Spencerville

her ground, knowing that ironically it was his badge that kept her from a beating. He knew it, too, and she took a little pleasure in watching him bursting with impotent rage. But one day, she knew, he’d snap. Meanwhile, she hoped he would drop dead with a stroke.
    He backed her into a corner, pulled open her robe, then put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed the spot where the shotgun had recoiled.
    A blinding pain shot through her body, and her knees buckled. She found herself kneeling on the floor, and she could smell the urine on him. She closed her eyes and turned away, but he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face toward him. “See what you done? You proud of yourself, bitch? I’ll bet you are. Now, we’re gonna even the score. We’re gonna stay right here like this until you piss your pants, and I don’t care if it takes all goddamn day. So, if you got it in you, get it over with. I’m waitin’.”
    Annie put her hands over her face and shook her head, tears coming to her eyes.
    “I’m waitin’.”
    There was a sharp rap on the back door, and Cliff spun around. Officer Kevin Ward’s face peered through the glass. Cliff bellowed, “Get the hell out of here!”
    Ward turned quickly and left, but Annie thought he saw that his boss’s pants were wet. For sure he saw the plaster dust covering Cliff’s face and hair and her behind Cliff, kneeling on the floor. Good.
    Cliff turned his attention back to his wife. “You satisfied now, bitch? You satisfied!”
    She stood quickly. “Get away from me, or so help me God, I’ll call the state police.”
    “You do, I’ll kill you.”
    “I don’t care.” She fastened her robe around her.
    Cliff Baxter stared at her, his thumbs hooked in his gun belt. From long experience, she knew it was time to end this confrontation, and she knew how to end it. She said nothing, just stood still, tears running down her face, then she dropped her head and looked at the floor, wondering why she hadn’t blown a hole in him.
    Cliff let a minute go by, then, satisfied that the pecking order was reestablished to his liking, that all was right with the world again, he put his finger under her chin and raised her head. “Okay, I’m gonna let you off easy, sweetie pie. You clean up this here mess, and you make me a nice breakfast. You got about half an hour.”
    He turned to leave, then came back, took the shotgun, and left.
    She heard his footsteps going up the stairs, then a few minutes later, heard the shower running.
    She found some aspirin in the cupboard and took two with a full glass of water, then washed her face and hands in the kitchen sink, then went down into the basement.
    In his den, she stared at the rifles and shotguns, all unlocked now. She stood there a full minute, then turned away and went into the workshop. She found a push broom and shovel and went back up to the kitchen.
    Annie made coffee, heated the frying pan, added bacon, swept up the plaster and put it out into the trash can, then washed the kitchen counter and floor.
    Cliff came down, dressed in a clean uniform, and she noticed that he entered the kitchen carefully, his gun belt and holster slung over his shoulder and his hand casually on the pistol grip. He sat at the table, his gun belt looped over the chair instead of on the wall peg. Before he could react, she grabbed the gun belt and put it on the peg. She said, “No guns at my table.”
    The moment was not lost on Cliff Baxter, and, after an initial look of panic, he forced a stupid grin.
    Annie poured him juice and coffee, then fried his eggs with potatoes and bacon, and put the toast in. She served him his breakfast, and he said, “Sit down.”
    She sat across from him.
    He smiled as he ate and said, “Lose your appetite?”
    “I ate.”
    He spoke as he chewed. “I’m gonna leave the guns and the ammo and everything down there. More coffee.”
    She stood and poured him more coffee.
    He continued, “Because I don’t think you got it in you to kill me.”
    “If I did, I could buy a gun anywhere.”
    “Yeah, true. But you can keep buyin’ guns and stealin’ guns and borrowin’ guns, and it don’t matter. I’m not afraid of you, darlin’.”
    She knew he was trying to reclaim his manhood after the pants wetting. She let him do what he had to do so he’d just get out of the house.
    He continued, “I went for my gun, didn’t I? I didn’t have a chance in hell, but I went for it.”
    “Yes.” True, she thought,