Deborah Camp by Primrose Page B

to the house. Zanna stuffed her handkerchief back into her apron pocket and sat forward, straining to see against the misting rain. Who could that be? she wondered, rising from the rocker to move to the edge of the porch. Not Duncan. Not Theo. She mentally crossed off several other names before the vehicles drew close enough to identify one of them by the red-spoked wheels. Only one person she knew had a buggy like that—Lilimae Landers … rather, Lilimae Runtby. Lilimae had claimed Elmer Runtby from the Scyene jail six months ago and had married him.
    Oh, Lord. They’re not
…
    The wagon held a similar couple. Darnella and Stubby Jennings, married three months ago after Darnella met Stubby at the jail.
    …
coming here thinking we can all be chummy because we’re wives cut from the same cloth!
    A pulse beat frantically in Zanna’s throat. Birds of a feather flocking together. What should she do? Maybe Grandy would stay inside, asleep and out of harm’s way. She’d make excuses and send them on their way.
    Lilimae raised a hand and her voice chimed across theflat land. “H’lo, Suzanna! We come for a visit! Darnella and me decided you weren’t going to ask us, so we’d just have to barge in on you.”
    “Well … I …” Zanna looked from Darnella to Lilimae and knew that turning them away would be about as easy as talking sense to a charging bull. “I was just enjoying this pretty Sunday. Won’t y’all have a seat?” She motioned toward the swing and two other chairs. “It’s nice and cool here on the porch.”
    “Where’s your mister?” Stubby asked, running a hand over the stiff whiskers on his cheeks and chin.
    “He’s inside,” Zanna said, adding when the two men started for the door, “napping! He’s asleep. He’s been feeling poorly.”
    “He sure didn’t look it this morning in church,” Darnella said with a twitter. “Did he, Lilimae?”
    “Lord, no! If he looks that good under the weather, I can’t wait to see him when he’s feeling as fine as a frog hair.” She giggled, but stopped abruptly when Elmer sent her a scowl. “ ’Course pretty looks aren’t everything. I’d rather sit on a broke-in saddle than a new one.”
    Elmer puffed out his chest and pursed his mouth to keep from grinning from ear to ear. “So he ain’t coming out here to greet us?”
    Zanna pulled out her handkerchief and twisted it. “Well, Elmer, he’s—”
    “Company calling, darlin’?”
    Zanna’s gaze flew in the direction of the pronounced drawl. Grandy stepped through the doorway and onto the porch. He looked anything but poorly: hazel eyes sparkling, sandy hair tousled, thumbs hooked jauntily behind his new black suspenders, and a smile that could melt ice. She tied the handkerchief into knots. The silence stretched until Zanna realized they were all waiting for introductions.
    “Oh! Grandville, this is Elmer and Lilimae Runtby and Stubby and Darnella Jennings.”
    “Glad to meet you folks,” Grandy said, shaking hands with each man. “Call me Grandy, why don’t you.”
    “Zanna says you’re sick,” Lilimae said, slanting a sly look toward Zanna.
    “Sick?” Grandy looked surprised, then he reached out and hooked his hand around Zanna’s neck and pulled her to his side. “Why, honey, I’m not sick. I’m just a mite tired. Me and the missus have been burning the midnight oil, don’t you know.”
    If she’d been a two-by-four, she wouldn’t have been any stiffer at his side. Zanna noticed the queer looks Lilimae and Darnella were giving her. She hated thinking they would tattle in town that she and her husband were strangers, so she forced her arm up until it rested at his waist and she looked up at him with what she hoped was wifely adoration.
    “Grandy, how you go on,” she said, breathless with the energy it took to continue her charade. “Quiet now. You’re embarrassing me.”
    “Am I?” He looked down into her upturned face and glided his fingertips over her downy-soft