“I am, too. He had to go out of his way to do it. I’d guess he heard something from Pence or Adler after I left, and it didn’t sound good.”
Lodge frowned. “That Cronin’s a high-handed son of a bitch, and he hires men to do things his way.”
“This is the first time I’d seen Adler. I’d heard there was a new foreman, but I didn’t know what he looked like.”
Lodge held his eyes on Fielding. “And what does he look like to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be from around here.”
“I think you’ve got that right.”
“After a man’s been here awhile, he takes on the look of the country,” said Fielding. “His clothes weather to this climate, and he does, too.”
“That’s right,” said Lodge. “And I don’t think Cronin brought this fellow in because of his knowledge about runnin’ cattle on the northern range.”
Fielding smiled. “You mean he doesn’t look like a foreman to you.”
“Not as much as some.”
Fielding reflected. “You know, I didn’t even notice if he was wearing a gun.”
“If you see much of him, you will. And he carries a saddle gun, too. I’ve seen that.”
“Then you think he’s some kind of a—”
“The nice term is stock detective. If he hadn’t hired on as foreman, he might go by that.” Lodge raised his chin. “Can you get that coffeepot any closer to the coals? It’s takin’ a while to boil.”
“I can try.” Fielding took a stick of firewood, moved two rocks closer to the center of the fire, and set the coffeepot in place.
“I can tell you’re not in any hurry today. You’re not like these others that live on the trail—boil their coffee in a little can, and kick dirt on the ashes before the sun comes up.”
Fielding smiled. “I don’t have someone trailin’ after me.”
“That’s good.”
“I do need to go into town a little later on.”
Lodge gazed at the fire. “Yeah, I need to go in there one of these days, too. Boy, those bells have a pretty sound, don’t they? Meadowlarks sing right along with ’em.”
The talk ran on, touching on light topics. Lodge asked about the places where Fielding had been—what the grass was like, how the wheat farmers seemed to be doing, whether the snakes were out yet. When the visitor finished his cup of coffee, he stood up.
“Well, I think I’d better move on,” he said. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Glad you got some. I usually boil it in a little can.”
“I know.” Lodge untied his horse and turned toward Fielding before mounting up. “Thanks for the help you gave Bill,” he said.
“It wasn’t much.”
“Maybe not, but he appreciates it. Others of us do, too.”
“Thanks. That’s good to know.”
Lodge’s deep brown eyes looked away and came back. “Selby and Roe are plannin’ their own roundup. I’ll throw in what little I have. They could use another hand or two, if you’re still in the country.”
“I might be.”
Lodge took the sorrel out into the sunlight, where he checked the cinch and climbed on. “Come and see me in your life of leisure,” he said.
“I’ll do that.” Fielding watched as the horse and rider trotted off to the south, through the grassy valley where the belled horses were grazing.
On his way to town, Fielding took a detour to the southeast. He rode a buckskin that covered the ground at a fast walk and a smooth lope, so he crossed Hunter Creek before the sun was straight up overhead. He followed a cow trail for a ways and then cut across a meadow to a grove of cottonwoods. Coming out on the other side, he picked up the lane that led into the headquarters of the Buchanan Ranch.
A short-haired terrier came off the front porch of the ranch house, barking, and did not let up until the front door opened and a young blonde woman stepped out.
Fielding’s pulse quickened for a second. As the young woman called the dog to her, Fielding dismounted and led his horse forward.
Her voice had a pleasant tone to it as she said, “Good morning, Tom. I believe it’s still morning, isn’t it?”
“I think so. How are you, Susan?”
“Very well, thanks.” As she stood in the open yard, the sunlight shone on her straw-colored hair, which was tied up in a neat coil. Her high-necked white blouse and long, sky blue skirt also caught the light and added to her radiance.
“I hope I didn’t come at a bad moment.”
She frowned. “Oh, no. Why?”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt your dinner hour.”
She smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled. “Not at all. We won’t even start until Father gets back.”
“Oh, I see. Then he’s not around?”
“No, he’s in town. Or that’s where he went. Did you wish to see him?”
Fielding gave a jaunty toss of the head. “Well, that was my main reason for stopping by. But I wouldn’t want to be so blunt as to not give my best to you.”
She smiled again, this time showing her pretty teeth. “It’s nice of you to be so gallant, Tom.”
“Thank you. I couldn’t do it without inspiration.” He felt himself blush and he thought she colored as well, but he couldn’t be sure in the warm sunlight.
She gave a light laugh, then in her easy way moved to another topic. “I heard you went off on a delivery trip. I’m glad to see you made it back without any trouble.”
“It was all pretty easy, there and back.”
Silence hung between them for a few seconds. He let his eyes rove over her facial features, which were friendly but not revealing. It occurred to him that if she had heard one thing, she might have heard another.
They both went to speak at the same time, and then she laughed and said, “Go ahead.”
“You first.”
“No, you. I insist.” She gave him a mock-severe look.
“Well,” he began, “there was another little thing. You may have heard of it, and I wouldn’t want you to think that I didn’t want—or was trying to—”
“I think I know what you’re referring to. An incident with the men from the Argyle.”
“That’s it. I was hoping you wouldn’t—”
“Oh, don’t worry for my sake, Tom. I know you wouldn’t start something like that.” Her words lifted and hung.
“But—” he said.
“But it’s a dreadful thing to be drawn into, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” he answered, with some sense of how she might see it. “I’m just hoping I haven’t put some uncomfortable distance between me and your father.”
She tipped her head ever so slightly to one side. “Do you mean, for business interests?”
“For any reason. I don’t want to be on bad terms with someone because of other people’s squabbles.”
The tension seemed to relax as she gave an assuring smile. “Tom, you know my father is a fair man.”
“I know. That’s why I dropped in. I felt I could.”
“Of course.” Now her blue eyes were both soft and direct. “But I’m sorry you got drawn into that incident.”
“I just didn’t like to see the bullying.”
She looked down and then up at him again. “I don’t blame you. I felt bad for you, and I don’t want to presume to be telling you anything about it.”
“Please do.”
“You mean, what I think?”
“Exactly. Yes.”
