Wayward Wind, page 21
Lorna reached for him and laid her head on his shoulder. It was so good to lean against his strength. “You didn’t know.”
Frank sighed. “He’ll hate ye fer this, lass. He’ll not make foot till he’s had his comeback.” He put his arms around her. Where had the time gone? It was only yesterday she was a wee lassie. Now she was the size of Nora! “I’ll kill the mon if he touches a hair on yer head,” he said with lusty gruffness. A chill touched him and he trembled at the thought of the danger that lay ahead for her.
Lorna raised her head and looked at him. “Oh, Pa—what would I do without you?” She wrapped her arms about his thick waist and hugged him hard. Her heart ached with a physical pain almost too hard to bear. The grief she’d held inside her burst out like water through a broken dam. Her body convulsed and she began to sob great shuddering sobs.
Frank didn’t understand this daughter of his. One moment she had the nerve to face an armed man with a bullwhip, the next she was crying like a child in his arms. He didn’t know what to say to her so he just held her and stroked the length of tangled hair that flowed down her back.
Cooper rode away from Light’s Mountain so angry he was several miles away before he remembered to be cautious. He pulled his blowing horse to a stop and then walked him to cool him off. Usually he traveled like an Indian, taking the longest route if it was the easiest on his horse. This morning he had let his anger cloud his judgment and Roscoe had been the one to suffer from it.
Cooper was puzzled by his own feelings of hurt and frustration, and dearly wished he could place the blame for his predicament on Lorna, but knew the fault was his and his alone. He could have backed off at any time. Instead, he had allowed himself to become more and more involved with her and finally the inevitable had happened. He could have no more turned down what she offered than could a man turn down a drink of water when he was dying of thirst. He groaned aloud, remembering.
The sweet innocence of her giving was something he would cherish all his life. All the more reason why he’d not allow her to bear his child alone—if there was a child. Even now, when he was so angry with her, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, love her, and take care of her always. But she’d not twist him around her finger! he thought with a spurt of resentment.
“I’ll be double damned if she will!” he exclaimed aloud, and the sound of his own voice shocked him. Good God! She’d even gotten him talking to himself!
He was sure he loved her, and in her own way she loved him. But to live a peaceful, happy lifetime together would take more than love. It would take thoughtfulness, consideration and respect. He could not accept what she wanted him to do; give up all that he’d worked for and take up another man’s leavings.
His thoughts veered. Hollis was a dangerous man. A stupid man who knew how to hate was always dangerous, and Cooper had seen the hatred in Hollis’s eyes when he looked at Frank and later at Lorna. It was a hatred born from his humiliation. Would Frank be able to handle him and protect his daughter? And what about the man, Brice? Hollis and Billy seemed to think he was the big man on the mountain. Perhaps he shouldn’t have left Lorna there—but what else could he have done other than hog-tie her and throw her over his saddle? Somehow he was certain Frank wouldn’t have stood for that. He’d seen the concern in his eyes when he looked at her. There was love there, even if Lorna was unaware of it.
The sun rose behind him and swept the shadows from the broad land. Cooper saw the peak near the high mountain pass, many miles away, turn to gold; the valley became green and still under the sun. He saw a buzzard soar, a covey of quail scutter beneath the brush, a swarm of honey bees settle onto a patch of blue mountain flowers. A skunk waddled onto the trail and paused in the sunlight. Cooper pulled Roscoe to a halt and waited for it to pass and wondered if it was sick because it was a nocturnal animal not given to daytime wanderings. He heard the far off coo of a mourning dove and the lonely, plaintive call did nothing to lift him out of his depression.
At the end of a short, steep strip of loose shale, he turned Roscoe and rode down the canyon toward the place where he had left Griffin and Bonnie. He was eager to get them and get on home, yet strangely reluctant too.
He saw smoke from a fire, but it was thin smoke… the kind a cautious man like Griffin would allow to drift upward. Smoke could be either a warning or an invitation, and in this country where you never knew if a man was friend or foe, smoke could be an invitation to trouble.
Oscar Parnell had taught him that a man was never free from danger, and Cooper had grown accustomed to watchfulness. It was something that had ingrained itself deeply. It didn’t show, but it was there in all his actions, and he was alert as he drew near the camp.
Bonnie was feeding small twigs into a fire. She got to her feet and backed away, her eyes wide and apprehensive, and silently watched him approach. She reminded Cooper of a cowed little pup that expected to be kicked, and fury at the man who had mistreated her knifed through him.
Griffin climbed down out of the boulders, the rifle in his hand. He came to where Bonnie stood and leaned weakly against a small sapling.
“Ya done good, Bonnie. Ya was cool ’n natural like.” Then he said to Cooper, “We wasn’t sure it was ya. Yore a mite early.”
“I got an early start.” Cooper got off his horse and slipped the bit from its mouth, but let the bridle hang around its neck. Gratefully, Roscoe began to clip the short grass. “Everything all right here?” His eyes took in the fresh blood stain on Griffin’s shirt.
“Fine. I got a mite rambunctious climbin’ them rocks.” He grinned apologetically.
Cooper saw the alarm in the woman’s eyes when she looked at Griffin. She quickly delved into a pack and brought out a clean cloth which she folded into a pad, slipped it inside his shirt and pressed it against the wound. Griffin’s eyes clung to her face and hers to his, as if they were the only people in all this vast land.
Lordy, Cooper thought, watching the intimate touch of their hands. Something had happened between them while he was gone. They had taken to each other like a duck to a pond. They were in love! He wondered how that would work out. Old Clayhill would do his level best to hang Griff, and that Brice fellow would be after Bonnie. Poor kids, he thought. And they were not much more than kids. It would not be easy. They had nothing and nobody but themselves. Hell! he thought with a spurt of satisfaction. They would have each other, and friends pulling for them. It was more than some folks had. They’d get by.
“I’ll have a snort of coffee, then we’ll make tracks for the ranch before we get caught in these mountains and have to fight our way out.” Cooper spoke almost gruffly and settled down on his haunches beside the fire, his hands curled around the cup, uncaring that his companions looked at him strangely and exchanged puzzled glances as they began to break camp.
Chapter
Fourteen
In the middle of the afternoon Cooper began to see familiar landmarks and knew the distance to his home was narrowing down considerably faster than he had expected. He rode through a sunlit afternoon, sitting lazily in the saddle, his right hand resting on his thigh, his keen eyes studying the terrain ahead. They had stopped only one time since early morning. Bonnie was tired, but she hadn’t let out so much as a murmur of complaint. Griff had padded his saddle with blankets, and Cooper had lifted her up to ride in front of him. The mare was too skittish for either of them to ride in their weakened condition, but Firebird was a strong horse, and seemed not to mind the extra weight.
Off and on all day, Cooper had heard the low murmur of voices behind him and would have been surprised to know that their talk was mostly of him and Lorna.
“He’s tore up ’bout somethin’, Griff. I hope it ain’t that Brice give him trouble.”
“If’n he did, my guess is he could handle it. He ain’t a man to be fooled with, ’n if’n somethin’s started he’d see the end of it. It’s my bet he’s up in the air over somethin’ Lorna done.”
“Lorna ain’t no rattle-head—”
“She’s used to thin’s agoin’ ’er way.”
“There ain’t ever been no one to tell her different. Lorna ain’t scared a nothin’.”
“Ever’body’s scared a somethin’.”
“What’re you scared of, Griff?”
He chuckled. “Ya put my back to the wall, didn’t ya, girl?” He was silent for a moment, then he said, “Wal, I guess I allus feared I’d be old ’n sick ’n die by myself with nobody knowin’ or carin’.”
“Oh, Griff!” Bonnie turned to look at him. “I been scared a that, too.”
“Ya don’t need to be scared a that no more, girl. I’d care. Fact is, I’d wanna die too.”
Tears spurted in Bonnie’s eyes. “I ain’t never had nobody but Lorna to… like me. Maybe my ma did when I was little. Pa always shamed her ’cause a my arm. Then when I got bigger she didn’t seem to like me no more, leastways she’d a not let Pa sell me off to Brice like she done.”
“Ya got to fergit about that, honey girl. Ya got me, now. I aim to take care of ya from here on. Ain’t nobody agoin’ to hurt ya, less’n they go through me first.”
“’N ya got me, Griff. Ya ain’t never agoin’ to be by yoreself when yo’re sick. ’N when yo’re old I’m ahopin’ I’ll be with ya—”
“Now don’t we make us a pair?” he whispered huskily, and there was wonderment in his voice.
“We shore do.” Bonnie leaned her head back against his good shoulder. “Oh, Griff, I wish Lorna could be happy like me. I’m just scared thin’s didn’t work out for her ’n Cooper like she was ahopin’ they would.”
“I was athinkin’ that he was smitten by ’er the way he looked at ’er when she wasn’t lookin’.”
“She liked him. She told me she did. She wanted him to come back ’n settle on Light’s Mountain, but I’m athinkin’ he’d not want to.”
“He ain’t goin’ to be pushed to do anythin’ he don’t want to do, that’s shore.”
“I wish she’d a come with us. There ain’t nothin’ on Light’s Mountain for her to choose from. If’n she stays there her pa might make her marry up with one a them no-goods like Hollis or Billy. ’N I’m ’fraid Brice’ll hurt her ’cause she helped me be shed of him. She don’t know how mean he kin be when he’s riled.”
“If’n he does, I’ll kill him. I aim to, anyhow, fer what he done to you.”
“Oh, Griff, no! I don’t want you tanglin’ with him. He’d not fight fair, ’n he’s got Hollis ’n Billy—”
“I ain’t got it in mind to fight fair. When a snake needs killin’, ya kill it. Ya don’t stand there ’n give it a chance at ya.”
Griff shifted to ease the ache of sitting on the horse’s rump and Bonnie turned to look at him. The expression on his face was one she’d not seen before. His cheeks were drawn in, his eyes narrowed, his face frozen into immobility. He had withdrawn into himself and seemed to be a million miles away from her. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she felt a chill of apprehension. With a frantic eagerness to ease the tension, she began to chatter.
“I’m awonderin’ how far now to Cooper’s place. Yo’re tired, ain’t ya, Griff? Yo’re just frazzled to the bone, ain’t ya? Is yore shoulder ahurtin’ ya again? When we get there, I’ll smear it good with lamp black.” Her young face showed her concern for him.
His face relaxed and he grinned at her. “It ain’t bad. The pine resin ya put on this mornin’ stopped the bleedin’. How’re ya doin’?”
“All right now we’re on even ground. It was scary acomin’ down that steep place back yonder. I almost pulled all the inane outta this poor horse aholdin’ on,” she admitted with a breathless laugh. “Griffin—” She turned back facing the trail so he wouldn’t see the worry that clouded her eyes.
“What if Cooper’s ma don’t like me? What if she can’t stand to… look at my arm? I was in a store once ’n a lady come in ’n saw it. She screeched.”
“There ain’t no chance a that happenin’. Ain’t no chance a’tall. Cooper wouldn’t a had ya come if’n he’d thought there was. But don’t ya worry none. I’m atakin’ ya with me when I go back to the Blue. But first we’ll find us a marryin’ man, like I told ya last night.”
“Griffin! ’Bout marryin’—I don’t ’mount to much—”
“Hush up that talk! Ya ’mount to aplenty. Yo’re my woman, ’n my woman’s the best there is.”
“Ya might not think so, later on.”
“When?” he breathed in her ear. “When ain’t I goin’ to be thinkin’ that yo’re the sweetest, lovin’est, prettiest woman I ever did see?”
There was a burning ache in Bonnie’s throat. She was like someone feeling her way along a dark, narrow path.
“I reckon when it’s too late for ya to back out.” She was compelled to look back at him. He was grinning. His eyes were smiling, too. He looked young, boyish. Even his beard was soft and fuzzy. It struck her how young he was and how hard his life had been up to now.
“Ya mean when we’re sittin’ on the porch hollerin’ at our grandkids to come help us to bed? Even then I’ll be athinkin’ yo’re grand ’n wantin’ to hurry ’n get ya under the covers.”
She turned back and closed her eyes tightly. She could still see his face. His lips nuzzled her ear, and she fervently wished her galloping heart would behave so she could think of something to say. When his arms tightened around her and she felt the touch of his lips on her cheek, she giggled helplessly despite her tiredness.
“Oh, Griff! Stop that! Cooper might see.”
They were bone weary.
The evening sun had set when Cooper got down to open the gate that enclosed the ranch buildings. He had ridden for the last hour with his mind empty, his ears hearing only the hoof falls of his horse, those behind him, and the creak of saddle leather. Roscoe knew he was home and fidgeted anxiously. Firebird could smell the mares in heat, and Griffin issued stern commands to keep him at a smooth walk. Cooper could see the flutter of his mother’s blue dress as she waited on the porch.
It was good to be home.
Sylvia stepped off the porch when Cooper rolled from the saddle. Her eyes were only for her son, although she had glanced briefly at the two riding double on the flashy big sorrel with the light mane and tail.
“Howdy, Ma.”
“Hello, son. You look all tuckered out. Did you have a hard trip?” She reached up and kissed his cheek.
“You might say that. How are things here?”
“Things are fine. After you’ve washed and had a decent supper I’ll tell you what all’s happened.”
“I brought somebody who needs some looking after for awhile, Ma,” Cooper said for her ears alone. They exchanged a look of understanding before he went to lift Bonnie down from the saddle. “This is Bonnie,” he said, keeping his hand under her arm until Griffin slid from the saddle. “And this is Griffin. He had a little bad luck a few days back and ran into a bullet. You might need to take a look at it, Ma. It opened up on him again this morning.”
Bonnie looked at Cooper’s mother, and her fears grew with leaps and bounds. She was so soft, so pretty and clean. Her dress was freshly ironed, her white apron spotless, her hair combed to the top of her head and coiled in neat swirls. Oh, mercy! she thought. This woman wouldn’t want her here! Her heart felt like a rock sinking to the bottom of her stomach. Bonnie wanted nothing more than to hide so Cooper’s mother wouldn’t see the stump on the end of her arm, the soiled, ragged dress, and the shoes that Griffin had patched last night with a thong. She nervously lifted her hand to push back the heavy strands of hair from her face and secure the pins in the knot on her neck. All the while she held her handless arm behind her. She felt Griffin’s hand on her shoulder, gently urging her toward the woman who came to meet her. She turned beseeching eyes on him.
“Griff—”
“It’ll be all right,” he murmured.
“You poor child!” Sylvia exclaimed. “You’re worn down to a nubbin’ and pale as a ghost. I’m guessing you’re hungry, too. Cooper won’t quit a’tall when he’s on the trail. It’s a good thing he’s got Roscoe ’cause he’d ride a weaker horse right down to its knees in a day’s time,” Sylvia chattered, seeing the panic in the girl’s eyes and hoping to give her time to collect herself. “My goodness gracious, but it’s been a spell since I’ve had a woman to visit with. Come right on in.”
“Thank ya, ma’am.”
Sylvia’s blue eyes went from Bonnie to Griffin and she saw the anxious look on his face as he watched the girl who clutched his arm.
“She’ll be just fine with me, Mr. Griffin,” she said, and smiled at him. “I’ll look after her. You go on and take care of your horse, then come in for supper. I made a berry pie, Cooper. I had a feelin’ you were comin’ home today.”
Bonnie’s eyes pleaded with Griffin not to leave her, but he gripped her shoulder reassuringly and followed Cooper toward the buildings behind the house. She watched him until he was out of sight, then turned to see the sweet-faced woman smiling at her.
“My name is Sylvia.”
“I… I’m sorry to mis put ya, ma’am. I can go to the barn with Griff—”
“You’ll do not such thing. You’re not mis puttin’ me at all. Come on in. You don’t know what a treat it is for me to have another woman in the house.”
Bonnie stood as if her legs were knee deep in mud. She was afraid to move. She hadn’t been able to change her padding since morning and she could feel a warm wetness running down her legs. Oh, Lordy! she thought helplessly, wishing fervently that Lorna was with her. If she went in the house it might gush out on the floor, then what would she do? Despite all she could do to hold them back, tears spurted in her eyes.
“Ma’am, I cain’t—”
“Land agotion! What’s wrong?”
“Ain’t… nothin’, ma’am. I—”
