work. During the day along the riverbank he found no contentment. His nerves tingled with the need for activity.
McDaniel came home early in the afternoon, his broad face black with indignation. He slammed into a chair breathing heavily, then jumped up and stomped around the room.
'Wainright practically called me a thief,' he exploded.
Danner packed his pipe without looking up.
'I had half a dozen pencils in my coat pocket when I started home tonight. Wainright saw them and said he didn't approve of my bringing railroad property home with me—
Clenching his pipe stem in his teeth, Danner touched a match to the bowl, then puffed the tobacco alive. In another week, nearly all of the Colonel's team would be gone. The desire to hold the team together had made the Colonel continue operating the railroad long after it had ceased to show a profit. Now, Danner was glad the Colonel was beyond knowing what was happening.
Long after he turned in for the night, Danner tossed sleeplessly. He spent the next morning back on the riverbank and by noon was sick of the inaction. Saddling his horse, he rode along the edge of the river. Twice he found himself headed toward the Swensen place, but turned back both times. Finally he headed for Richfield, and met McDaniel about halfway home. The dejected look on Billy's face told Danner the story even before McDaniel blurted it out.
'I quit,' the big Irishman said.
Danner slouched in his saddle, saying nothing.
'First off this morning, Wainright hired Garr Green as his new special agent,' McDaniel bristled.
Danner couldn't believe he had heard right. In stunned silence he waited for McDaniel to go on.
'I showed Wainright your reports on Garr's activities with the Dooleys. He—it was like rubbing salt in an open wound. He called me everything but a white man. That's when I quit.'
Danner nodded.
'What are you going to do now?'
'Something I should have done long ago,' McDaniel said bleakly. 'I'm going back to farming where I belong, if I can find a little place within my means.'
Danner recalled Lona's statement about the Jensen farm being up for sale. Now he mentioned it to McDaniel, whose eyes brightened for a moment, then faded.
'I remember some talk about it,' McDaniel said. 'It's a real fine place. And Jensen planted a wheat crop last fall just before he died that'll be ready for harvesting soon. But the heirs live in Kansas City and want cash. I couldn't raise anywhere near the amount they would want, unless—' and his eyes shone again as he hesitated, 'unless you'd be interested in coming in with me as a partner. You're out of a job, same as me and—'
Danner shook his head. 'That's a little out of my line. But I'll ride over with you to look at the place. There's still enough daylight left.'
The Jensen place extended in a flat expanse south of the river, which separated it from the Swensen farm on the north. The boundary fence barely could be called one—with the posts rotting at ground level and the wires broken or sagging in many places. But the wheat field they rode through now, promised a bountiful return from the approaching harvest.
Then they broke clear of the grain field and neared the house. Though solidly built, the four-room frame dwelling stood starkly in need of paint and repairing. Even the front door sagged open. Inside, Danner moved about inspecting the frugal collection of furnishings, then checked the small but well-built barn. It, too, needed a lot of fixing up.
Eagerness shone from the eyes of McDaniel. Squatting, he scooped up a handful of loose soil and reverently allowed it to trickle through his fingers.
He worshiped the soil just as the Swensens did, Danner thought. He knew a moment of humbleness then and his decision came easier.
'Billy,' he began, trying to appear offhand, 'if I loaned you half the money you need to buy this place, couldn't you just about pay it back with the proceeds from the wheat crops this year and next?'
McDaniel straightened up, the joy plain on his heavy face.
'I think so, Jeff. And I could pay you a good rate of interest!'
Danner waved aside the offer and turned to his horse. 'It'll be getting dark soon,' he said. 'Let's stop by the Swensens and see if Lona will feed us something besides fish. Then we can ride into Richfield tomorrow and buy this place.'
'I won't forget this, Jeff,' Billy faltered, the moistness in his eyes embarrassing Danner. Quickly, Danner mounted and spurred to the north.
They forded the river half a mile from the Swensen farm. Riding up to the layout, Danner knew the same keen sense of pleasure he always experienced when viewing the neat buildings and surroundings. Olie Swensen might be the most ornery mule in the territory, but he also was the most industrious. Dismounting by the corral, Danner looped the reins to an upright just as Olie came from the barn with an armload of hay which he dropped to a pile on the ground. Olie stared at him for a moment, then vanished inside without a word. McDaniel came up then, and hitched his mount to the corral.
'I'll tell Olie the good news,' he said, opening the gate.
Danner nodded. 'I'll be inside with Lona.'
She met him at the steps, apparently in a pleasant frame of mind. A faded calico dress failed to detract from her wholesome beauty. The long golden hair hung slightly awry and she fussed some of the loose strands into place.
'I've missed you,' she said simply and Danner cast aside all doubts about his welcome here. He bent to kiss her lightly on the lips, then followed her inside.
In a rough country where harsh living was accepted as the standard, the Swensen parlor provided a striking contrast. The furnishings were inexpensive, the curtains and rugs homemade. But the artful arrangement gave the room a colorful and homey appeal.
'What brought you out this way?' Lona asked. 'I thought the railroad kept you busy during the week.'
'I'm spending a few days with Billy since— since I quit the railroad.'
Her face showed a sharp astonishment and her hand came up to the brooch always hanging at her throat. Disbelief held her speechless.
With a grin, Danner put his arm around her shoulders and moved her to the couch facing the open fireplace. Finally, Lona shook her head.
'I just can't believe it,' she said. 'Why did you do it? I hope it wasn't just to please me.'
'No,' Danner shook his head. 'I kept having words with the new management and finally decided I no longer belonged—after he refused to press charges against the Dooleys.'
'But what will you do now?'
She would ask that, Danner thought wryly, casting about for a suitable answer. He was still searching when he heard the door open and McDaniel's heavy voice boom out.
'Did you tell her about the farm?'
'Farm?' Lona sat upright, her eyes wide now.
'Yeh,' McDaniel said. 'Jeff and I are pooling our money tomorrow to buy the Jensen place.'
'Jeff,' Lona cried, and she threw herself against him, her arms around his neck. He tried to stand up but she clung tightly. Then she kissed him fully on the mouth. From the corner of his eye, Danner saw McDaniel come up, protesting.
'You maybe misunderstood me, Miss Lona.'
Jeff—'
But Lona wasn't listening. She buried her face against Danner's chest, weeping happily. For the usually serene Lona to make such a display, even in private, would have astonished Danner. But in front of McDaniel and her father, the affection overwhelmed Danner to the point of speechlessness.
McDaniel's stricken eyes appealed to Danner, but Danner could only lift his shoulders in silent resignation.
None of this was lost on Olie, despite the early evening gloom settling in the room. Olie lighted a lamp, then stood staring suspiciously from McDaniel to Danner and back again. Lamplight glistened on his bald head, yet
