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Zeeb stared at Toby. “He needs a doctor? How bad is he?”
“We’re not sure at the moment. But one thing is certain. He isn’t fit enough to drive to Wibaux.”
“That can wait, can’t it?” Walt frowned. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be today, does it?”
“Apparently it does.” Toby held his hands up. “And no, I don’t know why that is, so don’t ask me, okay? All I know is that horse has to be collected first thing tomorrow morning.”
Butch folded his arms. “I amnotdriving all that way on my own.”
“And we wouldn’t ask you to,” Toby assured him. “But… well, thereisa solution.” He glanced in Sol’s direction. “If Sol will step in at the last minute.”
Butch and Sol blinked in unison.
“Me?” Sol stared at him with an incredulous expression.
“I know,” Toby agreed. “It’s a lot to ask. But I can’t go, and neither can Robert. He’s got a meeting with the governor and the cattlemen’s association in Billings. With four guests, we can’t really spare any of the others. We were stretching them thin by taking Butch out of the equation. And we really don’t want to send him on his own.” He gave Sol a beseeching gaze. “You’d share the driving. We’d pay for your room at the inn. What do you say?”
Sol glanced at Butch. “I guess it all boils down to whether Butch can put up with my company for two days.”
Butch snorted. “Only if I get to choose the music for the trip.”
Sol chuckled. “Damn. You saw straight through me.” He turned to Toby. “Paul’s the expert around horses. What makes you think I’ll be any use?”
“The horse won’t give you any trouble,” Toby assured him. “He’s a fifteen-year-old Quarter Horse called Sorrel. Robert says he’s had a full life so far, and he’ll only be used in the paddock for first-timers and on easy trails. Strictly light riding because he’s arthritic.”
“And Robert’s buying him?”
Toby nodded. “He knows the owner, who also knows what kind of horses Robert has here. Sorrel will have the best life.”
Butch put Sol’s apparent reluctance down to one thing.
He doesn’t want to spend a couple of days with me for company.Not that Butch could blame him for that. They hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot.
Maybe this trip would give Butch a chance to make amends.
Butch nudged his arm. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”
Sol sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He fixed Toby with a hard stare. “But you owe me, okay?”
“No argument there.” Toby handed Butch a folder. “Here’s the address of the ranch, a photo of Sorrel, the online receipt, and your reservations at the Rodeway Inn.”
“Then I’d better grab that shower. If we leave after breakfast we can stop along the way for a bite to eat.”
His good intentions had backfired, because there was something he hadn’t considered. The prospect of at least thirteen to fourteen hours’ driving opened up one possibility Butch didn’t want to think about too deeply.
What the fuck are we gonna talk about for all that time?
One thing was certain. High school wouldnotbe on the list of topics.
Sol checked the map Toby had given him before they’d left. He’d just spotted the sign for Bighorn, which meant they were roughly at the halfway point. They’d stopped in Big Timber for coffee, and in another hour they’d reach Rosebud where they were going to stop for a bite, and Sol would take over the driving. Then two, two-and-a-half more hours before they arrived at the inn.
Thank God the seats were comfortable. He’d thought the map was pretty cute too.Who uses a map these days?Maybe that had been Robert’s idea.
Music had filled the pauses between small talk, but there hadn’t been any awkward silences, more of a peaceful, contemplative kind of mood that had felt comfortable.
Except Sol figured he’d listened to as much country music as he could take in one sitting.
“You’re the same age as Robert, right?”
