“You the kind of fellow who likes to make smart?”
“I’m wise.”
“You’re one smart remark away from gettin’ your head blowed off, is what you are.”
Arthur thumbed the hammer of his six-shooter, and the click reverberated loudly in the silent church.
Goodstead’s face remained blank. “Why don’t you take me for hostage instead of that lady you’ve been beatin’ on?”
“I wanna know that you’re gonna do what I tell you,” stated the talker. “You nod or my brother shoots you. Go on and do it now—nod.”
The people who were seated near the targeted deputy ducked their heads. Goodstead looked from the talker over to Beatrice, who mouthed the word “please.”
He nodded.
“My brother thinks you took too long.”
Arthur walked over to the pew and slapped Goodstead. The Texan did not react, but stared back
