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“Blue?”
“My horse.”
“Oh yes. Of course.”
He watched her watch him. In truth he wouldn’t mind looking at her all day and she seemed torn between staying and fleeing. She finally muttered “I have to go” before beating a hasty retreat. Chuckling to himself, he went back to the dishes. He was enjoying MissPortia Carmichael, probably more than Rhine would like so he needed to pull back on the reins a bit. If he could.
Kent saddled Blue a short while later, and rode off to do some exploring. Mountains both far and near were everywhere he looked, as were valleys, clear running streams, and stands of thick forest. One of the reasons he’d hated being at Howard was that there’d been no peace or silence. All the noise and commotion from the streetcars and crowds was so overwhelming it didn’t allow a man to think. The wide open spaces that made up the West were far better. He waded Blue into a standing pool so the stallion could drink. Savoring the surrounding beauty, Kent thought he would enjoy living here. For some reason he felt more settled and content than he had in a long time. Even though he’d only been back with Rhine and Eddy a day, it was as if all the years of drifting like a windblown tumbleweed had finally led him back to them in a way that felt as if he’d come home. He sensed he could put down roots here, build a home of his own and maybe find a wife and raise some children, which surprised him because he’d always been too restless to contemplate the possibility of marriage and a family. But in truth, he was tired of drifting, tired of being alone with no set place to come home to at the end of the day and having nothing to call his own but his horse, saddle, and the clothes on his back. He looked up at the cloudless blue sky, felt the gentle breeze on his face, and wondered what it was about this place that seemed to ease his loner’s soul. He had no answer but was willing to stick around long enough to find out. With that in mind, he reined Blue around and headed back to the hotel.
Entering the hotel, he wondered how the family was faring with the death of their friend Blanchard, and if Rhine had returned. Thoughts of Portia’s whereabouts arose as well, but he set them aside for the moment. When he reached Rhine’s office the door was open and Kent saw him inside at his desk.
“Come on in,” Rhine said to him.
Kent took a seat. “Wanted to convey my condolences.”
“Thanks. Blanchard was good man and we cared about him very much. Especially the girls. When they were growing up he taught them everything from how to ride bareback to building a smokeless fire. We’ll miss him.” He paused and asked, “Are you settling in?”
“I am. That bed is going to spoil me for the rest of my life, though.”
Rhine smiled knowingly. “Only the best at the Fontaine Hotel. You told me you’d been a foreman?”
“On a couple of outfits.”
“Are you up to doing it again?”
“Sure. Where?”
“The Blanchard place. His daughter’s decided she doesn’t want the property so I made her an offer that I’m hoping she’ll accept. Portia has been keeping his books and his son-in-law wants them reviewed before going forward.”
“Did he have a foreman?”
“Yes, but he wants to move on. Says the place won’t be the same without the old man.”
Kent understood. When a long-time owner sells, or as in this case dies, a new regime often brings change to the old employees along with a level of uncertainty as to how the place will be run. “Is it cattle or horses?”
“Horses mostly but he has a small herd of longhorns.”
“What about the other hands? How many are there?”
“Small outfit so only five counting the foreman. Blanchard used to break wild horses to supply the army but demand’s faded. He now buys from an outfit up near Prescott and sells to individuals. He also maintains the mounts our guests ride.”
“So no riding up to Montana or Wyoming for wild mustangs.”
“No. Is that a problem?”
“Not really. Spent almost a decade chasing and breaking stallions and mares. After busting my collarbone twice, my wrists too many times to count, and my leg in two places a few years back, being a gentleman foreman may be just what I need at my age.” The leg break had been so severe that, though healed, it still pained him in damp weather.
Rhine cracked, “You are getting fairly long in the tooth.”
“Yours will always be longer.” The shared grin reminded Kent just how much he’d missed having him in his life.
They spent the next few minutes talking about salary. Kent thought the figure Rhine offered to be fair.
“As I said, Portia’s been handling Blanchard’s books and payroll, and I don’t see that changing once I’m the new owner. She’ll also take care of ordering of any supplies you can’t get in Tucson.”
Kent wondered how she’d feel about his taking over as foreman. He found himself looking forward to interacting with her on a regular basis.
“You’ll need to sit down with her and go over how the dude ranch visits are handled, too, since she’s the one who coordinates it all. Any questions on anything we’ve talked about so far?”
