act this way.”
“I don’t care what we married for. I won’t stand it. I don’t mind living here alone. I didn’t as long as you was here. I didn’t mind working my share outdoors. I didn’t let myself get scared. I done everything I thought you’d like. I tried to be good to you. And then you call me a bitch.”
“Bitch?” He didn’t understand. “I never called you a bitch.”
“Yes, you did. When you told me to shut my mouth and not act like a scared bitch.”
“And you got mad because of that?” He reached for her hand in the dark. “I didn’t think what I was saying. I didn’t mean it. Honest, Lana. I wouldn’t call you that. I was scared myself, and I didn’t want you scaring me worse.”
He had sense enough not to try to hold her hand. He felt her shaking. But he got into the bed and lay on his back.
“I never thought that things could begin to work up here the way they are. I don’t know what I ought to do.”
He waited in the dark. He felt beside him the trembling lengthen into jerks. Suddenly she rolled over against his side. The way she cried was almost brutal.
“Oh, Gil. I hadn’t ought to’ve done so. Only he smelled so bad. I couldn’t think he was nice. Oh, Gil!” She put her face against his undershirt. “You were right to call me so. I did act like a bitch.”
He didn’t say anything, for he felt as if all nature had upheaved inside his chest. He let her go on crying until she had quieted.
Then, when he was just dropping off to sleep himself, damned if she didn’t start poking him.
“Gil!”
“Yes.”
“You awake?”
“Yes.”
“Gil, I better tell you sometime, and I’ve been trying to all day.”
“Tell me what?”
“You and me are going to have a baby.”
8
Trial
The trial of John Wolff for treason was set for the twenty-fifth of August, Sunday, so that witnesses against the prisoner would not be discommoded in traveling down to Herkimer. It would make no difference to the prisoner; he was already there. They had kept him under guard in the new fort; but the trial, though handled by the military, would take place in the office of Dr. William Petry, son-in-law of the accused man, and a member of the Tryon Committee for German Flats.
The office, which adjoined Dr. Petry’s framed house, had originally been a small log barn. One end of it was the general store, the other and smaller section, the dispensary. A sort of counter ran across the room with a removable leaf in the middle, so that doctor and patient were continually within view of those who were buying or who were waiting their turn with the doctor. In that way, a very suggestive and double-ended atmosphere was maintained. People waiting would be prompted to buy—groceries or goods; and store customers would be reminded of the fact that their children needed sulphur, or rhubarb and soda, or be encouraged to show the doctor the thumb they had sprained the week before and that had somehow never got just right since.
The doctor was a choleric, tall, and heavy man, invariably dressed in a black coat and a shirt with no cravat. He served both sorts of customers simultaneously, naming prices as he looked down a patient’s throat; or, leaving the gut and needle in a cut, he lifted the counter and took down a bolt of calico.
On the day of the trial he was leaning back in a chair under the diploma from the Electoral Palatine Medical Assembly at Mannheim which announced in no uncertain terms that William Petry had successfully answered all questions as to
wounds, in general, contusions, tumors, fractures, luxations
, and
anatomical
and
surgical operations
. The fact that the fort was still noisy with carpenters and joiners had led him to suggest that his store be used as the largest available room in the settlement, the fact of the recent arrival of a shipment of French cloth goods having, naturally, no bearing.
When Lana entered with Gil, the room already seemed unpleasantly crowded. People had
“I don’t care what we married for. I won’t stand it. I don’t mind living here alone. I didn’t as long as you was here. I didn’t mind working my share outdoors. I didn’t let myself get scared. I done everything I thought you’d like. I tried to be good to you. And then you call me a bitch.”
“Bitch?” He didn’t understand. “I never called you a bitch.”
“Yes, you did. When you told me to shut my mouth and not act like a scared bitch.”
“And you got mad because of that?” He reached for her hand in the dark. “I didn’t think what I was saying. I didn’t mean it. Honest, Lana. I wouldn’t call you that. I was scared myself, and I didn’t want you scaring me worse.”
He had sense enough not to try to hold her hand. He felt her shaking. But he got into the bed and lay on his back.
“I never thought that things could begin to work up here the way they are. I don’t know what I ought to do.”
He waited in the dark. He felt beside him the trembling lengthen into jerks. Suddenly she rolled over against his side. The way she cried was almost brutal.
“Oh, Gil. I hadn’t ought to’ve done so. Only he smelled so bad. I couldn’t think he was nice. Oh, Gil!” She put her face against his undershirt. “You were right to call me so. I did act like a bitch.”
He didn’t say anything, for he felt as if all nature had upheaved inside his chest. He let her go on crying until she had quieted.
Then, when he was just dropping off to sleep himself, damned if she didn’t start poking him.
“Gil!”
“Yes.”
“You awake?”
“Yes.”
“Gil, I better tell you sometime, and I’ve been trying to all day.”
“Tell me what?”
“You and me are going to have a baby.”
8
Trial
The trial of John Wolff for treason was set for the twenty-fifth of August, Sunday, so that witnesses against the prisoner would not be discommoded in traveling down to Herkimer. It would make no difference to the prisoner; he was already there. They had kept him under guard in the new fort; but the trial, though handled by the military, would take place in the office of Dr. William Petry, son-in-law of the accused man, and a member of the Tryon Committee for German Flats.
The office, which adjoined Dr. Petry’s framed house, had originally been a small log barn. One end of it was the general store, the other and smaller section, the dispensary. A sort of counter ran across the room with a removable leaf in the middle, so that doctor and patient were continually within view of those who were buying or who were waiting their turn with the doctor. In that way, a very suggestive and double-ended atmosphere was maintained. People waiting would be prompted to buy—groceries or goods; and store customers would be reminded of the fact that their children needed sulphur, or rhubarb and soda, or be encouraged to show the doctor the thumb they had sprained the week before and that had somehow never got just right since.
The doctor was a choleric, tall, and heavy man, invariably dressed in a black coat and a shirt with no cravat. He served both sorts of customers simultaneously, naming prices as he looked down a patient’s throat; or, leaving the gut and needle in a cut, he lifted the counter and took down a bolt of calico.
On the day of the trial he was leaning back in a chair under the diploma from the Electoral Palatine Medical Assembly at Mannheim which announced in no uncertain terms that William Petry had successfully answered all questions as to
wounds, in general, contusions, tumors, fractures, luxations
, and
anatomical
and
surgical operations
. The fact that the fort was still noisy with carpenters and joiners had led him to suggest that his store be used as the largest available room in the settlement, the fact of the recent arrival of a shipment of French cloth goods having, naturally, no bearing.
When Lana entered with Gil, the room already seemed unpleasantly crowded. People had
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