His eyes blinded with tears and he turned and went weakly out of the barn, and he rubbed his bristly whiskers with his wrist stump.
Outside the noise of the game stopped. There was a rise of voices in question, a drum of running feet and the men burst into the barn.
Slim and Carlson and young Whit and Curley, and Crooks keeping back out of attention range.
Candy came after them, and last of all came George. George had put on his blue denim coat and buttoned it,
and his black hat was pulled down low over his eyes.
The men raced around the last stall. Their eyes found Curley's wife in the gloom, they stopped and stood still and looked.
Then Slim went quietly over to her, and he felt her wrist.
One lean finger touched her cheek, and then his hand went under her slightly twisted neck and his fingers explored her neck.
When he stood up the men crowded near and the spell was broken.
Curley came suddenly to life. “I know who done it,” he cried.
“That big son-of-a-bitch done it. I know he done it. Why—ever’body else was out there playin’ horseshoes.”
He worked himself into a fury. “I’m gonna get him. I’m going for my shotgun.”
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