“I never had no boss, me—Smith,” he answered with significance.
“You got a woman!” she burst out fiercely.
Smith’s brow cleared.
“Sure I got a woman.”
“You lie to me!”
“I call her Prairie Flower—my woman.” He reached and took her clenched hand.
The tense muscles gradually relaxed, and the darkness lifted from her face like a cloud that has obscured the sun. She smiled and her eyelids dropped shyly.
“Why you go and no tell me?” she asked plaintively.
“It was a business trip, Prairie Flower, and I like to talk to you of love, not business,” he replied evasively.
She looked puzzled.