Several men voiced their agreement.
Miles Carpenter moved closer to the rope fence encircling the horses. “Good work running off those thieves, Josiah.”
“I didn’t do it alone. Matt had a hand in it. In fact, he’s the one who first spotted them.” He flicked a quick glance toward Miles.
The news plainly caught the wagon master by surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Job well done, Matt.”
The kid was practically hidden behind the large bulk of one horse. Almost as if he would’ve preferred that no one took any notice of him.
He kept his head down as he replied, “Thanks.”
Miles held his lantern aloft to read the face of his pocket watch. “It’s almost midnight. Since you men assigned to the second watch are already here, we may as well change the guards now.” No one uttered a protest, and he continued, raising his voice to be heard by the small crowd that had gathered. “The rest of you folks head on back to the wagons and get some sleep.”
The group dispersed and soon only Josiah and Matt remained, still tending to the horses.
Josiah removed a hastily tied rope from around one horse’s neck. “I’m grateful to you for spotting the thieves when you did, Matt. If not for your vigilance, they might have succeeded in stealing the horses before we could stop them.” And that would have meant his livelihood. All his plans for starting a ranch in Oregon Country hinged on these horses. He patted the neck of the closest one. “Then you helped keep the animals from bolting. That puts me in your debt twice over.”
The kid’s back remained turned toward Josiah as he answered. “You’ve helped me a time or two. So, why don’t we call it even?”
“Fair enough.” Judging the horses sufficiently calmed, Josiah exited the enclosure, but moved no farther. “You should head back to the wagon circle.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“No. I’m going to bed down here for what’s left of the night.” This patch of dirt was just as comfortable as the spot where he’d intended to sleep near the covered wagons.
“Do you expect more trouble?” Though darkness masked Matt’s expression, a hint of worry sounded in his voice.
Josiah shook his head. “But I’ll rest easier if I stay close.”
“Well, then, good night.”
“See you in the morning,” Josiah returned.
The boy’s nod seemed stiff as he walked away.
Watching his retreating back, Josiah contemplated the puzzle that was Matt Prescott. Just when he thought he had the kid figured out, Matt did something to surprise him.
But perhaps the boy’s expertise with horses wasn’t so unexpected. After all, back in Tennessee Josiah had encountered his fair share of well-to-do gentlemen who were accomplished horsemen, though sadly inept in other respects.
Several of them had been willfully ignorant besides, with no desire to learn. That didn’t appear to be the case with Matt, however. Was it because he had no alternative but to adapt to a different life than the one he’d been raised to lead?
What was his story? The kid was strangely close-mouthed about himself.
Leaving Josiah to draw his own conclusions. How close those were to the actual truth, he could only guess.
The wind gusted across the prairie as Mattie staked the oxen out at the chosen night campsite more than a week later. Clapping a hand to her hat, she jammed it farther down on her head to prevent it blowing away.
Once the oxen were settled, she started back toward the wagon circle, passing the horse enclosure on her way. One mare stepped forward, her head stretched over the rope fence, seeking attention.
Josiah had ridden out on one of his other horses, as was his habit after the group made camp. He spent a good bit of time each day working with the green-broke horses on a rotating basis, furthering their training.
Mattie paused to stroke the mare’s soft nose, then saw the horse was favoring one leg, not putting any weight on it. She couldn’t see Josiah ignoring something like this—he cared too much about his animals to ever neglect one of them. The problem must have escaped his notice before he departed.
While she could wait and bring it to his attention upon his return, she could just as easily take a look at it herself.
Despite her words to Josiah several days ago, she didn’t consider them even. She’d simply spotted the thieves a few moments before they would have caught Josiah’s eye anyway. The balance was still tipped against her, and the fact that she owed him made her leery. A debt could be used to ruin a person, as she’d learned back in Saint Louis.
She never again wanted to be trapped in a position where she was beholden to anyone for anything. And seeing to Josiah’s horse right now would help serve as repayment, at least in part.
Her decision made, she ducked under the rope and moved to the mare’s side. Running a hand down the leg, Mattie didn’t find any signs of injury and lifted the hoof to examine it.
She discovered a rock lodged in the underside and worked to remove it. “You poor baby. Little wonder you didn’t want to stand on this hoof.”
Once the stone popped free, she released the mare’s hoof and straightened. The sound of approaching hoofbeats reached her ears, and she turned to see Josiah atop his mount.
Reining to a stop, he slid to the ground and stared at Mattie’s position inside the fence with his horses.
She shifted nervously under his regard and rushed to explain. “I was just removing this rock from her hoof.” She kicked the offending object out of the corral.
“I know. I saw what you were doing.”
Her palms grew moist, and she wiped them against her pant legs. “Then why are you looking at me as if I’m an undiscovered species of bug you’ve pinned to a board in order to study?”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Perhaps you are a previously unknown species, at that. You’re certainly not what I expected.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, then wondered whether she truly wanted to hear his unvarnished opinion of her—or rather him? Was she prepared for whatever Josiah might say? Probably not. But it was too late for her to call back the question.
“Well, it’s been my experience that most high-society gents leave the dirty work to others. Take Hardwick, for example. While he’s arguably a competent rider, I have yet to witness him caring for his own mount. Odds are, he’s never even considered removing a rock from a horse’s hoof, beyond ordering someone else to see to it. But you? You plainly have the know-how. I find that rather unusual.”
If he thought it unexpected in a male, he wouldn’t imagine for even an instant that a gently bred lady possessed such skills. Thus, she could be relatively certain he would never deduce her true identify. That was a relief. But he still seemed to be waiting for an explanation, and she had no idea what to say.
She supposed she could have told him that after her mother’s passing the stables had become her refuge when she needed to escape the oppressive atmosphere of mourning inside the house. Surrounded by the horses, she’d found a measure of peace. And the long hours spent in the barn meant she knew the grooms’ and stable hands’ jobs almost as well as they did.
But she only said, “A little work’s never bothered me. I like knowing I can take care of myself without the