Given the speed of his retreat, he certainly hadn’t lingered to pick anything up. He might have returned earlier this morning to retrieve them, but I doubted it. Abandoning my fruitless search, I walked back along the river toward the Lazy M. It was time for a heart-to-heart with Selma Mann. She was crossing from the house to the barn when I arrived, several bridles slung over her arm. The smell of saddle-soaped leather wafted toward me on the breeze. I caught up to her as she was returning the bridles to their hooks. “Ready to go for a ride?” she asked, gesturing toward a big bay gelding. “I’ve been trying to lure you onto a horse ever since you arrived. Tecumseh there rides like a Cadillac.” He sounded wonderful, but I wasn’t here for recreation. “Sorry, I just want to talk. Can we go in the house?” After giving the bridles a final tug to even out their reins, she nodded. “I need to take a break, anyway. How about some coffee?
