“Yep,” he nodded, reining his horse in beside hers. “I thought you might get lost, so I’ll be your guide.”
“Was it me or was it Val’s fudge,” Phyllis asked suspiciously, “that made you decide to come along?”
“Well now,” Tom drawled, a twinkle in his eye, “I reckon the fudge was an added inducement.”
“I thought so,” laughed Phyllis.
“That hunch of yours must have been strong to take you back to the ranch,” Tom declared after a while.
“It’s strange,” Phyllis frowned. “I can’t account for it.”
“Hunches are funny things,” Tom agreed. “Sometimes they’re right and sometimes--well, sometimes they’re not so good.”
“Do you get them?” Phyllis asked.
“Lots of times,” he agreed. “I remember once a couple years ago, I was out night riding with the herd. I made up my mind to return to the ranch in the middle of the night. I came to a fork in the trail and a hunch told me to take the trail to the right, so I did. Well, all of a sudden my horse balked and refused to budge another step. He was right stubborn about it too. I reckon I called him everything I could think of and used my whip a lot, too. But he just set back on his haunches and refused to go on.
“It was so dark I couldn’t see a thing of what was ahead an’ thought maybe Dusty was afraid of something. Usually he was the best-behaved horse on the K Bar O.”