Chapter 9
I find Miss Lucille out by the stable. I assume we’ll take the coach, since it’s covered and the sun is high, but she’s hitched up one horse to the small cart the ranch hands sometimes use to carry lumber or hay. It has a flat bed with raised sides and a board in front for a driver. As I approach, Miss Lucille gives me a bright grin that shows none of her earlier exasperation. “Hop on up, Mr. Nat.”
Taking the reins from her, I do as I’m told. “I thought we’d be taking the coach.”
“That stinky old thing? I can’t stand the smell of Daddy’s cigars on a good day.” Miss Lucille grabs her skirts in both hands and holds them up, exposing her ankles and half her legs as she clambers up beside me. When she sits down, her dress spreads out around her like a pat of melted butter, and she
