Wayward Wind, page 6
Chapter
Four
It was night, and Cooper restlessly prowled along the stony bank of the creek where he had thrown out his bedroll. He debated about building a fire and boiling coffee, but decided against it. A fire, no matter how small, could be seen from the hills above and he didn’t want to be the cause of bringing more trouble down on Lorna and Bonnie.
He thought of the glitter that had come into Lorna’s eyes and how her face had tightened when he insinuated she was lying. But, godammit! How could he think anything else? Now, after he’d thought about how she’d handled the horses, he wasn’t so sure that she couldn’t have done exactly what she said. It was uncanny how still Roscoe had stood when she went up to him. The stallion didn’t like strangers, women in particular, yet he didn’t turn a hair while she patted his rump and swung his tail. Was the woman a … witch? If not, she certainly was a charmer.
Just thinking about Lorna made him uncomfortable and warm. It hampered his thinking, as sensuality assumed dominance over his mind. He knew very little about women, but he knew men and their ways. Since he was a boy he’d been able to pick the ones who dreamed and created from the ones who raped and destroyed. The only woman in his life had been his mother, Sylvia. He thought of her now, back on the ranch near Junction City. She had really bloomed this last year and all because Arnie Henderson had come calling. Cooper chuckled when he remembered how embarrassed his mother had been at first. Arnie had come out from Illinois to work for Logan Horn, and now Cooper suspected he was urging his mother to move to the Morning Sun spread. He would miss her, but she deserved all the happiness she could get. God knew, she hadn’t had much when she was young.
His thoughts came back to the present. He had found his mare. The sensible thing to do would be to take the horse and ride out. Griffin would stay with the women, so he’d not have that on his conscience. But an unnerving, alien thing was inside him, pulling at him. Although his common sense told him to go, he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
Cooper sat on a rock, watching the water glimmer and ripple over and around stones worn smooth by its passing. He recalled each word Lorna had spoken and tried to find logic in her explanation. Suddenly something she’d said flashed across his mind: He would find where Volney and I hid Bonnie. Surely there couldn’t be more than one person in the territory with the unlikely name of Volney!
The Volney Burbank he knew was old and gaunt and suspicious of almost everything and everybody. As far as he knew, Volney was the only bona fide mountain man in this part of the country. The old man was little more than a hermit. He ran a line of traps in the winter and collected bounty on the pelts of various predators he killed. Cooper knew for a fact he had boundless respect for the wild creatures he hunted and almost none for the human race. A couple of times a year his nocturnal wanderings would bring him to the ranch and he would pick up a grub bag, leave a pelt or two, and pass on to Cooper any information he had about a wild horse herd in the area. Cooper was the only one at the ranch he’d pass the time of day with. To everyone else he was an enigma, an unkempt old man with a mane of gray-yellow hair about his thin shoulders.
Cooper liked the old man, although he thought he lived an unnecessarily monastic life. There was little doubt that Volney knew about everything that went on in the territory, but he chose to tell none of it. As far as Cooper could recall, he’d never mentioned anyone by name, or named places he’d been. Up to now Cooper hadn’t given it any thought, but could the old mountain man be the Volney Lorna spoke about?
He turned and looked back toward the cabin. Through the open door, he could see a faint glow made by the fire in the hearth. His thoughts turned to Griffin, the young nester he’d saved from hanging and who in turn had saved the girl’s life—for the time being, at least. He was a strange one, Cooper thought. He had a dead serious confidence about him and a knowledge that seemed too heavy for his years. Now, he and Lorna were trying to rouse the girl enough to get her to swallow a broth Lorna had made from boiling dried beef. Cooper had little hope the girl would live. She’d looked pale as death the last time he’d looked in on her.
“Is there anything else we can do?” Lorna’s voice was low, her face drawn into a worried frown. She placed the half-empty cup on the floor beside her and watched Griffin ease Bonnie back down onto the bed.
“The only thin’ I can think of is put ’er hips ’n legs up higher ’n ’er head. I heard tell of that bein’ done if there was a lot a bleedin’,” Griffin said softly. He had a worried look on his young face as if he really cared about the girl who moved restlessly on the pallet.
Lorna studied him as if seeing him for the first time. “Do you think we should do it? She’s not bleeding much, but she needs all the blood she’s got.”
“I don’t think it’d hurt none.”
“I’ll get a blanket and fold it.” Lorna stood and looked down at Griffin’s dark head and on an impulse asked, “What’s your other name?”
There was a long silence before he said, “I don’t go by it, ma’am, unless I got to write it on a paper or somethin’.” He lifted his head and looked up. Even in the dim light she could see the desolation in his eyes.
“I’m sorry for prying.” Lorna placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. I’m grateful you’re here with me now.”
“I’ve done time in Yuma, ma’am. I killed my first man ’cause I wanted to, the rest of them was atryin’ to kill me—”
“Don’t tell me you’ve done bad things,” she said quickly. “I won’t believe they weren’t forced on you. My granny said the best men are the ones who’ve been tested by the fires of hell. Sometime I’ll tell you about my granny and my Grandpa Light.”
“I been to hell, ma’am. I spent five years there. I’m not wanted by the law, now. That’s not the reason I don’t say my name. It’s that I’m kind a shamed, but I’ll tell you. It’s Fort. Fort Griffin. My ma was a whore there, ’n not knowin’ which of the men was my pa, gave me the fort’s name. I think she thought it was a joke on the men.” He watched her closely, as if trying to see whether she made light of what he was saying.
Not a flicker of emotion crossed Lorna’s face, although she never felt more like crying. “There’s no need for you to be ashamed of your name,” she said softly but firmly. “Your pa may have been the bravest, most honorable man at the fort. Besides, you don’t have to live in the shadow of what your ma, your pa or anyone else has done. You’re living now, and the kind of man you make yourself to be is up to you. A name has nothing to do with it.” When she finished speaking he nodded and looked away from her intense gaze. “Griffin? Do you mind me asking why you wear an empty holster?”
“No, ma’am. I was roped ’n pulled outta the saddle by some fellers pushin’ nesters off open range. They took my gun ’n my knife ’n hung me so I’d die slow. Parnell cut me down. I’m ridin’ with him to help find a mare stole from him, then I’m agoin’ back to a spot I picked for myself. And I ain’t bein’ pushed off it like I was trash.” Anger and determination laid a sharp edge to his voice.
“Mr. Parnell’s mare wasn’t stolen. I found the mare running free and brought her here. Mr. Parnell doesn’t believe me. More than likely he’ll take the mare and ride out at dawn.”
Griffin looked up quickly. “I believe you if you say that’s how it was. I owe that gent plenty, ma’am, but I ain’t aleavin’ you here with this sick girl. That old man you was atellin’ me ’bout might not come back.”
Lorna’s hand found his shoulder again. “Thank you, Griffin. I’d be obliged if you’d stay.”
“Is she married to the one who done this to ’er?”
“I’m sure she’s not. Her folks were on their way to California when Brice bought her from them. She said he got a preacher to marry them. Some preacher!” she said crossly. “Bonnie said Brice got him out of a saloon. She’d fought, cried and tried to run away until then.”
“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.
