Wayward Wind (28 page)

“It don’t make ya… sick?”

“Of course it don’t make me sick. Whatever gave you an idea like that?”

“But… yo’re a
laay!
A real one.”

Sylvia looked at her tear-streaked face, trembling mouth, and her enormous soft brown, dark-circled eyes swimming in tears.
Her skin was drawn tightly over her high cheekbones and she was thin to the point of gauntness. Her brown faded dress was
ragged and patched, and the wet spots on the bodice told her the girl had recently given birth and her breasts were leaking
milk. The man with her was little more than a boy, but they had looked at each other with a world of love in their eyes. Where
in the world, thought Sylvia, had Cooper picked up these two young waifs?

“Now, listen to me, Bonnie. I like to think of myself as a lady, but not a
prissy
lady,” she said gently. “I’m a woman who’s been through the mill. I’ve known hard times. I’ve been down to where I had one
dress to my name and washed men’s dirty drawers from mornin’ till night to put food in my little boy’s mouth. There’s not
much that I’ve not seen or heard, so it takes a heap to make
me
sick. I don’t know where you’ve come from or where you’re goin’, but my son brought you here and you and your young man are
welcome. You’re very welcome. Come on in, now, so we can get you cleaned up before the men come in for supper.”

Cooper paused in the door of the bunkhouse to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light. One of his men had told
him Volney Burbank, the old mountain man, was here, and how he’d come riding on in on the dun horse, his hand and foot mangled
and barely conscious enough to hang onto the saddle horn.

“Ya finally come back, did ya?”

Cooper’s eyes sought the far corner of the bunkhouse where the old man lay. “Finally,” he said as he went across the plank
floor. “How’re you doing, Volney? Louis says you came in here looking like you’d tangled with a wildcat.”

“Why I’m adoin’ jist fine. Cain’t ya see I’m jist alayin’ here takin’ my ease?” the old man asked waspishly. Two hostile blue
eyes glared up at Cooper from beneath bushy brows and a tangle of yellow-gray hair.

“I’m glad to hear it. Do you want to tell me how you came to be in such a fix?”

“No, I don’t want to tell ya nothin’, ’cause it ain’t none a yore business. But seein’ as how this here’s yore bunkhouse,
’n I been chowin’ down on yore vittles, I will. I snagged my toe on a stump.”

His grumpiness touched off Cooper’s impatience. “Don’t be stubborn and proud, Volney. Somebody worked you over and I have
a fair idea who it was.”

“Ya ain’t got no idea a’tall, young scutter! Mine yore own dadgum business. Kill yore snakes ’n I’ll kill mine.”

“If that’s how you want it, I’m sorry for prying.” Cooper was turning away when Volney’s voice stopped him.

“I been awaitin’ fer ya to get back. Ya sure took yore own sweet time.”

“I’d no reason to make a beeline home.”

Volney heaved himself up to lean against the wall, breathing hard from his exertions. “I got me a good ’mount a pelts stashed
in a cache not far off. They’d brin’ in five, six hunnerd or more.” The raspy voice subsided, and the gaunt old man’s piercing
eyes stared up at his still-faced friend. Cooper waited, knowing what was coming and knowing how difficult it was for Volney
to ask for assistance. “They be yores… ’n yore ma’s. She’s a smart alecky woman, yore ma is.”

“That she is,” Cooper admitted with a grin. “Was she after you to take a bath?”

“Wash yoreself! Shave yoreself! Eat! She perty neigh nagged me to death! She even came sasshayin’ out here with a peach can
fer me to use as a gaboon!” He spit a stream of yellow tobacco juice into the can beside the bunk. Blue eyes speared up from
beneath shaggy brows to glare at Cooper again. There were few things that rankled Volney like being obligated to someone.
The pelts would pay for his keep here, but forcing his concern for Lorna on Parnell was another matter. He hated this moment,
hated the words he was going to say, hated himself for being so goddamned old and careless that he’d let the thing happen
that made it necessary for him to say them. But for Lorna he’d do it at whatever cost to his dignity. “I got a thin’ to ask
ya—”

Cooper had thought he’d let the cantankerous old man suffer the humiliation of asking for his help, but he could see what
it was costing him to ask the favor.

“By the way, Volney, I’ve got a message for you,” he said in an offhand manner, as if what he had to say was of no importance.
“I met a friend of yours over on the Blue. She was a right sightly woman, even if she was wearing baggy old britches and carrying
a stiletto. She said if I run across a stinking old man that needed a bath and a shave to tell him she and Bonnie had made
out all right.”

The information took Volney so unaware he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and let his breath out with a whistle.
He blinked his eyes rapidly and his tired old shoulders slumped with relief, then straightened, and he glared at Cooper angrily.

“Wal, dadburnit! Why didn’t ya say so, ’stead a standin’ thar alollygaggin’ ’round?” His tone clearly indicated he was surprised.
He was also relieved and angry because Cooper had been making small talk when he could have told him, right off, and eased
his mind.

“I was going to. But you had your tail in a crack and I thought I’d let you squirm for a bit.” Cooper stroked the stubble
of whiskers on his chin absently. “It’s about time for supper—”

“By jinks damn, Parnell! Was them women all right?”

“Well, I’m no Sir Galahad, but I’d not have left them if they weren’t.”

“Who’s that Galahad?”

Cooper grinned. “Fella I knew once. Have you had your supper?”

“Yo’re jist as smart alecky as yore ma! I’m atellin’ ya, them women cain’t stay thar. If’n Brice Fulton don’t find ’em, ole
Clayhill’s pack a varmints will, ’n it won’t be no play party for them women. ’Sides, the cripple gal’s time’s ’bout on, ’n
it won’t surprise me none if’n she passed on havin’ that youngun.”

“She almost did. Most likely the beating she took killed the babe. Quit your fretting, old man. I brought Bonnie here to Ma
and took Lorna home. Her pa will look after her.”

Volney shook his grizzled head in a denying gesture. “He ain’t good fer sheeit! He ain’t done nothin’ but piss ’n moan since
Nora passed on.”

“I can’t do anything about that.” Cooper turned to go.

“Hold on fer jist a goldurned minute, Parnell.” Volney swung his good leg off the bunk and sat up. A grunt came from the tobacco
stained lips as pain knifed through him. “Yo’re shore closemouthed with yore words, mister. I’d jist as soon try to get blood
outta a turnip.”

“It’s the same with you, old man. When did you ever tell me anything that I didn’t have to pry out of you?”

“Thar weren’t nothin’ aneedin’ to be told till now. Now, I’m tellin’ ya that gal’s back thar on Light’s Mountain with a bunch
what’s meaner ’n a pit a rattlesnakes. Brice Fulton ain’t agoin’ to back up. He’d club his own granny if’n she crossed him.
Him ’n them what’s got shit fer brains’ll be pesterin’ Lorna ’bout where Bonnie’s at. ’N if’n they catch her off guard—”

“I met a couple of
them
—Hollis and Billy Tyrrell.”

“Thar! See thar! They was in on it. They helped Fulton—” Volney suddenly snapped his mouth shut, realizing he’d given out
more information than he intended.

A spurt of anger knifed through Cooper and a vow planted itself in his mind that he’d someday even the score for Volney and
Bonnie.

“His time’ll come, Volney. You can depend on it,” he said quietly.

“Parnell?” Griffin spoke from the doorway.

“Come on in,” Cooper said. “This is Volney Burbank, the man who took Bonnie and Lorna to the cabin on the Blue.”

Griffin came across the room. Volney glanced at him, then back to Cooper. “Did Lorna hear anythin’ from White Bull?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Sheeit! I was ahopin’ he’d come back ’n would be stayin’ fer a spell. Who’s this bird?” he growled, looking up at Griffin.
“What’re ya gawkin’ at? Ain’t ya ever seed a man laid up afore?”

Cooper glanced at Griffin to see how he was taking the old man’s sarcasm. His lips were quirking and he was trying hard to
keep a straight face.

“Wal, now that ya speak on it, I ain’t ne’er seen one all duded out in a dress like yo’re in.”

“Consarn it all!” Volney shouted. “Ya be one a them smart ass whippersnappers, do ye? ’Twas that muddle-headed woman what
took my britches ’n left this here confounded sack to cover my naked limbs. Ya watch yore mouth, hear? Elseways there’ll be
a real chicken flutter set-to when I get my legs under me agin.”

“I’m plumb sorry I riled ya, mister. No offense intended a’tall,” Griffin said humbly, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Abruptly his face sobered. “Fact is, I’m debted to ya for what ya done for Bonnie. I want ya to know I’m atakin’ her for my
woman, ’n I pay the bills for me ’n mine.”

“Ya do, do ya? Wal, now. Ya ain’t dry behind the ears yet. Ya best leave the likes of Brice Fulton to a man what’s been up
the Trace ’n o’er the mountain. That man be me, sonny.”

“If’n you say so, ole man,” Griffin said quietly.

There was something in his voice that made Volney Burbank take a second look at the slim young man. He met the boy’s downbearing
gaze. It was steady—unshakable. On widely planted legs, he loomed over him. There was nothing threatening in his stance, only
absolute confidence.

After what seemed an eternity to Cooper, who stood watching, Volney nodded his grizzled head. Griffin dipped his in reply.
It appeared to Cooper as though, at this moment, a silent bond had been forged between the very young and very old man.

It took almost a week for Cooper to catch up on the work he needed to do around the ranch. It would have taken longer but
for Griffin. Although the young nester’s shoulder was still sore and stiff, he assisted a mare with a difficult birth, treated
cuts, pulled broken teeth, lanced boils and acted as general veterinarian; treating everything that walked on four legs that
had a need for it. He had a way with animals and Cooper was impressed with his knowledge of doctoring them and the sensitive,
caring way he went about doing it.

The night Cooper came home Sylvia told him about Adam Clayhill’s visit, leaving out the gross insults he’d heaped upon her,
and told of his threats to waylay Arnie Henderson and cripple him if she didn’t persuade her son to go to Clayhill Ranch and
take up residence. It was a relief to share this concern with her son. She had already told Arnie, and he had assured her
that he would take extra precautions, but that threatening and doing were two different things and he doubted Clayhill would
carry out his threats.

“I’ve been pondering on paying that old sonofabitch a visit,” Cooper said with slow deliberation. “This goes a long way to
helping me make up my mind.” On seeing the look that crossed his mother’s face before she could hide her fear, he told her
about the place on the Blue and that he and Griffin planned to file for the land. “I want the old man to know I’ve got a hand
in on that place and if Griffin’s bothered anymore by Clayhill riders he’ll answer to me.”

“Oh, Cooper! Right now he wants to claim you as his son, but he could turn against you in the time it would take to bat an
eye and have you waylaid and killed. Adam Clayhill is the most unpredictable, unscrupulous man alive.”

“Ma, I’ve told you this before. If it comes to it, I’ll kill him before he does harm to me or mine. That goes for anything
he does to Arnie, top, as I reckon he’ll be part of the family soon. When do you expect him to ride this way again?”

“Probably not for another week.” Sylvia could feel the color on her cheeks as her tall son grinned at her. “Oh, you—” she
sputtered and stomped into the house.

It took just twenty-four hours for Bonnie to lose her shyness with Sylvia. Her confidence grew as the two women worked side
by side in the spotlessly clean kitchen. Sylvia was easy to talk to and Bonnie talked about her childhood, her life with Brice,
and meeting Cooper and Griffin as they made preserves, dried apples and berries, apple butter, saurkraut and pickles. She
told her about Lorna and Light’s Mountain, but was careful not to mention anything about Lorna being attracted to Cooper because
she was sure he hadn’t spoken to her in that way to his mother. She told about the difficult birth and how the men had found
them in the cabin on the Blue.

Sylvia insisted that they make a couple of dresses for Bonnie out of goods she had put aside. One was a light butternut brown
for everyday use and the other a blue print she would wear to be married in. Sylvia tried to not show her astonishment when
Bonnie, using her one hand, threaded her own needle, tied the knot and made neat small stitches on the cloth. This was clearly
the happiest time in Bonnie’s life. She was being shown more kindness here, by this woman, than she’d had during her entire
life. And she had Griffin, whom she loved with all her heart and soul.

Bonnie took over the care of Volney, taking him his meals, seeing to his wants, and spending some part of each morning and
each afternoon sitting beside him. Sometimes he slept, not even knowing she was there. Since Cooper had come home the old
man seemed to have lost his desire to hurry and get well so he could get back to the mountains he loved. It was as if the
reason for leaving the Parnell ranch was no longer there. Griffin, too, spent considerable time with him each evening, and
one time after hearing him fret over his dun horse, Griffin brought the animal to the door of the bunkhouse so Volney could
see the animal was being cared for.

Time moved uneventfully down the corridor of busy days until one evening at dusk. Louis, the ranch hand, came galloping his
horse into the ranch yard, jerked him to a stop and yelled for Cooper. Cooper got up from the supper table and automatically
pulled his hat down on his head before he hurried to the porch.