"That bay. His name is Apollo. He's the major's favorite mount."

"You don't say." Kit opened the door and stepped out of the stall.

The mongrel sniffed her while the young man looked her over critically. "I'm Magnus Owen. Major said he hired you last night after he caught you sneakin' out of the stable."

"I wasn't sneakin'. Well, not exactly. That major of yours has a naturally suspicious nature, is all." She looked down at the mongrel. "That your dog?"

"Yep. I call him Merlin."

"Looks like a no-account dog to me."

Magnus's smooth, high forehead puckered indignantly. "Now, why do you want to say somethin' like that, boy? You don't even know my dog!"

"I spent yesterday afternoon asleep in that stall over there. If Merlin was any kinda dog, he'd of been mighty annoyed about that." Kit reached down and absentmindedly scratched behind his ears.

"Merlin wasn't here yesterday afternoon," Magnus said. "He was with me."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'm just inherently prejudiced. The Yankees killed my dog, Fergis. Best dog I ever knew. I mourn him to this day."

Magnus's expression softened a little. "What's your name?"

She paused for a moment, then decided it would be easier to use her own first name. Behind Magnus's head she spotted a can of Finney's Harness Oil and Leather Preserver. "Name's Kit. Kit Finney."

"A mighty funny name for a boy."

"My folks were admirers of Kit Carson, the Injun fighter."

Magnus seemed to accept her explanation and was soon outlining her duties. Afterward, they went into the kitchen for breakfast, and he introduced her to the housekeeper.

Edith Simmons was a stout woman with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and strong opinions. She'd been cook and housekeeper for the former owner and had agreed to stay on only when she'd discovered that Baron Cain was unmarried and there'd be no wife to tell her how to do her job. Edith believed in thrift, good food, and personal hygiene. She and Kit were natural-born enemies.