Constable v. Contractor

After the death of the Construction Worker - just as he falls, and the Contractor runs to his body, checking for any sign of life - an unexpected thing happens:

A tiny, semi-official man arrives in a tiny, semi-official car. The man steps from the car - leaving it running - and walks briskly to the dueling ground. He wears an impeccably arranged yet slightly grease-stained brown uniform, circular, wire-framed glasses, a close trimmed beard, and a short-brimmed brown cap at an angle atop his head. By the two men and one corpse, he takes the clipboard from under his arm and, in a tiny, semi-official voice, reads a common name. The Contractor looks up. The Courier, with quick bird-like movements, walks to the Contractor, takes a pen from his shirt pocket, clicks it, turns the clipboard around to face the Contractor, and asks him to sign. The Contractor, stunned by his apprentice's death, signs. At which point the Courier takes back the clipboard, takes back the pen, opens a shoulder satchel, and hands the Contractor a telegram.

Sorry for the delay, he says curtly. You weren't at the address given.

How did you know I was here? asks the Contractor, reading the telegram.

Your wife, he says. Then he bows to both men and the one corpse, turns, and leaves.

My wife, the Contractor echos. Absently, he folds the telegram and pockets it. He looks at the lifeless face of his apprentice, then the witless face of the Constable, then to the cabin, where Pepple stands, and has stood, watching with an expression that hints at wonder -- and sympathy.

A great wind washes over the forest, and the mighty trees rustle like thunder.

They raise their guns, their guns go off.