let me get on with it.’
Silence then as Leola lingered several moments over the cards.
‘Well, yeah,’ she said at last, ‘I can’t say they’re good cards. You’re right. Too many spades.’
‘Does this mean we aren’t going to get the money we need?’
Leola raised a hand to shush Dixie. ‘The eight of spades right here – this first position, it’s your past. Talking about what kind of history’s influencing your question. And eight of spades, well, it says you’re in a situation you ought to get out of, Dix, but you aren’t willing to leave it. I’m thinking that’s Billy.’ Leola looked up. ‘Don’t you?’
Dixie said nothing.
‘This five of spades, it tells me you’re going to change your opinion. You’re going to come to your senses. I’m thinking you might get that money, but it’s going to come at a cost in other ways. There’s going to be rivalry, jealousy. That’s what an eight and a five of spades together talks about. So you’re in some kind of mess with Billy and you’re going to have to struggle with him. And see, the five of diamonds says that too. That your money worries are going to be a right struggle for you. There’s two fives here. Disappointments. Then that’s when the joker shows up. It’s the joker here that worries me. That card is your challenges card and it’s the wild card. You’ve got something coming up that you just totally don’t expect.’ Leola paused. ‘I’m feeling that … what you think now is the situation – money – well, that isn’t really going to be what you end up focused on.’
Skipping over two, Leola tapped the final card, a six of spades. ‘That card’s actually good, though, where it’s at. Whatever’s happening to you, even with this here unexpected challenge, you’re going to come out of it all right. Keep that in mind, whatever comes up. Because this here last card is telling me that your troubles will pass at the end. I’m thinking there’s going to be a journey involved. Six of spades always means movement. Can’t tell if it’s a real journey or just journeying through life. You’re going to need this to succeed …’ She pointed to the two of clubs. ‘That’s an intuition card. Being here in the sixth place, that tells me that intuition is what’s going to help you most in dealing with the joker, so don’t forget that. Don’t rely on what others – what Billy – tells you. Two of clubs says to rely on your own instincts.’
Leola drew in a long breath. Sliding her finger back to the fifth card, the nine of spades, she tapped it softly. ‘This nine coming after the joker. Talks of losses; that’s not good news. You’re going to have worries about what to do with this unexpected challenge. I wish I could say better to you, but the truth is, Dix, you’ve got a real struggle ahead. Lots of disappointment and opposition in these cards. You’re going to have to fight hard to get here …’ she said and touched the six of spades again, ‘to get to where your sorrows pass.’
Dixie sighed. ‘I didn’t actually need cards to tell me that.’
Chapter Seven
Opening the side door, Spencer let himself into the barn. In the moments that it took for his eyes to adjust from dazzling sunshine to the daylight darkness inside the building, he stood quietly, deep breathing to release tension, the way his yoga instructor taught him, in order to draw in the peace he sensed in the warm, complex scent of horses and molasses-coated feed mingled with straw, wood and the ever-present pine-and-sagebrush tang of the mountains.
Beyond came the quiet rustling of the animal in his stall. Spencer approached. The horse lifted his head.
‘Hey, Ranger. How you doing?’ Spencer held his hand out flat to show the mint candies.
The horse’s ears twitched forward. Crossing the stall, he reached out and delicately picked the mints from Spencer’s palm.
The door at the other end of the barn slid open and Guff entered. ‘Morning, Mr Scott. I was just coming to saddle him for you.’
No screenwriter could have invented Guff. He didn’t look like a cowboy, more like a casting reject for a mall Santa Claus. Not that he was fat exactly, but a fair bit of extra weight hung over Guff’s belt. Short and bald except for white tufts near his ears, all he was missing in the Santa Claus department was a white beard. That, and decent skin. He had some condition, probably from the sun, that left his complexion a scaly assortment of sunset colours. None of this slowed Guff down any, however, as despite being seventy-two, and looking every day of it, he could spring up onto the back of a horse with a graceful agility that Spencer’s personal trainer and two hours a day at the gym had yet to give him.
Horses were what it was all about for Guff. He wasn’t a horse whisperer exactly. Even Spencer knew that horse whispering was probably just a romantic idea invented for the movies. What Guff had was a grittier, more obsessive connection with the animal that meant he really couldn’t think, talk or even live with anything else but horses. In fact, that was how Spencer had acquired him. He had come with Red Ranger.
This had seemed hysterically funny to Spencer at the time – that a man should belong to a horse and be sold right along with it, because that’s pretty much how it happened. In LA, he had often told this story as entertainment to illustrate what a curious world Montana was. But then Ranger wasn’t just any horse. He was the first quarter horse to take all three top cutting prizes and achieve National Cutting Horse Association Champion on his first year out, and Guff was his trainer, his rider, his carer and everything else to Ranger except his owner.
When Spencer had first decided he wanted to buy a horse, horses were just horses to him. He had never heard of ‘cutters’ – horses that were able to ‘cut’ a single cow out of a herd of cattle – nor the highly competitive world cutters belonged to. The first time one of the locals had taken him to a cutting championship, it was as if Spencer had happened across a secret society, what with the elaborate rules, the special clothes, the almost holy devotion to the horses. Spencer couldn’t quite get into it, but he had always appreciated quality and he liked owning the best. At $65,000 Red Ranger was just that. Guff had been a bonus. He was insanely devoted to the horse and he instinctively knew what he should be doing to keep both the animal and Spencer happy. He knew, for example, to ‘run Ranger off’ in the mornings, as he called it. Spencer wasn’t an experienced horseman. He’d hardly ever been on a horse before buying the ranch, and he didn’t have the time to acquire such skills. Guff understood this. He knew Ranger was ‘too fresh’ at the start of the day for Spencer to control, so he always took the horse out first thing so that if Spencer felt like riding later on, Ranger would be quiet enough. Spencer never had to tell him what to do. Nor did Spencer have to tell him to stay down in the barns and not come up to the house asking for coffee or expecting to be a part of what was going on there, like some of the other local help had. When Spencer stayed at the ranch, Guff always kept to himself, except when horses were needed, and even then he was good about not talking or making too much eye contact with Spencer or his friends, which was important. The whole point of getting away from LA was to not be stared at. Spencer liked that Guff just knew all this stuff naturally.
Spencer stroked the horse’s neck, ruffling up under the mane.
‘We been out along the ridge,’ Guff said as he pulled the saddle blanket from where it had been draped over the side of the stall. He lofted it up on to the horse’s back. ‘Up over the top and down that draw where all the aspen are, all the way down to that slough at the bottom, Ranger and me, we seen a moose and her calf this morning. It’s pretty new.’
‘I’d like to see that,’ Spencer replied. He walked with Guff as he led Ranger out into the corral. ‘And listen, if you see the boy … I’m trying to
