Ed was waiting for her outside, standing by his Caprice stationwagon, smoking a small cigar. When she came through the doors and hesitated, looking this way and that for somebody to help her, he stepped forward, tipped his hat, and said in an exaggerated drawl, ‘Mrs McIntosh? Mrs McIntosh from Washington?’

She blinked at him, grinned, and then offered her hand. ‘You must be Mr Hardesty. Well, how do you do? You’re a lot smarter than I thought you were going to be. I expected somebody with chaff in their hair.’

‘Oh, no, ma’am,’ said Ed, taking her suitcase. ‘Having chaff in your hair is illegal in Kansas these days. You can serve three-to-five for actually looking like a hick.’

‘Senator Jones was right,’ said Della. ‘He said you’d make a good figurehead for our Blight Crisis Appeal, and I believe you will. Mind you, I haven’t really heard you speak yet.’

‘As long as I don’t have to come out with all that sincere young farmer bit that Peter Kaiser was trying to lay on me, I don’t mind what I do,’ said Ed. He ushered Della around the car and opened the passenger door for her. She said, ‘Thank you,’ as she sat down, and he couldn’t help noticing the way her skirt rode up over her long legs, and the full curves of her breasts. He closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and climbed in next to her.

‘I told Dr Benson you were coming,’ said Ed, as he pulled out into the airport traffic. ‘He was out at Garden City last night, at the state experimental farm. Apparently they’ve been making some interesting progress on breaking down the blight.’

‘Really?’ said Della. ‘You told him I wanted to meet up with him as soon as possible?’

‘He says tomorrow evening. He has to go to Hays, too. That’s where the agricultural experimental station is located. He doubts if he’s going to be able to get back to Wichita until seven or eight.’

‘He won’t talk to the press before then?’ asked Della. She pulled down the sun-visor in front of her, and inspected her face in the mirror.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Ed. ‘Is it important?’

‘Senator Jones thinks it’s important,’ Della told him, fussing with her hair. ‘He doesn’t want anybody to panic about this blight’

‘Oh, no?’

Della glanced at him. The blight’s serious, but it’s not that serious. Senator Jones believes the most important priority is for Kansas farmers to get their compensation. If there’s a panic, it won’t help to bring in the contributions. That’s all.’

‘I see,’ said Ed.

‘I hope you do,’ Della told him. ‘Particularly since your whole livelihood depends on it.’