Free God's Little Acre by Erskine Caldwell

not think of a single word to utter in reply. She continued looking down at him, however; he knew he had to say something before she would move.
    “Just once was all right, wasn’t it, Rosamond?”
    “Once! That’s all you ever say. Every time I ask you why you did it, you say you only did it once. You’ve had every girl in town, once. It might just as well be a hundred times. Don’t you ever stop to think how it makes me feel—you out somewhere with a girl you have no business being with, and here I am sitting at home wondering where you are and what you’re doing?”
    Will turned his head just enough to see Darling Jill out of the corners of his eyes.
    “Maybe it’s because she’s a Georgia girl, Rosamond. I reckon that’s why.”
    “That’s no excuse—you can’t even make one up. I’m a Georgia girl myself—at least I used to be before I married you and came over here to Carolina.”
    Will looked at Pluto, but Pluto apparently had no suggestion worth the offer. He stared back blankly at Will.
    “Rosamond, honey,” he said meekly. “I felt of her and kissed her some and then the first thing I knew about it was that I just had to do it. I didn’t mean any harm. That’s just how it was.”
    “If I had a baseball bat, I’d do a thing or two to you,” Rosamond replied.
    Will began to have a little more confidence in his ability to argue with Rosamond. He was not afraid of Rosamond any longer, and he knew he could take the hairbrush away from her if she tried to blister him again.
    “Now, listen here, Rosamond,” he said. “A girl like Darling Jill can’t come around without someone getting her. She was made that way from the start.”
    Rosamond made as if to take the hairbrush and blister them both all over again, but she turned instead and ran to the dresser near the corner where Pluto was. She jerked open the top drawer and pulled out the little pearl-handled thirty-two she kept there. She ran back to the bed, holding it out in front of her.
    “For God’s sake, Rosamond,” Will shouted, “Rosamond, honey, don’t do that!”
    Darling Jill looked up from the pillow just in time to see the hammer go back and to hear it cock. Will sat up in bed, hugging the pillow in front of him.
    “If I blister you, you won’t stay blistered, but if I shoot you, you’ll stay shot, Will Thompson.”
    “Honey,” he begged, “if you’ll put that down, I’ll never do it again. I swear to God I won’t, honey. If a girl tries to make me, I’ll throw her in Horse Creek. I swear to God I’ll never do it again as long as I live, Rosamond, honey.”
    Rosamond pulled the trigger and the room was full of white smoke. She had shot at Will’s feet, but she had missed. Will jumped at Rosamond, with one hand out after the little revolver. Rosamond shot it again. The bullet went between his legs, and he was scared to death. He looked down to see if he had been shot, but he was afraid to take the time to look closely. He ran to the window and jumped out, landing on his hands and chest. He was up and out of sight around the corner of the house a second after he had struck the ground.
    The woman in the yellow company house next door ran to the window and stuck out her head. She saw Will running naked across the front yard and down the street as fast as his heels would fly. After he had passed from sight, she turned and looked at Rosamond at the window with the little pearl-handled revolver shaking in her hand.
    “Is that Will Thompson?” the woman asked.
    Rosamond leaned out the window, looking up the street and down it.
    “Where did he go?” Rosamond asked her.
    “Down the street yonder,” the woman said, unable to keep from laughing any longer. “It’s something new for Will Thompson to get shot out of his own house, ain’t it? I’ll have to tell Charlie about Will when he comes home. He’ll die laughing when he hears about it. And Will Thompson was as naked as a jay-bird, too. Ain’t that something,