Wayward Wind (44 page)

“Well, I don’t know… ”

Cooper strolled the crowded aisles while he waited. Damn woman! Why didn’t she make up her mind? McCloud was right. A churn’s
a damn churn! Finally McCloud was carrying the heavy crock churn out to the wagon hitched in front of the store. He came back
in and motioned Cooper to the back of the store.

“Sorry about that, Cooper. Some women—”

“I’m looking for someone. Have you seen a woman in britches riding a big gray horse?”

“I knew you were agoin’ to ask. She was in here ’n bought a hat. She was a pretty little thing. My, but she was a pretty little
thing. She hadn’t been to town but a few times, she said. The little gal carried a bullwhip ’n a rifle ’n she looked like
she could use both of them.”

“That’s her. Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. She went to Mable’s to eat. I watched her go in. A few hours later her horse was gone, so guess she rode out.”

“How did you know I was looking for her?”

“She asked if I knew you. She also wanted to know where she could find Red Dunbar, that sonofabitch who works for Clayhill.”

Cooper groaned. “I was afraid of that. Thanks, McCloud. I’ll go talk to Mable.” He turned at the door. “If she comes back
in here, hog tie her till I get back.”

“I’m thinkin’ it’d be a job.”

Cooper didn’t answer. His bootheels beat a rapid tattoo on the boardwalk. He was so deep in thought he would have walked past
Griff and Kain if Griff hadn’t hollered at him.

“Cooper. Has she been here?”

“She’s been here. She was in the store and bought a hat. McCloud said she went to Mable’s to eat.”

Kain’s questioning eyes went from one man to the other.

“I ain’t got to that part a the tale, Kain. Ya know the woman that held Dunbar off with a knife till Cooper got there? She
come to town to find the men who burned down her house ’n killed her pa. She’s ’bout this high.” He held his hand up to his
eyes. ’N she’s black-haired ’n got blue eyes, not really blue, but purty as a picture. She’d be ridin’ a big gray stallion
that’s meaner ’n a steer with a crooked horn. Have ya seen her?”

Kain’s brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “An hour or so ago, a girl in britches flew into a teamster for beating his
mule. A crowd gathered and watched her put the mule in a three horse hitch. God, don’t tell me that’s the woman you’re looking
for. She’s a—”

“In britches?” Cooper asked. “That would be Lorna. Which way did she go?”

“Which way?” Kain echoed. “North.”

“You talked to her?”

“Briefly. She flipped the hat off a hothead with her whip. I sent him walking and took her to her horse in case he bothered
her again. But she said… ” Kain hesitated.

“Said what?”

“Said she was going to… The House.”

“The House? Good God! Do you mean Bessie’s?”

“She said she’d tell Bessie I helped her. I took it from that that she was… well acquainted with Bessie.” Kain looked at
Cooper’s suddenly pale face and saw the agony he was feeling. “Maybe we’re not talking about the same woman.”

Cooper turned his back without answering and headed for the Land Office where he’d tied his horse.

“I’m agoin’ with him, Kain. Will ya be here when I get back?”

“I’ll come along with you out to The House. I’ve got to see if we’re talking about the same woman. My horse is across the
street.”

Griff and Kain caught up with Cooper as he was leaving town. He didn’t even acknowledge their presence. He was lost in thought.
What in hell was Lorna doing at Bessie’s? Did she have any idea what kind of place The House was? Had she decided to become
a whore? Oh, Christ! She’d lost her mind! Seeing her father gunned down and her home destroyed had driven her out of her mind!

Lorna’s first instinct was to put her heels to Gray Wolf and get out of town as fast as possible. But her better judgment
won over her desire to flee; a fast-running horse would attract attention. She guided the handsome, big stallion into a leisurely
jog and made her way through the confusion of wagons, horses and buggies. Only when she was around the bend and out of sight
of town did she let Gray Wolf run. With the wind in her face and her hair floating behind her like a black cloud, her spirits
lifted, but only a little. It was wonderful to be free of the town, out in open space, away from the stench of slops, privies,
and so many people.

Despite her bravado when she left Kain, Lorna was unsure and frightened. The first heat of anger and the desire for revenge
had cooled and now she wondered if she had been wise to strike out on her own to mete out punishment to the men who had killed
her father and destroyed her home without first devising a plan.

Her depression deepened and the memory of the times she’d spent with Cooper worked at her with rebellious persistence. Her
dream had been to meet a man like Cooper. They would be friends and lovers and build a life together on the foundation Light
and Maggie had left on Light’s Mountain. Then,
bang!
All her dreams had vanished. All she had left were memories—Cooper’s lips nuzzling her neck, his fingers seeking the warmth
of her skin, the wild wanton desire that swept over her when she was with him. He no longer wanted her, she thought despairingly.
By spurning his offer of marriage, stealing away in the early dawn, and setting his stock loose she had more than likely killed
any feeling he’d had for her. She must face it—she was alone without family or friends.

Lorna allowed herself a moment of self-pity. Griffin and Bonnie had enough problems of their own without adding hers, and
Volney was still recovering from his run-in with Brice. When this was over she would winter with Volney, then decide what
she wanted to do. One thing was certain: she would never rebuild on Light’s Mountain. That part of her life was over.

She pulled Gray Wolf up so as to not wear him out in case he had to run. She felt safer and more confident astride her horse.
All her life she had ranged the length and breadth of Light’s Mountain either on foot or horseback, watching, hearing, feeling
and smelling all the moods and seasons of the timbered hills until she had become one with them. Asking nothing of anyone,
she had been completely self-reliant, free of any obligation to anyone except herself. Her life had been good until now.

She followed the two-wheel road until it came close to a shallow, swiftly moving stream, pulled up and studied her back trail.
Long ago Volney had taught her the way to survive was to watch her back and keep her rifle handy. She moved Gray Wolf down
to the stream and dismounted. While he drank she filled her canteen and studied the area around her; gently sloping hills
to the east, the road to the west. There was no sound but the twittering of birds, the singing of cicadas out in the sunlight
and the gurgle of the swiftly running stream. She reasoned she was less than a mile from The House, according to Mable’s instructions.
Remembering the letter in her pocket she reached for it, unfolded the single, yellow sheet and began to read;

Bessie, help this girl as a favor to me. She’s fresh out of the mountains and has got it in her head to dress up flashy like.
She’s looking for Red Dunbar and three more who killed her pa. Talk sense to her ’n send her home. Guess you can tell she
ain’t no whore.

Mable

Lorna looked at her reflection in the clear water. How could Bessie tell she wasn’t a whore? Would she be willing to help
her? Mable seemed to think so. She had forgotten to ask Mable about the girls at The House. She assumed Bessie ran a school
for rich young ladies if they had dresses to spare. It would be hard to face them in ragged shirt, baggy britches and old
blanket coat; but she had come this far, and there was no turning back.

Her one hope was that when she went back to town she would meet her enemies on a one to one basis. If that should happen she
had no doubt of her ability to even the score. She had already decided to kill Hollis; she had known that from the moment
she saw what he had done to her father. As far as Brice and Dunbar and Billy Tyrrell were concerned, she’d make that decision
when she met them. The burden of what she must do lay heavily on her slim shoulders, and she slumped wearily. Maybe by this
time tomorrow or the next day it would all be over, she could put this behind her and ride south again.

It was the middle of the afternoon. She’d had many new experiences already today. She couldn’t afford to think about them
now. She would file them away and think about them on her way back to pick up Volney. Climbing into the saddle, Lorna reined
away from the stream. Gray Wolf scaled the bank and crossed the narrow shelf to the road. She attempted to turn him north
and was brought out of her fanciful flight by Gray Wolf’s odd behavior. He danced, tossed his head, and his ears twitched
nervously. She looked to her back trail.

Two riders!

Instantly Loran recognized the lead horse as Brice Fulton’s buckskin. Somewhere they had picked up her trail and were coming
on fast. She wheeled Gray Wolf to send him north. She would pick the place to meet her enemies. Gray Wolf refused to respond,
wheeled and turned. Lorna’s eyes saw movement an instant before Hollis jumped his lathered horse off a small rise and onto
the trail ahead of her. He was there to cut her off.

Damnation! They had caught her unprepared. There was no time to get her rifle out of the scabbard and get off a shot. She
sent Gray Wolf back down the bank and across the creek. He went eagerly.

The big horse splashed through the water and was scrambling up the other side when a shot split the stillness. Gray Wolf faltered,
and then regained his balance. Gamely he dug in and made it to the top of the bank. Just as Lorna was turning him into the
trees she heard the shot and felt, simultaneously, the impact of the bullet that crashed through the big gray’s head. He dropped
from beneath her. Lorna jumped. She landed on her feet running. With her rifle in her hand, she plunged into the concealment
of the thick brush that grew beneath the timber.

“Damn you, you filthy, rotten bastard! “ she screamed.
Oh, Gray Wolf, they’d killed him!

Wild with anger and grief, she pumped a bullet into the chamber of her rifle. She could hear a horse crashing through the
brush and fired off a shot in that general direction before she scrambled upward through the tangle of red-leafed sumac to
a pile of boulders. Behind that she knelt on one knee, waiting.
They’d killed Gray Wolf!
The slime! Filthy hogs! Bastards! Gray Wolf was worth ten of
them!

There were no tears. There was no room for anything except the cold, deadly resolve to fight the men who had taken everything
from her; her home, her father and now her beloved friend. That she was outnumbered three to one didn’t occur to her. If she
wanted to run, she could hide among the thick pines that grew so profusely on the side of the hill; grew so thick it was impossible
for a horse to pass through them. On foot she was a match for any man.
But she was not running.
This was the showdown. It wasn’t the time or the place she would have chosen, and she had to fight them all at one time,
but so be it, if that was the way it had to be.

Suddenly Hollis came in sight, but a little way off. Without hesitation, she lifted her rifle and sighted. The bullet sent
his hat flying. She chided herself for being so hasty and cocked the rifle for another shot, but he had bent low over the
horse’s neck and she couldn’t bring herself to shoot the horse.

“Gawddamn ya to hell! Ya blasted bitch!” he shouted. He swung his horse quickly, scattering gravel along the creek bank. She
could hear the horse plunging, and Hollis swearing as he tried to control it.

Minutes paced slowly by. Lorna held herself still, straining her ears, her eyes searching the rim of rocks and the edge of
the timber along the creek bank. Nothing stirred, not even a bird. It was hot among the boulders. She removed her coat and
placed it and her knife on the ground beside her.

She had been careless. She realized that. The stop beside the creek cost Gray Wolf his life and would possibly cost her hers,
but what did it matter? She could justify her time on this earth if she ridded it of these varmints. She had lost everything
in the world that was dear to her. All that was left was the opportunity to make the men responsible pay.

Patience.
She could hear Volney’s gravelly voice. Most things that were worthwhile took patience. Without it no man should go into
the mountains. She had to wait and let them come to her.

Although her eyes and ears were alert, her thoughts wandered to Cooper. Would he know or care what happened to her? If Hollis
and Brice killed her, they would make sure that no one would ever find her body. Would Cooper remember the good things that
had happened between them, or the times she had screamed at him like a shrew, sneaked away from his ranch like a coward, and
run off his stock? She realized she might die right here. She didn’t want to die—

Something suddenly moved out there, but she held her fire. She couldn’t afford to shoot at something she did not see clearly.
She shifted her position, trying to see farther down the creek, watching for a chance to get at least one of her enemies.

“It ain’t no use, Lorna.” Hollis had moved to the north of where she thought he was. “Ya might as well come on out, give up.
I ain’t leavin’ without ya.”

She did not reply.

“We know where ya are. I don’t want to see ya get hurt none. ’N ya will if’n we got to rush ya.”

From down lower, among the maze of sumac, she saw sudden movement. She lifted the rifle but didn’t fire. The movement stopped
and she realized they’d been trying to sucker her into wasting a shot. Holding the rifle butt beneath her left arm, she picked
up the knife.

Ten minutes went slowly by, and then she saw a dark form move from the shadow of the brush north of the sumac and start up
the wash toward her. The minutes ticked by. Lorna hunkered down behind the boulder and waited. She held very still, listening.
And then, somewhere, not a dozen feet away, she heard the faint breathing of another human being. She stood just as Hollis
came out of the brush and into the open. When he saw her his face split in a triumphant grin.