Chapter 4

"Yell at me one more time, and tomorrow we go to the county clerk's office and get divorced."

That was all I said back to her, flat and quiet, in the face of Myra's rage.

Divorce was the one word that got her right where it hurt.

Sure enough, the moment she heard it, Myra folded. She hurried to apologize. "I'm sorry, honey, don't be angry. I lost my temper, that's all."

She paused, then tried to explain. "Honey, fifty thousand isn't nothing. A loss that big, we can't just let it go."

I waved a hand and told her she was the one who'd messed this up, so she could be the one to fix it.

Myra let out a sigh, her eyes full of disappointment, and hauled the goods out the door by herself.

Not long after, though, she called.

"Honey, come save me, please, hurry—" Her voice broke into sobs.

Through the phone came that helpless, hopeless whimpering.

Something had happened.

My heart wasn't hard enough. In the end I couldn't stop myself. I went.

I got to the stall just in time to see the owner, a thick-necked slab of a man, dragging Myra to the entrance by her hair.

"You little bitch, there's nothing wrong with my stock. You wrecked it yourself and now you want to shake me down? Not a chance!"

He kept cursing as he went, and spat at her between insults.

Myra's face was already a mess of tears, and she couldn't have looked more wretched.

But she was still stubbornly holding her ground. "I'm not shaking you down. Those goods are nothing like the samples you showed me. You have to give me my money back!"

The stall owner wasn't admitting to anything, insisting she was just picking a fight. "Ha. You should've asked around about who I am. There's no refund, and if you keep making a scene, I'll finish you off. Try me."

The shouting had drawn a big crowd by now, everyone gathering to watch.

"Ugh, poor girl. I've dealt with that owner before. Nasty piece of work. He's the one ripping her off, guaranteed."

"Right? He doesn't look like a good guy at all. No idea what she was thinking, buying from him. Now she's out the money and getting beaten on top of it. Tsk, tsk. Rotten luck."

The crowd murmured, most of them on Myra's side.

But a few spoke up for the owner. "His attitude's bad, sure, but his stock's good quality and stylish, sells like crazy. I buy from him all the time and never had a problem."

"This isn't about the stock anymore. A grown man beating on a woman like that is just wrong."

"True enough. Wonder if she's got a husband. Any man who found out his woman was getting worked over like this would fight tooth and nail."

...

That was as much as I could stand. I pushed through the crowd, went to Myra's side, and shouted at the owner. "Stop!"

The owner recognized me. His head gave a little toss. "Get your wife out of here. You're holding up my business. Keep it up and I'll deal with you too!"

"Whoa, the girl's husband is here. Now there's gonna be a fight for sure."

"Damn right there is. The owner beat her half to death, no husband could swallow that. He's about to lay it all on the line for his wife."

Hearing that I was Myra's husband, the crowd started talking again.

"Honey, this crook won't own up to anything, and he hit me and cursed at me, please—"

The second Myra saw me, she clutched at it like a drowning woman grabbing a straw, playing the picture of a woman wronged beyond bearing who finally had someone to stand up for her.

But I only glanced at the owner once.

Then I did something that dropped every jaw in the crowd.