The Devil You Know by Jo Goodman Read Free Book Online

drew Willa’s gaze to silver threads at his temple. There were only a few, but his sifting fingers had exposed them, and the contrast was startling, slender filaments of light against the sooty blackness of his hair. She wondered how old he was but did not ask. She still needed an answer to her more important questions.
    â€œWe searched your pockets,” she said. “You had no money.”
    â€œI believe I was fortunate to have pockets.” When she continued to stare at him, he said, “You’re wondering if I was broke or robbed.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Willa said nothing.
    â€œWould you prefer one over the other?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “Just thinking how it could have played out and which side of right you might have been on.”
    â€œMore likely which side of wrong.”
    â€œI was giving you the benefit of the doubt.” She stood suddenly, scooped up a clean, dry cloth from the basket, and headed for the door. “I won’t be but a minute.”
    She did not caution him to remain where he was because she really didn’t believe he could go anywhere. She left the door open in the event he called for her.
    Willa made straight for the pump, where she soaked the cloth with fresh, icy cold water. She wrung most of the water out while she walked back to the bunkhouse and folded the cloth into quarters. When she reached the threshold, she was greeted by two things simultaneously: an empty bunk, and her uncooperative guest standing at the piss pot trying to manage the sheet hitched around his waist with one hand and his cock with the other. To aid in the endeavor, he had removed his sling.
    Shaking her head, Willa stepped back out of the doorway and to the side, electing to give him privacy and some measure of dignity. She knew he could have used her help, butshe could not imagine that he would accept it without an argument and be the worse off for it. She leaned against the rough log wall of the bunkhouse, closed her eyes, and allowed herself this brief respite. She could hear cattle lowing in the distance and the muffled snuffling of horses coming from the barn. Annalea’s laughter drifted across the yard from inside the house, each staccato note of it bright and clear, and it was easy for Willa to imagine that John Henry was the source of her delight, as he often was at supper time.
    A smile tugged at the corners of Willa’s mouth. Annalea was certainly feeding John Henry under the table, and Happy, Cutter, and Zach were all pretending not to notice. Good manners were taking a pass tonight, but Willa was philosophical about it. It was not as if there wouldn’t be future opportunities to practice them.
    Willa roused herself from her reverie and pushed away from the wall. She had purposely not listened for sounds from inside the bunkhouse, so she had to step up to the threshold again to see if her patient had pissed or fallen. It was also quite possible that he had done both.
    He was gingerly easing himself onto the bunk when she entered. The sheet was still hitched around him, although set precariously low on his hips and tangled around his legs. He looked up as she was coming toward him, but she couldn’t say whether he was relieved or annoyed to see her.
    â€œHere,” she said, holding out the damp, cool cloth. “Put it over your eye and hold it there. She yanked on the blankets that were trapped under him and might have dislodged the sheet entirely if he had not had a firm grip on it. “Go on. You can lie down now.”
    He started to lean back slowly but couldn’t manage the strain and simply collapsed instead.
    Willa winced. “I should have put an arm under you.”
    He grunted softly but otherwise remained quiet.
    Willa tapped the fist that was still only clutching the damp cloth, and when he unfolded his fingers, she took it from him and laid it over his swollen eye. When he closed the