Still, she'd almost made up her mind not to do it when her mother confronted her that afternoon. Her mother was red with anger.

"That vulgar boy talked to you today, didn't he?"

"Yes," Beverly said.

"You just stay away from him, young lady. I'll not have you running around with trash like him."

Her mother had made up Beverly's mind for her. She was fifteen years old and she was damned if her mother was going to tell her what to do. After all, she was almost grown and plenty old enough to think for herself.

Of course, she didn't tell her mother she was going to disobey her. But she made up her mind that she was going to see Wayne Brown by the bridge that afternoon.

She pretended she was going for a ride like she did every evening, but instead of turning her horse toward the open field she rode toward the bridge.

Wayne was there waiting on her.

"I-I," he said. "I knew you'd come."

"Sure you did," Beverly said in a haughty tone of voice. "I just came to hear what you had to say."

"Then get down off your home," Wayne said. "I can't talk to you way up there."

Beverly hesitated. She kept telling herself that nothing could happen here on the bridge. It wasn't like she was getting into the back seat with him or anything like that. Rut she still felt afraid. He was just too attractive to her.

"No," Beverly said. "We can talk here."

"The hell with that," Wayne said, and he turned to walk away.

"Wait," Beverly said.

He turned back around to face her and Beverly slipped from the saddle. He was about two inches taller than she was and she found herself standing too close to him. She jumped back as if she'd been bitten.

"Are you frightened of me?" Wayne asked.

"Of course not," Beverly said. "Why should I be?"