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“She’s back at the house,” said Dave. “She wants to see you.”“She didn’t ride out with you?” Bob asked.Rowdy snorted.Linda looked injured. “A girl in her condition? Riding around on a horse? Bumping along? I wouldn’t hear of it!”Bob thought about how Dannie had ridden regularly until she was seven months pregnant with Kyle. Then, the only reason she stopped was because her belly stuck out so far that it rubbed the saddle horn uncomfortably. He decided this wasn’t the time to educate Linda Ronson.Now Bob did let Ranger run, for as long as he wanted to, which turned out to be almost all the way back. He left the Ronsons in Rowdy’s company, when they told him to go on ahead. It was pretty plain that they no longer had any objections to him ... seeing ... their daughter.She was standing on the veranda, dressed again in a sundress.He pulled up short, to avoid raising a cloud of dust around her. She watched, apparently placid, while he climbed down from his horse. His eyes drank her in. The. ”Hart? Where had that come from? I saw my mom dart a look at me, and then she was smiling and shaking hands, being herded off to the bar. It was clear neither she nor Maureen would be buying any drinks that night.The other change they wrought was the dance floor. Kelsey’s had a parquet dance floor, but it was from an earlier incarnation of the bar. It was covered with tables now, and nobody ever danced on it. This was not acceptable to Maureen, however, who intended to demonstrate that she did, in fact, know how to two-step. There was minor chaos as tables and chairs were moved, some ending up being stacked on top of each other. Mickey, the owner, objected at first, but he was overwhelmed. About half of our class (most of whom were there) came from rural parts of the state, and they had two-stepped a-plenty before they went to college. The urge to do it again was irresistible. Within twenty minutes Maureen and four of my classmates were holding an impromptu class in line dancing..
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My mother later told me Dad said, "Thank you, Bill" after the school principal read the graduate's name before mine, and then said, "Mr Sdao, friend of the family and Honor Society faculty adviser, has asked to issue the next diploma". Bill Sdao gave me my diploma, we shook hands, and I said, "Mr Sdao, thank you." He just smiled, for he had been a pupil of my father, and knew the enmity between Mr Irwin and my dad. It was a simple gesture, but a very meaningful one. And my last memory of Henderson High School was not shaking the hand of the disliked Mr Irwin.Like many of my classmates, I went off to college, and like many of them, I did not return to Henderson. When Mr Irwin died, my dad and I each shed no tears.Of course Henderson was in the news from time to time, and sometimes I would learn of the death of a classmate. I never drove the several hours to attend any funerals, but I would send a memorial contribution from time to time.Then fate stepped in, and it was because I, like.

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