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“Livy talks about Snowbird all the time,” Anna said.
“Riders love their horses like family sometimes.”
“Are you and Mama going to ride together?”
“Probably, but not today. We’ll take you with us when we do though.” He longed to suggest she reconsider letting him get her a mount of her own, but didn’t. She’d come to it in her own time when she was ready. “Was Felicity mean to you at school?”
“No, she wasn’t there today.”
As a doctor, he hoped she wasn’t ill, but as a father he was glad she hadn’t shown up.
“Hello!”
They turned to see Odell approaching. “Hey, Odell.”
“Hey, Doc. How are you, Anna?”
“I’m fine, sir.”
He stopped beside Colt and seeing Regan leading Star to the barn, he asked, “New mare?”
Colt nodded. “Yes.”
“Fine-looking animal. One of Prescott’s?”
“Yes. A wedding present.”
Odell smiled approvingly.
“What brings you by?” Colt asked.
“A couple of crates from Arizona and telegrams for Regan. Runner brought them over from the Laramie train station this afternoon. I’m headed home, so thought I drop everything off on my way.”
“Appreciate it. You need help with the unloading?”
“I do. Anna, did you draw those fish for me like you promised?”
“I did. Do you want to see?” she asked, more excited than she’d been all evening.
“Sure do.”
“Anna, you fetch your drawings and I’ll help Mr. Odell with your mama’s crates.”
She ran off and Colt followed Odell back to his wagon.
After the two large wood crates were carried inside, Odell left for home with Anna’s promised drawings, and Regan watched anxiously as Colt used a crowbar to pry off the top of the first crate. While he worked on the second one, she and Anna pulled out the newspapers and towels placed inside to keep the contents safe on the journey from Arizona. What they unearthed made Regan jump for joy. “My saddle!” She lifted it from the crate and beamed. The way the black leather and overlaying silver accents gleamed, it must have been reconditioned and cleaned.
Colt said, “That’s a mighty fine saddle. Leave it to you to have one of the fanciest ones in the Territory.”
She ran her hands over its familiar structure. “It’s really quite plain compared to some of the ones owned by the vaqueros.”
“So, it’s Mexican?”
“Yes. My aunt and uncle gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. What do you think, Anna?”
“It’s really pretty.”
Colt removed the top on the second crate and she and Anna made short work of the packing. Inside was tortilla flour, a variety of dried chilies, spices of all kinds, bags of black beans, yards of beautiful fabric that could be used for anything from drapes to reupholstering chairs, her favorite rolling pin, and a large tin of orange oil for her hair. And at the bottom, two letters, one from her Aunt Eddy, the other from Portia. Regan wiped away her tears.
