Shane made them a late lunch, cum early dinner, and they all sat down to eat together. To her surprise, Mia sat at her side and gave her hand a squeeze under the table.
“Sorry I was such a bitch,” she said very quietly. She obviously wasn't into public apologies.
“Let's forget all that stuff shall we?”
“And I'm so sorry about your parents. Really I am.” She gave Maddy a deep understanding look. Maddy welled up again, and a tear broke free, dripping down her cheek.
“Jeeezz, will it never end?” she snuffled, wiping it away with the back of her hand.
“And I'm sorry I made you cry too,” she said in distress, her eyes welling up in response.
“Just stop being sorry for things and I'll be fine,” Maddy blubbered, taking hold of herself with a loud clearing of her throat.
“I'm done with being sorry for now,” she agreed, and patted her hand.
“How's things going with you anyways?” Maddy asked pointedly.
“More than okay.” Mia smiled as she took a big mouthful of her chicken casserole and flicked her eyes up to Cal sitting across the table with a big grin on his face, watching her eat.
“Keeping you fit is he?” Maddy giggled quietly in her ear.
“That and other things... He's a bad, bad boy...” she whispered back and then smiled at him.
“He is? As in how...?”
“I couldn't possibly utter the words...”
“Now I'm really interested...” Maddy looked at her with wide eyes.
“Let's just say I've never been more thoroughly explored...”
“Oh...” Maddy replied softly, a touch embarrassed at their sudden very intimate level of conversation.
They drove to town that afternoon, at five. Sammy and Maddy went to the store to buy the water they needed, some other supplies for the kitchen, and a big box of matches. They stopped to chat with the storekeeper, the ancient, all knowing, and all seeing Miss Boyle. Apparently, Maddy had learned, Georgina Boyle would be able to throw some light on last night's death and destruction, if anyone could.
“How are you Miss Boyle?” Sammy asked respectfully, with a cute and innocent little smile.
“Keeping fine. Unlike some... Dreadful news, eh?”
“I'm sorry, I don't understand? What's dreadful? We don't hear a thing being stuck out there on the ranch in the wilderness.” Samantha was such a good actress at times, Maddy thought to herself.
“Just as well ya' don't... Not when the news is as bad as this. It ain't good, oh no... not at all. That'll be twenty two dollars exactly, Samantha my love.”
“I'm quite alarmed... Miss Boyle, please tell us. What happened to 'some', that was so dreadful?” Samantha carried on, with a shocked look on her face. She was playing Miss Boyle's game perfectly. She obviously loved being the font of all knowledge and enjoyed making the townsfolk drag it all out of her, almost on their knees...
She pursed her lips as she took their money and very slowly placed it in the cash register drawer. Then she wrapped her thick, aran cardigan about her slightly built body and leaned towards them across the counter. She gestured for them to come closer, peering at them over the top of her very thick and massive purple-rimmed glasses, a shade which matched her neatly permed hair to a T.
“Some folks say it were wild dogs, maybe a pack of starving wolves, but I have my own theory.” She paused for effect as they both looked at each other in heightened expectation. “It were the devil himself. He came here last night with his hell hounds and let 'em loose. Killed Sergeant Stevens, they did... and one bit the Mayor on his leg. Real deep bites, festering and painful. Full of Satan's wrath no doubt. Now I'm not too sorry 'bout the Mayor feeling pain, he's a nasty piece of interfering shit, that he is! Pardon me Lord, for my language.” She crossed herself and continued. “Tried to make me sell the store to him a few years back. Bribery and corruption it were... But anyway, his lady weren't a bad sort. I feel bad for Philly, that I do.” She paused again, gathering a deep breath, and continuing with her gruesome gossip. “Dreadful, awful way to go, having your throat ripped out like that. Half gone, eaten, or so I've heard. And then there's the young Reverend Porter. He was found on the rectory path this mornin', his neck torn, in a puddle of blood. Now who else would attack a missionary of our Lord in such a way but the devil 'imself...eh? And that old layabout drunk Wally too, harmless he were, incapable half the time, poor old fella, neck ripped and face half gone. That one were particularly nasty, one hand missin' and his stomach slashed to his innards... ewww! The Richards say they took a pot-shot at one of his hounds as it were attacking their chickens in the yard but it escaped... But of course it would, wouldn't it. You can't kill one of Satan's hounds, can 'ya? Already dead, they are... already dead... I don't know... If you want my opinion, the place is cursed, with a capital C. The hearts gone outta Heart. We're all doomed. No one around to save our souls either. Now then, can I get 'ya anything else my dears? There's a special offer on the chocolate selections this week.”