Another title for this chapter could have been Carthasis. Demons and wolves were being slain; things were beginning to be organized in his mind as Jubal rode under the missing, pesky branch...
On the ride back from town, Jubal came to a better understanding of the townsfolk and the questions. Rather than let the story grow and morph into something salacious, yes that Grade A twit who asked about sleeping arraignments got put in his place, Jubal was clear and concise as needed in his explanations and retelling.
Folks in Bearpaw are a sober bunch, and I am sure the idiot who was impertinent will feel the silent approbation of his neighbors, for soiling a necessary and good deed in dealing with the Prescott's. Jubal's bank account of goodwill with the townsfolk is overflowing and he simply has begun to realize it.
For all the good that exists in the world of Bearpaw, dealing with the wolves and one smarmy no-account A-hole, serves as a potent reminder that life can be harsh wherever you may be.
This was another seminal chapter Gary, and I am loving all the undercurrents...it was almost like a baptism as they crossed the river, would have loved to see Pistol roll iffin the circumstances and day were a tad different. Rare is the horse that would stand between her rider and a wolf...
Have I mentioned my extreme distaste for the shiny man??? Why do I suspect he may end up a progenitor and spawn a certain political breed???
One fine-dressed man—looking all shiny—even asked if that was where he slept at night. Jubal suspected right off he knew what the fellow really be interested in and what he might be suggesting sly-like, so he turned away after saying he slept in the old cabin, it being just fine for a man what was just a cowboy used to sleeping outside on dirt.