Holmes on the Range by Steve Hockensmith

sir” from Uly.
    All this kowtowing apparently had Uly a bit buffaloed, for he’d made a rare mistake when he’d been barking at us a moment before. Unaware that the lady was through using us as her personal pack mules, he’d simply told us to get to work—without telling us what to do. As we saw it, that made us our own bosses for as long as we could make it last.
    Tall John volunteered to take care of our horses, something he could do at as leisurely a pace as he pleased with Uly occupied and Spider out on the range somewhere. Swivel-Eye said he was going to help the Swede get supper going, which really meant he was going to hang around the cookshack and see if he couldn’t get an early meal. And I chose to go back into the house to check on Lady Clara. After all, there might have been more heavy lifting to do, and it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to leave such work to the women.
    Swivel-Eye and Tall John saw right through me, of course, but they didn’t give me any guff but a couple of wicked grins.
    After the boys left, I lingered outside the office door again. All I heard this time was the opening of drawers, the rustling of papers, anda low murmur of voices that just about lulled me to sleep. After a minute or so, I began making my way to the second floor to avail myself of the decidedly more stimulating company we’d been blessed with that day.
    When I was about halfway up the stairs, I heard a door below me open, followed by the
clop
-
clop
-
clop
of someone taking the steps two at a time. I whipped around to see the rail-thin form of Young Brackwell flying at me—and then past me. When he reached the second floor, he hurried to the room Lady Clara had claimed for herself.
    â€œYou must come downstairs immediately,” I heard him say.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    Brackwell sighed. “They’re already going over the ruddy bookkeeping and the tedium is simply
killing
me. I made an excuse to slip out and—”
    â€œThey weren’t supposed to start without me.”
    â€œEdwards and old Dickie just couldn’t contain themselves. And you know how that horrid Edwards feels about women and—”
    Before he could finish, Lady Clara came storming out of the room and swept past me without so much as a glance in my direction. I didn’t mind being overlooked just then, for there was enough fire in her eyes to melt a man.
    Brackwell followed at a slower pace, dragging his heels like a fellow on his way to the gallows. When he saw I was eyeing him he brightened up, and he actually gave me a nod and a smile as he passed by. Why a high-class aristocrat, even as gawky and poorly tailored a one as this, should favor a low-class hand like myself with such friendliness I didn’t know.
    Downstairs, the lady went marching into Perkins’s office, and I managed to catch only two sharp words before Young Brackwell slouched in after her and closed the door.
    â€œGentlemen!”
    â€œClara!”
    Slam
.
    I started down the stairs again to catch what tidbits of conversation I could, but just then the front door flew open and Spider came striding in. He was still in chaps and spurs from saddle work, and clouds of dust gusted off him with each stomping step.
    â€œAmlingmeyer!” he snapped before he’d even seen me, leaving me to wonder how he knew I was in the house.
    I didn’t have time to wonder long. He caught sight of me on the staircase and waved me outside with an angry jerk of his hand.
    â€œListen good, you big, dumb son of a bitch,” he said once we were out on the porch. “You stay away from them Britishers. Shoot off your mouth around ‘em, and I’ll shoot off your damn
face
. Understand?”
    I restrained myself to a simple nod as opposed to the punch to the gut his words warranted.
    â€œGood. Now get over to the barn and help Tall John with the horses.”
    I nodded again and got on my way. As I trudged along,