“McKane,” she said clearly, so that the hushed listeners behind her caught every syllable, “you know what a fight I’ve made to hold my own on Nameless since my father died—or was killed. You know how close to the wind I’ve sailed to eat, for you’ve sold me what we’ve had. And I’ve always managed to keep even, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” said the trader uneasily.
“Up till six months ago when I had to go in debt for a new harness or do no work in my fields this spring, I told you when I bought it, didn’t I, why I had to buy it?”
“Yes,” he said again.
“It was because someone went into my barn one night and cut the old harness into ribbons. That put me in debt to you for the first time.”
She stopped and wet her lips. There was the sound of someone rising on the porch and Price Selwood moved in behind her.
She felt him there and a thrill went through her, as if he had put a hand on her shoulder.
“I told you when I bought it that I’d pay you when my corn was ripe—that, if it went well, I’d have far and away more than enough. Well, it went well—so well that I knew yesterday I’d come out ahead and be able to meet that debt and live beside. This morning that field of corn was gone—trampled out—cut to pieces like my harness—pounded into the dirt by a band of cattle that had been driven—driven, you understand—over every foot of it. There was a wide gap cut in the fence at the upper end. That’s all—but I can’t pay my debt to you.”
She stopped and a sharp silence fell. Outside the store in the shade the stallion Bluefire screamed and stamped.
Kate Cathrew took a quick step forward.