and Tom has.”

“Oh, shut up!” she said. “If you’d have been half a man, you’d have done something about Tom Hauck long ago! Put him in jail where he belongs instead of leaving him free to beat up that poor little helpless wife of his!”

“Why, I couldn’t do that,” I said. “I couldn’t interfere between a man and his wife.”

“No, you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything! Because you’re ‘not’ half a man!”

“Well, now I don’t know about that,” I said. “I ain’t saying you’re wrong, but I sure ain’t saying—”

“Oh, shut up!” she said again. “Lennie’s more of a man than you are. Aren’t you, Lennie, darling?”—she smiled at him—“you’re Myra’s brave strong man, aren’t you? Not an old cowardly calf like Nick.”