Explore "The Able Mclaughlins" by Margaret Wilson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"You go on with the corn," Wully said to John at breakfast. "I'm taking Chirstie over to mother's. " John made no comment. Chirstie looked as if she had had fever unusually severe the day before, and naturally she would be better cared for at the McLaughlins'. John suspected nothing. He wasn't especially observant. Talking still of the celebration, he didn't see Wully watching his wife, covertly watching the way her eyes turned hauntedly toward any slight sound out of doors. Wully went through with the prayers as usual. "Prosper us in our duties this day! " he implored, with unaccustomed fervency. John went away to his work. Chirstie and the baby got into the wagon, where Wully had slyly hidden his gun -- he had to conceal his sterner purpose from her. He said to her simply that he had made Peter get out once, and he could do it again. He saw no use in saying how much more thoroughly he intended doing it this time.
They scarcely spoke, riding away together, man and wife. Sitting there, so close to him, she seemed so dear... so dear... and life so precious. Why should he have to endanger it now just when he was beginning to appreciate it, for the sake of that man's villainy! The poignant silence struggled and surged about them, his rage, her fear, their love fighting together with no relief in expression, her beseeching, warning eyes searching the face he tried to keep averted.