“We would ask that you leave this man in peace,” she said, her chin working side to side, the words harshly accented and rumbling.
Darius Horn started, bumped Early’s arm with the towel.
“Mother of –” Early said, his eyes fixed on his work, his hands making delicate, pinching movements.
“No cause to become hysterical, Mrs. Cook,” Darius said, averting his eyes. “There isn’t need.” He leaned in closer to Early and said something Ellen couldn’t hear.
“We would like this man to be left to rest. Clothe him and be on your way.” Ellen’s mouth wrenched open as if in a yawn, her jaw’s pops and crackles sending short bolts of pain and relief down her neck. The words filled her mouth as if the voice inhabited her with a larger energy than her own.
Darius dropped the towel over Early’s hand
