“Do women wear them?”
“Sure. Some. If a woman’s working the ranch, she’ll wear one.” He saw her clear skepticism. “I’ll introduce you to Willa Pancake. Willa McKenna now. She and her husband go to the same horse auctions I do. This will pin back your ears.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in. “She wears trousers, too.”
Phoebe touched one of her ears. “I do believe it’s pinned back.” She resumed hugging her knees. “Trousers. Really?”
“Hmm.”
“I suppose it’s a practical choice. Like the hat.”
“That’s right.”
She nodded, thoughtful. “Why don’t you and Fiona get along?”
Remington blinked. “What?”
“Practical,” she said. “As soon as I heard myself say it, I remembered something I said to your father this afternoon, that Fiona is nothing if not practical, and then I recalled that he told me you and Fiona are like oil and water, though he didn’t say who is water and who is oil. I’m wondering what makes you that way.”
“Your thoughts do that often? Hop like a frog from lily pad to lily pad?”
“They do. You have to learn to follow because I generally don’t take time to explain. I made an exception.” Before he could comment, she said, “So what is the answer?”
He shrugged. “Oil and water, like my father said.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is, but I can appreciate that from where you’re sitting, it’s not a satisfactory one.”
“Is there somewhere else I should be sitting?”
Had she posed that question with any hint of flirtation, he would have lifted his hat and invited her onto his lap. Flippancy had no place here because the bent of her mind was serious. “Beside Fiona,” he said. “You should be sitting beside Fiona. Opposite might be better.”
“So I can see her face when I ask her? I can understand why you’d think that, but Fiona’s had years of practice schooling her features. If you believe you know what she’s thinking or feeling, it’s because she wants you to know.”
Remington thought that was probably true. “Just the same, you’ll have to put your question to her.” He thought that would end it, but Phoebe immediately reminded him that she did not give up the bone easily when it was between her teeth.
“You said I was like her.”
“Did I?”
“You did. I remember because I don’t favor the comparison and it’s rare that I favor the person who says it.”
“Another exception for me? I am encouraged.”
“Don’t make me regret it. My point is—”
He held up a hand, cutting her off. “I know your point. You’re going to say that we get along and ask me why that is.”
“I was going to say we get alongreasonablywell and ask you to identify the particulars that make the difference.”
He gave her a long, steady look. Dusk was a deeper shade of gray now, cloaking her in shadow, making her features more difficult to read. Still, the lack of inflection in her voice and that butter-wouldn’t-melt tone told him all he needed to know. “You weren’t going to say that. Nobody would say that.”
Phoebe was not entirely successful swallowing her laughter.
“There’s a difference,” he said. “You think I’m amusing.”
“I think you’re a fool, but all right, I’ll allow that a fool can be amusing.”
“And there’s another. You give it right back.”
