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were still drawn together in mutinous disaffection.
    "Yup, sure am," he replied with an impudent smile. "Won't hurt you to go to Paris anyways. Hear tell Paris is right nice this time of year… it being spring and all."
    "Then you should go, Reggie, and save me the trouble." "If'n I could have stood it being out East all those years goin ta school, I surely would go ta help Miss Empress out." Empress was the darling of all the staff. Not only was she kind to everyone, but she was regarded with awe as the only woman who'd been able to domesticate the most scandalous bachelor in Montana.
    "It's damn tedious work, Reggie; I'd rather stay here." "Well, it's damn tedious work carryin' a baby for nine long months too and Miss Empress ain't been getting too much sleep with the new baby and all, so I reckon you ain't got much choice. Now don't ride Golden Girl here too hard with your temper up and I'll be here waitin' for you at half-past. Don't be late." "You're impertinent, Reggie. I should have you sacked." "Don't know exactly what impertinent mean, Miss Daisy, but you still better be back here at half-past. And if your Pa didn't need me to run this here stable so perfect, maybe you could sack me. But he do." His grin was friendly and wide. Since Daisy had been in short skirts he'd been lecturing her and listening to her, too, whenever she needed a sympathetic ear.
    "I may not come back," Daisy declared, turning her pony's head down the drive, her pouty smile reminiscent of a young girl's.
    "Half-past, Miss Daisy." Reggie's voice followed her down the immaculately raked roadway. "Sharp."
     
    Riding bareback with the minimum lip rein she'd learned to handle before she was four, Daisy kicked her sleek mare into a gallop before the end of the driveway. Their town home was on one of the outlying streets, allowing some pasture for their horses and some privacy, allowing also escape from the city in record time.
    Daisy galloped full-out to the low surrounding foothills, relishing the fresh spring breeze, the warm sun, the smell of blooming flowers and new young leaves. She crooned to Golden Girl, bending low over her neck, seeking the comfort of her silky warm coat and scent, security sensations from her earliest years, solace and pleasure combined. Dressed in leather leggings and moccasins, with a warm wool shirt to shield her from the coolness of the mountain air, she broke away from the confining dress and constrictions of her workday life, from the pressures of court and the spiteful, narrow ignorance of judges like Ryan Nott. She rode each day for spiritual rejuvenation and therapy. She rode into the mountains to talk to her spirits, to assure herself of her Absarokee heritage, to affirm her identity.
    Golden Girl dug in as she began the gradual ascent, tossing her head, snorting at the freshening scent of the mountains. Knowing she was on familiar trails, free herself from the confinement of the stable, she danced a few steps in excitement.
    Some time later, a few hundred yards short of the limits of the timberline, coming out of a shimmering aspen grove colored the lemon-green of early spring, Golden Girl slowed to a trot, then to a walk. Recognizing the small pasture, she moved toward the rushing stream tumbling down from the snowcapped mountaintop and, lowering her head, drank from the ice-cold water. Daisy sat immobile, her eyes unfocused on the beauties of nature, brooding on her dragooned excursion to Paris, until the mare's head came around in inquiry and she snuffled softly as if to say, "Why haven't you dismounted?"
    Smiling at the equine prodding, Daisy slid off. "I may not go back today," she muttered as though her Indian pony could understand. Letting the leather bridle-rope trail on the grass, she patted the muscular hindquarters of her pony. "Go eat your fill, girl."
    A spiritual bond existed between them very near at times to a communicative one. Golden Girl responded to her moods with understanding… like Reggie,