been for Wainright to come to him with such a request. The deep red stain on Wainright's face showed his discomfort, yet Danner saw no indication of remorse or self-reproach. Danner waited for satisfaction to creep into his chest, but it didn't come. And, suddenly, he knew it never would. Nothing that hurt the railroad could ever please him, even a railroad controlled by Wainright.
'Well, are you interested?' Wainright demanded.
Slowly, Danner shook his head. 'You can't stop thieving unless you are willing to prosecute the thieves.'
'I know. I only ordered the release of the Dooleys to please our biggest shipper.'
'And to show me who was boss.'
'Now, look—'
'Browder,' Danner interrupted, 'is a master thief and likely is behind all your trouble, all the way back to the Spaulding robbery before you came here.'
'I can't believe that.'
Danner smiled thinly. 'That's why we can't work together.'
'Suppose I agree to prosecute anyone you arrest?'
'You have a special agent to make your arrests.'
'Green?' Wainright shook his head. 'He's been discharged already. Look, I know I've treated you badly—that you have every right to refuse me. But you have my apology and a promise that I'll back you to the limit in the future. And I'll give you a nice increase in salary.'
A strong urge to accept worked on Danner. Railroading was his way of life and he didn't kid himself about how much he missed it. Even now he could almost feel the rattle of a coach under his feet and the surging power of a locomotive. He seemed to smell the smoke and hear the whistle sound its forlorn cry. Then he noticed Wainright staring at him with growing bitterness and he clamped his jaws shut.
'It just wouldn't work out.'
'What more can I say or do?' Wainright demanded.
Danner shrugged. 'Your uncle must have a number of capable special agents he can send out here.'
'I've already tried that. It will be weeks before one is available and the line needs help now— your kind of help.'
'Too bad.' Danner started to turn away.
'It must please you greatly to see me crawl like this,' Wainright blazed with sudden fury. 'That was the word you used, wasn't it? 'Don't come crawling to me for help,' you said.'
Now Danner knew for certain that he had made the right decision and he retreated farther behind his shield of indifference.
'It wouldn't work out.'
'I'm sure of it.' Wainright's temper flared. 'I only made the offer because Miss Richfield insisted. It was against my better judgment, particularly in view of the circumstances surrounding that Spaulding robbery.' Wrathfully and with no little arrogance, he whirled and strode along the platform toward the office building.
Danner knew a moment of melancholy as he watched the retreating back, for he'd lost forever any chance of returning to the railroad that had been his life for so long.
Danner left his horse in the stable behind the hotel and walked around to the hotel porch and settled in a chair. Sooner or later Lona would come by here. Idly he watched people drifting about.
Noon came and with it the heat reached an uncomfortable high. Stretching, Danner took a final look eastward along the street, but failed to see Lona. Then he moved along the plank walk to the small city park. He found the Swensen wagon, but not Lona. She might be lunching with the Ralstons. He waited by the wagon until nearly one o'clock, then returned to the hotel.
The dining hall was empty when he entered. He sat facing the door that opened out onto the hotel lobby and had nearly finished his dried apple pie when he saw Melinda Richfield pass by the door. He finished the last of the bitter black coffee, paid his tab and stepped into the lobby. Melinda stood at the registry desk talking to the clerk. Danner headed for the street door, but didn't quite reach it before he heard Melinda call to him.
He turned and watched her approach, seeing the stubbornness of her squared shoulders and tightly drawn lips.
'Have you a moment?' she asked. Danner nodded toward a couch in the front corner of the lobby and followed her to it.
'I want you to reconsider the offer Tom Wainright made to you this morning.'
Danner shook his head. 'I can't help him.'
'Can't, or won't?' Her lips thinned even more and color rose to her cheeks.
'Does it matter?'
'Tom was man enough to admit he treated you unfairly and to apologize. Aren't you man enough to accept his apology and forget the past?'
'Do you think that's all there is to it—a simple matter of forgetting the past?'
'What more could there be?' she snapped, then seemed to regret the display of temper as she caught her lower lip in her teeth. Danner settled deeper in the couch.
'Let me explain it this way,' he said, wondering why he should want her to understand, and irritated with himself for wanting it. 'We quarreled, not so much because he treated me unfairly, mostly, it was because we are different, with a different set of values on things. Then, there's the matter of his warped personality. If I went back to work for him, it wouldn't be forty-eight hours until we clashed again. We just can't work together in any sort of harmony, because we just aren't the same kind of people.'
Deep feeling moved her bosom. She said, 'Can you blame him for the way he has acted in the past when you know the reasons? Can you condemn him forever because of what he was for a little while?'
'I'm not condemning him,' Danner replied. 'Just avoiding him, in order to avoid trouble with him. A man like that gives you no other choice.'
With a sharp cry she jumped to her feet. 'You are still judging him by what's happened in the past. I was engaged to him once and returned his ring when he became so hard to get along with. But he's changed these past few weeks. He's more like the man he used to be.'
'I hadn't noticed.'
'Do you have any idea what it cost him in pride to come to you for help?'
'He can afford to lose a little.'
'So can you.'
Her piercing stare assailed him. With deliberate slowness he eased up from the couch and returned her stare impassively. The cold ruthlessness reaching out at him reminded him of her father. No amount of argument had ever changed the Colonel once he had set his mind along a certain path and Danner knew it would be as foolish to argue now with Melinda as it always had been with her father.
'We seem to have said it all,' he said.
She stiffened, drawing herself up to the full measure of her five feet in height. 'You won't help Tom?'
'No.'
'Then he's a better man than you are. I'm glad to know that—about both of you.'
Wordlessly, Danner turned away and crossed the lobby to the front door. The raw edge of temper tinged with ruffled pride added a stiffness to his step.
The hotel stable seemed deserted; yet Danner hesitated before entering. Early afternoon just wasn't the proper time for the stable to be completely deserted.
Danner strode to the left, then leaned against the back wall of the hotel, never taking his eyes off the entrance to the stable. Absently he rubbed his hand against his thigh where his Colts usually rested. He could borrow a gun from the sheriff before going in for his horse, but that would make him look mighty foolish if he was guessing wrong. The minutes ticked by with a stillness broken by the occasional sounds of travel along the street and faint horse sounds from the stable. Twice his gaze moved to a pitchfork protruding from some hay piled against the front of the stable. The pitchfork just might be insurance enough, Danner thought.
