“That’s right. Now, this man I’m talking about isn’t any kind of jeweler, but he’s managing the hotel and gambling house over there, and if there’s anybody shrewder than a man operating a hotel and gambling establishment, I haven’t met him. He’s used to making trades for chips. He has to make sure the games run fair and smooth and he doesn’t want to cheat his players any more than he wants to cheat himself.”
“And you think he’ll be fair and honest?”
“I have no reason to think otherwise. Name’s Tyler. Jacob C. Tyler, Junior. Before you go running off with this fella, you see about Sylvia giving you a day for yourself. Any Sunday would be good. I’d be pleased to escort you.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Phoebe used her lower legs to gently squeeze Mrs. McCauley and push the mare forward from a walk to a trot. During the transition, when Mrs. McCauley was most likely to balk, she pressed her heels lightly into the animal’s sides. Phoebe adjusted the swing of her hips until she had the horse’s rhythm and then sat heavy in the saddle to keep from bouncing out of it. She had been practicing almost every day for two weeks, sometimes circling the corral without her feet in the stirrups to help her strengthen her seat. Early on, it was exhausting. She would bounce high out of the saddle because she was gripping too hard with her thighs, and without her weight on Mrs. McCauley’s back, the mare would stop because she didn’t know what to do.
There wasn’t a ranch hand around who didn’t have some piece of advice for her. None of them were shy about hollering it out. Sometimes the suggestions were contradictory. She tried everything at least once and used what worked for her. If Thaddeus was nearby and heard them shouting instructions at her, he growled at them to put their two cents away and get back to work.
“She’s coming along,” said Ben to Remington.
The pair stepped out of the barn together and into the bright sunshine. Ben lifted his hat, beat it once against his thigh, and returned it to his head. In that brief hatless moment, sunlight glanced off his hair, turning it flame orange, and highlighting every one of the freckles sprayed across his nose and cheeks.
“Mm-hmm.” Remington’s eyes followed Phoebe as she circled the inside of the corral.
Ben set his shoulder against the barn and folded his arms across his chest. “She’s not going to be satisfied staying inside the rails much longer.”
“Why do you say that?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because she asked me yesterday if the trail to Boxer’s Ridge would be easy for her to follow.”
“Christ,” Remington said under his breath. He looked over at Ben. “What did you tell her?”
“What you’d expect. Told her about the snakes and the loose rocks and the steep climb and the switchback that makes it seem like you and your horse are going to fall off the edge of the earth.”
“She believed you?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Because she’s not... never mind. I’ll take care of it.” He shook his head. “Boxer’s Ridge. Wonder how she heard of it.”
“I’m recollecting hearing Fiona’s name in our conversation.”
“Hmm.”
“Speaking of...” Ben jerked his chin toward the house. “Where is Mrs. Frost today? I saw the buggy’s gone. She take it out?”
“Thaddeus drove her into town. He’s rounding up help for branding the calves so we can get them out to pasture. She’s probably shopping.”
“Ralph and I rode out early to count head around Baker’s Knob. Guess that’s how I didn’t see them leave.”
“What’s the count?”
“Four hundred, give or take. We chased off some cattle from the Double H. We can expect Hank Henry’s men to direct some of our cows back this way. Always a tangle after a long winter.”
Remington nodded. He continued to watch Phoebe. Her concentration was all for what she was doing. He didn’t think she was aware of his interest. Or Ben’s.
Ben said, “My mother mentioned she sent you to town a couple of days ago with a list as long as her arm.”
“I was already intending to go, so I got the list. And it was every bit that long.”
“Huh. She usually sends me.”
Remington looked crossways at Ben. “You have a particular interest in everyone’s comings and goings, or are you just making conversation?”
“Just making conversation, I expect. Why?”
