Chapter 7
Shortly after noon I’m down on my hands and knees in the last stall, scrubbing the boards and not really thinking much of anything at all, when I hear the stable door open with a squeal of hinges. I sit up and lean back on my feet so I can look around the edge of the stall. It’s probably one of the ranch hands sent back for a lariat or a rein, or maybe someone’s horse threw a shoe. At any rate, it’s a break in the monotony and a diversion from the quiet of my own head for a few minutes.
But I see a swish of dress and quickly duck back into the stall. Miss Lucille’s low heels make no sound on the dry ground, but the buckles creak a little as she approaches, and there’s no denying the crinkling sound of her petticoats in the still, cool darkness of the stable. The only lantern ha
