Trapper looked over at Four and Five, carrying two cornhusk dolls each. “I see some of the needs are questionable.”
“No, sir.” One smiled. “They needed them.”
Trapper scratched his head. “You know, One, someday you are going to run the world.”
“No, sir. I’m going to run the Rolling C Ranch.”
Trapper looked at Emery and whispered, “I have no doubt she will.”
Chapter 9
Trapper walked out of the trading post fully aware that the girls were imitating every move he made. They took long steps. Stuck their thumbs in their waistbands. Lifted their hats forward to shade their eyes.
He leaned close to Emery. “I have my army.” He grinned. “They may be small, but I wouldn’t trade them for gunslingers.”
When they got to the wagon, each one insisted on swinging their now-free legs into the wagon. Five tried twice and almost made it the second time before she fell back into Trapper’s waiting arms.
He tossed her inside, then touched two fingers to his hat in a salute. Number Five smiled and did the same. “Thanks, Tapper.”
When Number Three climbed in, her short, auburn hair was now free of the ugly wool cap. “I started something, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“What do you think the colonel will say about this? Your father’s bound to notice.”
“I doubt it. He doesn’t spend much time with us. Now and then he looks like he’s counting us, as if to make sure we’re all there or maybe he forgets how many daughters he has.”
“He remembers the number and each of you. He’s probably just making sure you’re all there.” Trapper had no doubt he’d counted to five a thousand times already.
He moved the wagon near the corral, and everyone seemed to have an opinion about which horses they should buy. Most looked worthless. Five wanted only white ones and Four wanted all the ones that looked like they were wearing socks.
One, Two, and Three climbed over the fence, laughing at how easy it was to do in Levi’s. They walked among the horses and chose three.
Trapper joined them and checked each horse’s teeth, legs, and eyes. He ran his hand from mane to tail and back again.
Each girl did the same.
“Pick your own mount, ladies. You’ll be the one taking care of them.”
Once they’d picked, Trapper took the time to show each girl how to saddle her horse. None of the mares were as big or would be as fast as his Midnight, but Trapper figured they’d do.
While the girls rode their horses around the corral, Trapper noticed the old drunk from the trading post was finally out in the sun.
“You picked my three best horses. Damn it.”
“I didn’t, they did,” Trapper answered.
“I didn’t sell you the saddles. You just going to take them? They are worth as much as the horses.”
“I’ll give you a twenty for the three.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Twenty. The girls can ride bareback to the next trading post if you don’t take the price.”
“Damn. You’re as tough to trade with as your daughter, mister.”
Trapper didn’t correct the old goat.