“Hey, take a gander; it"s the boss"s fiancée. She"s a real looker.”
Loren glanced up from shoveling the manure into a waiting spreader wagon and looked at the surrey pulling out of the stable yard. Manny, short for Manfred, was right. The woman was beautiful. She was also young, blonde, dressed in fine linen, and bedecked with a flowery hat and jewels. Donaldson was one of the male Tonathians who waited until middle-age to wed, and as befitted a man of his income, he was engaged to one of the town"s wealthiest and loveliest young socialites. Somewhere in his core, Loren knew that wealth created this pattern. He wasted no time in bitter reflections against society, but returned to his duties. The sooner it was done, the sooner he was off and a few hours were his.
He intended to visit the
