The Danner family’s farm is almost at the end of my route. I’ve been doing the same route these last six months. I pass the place almost every day. Well, certainly three times a week. Because old Danner takes the local newspaper, and that comes out three times a week. On Monday, on Wednesday and on Friday.
If there’s no one in I’m supposed just to leave their post by the window next to the front door, that’s what old Danner agreed with me.
So I was out there on the Monday, and when no one came to the door I left the mail where we’d agreed. I looked in through the window, too, but there wasn’t anyone around.
It happens now and then. I mean, it happens there’s no one at home. No, it’s not unusual. That time of year, folk are often out chopping wood. Everyone’s needed then, nobody stays on the farm.
The dog, yes, could be it barked. Yes, I’m sure it barked. But that’s all I can remember. I mean, dogs always bark when I arrive. I don’t listen anymore. All part of a postman’s job.
When I got back on my bike I did turn around once, checking that my bag was balanced on the carrier properly. When it’s getting empty it easily slips. So when I looked around, yes, I saw the house again.
Was there any smoke coming out of the chimney? What questions you do ask! I’ve no idea if there was smoke coming out of the chimney. Didn’t notice anything.
Took no notice of any of it anyway.
You want me to be honest, I didn’t much like them at that farm. Old Danner was a suspicious curmudgeon. A loner. His wife, Frau Danner, she was the same. Not a bundle of laughs, neither of them.
Well, what’d you expect? Bet you Frau Danner didn’t have an easy life with that husband of hers.
Now his daughter, Barbara Spangler, she’s a real looker, but made in the same mold as her parents.
Oh yes, I know the rumors about the Danners, how they keep everything in the family, even their children. Who doesn’t know what folk say? And being a postman you get told this and that, but if you was always to believe everything you hear . . .
Tell you what, I couldn’t care less who fathered Barbara’s two kids.
I’d have my hands full if I stopped to bother with other folks’ business. No good asking me, you’ll have to try someone else. I deliver the post and I keep well out of the rest of it.