The woman looked at her kids and eyed them angrily.
“You get on back to your dice and keep quiet,” chastened the mother. “You get a wart for each fib you tell and don’t neither of you know what this table cover cost.” She looked back at Oswell and said, “Tomorry I ask Mr. Randolph what to do. Maybe he goin’ to tell us to cut it up for napkins and you won’t have to pay nothin’ for it.”
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Addy.”
“Thank you, Addy.”
“I know it was a accident and you a nice man.”
Oswell was glad that Addy could not read the letter that he was writing.
The mother walked back to her kids as the rancher yawned. He wanted to finish the letter, but he had a lot more to write. He figured that he had better try to get some sleep while he could. With his cramped fingers, he twisted
