Chapter 8
Miss Lucille leaves when I start refilling the stables with hay. It fills the air with dust and makes talking difficult, if not downright impossible. I have a bandanna I pull up over my nose and mouth, but her dainty handkerchief offers little protection against the dust. As I work, I mull over our conversation. Why was she so interested in what I think of Maddy? Surely Miss Lucille owns a mirror, and can see with her own eyes how prettier she is than the saloon girl. Younger, too, and smart. I heard she attended a women’s college back east to learn how to run the ranch. I wouldn’t believe it—a school for women, really?—except she’s the one who keeps track of our earnings and, so far, I’ve never known her to short a ranch hand. Boss Daddy might be the brawn behind his business,
