"After a fashion. I spent a summer vacation as a ranch hand in Wyoming once."
Margaret concentrated on Hall's feet for a minute. "Oh, I can fix you up with boots and breeches. You sit here and I'll go on up, change, and find you riding things. Just turn on a radio and relax or fix yourself a drink while I'm changing."
She went upstairs to her room. Hall lit his pipe, turned on the radio. He found a program of Mexican marimba music.
"That's swell," Margaret shouted through the open transom of her door.
He could hear the water splashing into the bath upstairs. He lay back and closed his eyes, the radio keeping him awake. In San Hermano, the announcer looked at the studio clock, gave the station's call letters, and read another "no change" bulletin on the health of the President.
"Matt ..."
"Ready so soon?"
"Come on up to my room. It's the third door to the left of the stairs."
"Sure."
"Would you shut off the radio, too?"