“If you can wait a few minutes, you’ll see for yourself.” She gave him a light kiss, then turned and walked to the house.
As he waited for what seemed like more than a few minutes, all of the clutter of Roe’s seemed cheery. The falling-in shed, the heaps of barbed wire and posts, the hulks of wagons—all of these things that used to weigh on him now seemed like old friends. If the gray geese had come out, he would have expected them to waddle up to him and wait to be petted.
The scuff of the door sounded, and Isabel came out into the sunlight with a satchel in each hand. Fielding could tell she had been crying, but she had her chin up and was smiling.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. We talked about it last night and again this morning. But still, it took a few minutes.”
She handed Fielding her bags, and he put them in the panniers of the bay horse. As he snugged the lash rope, he asked, “Is he going to come out and see you off?”
She shook her head. “He’s a little moody right now. Everything will be all right when we come back.”
Fielding handed her the reins to the dun and gave her a boost to help her into the saddle. When she nodded ready, he swung onto the buckskin.
They rode straight north out of the yard, across the trail, and onto the grassland. As they climbed a hill, the hoot of a train rose from the valley. They paused and turned the horses to take a last look at the town of Umber, and then they went on their way through the great rangeland, side by side, with the string of four horses behind them.
