Wayward Wind (8 page)

“Brice? Is that his name? I’ll kill him if’n I come onto him,” Griffin said in a tone that clearly stated he meant what he
said. He picked up Bonnie’s thin, blue-veined hand and looked at the broken nails, the cuts and scratches. “Poor thing. She’s
had to do ever’thin’ with this one little hand. If she can do that, I oughtta be able to bear up with a name like Fort Griffin.”

“Oh, Griffin! You’re a good man,” Lorna breathed, caught by the emotion in his voice and the sadness reflected in his eyes.
Her voice was tight, almost choked. “I’ll go down to the creek and wash,” she said suddenly. “Then I’ll sit with Bonnie while
you sleep.”

Lorna left the cabin. She was a solitary person and needed time to be alone. She walked out into the light of a half moon
that rode high in the clear sky. She could see the outline of the man sitting beside the creek with his face turned toward
the cabin and deliberately went toward him so he would see her, then moved behind him and on down the rocky bank of the creek.
She could feel his eyes on her, but she wasn’t afraid. He’d not follow her. The image of his face came to her clearly out
of the darkness. She knew him long ago, in another place and time. The thought flashed through her mind and for the space
of a dozen heartbeats her steps were unsteady. Granny said she’d felt that way about Grandpa—she said Maggie knew when she
first set eyes on Light that she was his woman. Lorna had known Cooper Parnell before. She didn’t know when or where, but
they were together, just the two of them. The thought was not startling and it hung stubbornly in her mind. She made no effort
to shut it out. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Only this life mattered, and she would know if he was the one.

Cooper saw the shirt in Lorna’s hand and knew she was going to bathe. He also knew her reason for coming toward him when she
could have saved steps by going directly to the creek; she wanted him to know that it was her out there in the darkness and
not someone trying to sneak up on the cabin. Good thinking, Cooper thought, but how could she have known that he’d not follow
her and have his way with her? She was the most disturbing, baffling, exciting woman he’d ever met.

He sat on the rock and time passed slowly. He drew a deep breath and tried to calm the unease that had been fermenting in
his breast. Down the valley he heard a coyote call to his mate and her answer echoed in the stillness. The soft music of the
cicadas and crickets mingled with the sound of the rippling water along with the faint hoot of an owl and the twit of a scrappy
nightbird. He strained his ears for the sound of Lorna coming back.

Suddenly, drifting gently on the night breeze, he heard the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. It was as if the wind were singing.
He felt a tingling start low at the base of his spine and travel upward to the nape of his neck where his hair tingled. His
face felt as if it was being pricked by a thousand needles. He found himself on his feet, straining his ears, listening with
awe and wonder. He’d never heard anything like it before. The voice had a wild, unearthly quality, like the wind. It was full
of love and pain, joy and sorrow, yet strong, sweet and powerful. He couldn’t distinguish the faint words, but he was sure
Lorna was praying in song. It didn’t occur to him to wonder how he knew. He could scarcely keep his feet from moving toward
her as he listened to the music that seemed to be spun from the air. When it stopped he could feel the thud of his heart beating
against his chest, and he let his breath out slowly.

After a few long moments of quiet, he moved a dozen yards in the direction she had gone and stepped up into the dark shadow
of the trees, making himself invisible if she should pass. She shouldn’t have come out here alone, he told himself, needing
an excuse for being there. There could be a cougar, or a two-legged varmint prowling around. He leaned against the trunk of
a tree and watched for her to come around the bend in the creek.

She began to sing very softly again and Cooper felt once more the tingling thrill he’d felt before. He was closer to her,
and could hear the words clearly.

“When my hair has turned to silver,

and my eyes shall dimmer grow.

I will lean upon some loved one,

through my twilight years I go.

I will ask of you a promise,

worth to me a world of gold;

It is only this, my darling:

that you’ll love me when I’m old.”

Cooper listened while she sang verse after verse of the haunting little song, and then another. She was singing for the pure
pleasure of it now, comforting herself in song. Although he felt like an intruder, his feet were leaden and he stood beside
the tree as if planted there.

There was a long moment of utter stillness when she stopped singing. Then he saw movement coming along the creek bank. She
walked slowly, confidently. She wasn’t tall, but looked taller because of her carriage, her shoulders squared, her chin tilted.
His eyes clung to the slim figure that moved so lightly along the rough path. When she neared the place where he was standing
in the shadows, she paused.

“Good night, Mr. Parnell,” she called softly with a trace of laughter in her voice.

Cooper was so surprised he couldn’t answer. How could she have possibly known he was standing there? He cursed under his breath,
more angry at himself than at her. He felt like a child caught looking through a keyhole, and it wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

Cooper did not ride out at dawn as he had planned. After restless hours in his bedroll he had fallen into a light sleep. Before
dawn he awakened when he heard his name.

“Parnell.”

He was instantly alert, threw back the blanket and sat up. “Griffin?”

“Yeah.”

Cooper heard the crackle of brush under bootheels before he saw him.

“I don’t like to come up on a man in his bedroll without him knowin’,” Griffin said and squatted down beside him.

“You can get your head blown off doing it,” Cooper said dryly.

“The girl’s still asleepin’.”

“Do you think she’ll make it?”

“I don’t know. That woman in there’s aworkin’ her head off to see that she does.”

“There’s not a doctor in a hundred miles.”

“There ain’t no time to get help for ’er. She’ll come outta it today or she ain’t agoin’ to. She’s weaker’n a cat—ain’t got
no strength a’tall.” Griffin picked up a twig and twirled it between his fingers. “You aridin’ out this mornin’?”

“I’d figured on it, but—”

“I’m stayin’. I want ya to know I’m obliged for what ya done for me. If a time comes ’n I can lend ya a hand, it’d be a favor
if ya’d ask me.”

Cooper let a long, thoughtful moment pass before he spoke. “You’re thinking you owe me and its not sitting easy on you. Is
that it?”

“It’s part a it. If we’d ever come down across the fence from each other, I don’t want no beholden strings on me. I’d wanna
come at ya—flat out.”

“I’d expect you to. But that isn’t likely, unless you go maverick and try to take what’s mine.”

“I told ya I’m no horse thief.” He stared fixedly at Cooper. “When I leave here I’m agoin’ to get my horses ’n sell ’em, ’n
I’m afilin’ on that land ole Clayhill run me off of ’n I’m stayin’ on it.”

Cooper shrugged. “You’re biting off a big chaw.”

“Ya can choke on a little chaw same as a big ’un.”

“What kind of horses you got?”

“Half-broke grullas. Good, strong, work stock.”

“The army will take them if you’re of a mind to drive them that far. If not, I know a fellow looking for work stock. I sell
mine to him or the army, but I can’t find them or break them fast enough. Look up Logan Horn at the Morning Sun. He’ll give
you a fair price.”

“Ain’t he ole Clayhill’s half-breed?”

“You have something against dealing with a half-breed?” Cooper’s voice had turned as hard as iron.

“Not against a half-breed, but I sure as hell ain’t dealin’ with no Clayhill.” Griffin hurled the angry words back into Cooper’s
face.

“It’s up to you, but I’d not put the Clayhill name on Logan unless you’re willing to back it up. He doesn’t have no truck
with the old man any more than—” He broke off when Griffin stood.

“I’ll look ’em up if I make it through Dunbar ’n his bunch.”

Cooper got to his feet. “Dunbar’s out to make his mark with the old man. But I guess you know that.”

“I know it, but he can die from a hole in the head same’s anybody. Lorna said come up for coffee. I got a notion to go hunt
up some fresh meat.”

“I saw a good size herd of elk up on the side of the hill when we came down through there yesterday. I’ll see if I can knock
one down.”

“It’s good of ya, knowin’ yo’re awantin’ to ride out.”

“It wouldn’t be right to leave Lorna alone with the girl if she’s bad off.” Cooper grimaced in self-disgust. He didn’t have
to give an excuse for not leaving.

“Lorna ain’t no slouch when it comes to doctorin’. She’s got a basket full a roots ’n thin’s she said her granny learned her
to use. I tell ya, Parnell, she’s the beatinest woman, ’n the best I ever seen with a knife. She can pin a fly to the wall.
It was plumb pleasant to hear her atellin’ ’bout her great-grandpa ’n grandma back in the olden days. They walked all the
way out here from Saint Louie, just the two of ’em, when this country had nothin’ but Injuns, bears ’n rattlesnakes.”

A sudden stab of anger and hurt pierced Cooper. He faced it for what it was—jealousy. Griffin had been the one to share the
night hours with Lorna. He tried to shrug off the feeling by flipping the sand and burrs out of his bedroll and rolling it
into a tight roll.

“I’ll be up soon as I saddle my horse,” he said curtly and headed for the corral.

He could smell meat frying when he led Roscoe up to the cabin and tied him to a rail. The rumbling in his stomach reminded
him that he had been eating sparingly for the past several days. He stepped up to the open door and hesitated while his mind
absorbed the scene within. Griffin was kneeling on the pallet holding Bonnie up against his arm and trying to get her to drink
from a cup. Lorna was beside the fire forking meat out of a skillet onto a tin plate.

“Morning, Mr. Parnell.”

“Morning, Miss … Lorna.”

“There’s meat and biscuits to go with coffee. Do you have a cup in your saddlebag? I don’t have an extra one.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. I’ll get it.’

She looked worn out, Cooper thought as he backed out of the door. Her hair was tied close to the back of her head and again
in two more places making a long rope that lay on her back. She still wore the britches, the long belted shirt and well-worn
moccasins. She had looked at him directly when she spoke and he could see dark smudges beneath her eyes caused by little or
no sleep for the past two nights. His eyes had roamed her face and the strange feeling stirred in him again.
Had he been too long without a woman?

When he returned, she was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall watching Griffin gently urge Bonnie to drink. Cooper
squatted down beside the fire, filled his cup and picked up the plate. He moved away from the heat of the fire and settled
down on his haunches to eat.

“Do you think she’s better, Griff?” Lorna asked.

“She’s adrinkin’. It’s a good sign. She needs to eat somethin’. Do ya have anythin’ a’tall to make gruel?”

“I used the last of the cornmeal. All that’s left is flour for biscuits. I could go home and get more but it’s a good day’s
ride there and back.”

“I’ve got a bag of dried beans.” Cooper watched her head turn slowly toward him. “Mexicans swear by beans. They eat them three
times a day.”

She looked at him with her great, violet-blue eyes for so long that Cooper began to think she would refuse his offer. Finally,
when he was convinced she wouldn’t speak, she murmured, “Thank you.”

He finished the meal and got to his feet. “I’ll water the horses before I go,” he said to Griffin. “She’d better get some
sleep.” He jerked his head toward Lorna. The young nester looked up and nodded. Lorna remained quiet, but Cooper could feel
her eyes on him as he went to the door. Before he stepped outside he turned. Lorna was looking up at him, her eyes glazed
with fatigue. For a frozen moment in time they maintained that pose, their eyes locked. She was a beauty, Cooper thought.
She was a woman to cherish. He had a sudden, strong urge to protect her, to hold her and watch over her while she slept. What
would she do if he went to her, knelt down beside her, and told her he wanted to hold her in his arms? Would she turn on him
like she had last night and try to stab him with the knife she wore in her belt? Someday, he decided grimly, he’d have to
find out.

Cooper dropped the leather bag containing the beans inside the door without saying a word. He mounted his horse, cursing himself
for being a tongue-tied fool. By God, when he came back he was going to talk to her and see if he could find out what it was
about her that made her so different from any of the other women he’d known. In an angry, impatient mood, he kicked Roscoe
unnecessarily hard. The surprised stallion sank down onto his powerful haunches and sprang forward, his momentum carrying
him to the woodpile. He jumped it with ease and sped down the track.

It was almost noon when Cooper spotted a small herd of elk grazing in a grassy basin. He made a wide swing behind them so
that he’d come up on them from downwind. An hour later he had made his kill, taken the parts of the carcass he wanted and
left the rest for scavengers. He figured he had doubled back trailing the herd and was now only a few miles from the cabin.

Cooper had always studied his surroundings with an eye for detail, a habit he’d acquired while searching for wild horse herds.
He could draw a map showing each river and stream he’d crossed since leaving the ranch a month ago. He paid strict attention
to the quality of grass and to the summer water supply and winter shelter. Now, studying the valley, he realized the water
supply was almost inexhaustible, the vegetation lush, and the hills surrounding the valley formed a natural barrier against
livestock straying too far from the home base. He wondered what had caused the nester who had built here to leave.