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look too happy,” he noted as he pulled the husk away from the ear.
    “Malene doesn’t get enough sleep,” Oris responded. “She tries to do too much,” he added. “Thinks she can save the world, and yet she couldn’t even save her marriage.”
    “That was a long time ago, Oris,” Roger said. “Why don’t you give her a break?”
    “Because when a man and a woman promise before God and their witnesses to love each other until death they do part, I expect that they’re telling the truth.” He yanked the papery layers from the ear of corn he was shucking in one long pull, twisted them so that they came off when he got to the end, and threw the husk down on the ground in front of him. He slid his fingers along the ear, removing the silver threads, and then placed the new corn in the basket.
    “She meant it when she said it,” Roger replied, leaning over and putting his clean ear of corn next to the one Oris had shucked.
    “Well, meaning it and honoring it are two different things.” Oris reached for another piece of corn.
    Roger slid his hands along the front of his pants and tapped his foot. He slid around a bit in his seat.
    “You still trying to quit smoking?” Oris asked, having noticed the fidgety behavior of his visitor.
    “I am not trying. I have quit,” Roger said in response.
    “Still think about it, though, don’t you?” Oris grinned as he continued to yank and pull at husks. His hands worked like a machine.
    “Yes, Oris, I do.”
    “When I was a boy, we rolled up corn silk and smoked it.” He glanced over at Roger and winked. “You can have all that you want,” he said, pointing with his chin at the husks and threads piling up around his feet.
    “Never quite got the taste for corn smoking,” Roger commented, recalling how his grandfather had let him inhale from a homemade cigarette when he was a boy. He had coughed the rest of the day from that one hit.
    “Yeah, your generation is soft,” Oris said. “Can’t smoke corn. Can’t work a field. Can’t stay married.”
    Roger smiled. He knew his former father-in-law would have to come back to his favorite topic. He was still upset about his daughter’s divorce. “You’re right, Oris. You’re always right.” He stood up from his chair and stretched. He reached in his front shirt pocket and pulled out a stick of gum. “I figure Malene already read you the riot act, so I’m not going to say anything about Fedora’s complaint.” He unwrapped the gum and stuck the piece in his mouth, wadding up the wrapper in his hand and sticking it his pocket. “But don’t make me have to drive out here again this week,” he noted. “I might just have to arrest you next time.”
    “Tell Fedora Snow to mind her own business,” Oris responded.
    “Don’t incite her, Oris,” Roger said, and he turned to walk to his car.
    “You know Alex is hurting again,” Oris said.
    Roger turned around. He looked down and nodded. “Yes, Oris, I know. I’m on my way over there now.” He faced the older man. “I suppose I’ll see you at the birthday party?”
    “I’m making my famous hot buttermilk cornbread to go with the cowboy beans,” Oris replied. “And I bought Alex one of those new computer games he likes so much, ordered it off of the Internet over at the library in Silver City.”
    Roger smiled. “He’ll like that.” He turned around. “Just make sure to wear pants,” he said, waving as he walked away.
    Oris grinned, yanking the husk from another ear of corn. He watched in silence as the sheriff’s car pulled away from the front of his house and moved down the street.

Chapter Five
    S heriff, it’s Loretta.”
    Roger had just pulled up into the driveway of Malene’s house. He turned off the engine, reached over, pulled the radio transceiver toward his mouth, and pressed the button on the side. “Yeah, Loretta, Roger here.” He released the button so he could hear what the dispatcher had to report. There was a lot of static