Wainright's missing arm.
Fence repairing required muscles Danner hadn't used in years. Six days of setting posts and stapling barbed wire left him stiff and sore and in a savage mood. The seventh day began soon after dawn. He loaded the posthole digger in the back of the wagon, then added four spools of wire, while McDaniel harnessed the team. Danner heaved the fifth spool into the wagon and the barbs raked his belly. He cursed softly. McDaniel grinned at him, then chuckled.
'You'll live over it.'
'I doubt it,' Danner growled.
'We should be able to finish up that last stretch of fence today and start helping Lona with the house repairs tomorrow.'
Danner attacked the job with a vengeance, setting the pace for both of them, and the last of the fence repairing was completed by noon. As usual, Lona had ridden over during the morning and had lunch ready when they returned to the house. McDaniel took the wagon on to the barn.
Danner brushed her cheek with a kiss, then bent over the washbasin that rested on a shelf nailed to the outside wall of the house. Lona handed him a towel and he rubbed his face and arms briskly.
'If you keep coming over here every day and leaving Olie a cold lunch, he's going to be coming after me with a shotgun.' Danner smiled, rolling down his sleeves.
'A shotgun might not be such a bad idea,' she answered, not without irony. 'It might speed up our wedding date.'
'Finding the fourth man in the Spaulding robbery would speed it up a lot quicker.' Looking into the sliver of mirror tacked to the wall, he dampened his close-cropped black hair and smoothed it back.
'Is that really it, Jeff? Or is your interest in Melinda Richfield greater than you care to admit?'
Faint anger ruffled Danner, but he dried his hands before he turned to face her. She seemed defiant, even a little angry.
'We can go into town this afternoon and get married if you want to.'
'Why?' Lona murmured. She tossed her head, sending long strands of yellow hair over her shoulder. 'Why, all of a sudden? Because I've badgered you, or because you really want to get married right now?'
She's damned hard to please, Danner thought with exasperation. 'I want whatever it takes to make you happy,' he told her.
The look of defeat spreading across her face told Danner he had failed to give her the answer she wanted. But whatever that answer was would remain her secret now; he heard McDaniel approaching, whistling loudly.
The meal was a silent and uneasy affair. McDaniel made several futile attempts at conversation. He complimented Lona on the new lace curtains she had put up that morning. Her thanks were remote. She didn't speak to Danner again until she was in her buggy and ready to leave for home. He detected no trace of anger in her voice.
'Tomorrow is Saturday. Are you going to town?'
'Hadn't thought about it,' Danner said.
'You should. Harvest will soon be here and there's to be a meeting of all the grangers at the hotel. They want to discuss ways of preventing Browder from cheating them on weigh-ins this year.'
'Who invited me?' Danner couldn't hide the irony he felt.
A faint flush tinted Lona's cheeks. 'I just did.'
'Olie know you were going to?'
She hesitated before nodding, so Danner knew she must have had a devil of a row with Olie before he agreed—and Olie didn't lose an argument very often. Maybe that's why she is so touchy today, Danner thought. She bent over the side of the buggy and kissed him lightly, then snapped the reins to send the buggy northward toward home.
'Hey,' McDaniel shouted from the south end of the house. 'I'm ready to start painting. Want to help me?'
'Not particularly,' Danner returned dryly. 'But I will.'
'Good enough,' McDaniel grinned.
Good enough for you maybe, Danner thought, but not half good enough for a man who ought to be out trying to find a pin-fire pistol—and the man who owns it. Reluctantly, he picked up a brush and began painting.
They finished the south end of the house by mid-afternoon, and McDaniel moved around to the back. Danner carried the five gallon can around to the front, filled his gallon bucket and resumed the drudgery. Fumes from the paint started an itching in his nose, soon followed by fits of sneezing. Then he spilled the nearly-full gallon can and cursed softly while he tried to wipe the paint from his boots. He was still wiping when he heard a horse trot into the yard. He looked up at Melinda Richfield sitting silently in her side-saddle, a hint of amusement touching her lips.
'Are you painting yourself or the house, Mr. Danner?'
Danner felt a foolish grin reach his mouth. He dropped his brush into the now empty paint can, wiped his hands on the legs of his Levi's, and assisted Melinda from the saddle.
'You're a long way from Richfield.'
'I often take long rides.'
'Alone?'
She nodded gravely. 'Shouldn't I?'
Danner shrugged. She moved over to sit on the edge of the porch, adjusting her fashionable riding skirt. Danner leaned against a post, filling his pipe, then stared at Melinda while she gazed at the waving wheat field. A beautiful woman, he thought, and a cold one. At times. Strangely she didn't seem out of place on the porch of the crude farm house, nor did she seem aware of her surroundings. Now he wondered why she was here, and she seemed to sense his thoughts.
'I rode out here to tell you I'm sorry things didn't work out between you and Mr. Wainright.'
Danner saw no need to answer. He puffed silently on his pipe. She noticed the pipe, but didn't frown at it as she used to do.
'I wish there were something I could do to make it up to you,' she said with less coldness than she had used at any time since the Colonel's death. 'I mean, Father's will—'
'The Colonel paid me well for four years,' Danner interrupted. 'You owe me nothing.'
'I can't help but feel—'
'Forget it.'
The abruptness seemed to anger her and a hardness returned to her face. 'I'm trying to apologize for the way I've treated you—for my doubts and suspicions—but you are not making it easy for me.'
'And just what great event has happened to change your mind about me?'
Her cheeks darkened slightly at the irony. 'Nothing. It's just—well,' and she gestured defensively, 'I keep thinking of how father felt about you.'
Danner tapped the dottle from his pipe. Melinda stood up, crossed her arms over her ample breasts and moved to the south end of the porch. Danner remained against the post, admiring her shapeliness, wondering about her apparent frankness. Then she retraced her steps to stand near him, the porch level putting her lips on the same level as his eyes. He stared at the full lips until she spoke again.
'I don't think you should come to Richfield for a couple of weeks.'
'Why?'
'There have been several warehouse robberies, and an express-car holdup since you quit the railroad.'
Danner lifted his shoulders. 'How does that concern a wheat farmer?'
'A rash of robberies so soon after you quit the line plus the suspicion over that Spaulding affair has started tongues wagging worse than ever.'
'I see,' Danner said. Involuntarily his stare returned to her full lips and she seemed to sway a little closer to him. Without thinking, he pulled her against his chest and kissed her, gently at first, then fully and demandingly. She
