Phoebe had hoped she could avoid this part, but there was no point in prevaricating. “He was with Fiona, and she had it in her mind that she wanted to walk, so I can’t say precisely where they were at that time.”
“With Fiona,” Remington said under his breath. “Of course he was. Thaddeus would have put that in his head.”
“I thought so, too. He told me that he thinks she means to leave him.”
“Did he? I wasn’t sure that he would.”
“Yes. I know why I’m here.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
“You know. Incentive to keep Fiona here, or at least remove an excuse for her to leave.”
“Really? You keep thinking that. I have to say, the two of you don’t strike me as that close.”
“Put that in the drawer where you keep all the things you don’t understand about women.” Phoebe appreciated his rumbling laughter and the fact that it accompanied the return of his relaxed posture.
“My father commented in that same vein earlier.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to Thunder Point tomorrow and you’re coming with me. Call it your first real riding lesson. I’ll get Ellie to put together a meal for us to take. No jerky and day-old biscuits, I promise. I figure with what you told me about seeing Mr. Shoulders, the time is right for you to go back. It would not astonish me if another seed or two sprouts when you look around.”
Phoebe’s answer was immediate. “Of course. What time should I be ready?” A small vertical crease appeared between her eyebrows. “You look smug. Why is that?”
“Because I’m going to enjoy telling my father there’s a thing or two he needs to put in his own drawer.” When she continued to regard him oddly, he added, “You know, the one where he keeps all the things he doesn’t understand about women.”
Chapter Sixteen
They prepared to leave at first light. It was agreed that it was better if Fiona found out after the fact. Ellie filled a sack with cold ham, wedges of sharp cheese, hard-boiled eggs, and a thick heel of bread. It fit snugly into Remington’s saddlebags. Phoebe filled two canteens with cool fresh water.
Only Thaddeus knew their destination. Ellie asked once, but when neither of them was forthcoming, she let it drop. None of the ranch hands showed any particular interest when they headed out except for Arnie Wilver, who commented good-naturedly that from where he stood, Remington’s saddle looked a lot more like the catbird seat, and Johnny Sutton, who leaned against his shovel, wistfully envious that Remington was getting out of real work for the day.
“Did you see Johnny’s face?” asked Phoebe when the ranch was finally at their backs. “I thought he might cry. He doesn’t realize how hard you’re going to have to work to keep me on this horse.”
Remington looked over at her. She was sitting tall and not fighting the mare’s rhythm, although the look of fierce concentration on her face told him she was still thinking about every aspect of what she was doing. There was nothing natural about her riding yet. “You’re doing all right. The stirrups feel a good length for you?”
She nodded.
“You think you want to take the reins up yourself?”
She glanced at him doubtfully. “Um, maybe in a little while.”
“Sure. Have you named her yet?”
“Named her? Oh, you mean the horse. Doesn’t she already have a name? I don’t want to confuse her.”
Remington grinned. “I think she can get used to a new name. And maybe Mr. Shoulders never thought enough of her to call her anything. She’s a gentle animal.” He caught Phoebe’s skeptical expression, and remembered the wild ride, at least from Phoebe’s perspective, when the mare bolted. He amended his last statement. “Gentle, that is, when she hasn’t been startled.”
Phoebe dared to lean forward and lightly rub the mare’s neck. “That does not exactly inspire confidence, Remington.”
“Sit up,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Soothing her.”
“More like confusing her. Just keep your hands where they are.”
“Yes, sir. I’d salute you, but I’m keeping my hands where they are.”
