I didn't need to turn around to know Jimmy had arrived. Like sunflowers

to the rising sun, the face of every woman at the dance swiveled to the entrance

of the hayloft. The glow of the kerosene lanterns got brighter. The fiddlers' music

grew livelier. The pungent aroma of fresh straw took on a sharp, enticing smell. I

nudged Ellen's arm. "The birthday boy is here," I said.

She snorted through her nose. I tried not to look at her. I knew her dark

eyebrows had formed an unattractive ridge above her wire glasses and her lips

had gone pinched white. Jimmy could die tomorrow and she’d write his obituary

with glee.

Matching her frown, I twitched my shoulder with a casual shrug. "Too bad

there's no light for my camera."

"Some shot," she said. "The stallion surveying his herd." She made that

ugly noise through her nose again. “Thank the good Lord tonight’s his last night

for running free.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What do you mean”

Ellen rolled her dark eyes. Her eyes would be her best feature if she’d only

let them; they are that striking. If I had them, I’d flash them in intriguing and

mysterious ways, as though my thoughts were worth knowing. Ellen might as

well have been cursed with my washed-out blue ones for all the good hers do

her. They were snapping now. “If you hadn’t tucked tail and run off to Omaha

after you were fired, you’d know.”

“I told you. I had to find a place to open my photography studio. I invited

you to come along. I begged you to come. I want you to move with me when I

go. You could write there as well as here.” Ellen wasn’t listening, just as she

hadn’t listened since I got back. She was upset that I was determined to leave

Maxwell and unconvinced that I would have the finances to do it. I knew better

than tell her about my plan with Jimmy. Now my throat was dry. Had Jimmy

changed his mind? Should I have stayed in town until Mrs. O’Rouke came to

bribe me to leave? I swallowed hard and tried not to watch Jimmy smiling his

way through the crowd. I bit my lip as he paused to kiss Lizbeth’s cheek. Lizbeth

glowed as brightly as the kerosene lanterns.

I turned back to Ellen, determined to make peace so I could wiggle out of

her what she knew about his last night for running free. “Lizbeth did an

exceptional job with your dress. It looks exactly like the gown in Wednesday’s

paper. Putting that bow at the waist was inspired. She’s a remarkable

seamstress.”

“The bow was my idea,” Ellen said. Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch as

she preened in the lime green outfit trimmed with salmon lace. Her willowy

waist was made tinier by the tightness of her corset. My corset was loose as my

shimmy. I don’t know how other women abide being bound like trussed up

sheep.

I fingered the worn cotton in my skirt. I knew the bodice was too plain to

be considered fashionable. I hadn’t cared until Ellen flitted in and did a slow

pirouette for my benefit. “Is this not dernier cri?” she had sighed. I had to admit

it was—and it made me feel like her country cousin just in from the cornfield. I

even let her tie powder blue ribbons in my hair to “at least add a dash of style,

for heaven’s sake,” without grumping.

I prefer comfort to starched bows and lacy collars, and even though

puffed sleeves are the ultimate in sophistication, they make me look like

someone misplaced the nozzle of a hot air balloon. Ellen says that riding my

wheel makes my shoulders broad but my grandmother’s shoulders were wide

and she never straddled a bicycle.

“Well?” Ellen said.

“Well, what?” I shifted uncomfortably, hoping that mentioning her dress

had not opened the door to another sermon about my lack of fashion sense.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious about the rumor?”

“Rumor?” I said. “About Jimmy?”

I got that obnoxious snort again. She definitely needs to be told how

uncouth it sounds. I suppose that would be the duty of a best friend, but I’m

hesitant to risk her wrath if she should decide to take the well-meant criticism

awry. But Ellen was licking her lips, eager to share the gossip I’d missed by my

decision to get on with my life rather than fanning on the porch and speculating

about everybody’s business but my own.

She laid her hand on my arm and drew me closer. “Jimmy’s father is

announcing his son’s engagement this very night. Maxwell’s most eligible

bachelor is to become a settled and married man.”

I felt the blood leave my face with a rush. “Who is he to marry?” I

managed to squawk. Inwardly I cursed myself for hurrying off to Omaha. Jimmy

had found another woman to take away the burden of dealing with his mother.

He’d undoubtably decided that having a woman such as Lizbeth by his side

would make it worthwhile to marry and not just threaten to do so.

Ellen pulled me closer yet. She was delighted to share the delectable

tidbits of the rumor with someone who hadn’t already tut-tutted the matter to

death. “Offering your only son an early inheritance if he’ll get married is

blackmail, plain and simple. What kind of mother would do such a thing?” She

waved her hand around the barn loft. "And worse, every one of these silly fillies

would strain at a full gallop to take advantage of the offer!” Her dark eyebrows

now met in the middle. “I pity the woman who gets him. He's not the type to

stay in the barn. He may be willing to marry now, but how long will he resist all

these fluttering eyelashes? Even married he’ll be gazing over the stable door and

wondering what he missed by bedding down.” She paused. “Not that he’s

missed much so far.”

I spotted said bachelor being spoon fed at the buffet table by Gracie

Harns who makes the best red potato salad in the county and is the only

unmarried female in Lincoln County older than Ellen; she’s all of an ancient

twenty-four. Jimmy’s enjoyment of Gracie’s potato salad as well as her ample

charms was obvious.

Jimmy gazes at women with the intensity most ranchers reserve for their

horses. Gracie was an easy gaze; her face was flushed; golden ringlets curled

fetchingly to frame a startlingly beautiful face. At 21, she’d lost the man of her

dreams to a bull goring and infection. Now a mere three years later it appeared

she was willing to dream again. Gracie, not Lizbeth, was his choice for sure.

Ellen did a complete character assessment of Jimmy, then rampaged on to

a detailed thrashing of his mother’s plot to get her only son married off. She

nattered away and I listened obediently as one’s best friend ought even though I

longed for a wad of cotton to stuff my ears or her mouth. As she squinted toward

the ladies butterflying around Jimmy, she shook her head. “Lord knows, there’s

not a woman in this room wouldn’t have him in a heartbeat.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t marry him. Who’d want to live out here in the

middle of nowhere? It's a whole three miles to town and only prairie dogs for

company. You probably wouldn’t mind though. Lots of solitude for your writing."

I put my fingers over the smile creeping about my lips at the thought of Ellen and

Jimmy in the same house.

Her snort could be heard in the next county. “You know how I feel about

getting hog-tied. I have a purpose in life. I don’t have time for a man who needs

his britches washed and supper on the table.”

I raised myself on tiptoe to see if I could catch a glimpse of Jimmy. Gracie

hung on his arm. I sighed without a sound. I should have known it wouldn’t take

him long to change his mind once the money was on the table, so to speak. If he

had to marry to get it, I certainly wasn’t going to be his choice, which was a

good thing, because marriage was one topic on which Ellen and I were in

complete agreement. A man only got in the way of a woman who wanted to live

her own life.

Ellen shook her head in one of her know-it-all nods. “It’s his mother's own

blessed fault she has no grandchildren. The moment those soft black curls

crowned, she spoiled him as husband material. He expects every woman to

adore him.” She shivered and added, “And, worse, they do." She cocked her

hands unto her slender waist as though the vicissitudes of the rest of womankind

were beyond her comprehension.

The music came to an end and, praise the Lord, Ellen seemed to have

come to an end also. I hurried to comment before she wound up again. “I’m

going to get my camera. Perhaps I can get a photo of the bride to be.” And sell it

to Jimmy’s mother, I added to myself. I needed cash to repay my father for the

money he gave me to take the train to Omaha. Drat Jimmy and his crazy

schemes. I seethed as I watched Gracie playfully tugging Jimmy toward her

potato salad. That perfect little studio apartment would be rented before I

managed to come up with the cash for it.

Ellen tired of ranting against marriage and moved on. "Did you get any

good shots for the contest today?”

"No great ones. Everyone at the branding wanted a picture taken. They

lined up all the way around the porch, but as soon as I pointed the camera at

them, their faces turned inside out. The wrinkles and tobacco stains were there,

but all I got was gray melancholia."

"But you know why they won't smile. What kind of message would that

be for all generations to come? Their grandchildren and great-grandchildren

would think they were frivolous people who thought life was a lark.”

"But they didn't have to look like they were at a sitting-up party." I didn't

mean to sigh, but the sound came out. "I'll never win that contest. They're

calling for portraits of people with appealing faces, not stoic folks with early

death in their eyes." The prize money would have been a good sized step in the

right direction.

I glanced at my second-hand dry plate camera on the bale of hay behind

me, the tripod beside it. "I have flash powder with me," I said.

Ellen eyed me in her prim way. "These folks snuffed singed cowhide all

week. Smoke up their dancing air and they'll kill you. And what if a dry bale

caught fire? Those little ones wouldn't have a chance." Though she pointed, I

didn't look. I knew youngsters were sprawled on horse blankets in the shadowy

corners of the loft, sleeping while their parents partied.

The fiddlers grabbed their bows and sawed a few notes, testing their

strings. Happy Louie shot a stream of brown juice out the corner of his mouth,

swallowed his chew and licked the edge of his harmonica. Within moments, the

strains of "Turkey in the Straw" swept through the barn. All around me feet

tapped and hips twitched as though stricken with a virulent strain of Saint Vitus

Dance.

As befits a young lady, I cast my eyes toward my shoes while waiting to be

asked to dance. Ellen stared at the men choosing partners, watching Jimmy in

particular. She knew it was rude, but she claimed it her duty as a journalist to be

the first to know of any folly afoot. Then the snort escaped Ellen's lips again. I

knew Slim Jim McMann was coming our way. I raised my head to smile at him. I

didn’t give a fig that the man was 72. All I wanted was one dance with a man

whose head I couldn't see over. To my surprise, the snort had been aimed at

Jimmy who met my grin with one of his own. The light aroma of Lilac Vegetal

after-shave wafted to my nose as he halted in front of me and held out his arm.

“Would milady care to dance?”

His eyes were the embodiment of merriment and fun. I couldn’t resist

framing his photo in my mind, deciding what light would show his dimpled chin

to advantage and not throw those stunning deep dark obsidian eyes into too

much shadow. The tops of his ears, slightly pointed, lay close to his head like elf

ears. I'd have him turn his head ever so slightly so the point would show in his

picture.

"Are we going to dance or are you going to admire me for the rest of the

evening?" he asked.

His tone was far from serious but I felt high color rise in my cheeks.

Without answering, I grabbed his arm, raised my chin and glided elegantly

across the dusty floor, swishing my hips beneath my old blue shirtwaist as

though I'd not heard his uncouth remark. I glanced back at Ellen to see if she

approved of the grace of my recovery. Her eyebrows were set in that grim line.

No doubt she'd tell me later what a fool I'd made of myself.

My embarrassment faded in the joy of the jerky rhythm. Jimmy's heels

clicked in a double time clog. Mine followed with abandon. We were two

halves of a whole, the best dancers in the barn, in the county, maybe in the

entire world. We promenaded the ring. I felt a smile engulf my face, forgetting to

keep my teeth from showing. I tossed my head and swung my shoulders. If I

weren’t going to have a photography studio, I’d live my whole life dancing.

"Swing your partners, do-si-do. If you can't take her home, then let her

go." Caller John hopped from his perch on a wooden crate. "Take a break, folks,"

he hollered. He hoisted a corn jug to his shoulder, inhaled a long swig and

wiped his mouth on a turned-up cuff. The two fiddlers mopped their brows with

red bandanas and stretched out their hands for the jug. Happy Louie worked a

plug of tobacco out of the pocket of his wrinkled shirt and bit off a chunk of

Black Diamond big enough to choke a cow.

Like cream from an overturned can, the crowd spilled to the floor

openings to climb down from the loft. Murmurs of contentment swelled from

dancers sharing canning jars of amber liquid. Children tagged one another as

they waited to descend the ladders. Ranchers with string ties fanned themselves

with wide-brimmed hats. Busty women daubed their faces with dainty hankies.

Jimmy and I stood alone as dust and the smell of horse manure settled

into the emptying loft. He pulled off his cycling cap and wiped his sleeve across

his brow.

"I know where we can go to cool off," he said. “There are some things I

need to tell you.”

My face was as wet as his. Not from perspiration, of course. Women do

not perspire. They glow. The shine on my face rivaled the moon. "A drink of

water from the well would be delightful," I said.

"Better than that," he replied. His breath tickled my ear as he leaned close

to whisper. "My father's new surrey is hitched up behind the house. It's hop

aboard and we're off. A quick run to the river and we'll be good as new."

A shiver raced my backbone. I wanted a ride in that surrey. I'd heard

about its tufted seats and spring-set wheels. Word in town was it rode like a

mallard sailing a pond, skimming ruts with a barely a jounce.

"Maisie's pulling it," Jimmy added. "You know what a good ride she'll give

us." He winked. "Come on. You know you want to."

I bit my lip.

"We'll be back by the next set." He raised his hand and traced an "X" on

his chest. "Cross my heart. It won’t take me long to tell you what I need to tell

you."

I didn’t bring up the fact that I already knew what he had to say. Our

scheme was out the window. He wasn’t going to threaten his mother with

marriage to me so she would bribe me to leave town while he played the

broken-hearted lover and kept his freedom. He was going to marry for real and

grab his inheritance. But I wanted a ride in that surrey. As I adjusted the lace

ruffle on my sleeve, I searched the shadows for Ellen. I knew she was there

somewhere, jaw clenched, looking for a way to rescue me from the clutches of

Maxwell's most desirable male. But I didn't see her.

I took Jimmy's arm and let him steer me down from the loft. As we went

into the July night, I quickened my step and kept my head down. The light from

the lanterns didn't reach far. I slowed as we weaved through a barnyard chockfull

of surreys. Buckboards and buggies nestled wheel to wheel. Even the old

hearse was there. It'd carried seven to the ranch, all of them still breathing

though two would probably take the ride in wooden overcoats before the

summer's end. Once in the clear, I lifted my skirt above my ankles and ran,

going faster when I heard Ellen call from the porch steps of the house. She could

lecture me later. I was sure if she'd been invited to ride in O'Rouke's new surrey

with the finest looking man in Lincoln County she'd not stop to consult me.

What did it matter he had given up our plan without so much as an apology?

His mother probably wouldn’t have fallen for it anyway. What made him think

she disliked me enough to pay me not to marry him?

Without waiting for Jimmy to hand me in, I clambered up the side of the

spacious two-seater. The moonlight draped itself over the smooth leather like

buttermilk. Drawing a breath of sweet night air, I settled in, Jimmy's thigh hard

against my own. The road from the O'Rouke ranch house stretched across the

prairie like a pathway to the stars. Maxwell, Nebraska, my home, lay east. The

trail west would take us to the picnic grounds by the Platte River. We headed

west.

Air flowed like icy wind against my damp face. As soon as the barnyard

faded behind us, Jimmy slapped the reins over Maisie's haunches. The trotting

hooves smoothed into a gallop and on to a dead run. The speed thrilled me to

my toes. As we careened around the last bend to the river, the surrey almost

rolled onto one wheel. I laughed as my body pressed Jimmy's. We both grabbed

the seat railing to keep from falling out.

Jimmy eased back on the reins. We slid into the picnic area. Shadows of

2-Jimmy Offers a Solution - 6/4/15 12:36 PM / 12

the trees covered us as gently as a blanket pulled to a baby's chin. I jumped

from the seat and threw my arms wide to the night sky. "Hallelujah!" I spun in a

circle. "What speed! I didn't know a buggy could go that fast! Didn't it just take

your breath away?"

Jimmy leapt from the seat to join me. "It was all right. I'm glad you liked it

so much."

"Let's do it again," I said, rushing to climb back aboard.

His arm encircled my waist as he stepped beside me, but instead of

raising me upward, he pulled me tight against his chest. It seemed the apology

for tossing our agreement on the scrapheap was going to include an I’m sorry

kiss. That would be like Jimmy. A bit extreme but definitely in keeping with his

nature. Betray them but be sure they continue loving you. What Jimmy didn’t

know was I had never been kissed. Not that I hadn't thought about being kissed.

I'd practiced on my arm plenty of times. But what if my lips were too wet or my

breath smelled bad or my teeth got in the way? What if I didn’t do it right?

Would he laugh at me because I couldn’t do it right?

Strong fingers cupped my chin. Slowly I gave in to the pull and let my

face be turned to his. The air no longer slid easily in and out of my lungs.

Jimmy's grip tightened on my waist. Full lips met mine as gently as a drifting

feather of goose down. The taste of apple cider brandy and tobacco was sweet

between us.

As though my lips had a life of their own, they kissed back. This was

supposed to be an end of our conspiracy kiss, nothing more than a sop to my

feelings but my hands betrayed me, too, stroking the back of his neck and

clasping his face between my fingers to pull him closer. My body went light as a

balloon and my heart raced as quickly as when we rode pell-mell across the

prairie.

My first kiss. I'd been such a hoyden growing up that no boy wanted to

risk being punched by a girl who could outrun and outwrestle him. Or so Ellen

said. Now the refrain of "Beautiful Isle of Somewhere" surged through my heart. I

was near to bursting with good feeling.

Jimmy pulled his head back. With a lazy smile he said, "I’ve decided to

marry after all.”

"I know. Gracie, right? I don’t blame you. Telling your mother you were

going to marry me was a silly plan at best. You needn’t worry about me. I’ll

figure out another way to set up a studio in Omaha."

"No, you goose, not Gracie. You're the one I’m going to marry."

A hot flush whipped from my chest to my cheeks as I pushed him away. “I

don’t want to get married.”

"Yes, you do. How else will you get shut of being called the disgraced

schoolteacher? It won’t be hard for folks to forget you taught for three years once

you’re my wife. Just think of me as your knight in shining armor, come to save

you from spinsterhood and a lonely life." He threw back his shoulders and gave

me what I suppose he supposed was a knightly look.

I glared at him. His smile stretched wider, clear back to those pointy ears

up flat against his head. My head buzzed. “No,” I said. “I’m going to be a

famous photographer. I really don’t want to get married.” I wanted to add that he

could kiss me again anyway, but he kept talking.

"Yes, you do. You're a young woman. You're single. I'm a good catch. I'm

handsome. I'm pleasant to be with. Our children will be tall. They'll look great

on horseback."

"Children! I'm definitely not ready for children. I have a career ahead of

me." I wrenched free of his arms. “What happened to our agreement? The one

where you mention to your mother that you’re considering marrying me and she

immediately offers me money to leave town?” To my disgust he acted as though

those pointy little ears were incapable of hearing. He gave me what I’m sure he

considered a companionable little shove with his shoulder.

"Come on now. As soon as I marry, the north end of the ranch is mine.

We’ll have plenty of money and we can both move to Omaha."

I sputter when upset. I pressed my lips together, holding the sputter in. The

warm, inky darkness of the prairie was suddenly menacing. Despite my good

intentions to be quiet, words rushed out. "Marry Gracie. Marry Lizbeth. Marry

someone else. Marriage was not part of our agreement. Surely your mother

would be happier if you chose someone else.”

He turned suddenly on his heel and began to adjust Maisie’s halter. His

voice was barely audible. “You liked kissing me well enough. I thought you’d be

thrilled to agree to marry me.”

I didn’t answer.

“Oh very well. My mother didn’t believe me when I told her you were my

choice. She called my bluff. She forced me to say things I can’t take back

without looking like a liar. We have to go through with it. That’s all there is to it.”

He ran the reins through his fingers. “The only way to get my inheritance was to

agree to set a date.”

“Looking like a liar? You are a liar. But she thinks you can do no wrong.

You can make a joke of it and she’ll believe you never met to deceive her. It’s

not too late. Or tell her I changed my mind. Tell her I have cold feet. She’ll be

glad.”

He jerked at the leather in his hand. “You think I want to get married? He

slapped the leather on the edge of the rig and his voice rang out across the

prairie. “I don’t. I definitely do not…but,” and here he tilted his head and spread

his hands wide, “but how else can I get the money? I have plans too you know.

We spend a year or two on the ranch and then we decide to move. Once we get

to Omaha we can each go our separate way. No one will know the difference.

You’re the only woman I can marry without being trapped by expectations.” He

shrugged. “You know. Most women want a real husband and love and

faithfulness and all that nonsense. You’re a practical woman. We can make this

work to our benefit.”

It was so quiet then I could hear the corn growing in the fields

surrounding the picnic area.

When my voice came, I hardly recognized it. “I’m telling you I’m not

doing it. I’m not getting married. Maxwell stands my hair on end. How could I

possibly exist on a ranch on the prairie? Even if I did want to marry you, which I

don't, I wouldn't be a rancher's wife if my life depended on it."

Jimmy folded his arms and leaned against the surrey. He had a smile on

his face again but he didn’t look happy. “Well, sweetie, I hate to tell you, but we

are getting married. My mother pushed me into coming up with a reason for

insisting on you.” His smile got bigger. “I told her you were in the family way.

She won’t let you back out now no matter what. You’re carrying her grandchild.”

I sat down hard on the ground and covered my face with my hands. "How

could you? Why would you do this to me?” I could do nothing but put my head

back and howl.

He frowned. "Now if that don't beat all. You've been making cow eyes at

me for years. Here I make you a decent offer and you get all balled up and

screech like a Kilkenny cat. You ought to be glad I asked you. You're such an odd

stick there aren't many men who'd take pity on you."

I was on my feet in an instant, fists flying. Liquid fire raced through me. I

lost all thought of who and where I was; all I wanted was to lash out and let the

wildness inside me explode over everything in its path, mostly on Jimmy.

He pinned my arms until the struggle seeped out of me like a slow leak of

a bicycle tire. "Don't get your back up, Alice. I didn't mean to make you mad."

My nose ran and I had no choice but to wipe it across the shoulder of his

best dancing shirt. He jumped back, an expletive in his blazing eyes, but not a

word escaped his tight lips. He studied me for a long minute then hung his head

like a sorry four-year-old caught snitching strawberry pie. You'd never guess he

was twenty-three. Maybe other girls thought his little boy act was cute, but it

would take a heap more than head-hanging to make me forget he’d called me

an odd stick.

"Thing is,” he said with the pretense of a shy smile, “the wedding's all set.

My mother thinks you're the only one who can settle me down to being a family

man and you know how she's counting on having grandchildren to show off. I

thought you'd be pleased, not kick up a row. I told her it was fine with both of

us for her to go ahead and make plans." He raised his head and the shy smile

grew to a crooked grin. "You know you're the only girl for me."

I stared at him, my mind muddled as a fire lit without opening the flue. I

tried not to remember how his lips felt on mine; to remember that he thought I

was an odd stick who screeched like a Kilkenny cat.

"I'm going to be a photographer, Jimmy," I said. I kept my voice soft, as far

from screeching as possible. "I'm sorry. I’m not getting married. And please tell

your mother there’s no little grandchild on the way. "

"You'll change your mind once you've had time to think on it, Alice. I

know you will. You've always been ace-high in my book and it's time we both

settled down." With a saucy grin he winked and reached out to put his arms

around me.

I sidestepped and hoisted myself back into the surrey. "We really must get

back." I hoped my frosty look matched the icy way I held my backbone as I

perched on the rich leather seat.

"Two weeks from today, Alice," Jimmy said, taunting me from where he

stood beside the rig and shaking a warning finger up at me. "The wedding will

be two weeks from today at the Cody Ranch Corn Roast. My father's

announcing the name of my bride this very night. We both know who the lucky

girl will be.”

I chewed my lip unable to decide if Jimmy truly hadn’t understood I'd

turned him down. He certainly acted as though he’d not heard a word I’d said. I

met his eyes. He grinned as though we shared a secret then hurried around the

wagon to board and grab the reins. It was a good thing I'd only let him kiss me

once. And that he’d called me an odd stick. It felt so good to sit beside him, I

halfway regretted saying no to marrying him. But only halfway.

Off we rolled, sailing the prairie with no time to enjoy the stars. I felt

vaguely cheated, but Jimmy's mood was jovial. He knew there were plenty of

women who wouldn’t turn him down. Maybe he’d been hoping all along that I’d

say no so he could dismiss our agreement. Now he was free to marry Gracie

without the slightest twinge of guilt.

As he halted Maisie, the melody of the Blue Danube drifted across the

barnyard. A few of the men lingering by the well looked us up and down. I sat

properly in place until Jimmy handed me to the ground. As haughtily as I could,

I thanked him for the ride.

"You will marry me," he said in a low voice. "I've already talked to your

father and your aunt. If you don't want to let them down, you'd best start

shopping for a trousseau."

As confidently as you please, he went to unhook the reins from Maisie.

My tongue was numb and formed no words. The man was deluded. My mind

drifted back to that sweet and heavenly kiss. Truth be told, I would like more

kisses like that, lots more of them, but that didn’t mean I wanted my future laid

out like a cornfield with miles and miles of tall green stalks rippling into the ever

boring blue sky. Having his arms around me made my body feel hot and

dangerous—like fudge coming to a boil—but thinking about living the life of a

Nebraska ranch wife was scarier than dying. I hurried back to the dance, my

mind whirling. I would see that Mr. O’Rouke made no announcement. The

whole affair would die a quiet death.