just as Frank was stubbing out his cigarette, Doc Evans stepped out of his office. His hands were clenched into fists and his face was tight with barely controlled rage. âI need a drink,â he said, anger thickening his voice. âBut it will have to wait. I saw what John Whitter did to Lara.â
âFine man, isnât he?â
âThe bastard needs to be horsewhipped.â
âI will certainly go along with that. Did she tell you what she wants to do?â
âLeave him? Yes. Where do you come into this . . . mess?â
âIâll put her in the hotel. Iâll pick up the tab for it. I can afford it.â
âIâm sure of that. She needs clothing and other womenâs things.â
âThen weâll go to her house and get them.â
âNow?â
âYes.â
âThe townâs wagging tongues will love this.â
âHell with them.â
Doc Evans stood beside Frank for a moment, neither man speaking. The doctor finally broke the silence. âYou want me to go with you, Frank?â
âI would appreciate it. That would sure still a lot of the townâs gossips.â
âAll right. Let me get my coat.â
At the Whitter house, at the end of a quiet street, the trio halted. Lara said, âI saw the curtains move. John always sits by the front window. He knows weâre out here.â
âYou want to wait until he steps out onto the porch?â Frank asked.
âNo. Because he wonât. Heâll wait to see if you and Dr. Evans go away.â
âThen he suspects youâve told someone about his beating you?â Doc Evans asked.
âProbably. I wasnât home to fix his supper, so he knows something is wrong. Iâm sure he was all set to beat me for not being home when he got here.â
Doc Evans muttered some very uncomplimentary things under his breath about men who beat women.
âHe wants his supper on the table when he gets home,â Lara continued. âAnd he gets upset when it isnât.â
âYour boy?â Doc Evans asked.
âHe asked my permission to spend the night with the Carter boy. I told him he could. But if he didnât get out of the house before John got home . . .â She shrugged. âHeâs probably in the house.â
âI hate that,â Frank said.
âHeâs seen his father beat me before,â Lara admitted. âIâm afraid he thinks thatâs what all men do.â
âI hate that even worse,â Doc Evans said. âFor what you said, Lara, is probably true concerning the boy.â
âLetâs do it,â Frank said, stepping ahead of Lara and the doctor and walking up to the porch. He knocked on the front door.
John Whitter jerked opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, his face dark with anger. He glared at his wife. âWhat is the meaning of this, Lara?â
âIâm come to get some clothes, John. Kindly step out of the way and let me pass, please.â
âSome clothes? What on earth are you talking about?â
âIâm moving into the hotel for a time, John.â
âThe devil you are! I forbid it!â
âYou have nothing to say about it.â Lara stood her ground. âIâm leaving you. Now be a gentleman about this matter and get out of the way.â
âLeaving me? Youâre leaving me?â
âYes.â
âThat is absurd, Lara. Have you taken leave of your senses? What on earth brought all this on?â
âYouâve beaten me for the last time, John,â Lara stated quietly but firmly.
âBeaten you? Youâre accusing me of beating you?â The lawyer laughed at that. âI have never beaten you.â
âThen explain the bruises on her shoulders, arms, back, and stomach, John,â Doc Evans said. âAnd the marks on her neck and throat.â
âWhy . . .â The lawyer flushed, deepening the red already on his
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