My hand went to my mouth.
“Eighty bales,” Arlen said. “I only put up sixteen this trip. My back’s not what it was. I’ll make another four runs this afternoon and have the rest at your place by dark.”
“Arlen.”
“I paid your brother-in-law eight dollars a bale.” His voice was flat. “I figured that was a fair price for a favor. I figured you’d asked him to sell it cheap, to a friend, because of the hard time you were having.” He looked at the ground. “I should’ve known better. Dwayne Haller never did a favor in his life that didn’t cost somebody.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I could’ve called you.” His jaw worked. “I stood next to you at the grave, Karen. I held your elbow. And then three days later I drove into your yard, and a man said you were selling out, and I didn’t pick up a phone.”
