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Zeeb let out an explosive snort, then quickly got himself under control. “I came out here to tell you the food is disappearing mighty fast, so if you want feeding tonight, you’d better get your ass in there.”
Diana laughed. “And that’s my cue to go see Robert.” She patted Butch’s arm. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Anytime.”
She gave a nod to Zeeb before strolling toward the sloping path that led up to the big house. Butch watched her. Diana had been a wild filly in her youth, but age had given her grace of movement.
Then he realized how quiet it had gotten. He glanced at Zeeb, to find him staring, arms folded.
“And what precisely is she thankin’ you for?” Zeeb’s eyes gleamed.
“None of your damn business.” Butch inclined his head toward the bunkhouse. “I guess I’d better grab some supper.” He walked off, following the sound of raised voices and laughter.
He loved the company of his fellow ranch hands, but sometimes he liked the peace and quiet of being alone with his thoughts.
Well, withsomeof them.
Butch hung his hat on a peg beside his bunk, then sat on the edge of the bed. The new guests seemed to have settled in fairly well: the two sisters were on the upper floor—a pair of middle-aged women excited to ride the trails—and two guys who were in with the rest of the hands. They were asleep, buried beneath thin blankets.
Walt Crosby glanced at their bunks. “They looked worn out already,” he said in a low voice. “How are they gonna cope with getting up at the crack of dawn every day?”
“Well, they’ll either cope, or they won’t.” Butch grinned. “I can have a pail of cold water ready if we need to get ’em out of bed.” He gazed toward the end of the bunkhouse where Zeeb lay on the top bunk. Butch stood and strolled over to him, resting his arms on the mattress. “What were you mumbling about over supper?”
Zeeb rolled onto his side to face him. “I was sayin’, I’m gonna be forty next month. Forty! Where’d the time go?”
Butch let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, the older you get, the faster the years speed by. Don’t sweat it. Forty’s nothing to worry about.” He grinned. “Although you might come across as a little younger if you did something about that grey in your beard.”
Zeeb glared at him. “Ain’t nothing wrong with showin’ a bit of silver. Women dig that.”
“So how’re you gonna celebrate?” Walt asked.
“I wanted to do something I’ve never done before.”
Butch arched his eyebrows. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Zeeb rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about going to a casino. I’ve seen ’em on TV, but I’ve never stepped foot in one. So I reckon I’ll give it a shot.”
“Then start saving,” Walt commented. “Money can drip through your fingers in those places. My uncle was a gambler. Mom says he lost ten thousand dollars in one night once.”
Zeeb whistled. “No shit.”
“You figurin’ on going to Vegas, then?” Butch inquired.
He snorted. “Hell no. I was thinking ’bout someplace closer to home. There’s the Magic Diamond casino in Livingston. Or there’s the Jackpot Paradise, Lucky Lil’s… I was planning on drinking and playing cards till they kick me out, then spending the night in a fancy hotel. The Murray would do at a pinch. Who knows? If I win big, I might even find me some company for the night.” He grinned. “You boys can come along too. Just don’t expect me to share a room with any of ya.”
“Can you all stop talking and go to sleep?” Paul whispered from his bunk. “It’s late. Save the conversations for the morning.”
He had a point.
Butch sighed. “G’night, boys. Let’s be ready for a new day.” He wandered back to his bunk, stripped off his clothing down to his shorts, then lay on top of the blanket. He switched on the little night light hanging above him, and folded his arms under his head, Zeeb’s words dancing in his mind.
Livingston. The Murray.
Livingston had been his dirty little secret—until the day someone had uncovered it, and that had changed everything. He’d gone there for the first time when everyone had been dancing their feet off after Diana’s wedding.
Butch had been in no mood to dance.
All he’d wanted was to get blind stinking drunk.
