pulled back severely straight to a bun seemed to match her coldness. Yet the over-all effect disturbed Danner.
A rebel yell drifted in from the street. Some still-not-sober puncher heading home after a night on the town, Danner thought idly. Removing his hat, he dropped it to the floor by his chair, waiting for Melinda to give him a tongue lashing for the little incident outside.
Danner fished his pipe from his coat pocket and began packing it before he remembered how Melinda disliked 'the smelly thing.' Shrugging, he thumbed the last of the Ridgewood tobacco into the bowl. Melinda didn't seem to hear when he scratched a match on his boot sole and touched it to the tobacco. She continued to ignore him, staring out the window. But the usual solace of the pipe was missing for Danner. Maybe he was just too tired.
Finally Melinda turned from the window and sat down at the desk, still without looking at Danner. Her dark features showed no signs of temper—just a tight composure.
'I saw you bring in two prisoners,' she murmured. 'Who are they?'
The question, and the mildness, caught Danner by surprise. He studied her carefully for a moment before answering.
'Sam and Ears Dooley.'
This brought a sharp glance from Melinda, her eyes betraying the question she didn't ask— but which Danner answered anyway.
'They're the two younger brothers of the three Dooleys who staged the Spaulding robbery and—'
'I know,' she interrupted. Then she picked up a leather-bound book from the desk. 'I've been reading your report book. You state that they robbed the freight officer here the night before the Spaulding robbery so that you would be out chasing them while their three brothers held up the train at Spaulding.'
Danner nodded wordlessly and her eyebrows arched upward.
'You must value your fighting abilities rather highly, Mr. Danner.' She clipped the words precisely. 'Personally, I find it difficult to believe that five hardened badmen could be that afraid of one man.'
Flushing, Danner stiffened against the back of the chair, but when he spoke, the tone was mild. 'One man —myself or anyone else who can pull the trigger of a shotgun—can be mighty mean when protected by the locked door of an express car.'
'The express agent wasn't very
'He wasn't getting paid to fight.'
Melinda flipped through the report and continued talking without looking up. 'This says you gave up the chase when your horse went lame— that you returned to Richfield, learned of the robbery at Spaulding, and left to investigate. You've filed no reports since then,' she finished coldly.
'I've been a little busy,' Danner said, and shrugged. 'I waited around here until I got a tip on the other two Dooleys; then I went after them. Just got back.'
'I would like a brief oral report now,' she said, 'and I'm sure the GPC management will want a complete written report as soon as possible.'
The cool determination on her face sent anger coursing through him. His eyes burned from lack of sleep.
'At Spaulding our subagent, Ma Grim, told me three hooded men were hiding inside the station when the train stopped for water. The expressman opened up when they threatened to shoot Ma. They took the strongbox and rode southeast. They had plenty of time to get clear of the territory, but I followed anyway, using a horse I took along in a cattle car. I found them an hour's ride away—dead—shot by an accomplice who met them there.'
'You couldn't possibly know all that,' she scoffed, slapping the report book on the desk top.
He rubbed his eyes wearily. 'There was plenty of signs around. The fourth man smoked several cigars before the Dooleys arrived. The strongbox, open and empty, was still there between where the Dooleys and the fourth man sat talking. When the Dooleys started for their horses, the fourth man shot them in the back. Ike Dooley had time to turn and get off one shot before he died. The fourth man rode off. I followed his tracks to the main trail and lost them there.'
Melinda jumped to her feet and circled the desk to stand over him, her finely shaped face now pale, her mouth drawn thin. 'If all that is true,' she challenged, 'then why does everyone in this town think you killed the Dooleys and made off with the contents of that strongbox?'
With great care Danner eased up from the chair and stood towering over her. 'Is that what you believe?'
'I don't know,' she cried, waving her hands in frustration. 'My father trusted you completely. I never knew him to be wrong about any man. But there must be some basis for all this talk. Who started it? Who—'
'If I knew that,' Danner said with deceptive mildness, 'I'd know the name of the fourth man.'
'And you have no idea who he might be?'
Danner hesitated, thinking of the empty cartridge cases he had found near the Dooleys— cases different from any he'd ever seen before. But he'd told no one about them, and he saw no reason to tell Melinda, so he shook his head.
Arms folded across her firm bosom, Melinda moved in a small circle and came back to face him intently. 'And I suppose,' she said, with a hint of sarcasm, 'that you also think the murder of my father was nothing more than another attempt to keep you away from Spaulding?'
Shaking his head, Danner sat down on the edge of the desk. 'Except for a lame horse, I would have been chasing Ears and Sam for a week. The Colonel must have been riding on the east road and run into the fourth man—and have seen something that made it necessary for the fourth man to shoot him.'
'I found him in our stable,' Melinda countered.
'There was blood all over his saddle and horse,' Danner said. 'He rode a long way after he was shot.'
Melinda considered it for a while, her face drawn intently. 'Maybe,' she said, then dismissed the matter with a slight wave of her dainty hands. She seemed now to be wrestling with something she wanted to say—as if she didn't quite know how to frame the words. Finally she stared directly into his eyes.
'By noon today,' she said coolly, 'the Richfield Railroad will be a part of the Great Plains Central Railroad system. I—well, there's something you should know—'
Danner interrupted. 'You don't owe me any explanations,' he said. 'I know we've been losing money.'
'My financial condition is no concern of yours,' Melinda snapped, eyes flashing. 'I just wanted to tell you before the train gets here that father acknowledged his debt to you by providing a lifetime job for you. The GPC officials have agreed to honor his wish by keeping you on the payroll.'
Danner shrugged. 'If I like them, I'll stay. If I don't, I'll move on.'
Her lips settled in a firm line, emphasizing the hardness that had grown to be a part of her nature since the Colonel had died. But she remained silent. Danner couldn't condemn her for her attitude. He'd loved the Colonel as much as she had and he understood how the loss had changed her. Nevertheless, her suspicions of him rankled inside him.
The distant whistle of a train reached Danner then and he pulled out his pocket watch, suddenly aware of the passing of time.
'The nine-twenty is coming in,' he said. 'We better go meet the new management.' He eased up from the chair and moved over toward the door, awaiting a reply from Melinda.
'Wait for me outside.'
Danner nodded and went out to the platform. When she joined him, he sensed a change, perhaps the hair a little more neatly arranged, if possible. For just a fleeting moment her eyes mirrored her displeasure at his disheveled appearance; then she turned away.
Side by side they moved along the platform to the waiting room, then passed through it. Billy McDaniel looked up from his work long enough to grin at them. The telegraph key chattered pleasantly. As they reached the trackside platform, the train came into sight along the curve to the northeast, growing larger and louder.
The smell of creosote and smoke tinged the air, a familiar and comforting odor to Danner. Even the clanging of the approaching locomotive brought a strangely pleasant feeling to him. The train began losing speed as it neared the station. Then the engine rumbled by the platform, steam billowing forth. Steel wheels screeched along steel rails, bringing the train to a halt with the front passenger coach now parallel to the platform.
A drummer left the coach first, followed by two punchers and a middle-aged woman. Danner wished he'd had the time to get cleaned up before the train arrived. He fidgeted for half a minute before any other passengers disembarked. Then a stately and lanky old man came down the steps and walked to the platform briskly despite his advanced years.
