“I see…” The man rubbed his mustache in thought. After a moment, he stood, turned back around, and finalized the mail on the back counter. Taking it as their cue, Violet and Linus turned to leave, when the man spoke up one last time. “Them gloves you’re wearin’…They’d do well enough to save your knuckles from a proper bruisin’ next time.” He glanced over his shoulders. “For the stubborn horses, o’course.”
Violet’s smile turned a shade more genuine, and she and Linus left the post office to return to the others. The walk back to their current saloon was a pleasant one. Even with the brisk air and smell of rain, Violet was in a chipper mood. The morning after her altercation, she was sure there would be at least some heat from the local authorities. But Violet was pleased to see that nothing had come of it—not even rumors. Before leaving that day, Violet got her answer.