Grabbing it with both hands, she pointed it at the man.“Stay away from me.”“Mother of Christ! Who the hell are you?”“You know who I am, you . . . you bounder, shyster, crook!” she sputtered. “I’m not signing, no matter what you do. Break my fingers, twist my arm, do what you will! I’ll not sign my land over to you and that’s that!” By the time she finished speaking she was shouting.“What the hell are you talking about?”“You’d better get out. Mr. Lenning will be back soon. If he doesn’t shoot you, I will.” She steadied the hands holding the gun. Not for anything would she let him know how frightened she was.Eyes the color of oak leaves beneath thick dark brows never moved from her face. The man stood there strangely quiet. He gazed at her for a long while before he spoke.“I’m Buck Lenning.”“You’re . . . not Mr. Lenning,” she scoffed. “He’s an old man like Uncle Yarby.”“Mother of Christ!” he said again. “You’re . . .”“Miss Kristin Anderson.
