He turned in his saddle as Eli’s gelding slowed to a trot. He looked over horse and rider, giving more attention to the horse than the rider, and when he was satisfied that neither was hurt, faced forward and waited for Eli to come abreast of him. Buster pulled down the scarf covering the lower half of his face and grunted a greeting. “Morning to you, too,” said Eli. He lifted the collar of his coat and tucked his chin lower. The wind was bitterly cold, and riding into the face of it had beaten ruddy color into his cheeks. “You’re up early.” Buster dug his heels into his mare’s sides and she started forward. “Keep up,” he told Eli. “You’re likely to freeze in place if you don’t. Damn brisk out here.” “Brisk. Yes. It’s that.” “So what are you doing out here? Not like you to come looking for work.” “I need your help.”
