William Merriam Rouse

“ Bildad Road believed him; at least sufficiently so that no man had yet been found who was willing to put the matter to the final test. Everybody knew that for the thirty-seven years of his life Orla had been nourished upon the famous Wilkins apple pie, first by his mother and then by his sister, and everybody realized that for a man who thought as much of his stomach as Orla Wilkins did, this was a life-and-death issue. He was the kind of brother-in-law no man would want.
Doris was something like the fresh apple pie that she made—young and sweet, tender and delicious. ”

“ Trumbull looked at the black muzzles, the big thumb of Wilkins as it pulled back the hammers, and up into the man’s eyes. They were flat and impenetrable, dulled by much eating. They might mean business, and they might not. It is an uncomfortable feeling to have a double-barreled shotgun, said to be loaded with buckshot, pointed at one’s middle. ”

“ Trumbull did not need to study the face of Orla Wilkins to know approximately what was going on behind it; he had been obliged to see that piecrust-colored countenance every time he came for the purpose of getting better acquainted with Doris, and he understood the feelings of Wilkins only too well. Wilkins never left his sister alone for a moment with any man under seventy-five. ”

“ V
“Doris,” Trumbull said, “I know you must be tired, but we’ve got to get this finished. I wish you’d make me a pie out of the best apples you’ve got in the cellar. A kind of extra-special pie, with lots of cinnamon and sugar and juice and a flaky crust with just a touch of light brown here and there. A pie that’ll make a man’s mouth water as far as he can see and smell it.”
“Oh!” She stared at him, and then she laughed. “All right! I’ll bake a pie that would take first prize at the county fair.”
Doris Wilkins kept her promise. ”

“ Trumbull barked a laugh. “You don’t think you can kill a man and get away with it, do you? You’re a bluff!”
“This here is my house,” replied Wilkins heavily, “and if you was to make a move I didn’t like, and I was to shoot you, it ain’t likely they could prove anything except self-defense. Doris wouldn’t swear her own brother into jail. A man has got an awful strong holt on the law when he’s in his own house.”
Maybe he would shoot. Johnny Trumbull did not like the cloudiness of that large face. He glanced at Doris and saw that she had gone pale ”