“You don’t believe it?”
“There are some holes in it. My mother miscarried twice before she had me.”
“But you were the firstborn, if the not the first conceived. Perhaps they were sentimental.”
“Uh-huh.”
She smiled. “Were they happy, your parents?”
The question did not surprise as much as the wistfulness that accompanied it. “I think so. I was five when my mother died, but I have some memories of her and my father sharing the sofa, talking quietly while I played on the floor. Pa always kissed her on the cheek after dinner, thanked her for the meal. He never said that I should do the same; I just did.”
“Fiona said her name was Mary and that she died not long after giving birth.”
He nodded. “Childbed fever. There were two more miscarriages after me before she gave birth to a girl. My sister lived for a week. Mother died a few hours later.”
“How sad you must have been.” When he added nothing to her observation, she said, “It seems a bit odd that Thaddeus didn’t remarry until Fiona.”
“What’s odd about that?”
“Well, he was happy in the marriage. In my experience, men remarry quickly when they’ve been content with the arrangement.”
He smirked. “You have a lot of experience, have you?”
If she did not have to hold on to the saddle, she would have ticked off examples on her fingers. “Mr. Adams, the greengrocer. Mr. Weaver, the stage manager. Mr. Kosterman, my landlord. Mr. Wallace, the man who delivered milk on Mondays and Thursdays. Oh, and Mr. Jakob Meir, the diamond merchant. He was always very good to Fiona, but there was no question but that he would remarry within his faith. Shall I go on?”
“For the love of God, spare me.” He heard her chuckle as he was certain she meant him to. In spite of himself, he was curious. “So they all remarried soon after their wives died?”
“Within six months. Mr. Kosterman, within three weeks, but one of the tenants, Katrina Harmon, never tried very hard to hide her interest in him, and there was suspicion that Mrs. Kosterman might have had help falling down the stairs. No one can say for sure.”
Remington whistled softly as he tipped back his hat. “You left a colorful neighborhood to come here. Do you think you’ll regret it?”
“It seems there are plenty of colorful characters around.”
“You are not going to have a confrontation with outlaws every day.”
She was not only speaking of outlaws, but she did not tell him that. “Do you think Fiona regrets leaving New York behind? Is that why you asked?”
“She’s never said anything like that to me, and I was just making conversation.”
“Hmm.” Phoebe shifted in the saddle to redistribute the pressure on her bottom and inner thighs. She winced.
“Are you all right? Do you want to stop? Dismount and rest? You could walk for a piece.”
“If I get off this horse, I swear to you I will not get back on.”
“Then we should keep moving.”
She nodded and felt she should explain her lack of equestrian skills. “There was no reason for me to learn how to ride. I walked or hailed a cab. Mostly I walked.”
“Sometimes what you learn to do depends on your geography. You can learn to ride at Twin Star if you have a mind to.”
“Can I think about that? Later?”
Laughter rumbled quietly in his chest. “Yes. Later.”
“Has Fiona learned to ride?”
“No, but she can manage a horse and buggy.”
