Steel Trails of Vengeance

looked at him.

'It would be a nice place to live after we are married.' She sat up straight. 'I don't want to live in town, and if you didn't want to farm, you could hire most of the planting and harvesting done.'

Danner couldn't argue with her logic—he never had been able to. He could see what she wanted—to get him on a farm, then, eventually, to get him to farming and away from the railroad. He felt his own stubbornness rise up. Again he shook his head and touched a match to the bowl of the pipe, puffing the tobacco alive before answering her.

'Maybe we can find a place just outside town, with only a few acres, that wouldn't require much attention.'

A temporary surrender lay in the manner in which she turned away. But Danner knew the subject would crop up again. It always did. He knew her well, this sweet, desirable and always determined woman.

Danner put the basket back in the wagon and returned to the blanket, thinking of the first time he had met her—at a dance a year before. Their relationship had been casual at first; then they had drifted into a betrothal without a formal proposal. One day they were only friends—the next thing he knew, they were planning what they would do after marriage. Now Danner wondered how it had all come about. Not that he regretted it. Every bachelor in the area envied him.

Across the two hundred yards separating the park from the railroad office Danner watched Wainright leave the depot and walk along the platform to his office. Danner remembered his summons then and eased up from the blanket reluctantly.

'The new boss wants to see me. I better move along before he sends out a search party.'

Lona nodded, smiling as if the disagreement hadn't happened. 'You haven't forgotten the dance tonight, have you?'

'I haven't forgotten. Where will I pick you up?'

'We're having supper with the Ralstons. Come by about eight. And Jeff,' she cautioned him, 'please don't be late this time.'

Danner nodded, thinking of the last dance, which had been half over when he got there with Lona. Then he moved on toward the railroad office.

A work train whistled from the yards as Danner stepped up on the long platform. He entered the outer office and nodded to the clerks before knocking on Wainright's door. Leroy eyed him covertly from his high stool, but said nothing.

'Come in.' Wainright's voice sounded through the heavy door.

As Danner moved inside Wainright glanced up, then resumed his signing of letters. He still wore a black suit, but it looked different from the other one.

Danner stood waiting at the corner of the desk, resting his weight on one leg, hiding his impatience as the seconds ticked away. Finally Wainright finished the pile of letters and jingled a little bell on the desk top. A clerk came in, followed Wainright's nod to the stack of correspondence, then picked up the letters and left. Wainright looked up at Danner.

'I sent for you yesterday, Mr. Danner. You are a little slow in getting here.'

'I had just got in from a good many days on the trail,' Danner said. 'No sleep in seventy-two hours.'

'Mr. Danner, I'm accustomed to having employees come when I send for them.' Regarding Danner coldly, Wainright leaned back in his chair. 'What if there had been trouble of some sort while you were sleeping?'

'Was there?' Danner countered, an edge to his voice.

'That's beside the point,' Wainright shot back, jumping to his feet and smashing his fist to the desk. Even in anger he kept his empty left sleeve turned away from Danner. But he couldn't hide the bitterness in his narrowed eyes.

Danner stiffened as slow anger warmed him. The temptation to reach across the desk and grab Wainright was a living thing. No job was worth this abuse, he thought. And Wainright's sourness would get a lot worse before it got better—if it ever got better. Finally Danner managed to force his anger behind a mask of outward calmness, but many seconds dragged by before he trusted himself to speak.

'There's a limit to how long a man can go without sleep.'

Wainright glared back, on the point of another sharp reply, but apparently he changed his mind. His mouth pursed with a hint of malice.

'We intend to respect Colonel Richfield's request that you be given a lifetime job with the lines, but you must remember that it's a job—not a pension.'

Fury exploded in Danner, dimming his vision. He leaned forward, putting clenched fists on the desk top. Huskily and with great care he said,

'Any time you figure I'm not earning my pay, you can forget about the Colonel's will.'

Wainright's eyes became shrewdly calculating as he considered the statement.

'Just so we understand each other, Mr. Danner. That'll be all for now.'

This caught Danner by surprise. Wainright eased back into his chair and picked up a folder from the desk top. But a rashness was working on Danner and he decided not to leave the situation hanging.

'Just why did you send for me?'

Wainright shrugged. 'Nothing special. I just wanted to get acquainted.'

'You mean,' Danner said, 'that all of this was for nothing?'

'Well, now, Mr. Danner,' Wainright purred, obviously pleased with himself, 'I'd say that we've accomplished a great deal with this conversation. You've assured me you are willing to earn your pay and I've let you know who is boss. But since you are here, you might fill me in on any cases you might have pending at the moment.'

Danner exhaled slowly, then flecked the tension from his muscles. A chair scraping the floor in the outer office sounded loud in the momentary stillness. Wainright shifted impatiently before Danner finally answered.

'There's a month-old express-car robbery, unsolved. And yesterday I brought in two suspects for grand-theft charges. You'll have my complete written report on both this afternoon, plus an explanation of my belief that the two cases are related.'

'I'll look it over when you get it in.' Wainright resumed scanning the file folder he was holding. Danner turned away. But before he reached the door, Wainright hurled a parting barb.

'Remember, Mr. Danner. The next time I send for you I'll expect you here immediately.'

Danner nodded without looking around. He dared not trust his voice. He eased the door shut behind him.

CHAPTER THREE

Strains of the Virginia Reel reached Danner when he turned the rig into the lane leading to the sprawling schoolhouse. Lona sat quietly at his side, but he was very much aware of her presence. As the lanterns hanging along the porch across the front of the building grew brighter, Danner could distinguish the couples out for fresh air.

He reined the team to the right, stopping under a scrawny tree. Laughter drifted out from the porch as he helped Lona from the buggy. She rested her hand lightly on the loop of his arm and they moved toward the light.

The men along the porch cast admiring glances at Lona, but she climbed the steps, seemingly unaware of the attention shown her. Inside the schoolhouse, the set ended as they entered and dancers left the center of the large room. Danner shouldered a path through the crowd along the east side, Lona following. A refreshment table at the west side of the room drew many of the dancers now. Chairs normally filling the center of the room had been moved over near the walls to ring the dancing area. Danner searched for two empties. Spotting several near the raised platform, he led Lona in that direction without paying any attention to the people he passed.

But when they reached the two chairs he had selected, Danner hesitated. The band platform was the focal point of attention, and the seats were right next to it. He preferred a spot more in the background. Then he dismissed the idea and helped Lona remove her light wrap, placing it on the back of her chair.

The constant milling of the crowd brought many couples—old and young and in-between— by the bandstand. A few of the men nodded curtly to Danner. Most of the men and women smiled at Lona, but no one stopped to chat.