He's a Dead Man

I took a break from my work and walked over to the pub next door for a drink and a casual conversation. I happened to sit next to two women in their late fifties. One of them wanted very much to know where I'm staying and kept emphasizing that she is the post-lady in this town. She was far from sober. I told her I didn't know the house number. The other lady was from Wales but moved to Virginia decades ago where she became very successful raising and training horses. She told me a story of a man that came to cut down some trees in her yard and refused payment. Touched by his generosity she invested in a logging business with him. It bloomed as did their love and after six years they planned on getting married. The wedding was set for this September and much of her family was planning on flying over from England to attend the joyous celebration. Her sister flew into Dallas, so the lady went to meet her there. When the two got back to Virginia, the logger was gone with all the money. Turns out he knocked up some 25 year old woman too. He's a dead man, she says. She's going to kill him.
I finished my pint and went back home, making sure the post-lady wasn't watching which way I walked.