Hill Girl by Charles Williams 1951(8)

“What do you think, Bob?” she asked quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I didn’t want to tell you. That’s the reason I wanted
to come down there with you, so I wouldn’t have to be
Hill Girl — 170
here. I guess I could have just gone off and hid in the
woods all day, but it seemed kind of crazy to do that.
He came out here every day, even during the time he
was coming out at night to have supper with us.

And he
was drinking a lot and lots of times I’d have to fight
him off. And that’s the reason he hasn’t been out here
at night the last week, because one day I hit him real
hard in the face and it gave him a black eye. I guess he
didn’t want you to see that. There wasn’t anything I
could do. I couldn’t tell you because I knew how you
are and I was afraid of what would happen. He kept
begging me to go away with him somewhere and
hinting that if I didn’t people might find out about that
—that thing that happened and why you and I were
married. He didn’t say he would tell anybody, but he
said that if I didn’t go with him he couldn’t stand it and
drank too much and that he might let things fall when
he was drunk. Of course, I didn’t mind that part of it
because he was just silly and nobody cares what he
says or tells—we don’t, do we?—but when he was
drunk and I had to fight with him it was bad.”

Hill Girl by Charles Williams 1951(7)

“Oh, he’s been on a ring-tailed tear for the past week
and I get tired of keeping him out of trouble.”
Somebody behind us began blasting his horn
impatiently, so Butler stepped back and waved and we
drove on. I was worried as we went out North Elm and
didn’t feel any better when we pulled up in front of the
old house and found it dark. There was nobody home at
all and I wondered where Mary was.
There wasn’t any use in wasting any more time
tonight, I thought, so we drove on out to the farm.
There was no light in the house across the road when
we turned into the driveway, but I hadn’t expected any
because it was past Jake’s and Helen’s bedtime.

Hill Girl by Charles Williams 1951(7)

“What’s the matter, Whitey?” she asked. “Come on.”
“Don’t rush me,” I said.
“Well, I must be slippin’,” she complained. “It’s the
first time I ever took my clothes off and a man could
just sit there smokin’ a cigarette.”
“You’re not slipping, Billie,” I said. I fished a fivedollar
bill out of my pocket and tossed it on the bed by
her arm and stood up. “I’ll see you around sometime.”

I opened the door and went out, and as it closed
behind me I heard her say, “Well, I’ll be damned. Of all
the crazy bastards!”
Hill Girl — 128
Seventeen
It was about three the next afternoon when I went into
this bar on 24th Street, the one where the trouble
started. I had the car with me by this time, and I
remembered going back to the hotel for something, I
wasn’t sure what. I had been drinking steadily ever
since I had come into town, but it didn’t seem to have
much effect except to make me feel worse.

Hill Girl by Charles Williams 1951(6)

“No-o,” she said thoughtfully. “But then, I don’t know
many men. Papa would never let me go anywhere or
have dates. The only way I could go out with boys or
even meet ‘em was to sneak out. And you know what
they expect right away if you do that.”
“What could he have done if you’d just told him you
were going to a dance or something in spite of his
orders?”
“He would have whipped me with a leather strap.”
“You mean, when you were little?”
“No. I mean in the past two months.” She said it
quietly, but with an unforgiving bitterness.
“Doesn’t he know you can’t raise a girl that way? You
can’t even treat a dog like that.”