He had no reply to that. Jake probably hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words with Violet in the six years he’d known her. There’d been that business about the dog, but that was about as far as it went. He’d heard the rumors about her. The whole town of Serena Station buzzed with stories about the Sullivans-Foley’s drinking, the fisticuffs, her screwing around. Quite the happy little pair. Jake despised Foley. Any man who raised a hand to woman or child was the lowest of the low. Violet, he wasn’t sure about. Mary Hairl seemed to like her, but his wife was a good-hearted soul, who’d put out a bowl of scraps for any stray cat that wandered up on the porch. He put Violet in that camp-hungry, wary, and needy. “You still mad about the dog?”

“I got my money. Not that it was mine for long,” she said. “How’s Mary Hairl?”

“He just asked me that,” Jake said, indicating BW with a wave of his cigarette.

“What’d you tell him?”

“Said I didn’t want to talk about it, thanks all the same.”

“Because it’s painful.”

“Because it’s nobody’s business.” he was quiet for a moment and then surprised himself by going on. “They’ve got her on a drip. Morphine, most likely. The doctor won’t tell me anything and what he says to her, she keeps to herself. She doesn’t want me to worry.”

Violet said, “Well, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It has nothing to do with you.” He glanced off across the room. He could feel tears sting his eyes. He’d made a point of not discussing his wife’s illness. Acquaintances would ask, but he tended to cut them short. He didn’t like the idea of exposing the intimate details of Mary Hairl’s condition. He couldn’t talk particulars with her father, even if he’d known. Hairl had been a surly son of a bitch ever since his wife died. He was burdened enough as it was, knowing he was on the verge of losing his only child. Which left who? Jake certainly couldn’t talk about her sickness with the kids. Both he and Mary Hairl had agreed early on to spare them. Steve, at sixteen, was aware of what was happening, but he kept himself detached. Tannie was mercifully oblivious, which left Jake on his own.

Violet studied him. “How’re you holding up? You don’t look so hot yourself.”

He lifted his beer bottle. “This helps.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she said, and clicked her wineglass against his bottle. “Why is it men are always trying to prove how tough they are? Situation like yours, what harm would it do to talk about it?”

“What for? I live with it from day to day. Last thing I need is talk on top of that.”