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“And don’t take me for no fool.”
“Definitely not.”
He smiled a little. “Occam’s Razor: sometimes the simplest answer is the best one.”
“That’s not Occam’s Razor.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. Occam’s Razor says, ‘entities should not be multiplied unnecessarily.’”
“Which is exactly what you’re doing.”
“No, I’m using caution, weighing the risks, assessing my likelihood of success.”
He clicked his tongue. “Sounds like a fancy way of saying you’re multiplying entities unnecessarily.”
Maybe it was, but Laura really didn’t want to wind up killed over this.
Gordon looked her over. “Think I got it all.” He put the glass-filled gauze with the rest. “Now, go on and get a shower. I’m gonna run into town and get you a phone and some clothes. Olivia’s old things are in the closet of the guest room. I’m sure you can find a nightgown or something to wear till I get back. Think her dress suits might fit you too, but they’re a little old-fashioned.”
Laura had nothing against old-fashioned. “You still have her gear?”
Gordon stood. “Yeah. I do. Her guns, knives, and that damn asp she liked so much.”
“You mind if I borrow them?”
“Take em’, they’re yours.”
“Thank you.”
He waved her off. “Just glad you’re okay.”
So was Laura.
Gordon picked up her ruined clothes and carried them with the garbage into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a pen and paper. “What size do you wear?”
Laura told him.
He wrote it down. “You picky about color?”
“It’s underwear. It doesn’t matter.”
“Good. The box-store in town doesn’t have anything fancy.” He stopped at the door. “Should be back in about two hours. Make yourself at home. Leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.” He pointed a gnarled finger at the two dogs. “You two, better behave. And take care of her while I’m gone.” Gordon shut the door behind him.
Ed and Eddie turned their attention on Laura.
She petted each of them one at a time with her good arm. Both gave her sad puppy eyes and laid their head on her thigh.
“What do you two think?”
Ed and Eddie wagged their tails.
* * *
Rolling hills cradled the farmhouse with its fresh whitewash and shiny tin roof, built in an era way before Luca’s lifetime and probably the lifetime of his grandparents.
The surrounding yard wasn’t landscaped, but the grass had the manicured look of being recently mowed. There was even a swing on the front porch.
