“If I knew what that word meant, I’d most likely be flattered, I think,” Stub said, his face devoid of emotion. The look held for a few seconds, and Lance was about to reassure the other man when the same thunderous laughter erupted. Stub nearly bent over with mirth while Lance joined in. Their laughter quieted after a moment and Stub leaned again on the glass case, which squeaked its protest under the considerable pressure.
“I used to be a bounty hunter, so yes, I am slightly intuitive. You think it’s maybe someone lookin’ for something of value to steal, knowing who you are?” Stub said, gesturing to Lance.
“Nothing’s missing, so I don’t think robbery is what’s on their minds. Besides, they seem to want to be seen. They’re not creeping around the house being quiet, they’re in my room, watching me and waiting for me to wake up.”
Stub stood away from the counter, and Lance could have sworn he saw the giant shiver. “Gives me the creeps. You keep that shotgun bedside, got me? Someone’s there in your room again, you shoot and figure things out later. If it was me, I might be inclined to leave town, but I’m guessing you have a good reason to be here, and personally, I can’t wait to read about it.”
Lance nodded. “I’ll finish what I’m working on. I didn’t come this far to let someone scare me out of what I came here for.” Lance realized his surroundings had faded as he heard his own words of conviction. The fact that his writing had come back was all that mattered now. When Stub spoke again, it coaxed him back from the outer wings of his thoughts.
“Now is the time to think of only one thing. That which I was born for.”
Lance appraised the other man again like a jeweler gazing at a rough-hewn stone. “Hemingway.”
“The one and only. Not trying to be darkly ironic by quoting him after selling you a shotgun or anything.” Stub’s eyes shone with amusement as Lance chuckled at the black humor and pulled the gun case off the counter.
“Thanks again. If I have too many beers to drink one night on a weekend, would you consider coming to my place to help me out?” Lance said.
“I’d be honored,” the big man replied, and Lance could see that he truly meant it.
Just as Lance put his hand on the doorknob of the store’s front door, Stub called again from where he stood behind the counter.
“One more thing.” Lance turned and looked back across the breadth of the shop. “What I said earlier about calling the cops, don’t bother. They take way too long in these parts, just another aspect of living in a small town. Use that gun if you need it. If someone wants to hurt you, you’d be dead before the police ever got there.”