Wayward Wind (11 page)

Since he had been a stripling he had spent the long winter evenings reading. He had read everything he and his mother could
find, which wasn’t much. That left the Bible, and he had read it from cover to cover. When he was young the “Song of Solomon”
had made an impression on his young mind because it was romantic and sexual. He had read it over and over again.

Hellfire! Why did he think of it now? He hadn’t thought of it in years. He stood still and waited for her to reach him, shocked
by the thoughts that had spiraled through his mind.

Lorna stood before him, her eyes meeting his steadily. “I like this time of day. I call it the golden time.”

“It’s the lonesome time of the day when you’re alone on the trail.” Cooper realized he was staring at her and looked away
toward the fading light in the west.

“Night will begin in a little while,” she said a bit wistfully. “A day is ending that will never return and a night is beginning
that will never be again.”

“And that makes you sad?”

“Sometimes.”

“The moon will be coming up soon. I watched it come up last night.” They moved side by side toward the creek. “How are the
girl and Griffin doing?”

“They’re asleep. I think Bonnie’s in better shape than Griff.”

“He’ll be on his feet in a day or two.”

“Then you’ll leave?”

“I’ve got to get back to my ranch.”

“Tell me about your ranch. Where is it?”

“It’s up near Junction City on the Big Thompson River. It’s a good two days’ ride from here.”

“Is it near the Clayhill ranch?”

Surprised, he hesitated, then said almost gruffly, “No. It’s about thirty miles beyond.”

“Why did you hit that man when he called Mr. Clayhill your pa? Was it your father that ordered his men to hang Griffin because
he was going to file on land he wanted?” Lorna’s eyes were fixed unwaveringly on his and there was a terrible intensity in
her gaze, as if his answer were a matter of life and death to her.

“Why is it so important to you to know?” His voice was abrupt. “You heard me tell them to leave Griffin be.”

“Do you think they will?”

“They sure as hell better!”

“Why do you hate your father?”

“Goddammit, Lorna! Leave it alone!”

“I can’t leave it alone. I must know everything about you.”

She reached out and took his hand. Her touch was a shock to him. He clasped her hand tightly and their fingers entwined. He
sat down on the boulder he’d sat on the night before and made room for her to sit beside him, but she stood close to him,
leaning against his thigh, looking into his face.

“I don’t… talk about it.”

“I know. It’s buried deep.” Her voice was a mere whisper on the breeze that came gently down the valley.

“Yes, it’s buried deep. It’s something I’ve learned to live with. I don’t think about it or talk about it.”

“I know,” she said again.

He glanced at her, his brows drawn together in a puzzled frown, but he didn’t speak. A minute passed—or an hour—Cooper had
no idea which, for he was mesmerized by her gentle voice, drugged by the warm pressure of her body against him. It seemed
to him that nothing existed beyond the charmed circle of their closeness. This woman who leaned so trustingly against him
was completely without guile. Her large, almond-shaped eyes that focused on his face were as frank as a child’s. She was so
utterly lovely that he was awed into silence as he stared at her perfectly formed features and milk white skin framed with
dark, shiny curls.

“I don’t understand you. You’re the… strangest woman I ever met.” They were not the words he wanted to say and he searched
for others, but none came to mind. “I don’t mean you’re strange, I mean—”

She laughed softly, musically. “I’m just a woman, like any other.”

“No,” he protested. “Not like any other woman I’ve ever come across.”

“Does that mean you like me even if I’m… strange?” Eyes that laughed into his sparkled like wild violets after a heavy dew.

“Of course. I didn’t mean I didn’t
like
you!”

“Oh, Cooper!” She laughed again. The cleft in her lower lip gave her mouth a three cornered shape and he couldn’t look away
from it. “After you get to know me you won’t think I’m strange at all. I feel like I’ve known
you
forever.” She added the last in a quiet, serious voice.

“You don’t know me at all. I could be an outlaw—”

“I’m serious, Cooper. There’s so many things I want to tell you about myself. I want to tell you about Grandpa Light and Grandma
Maggie. I want you to know about my granny and my mother and most of all I want you to know about Light’s Mountain where I
live. And I want to know what
you
think and what
you
dream about, then I’ll know why you hide so much tenderness behind that hard shell.”

Cooper felt his heart jump out of rhythm, felt his blood pound and drain away. He let out a snort of a chuckle to hide his
confusion.

“You want to know a lot. The telling would take all night.”

“We’ve got all night.”

The moon came up over the treetops, but they didn’t notice it. Lorna stood beside Cooper, her forearms resting on his thighs,
her hands clasped in his. The moon shone on her face. It was merely inches away from Cooper’s so that he caught each murmured
word. She spoke, lovingly, about her grandparents and of their love of the forests and the mountains. She told him about White
Bull, and about Brice and his cruelty to Bonnie. She told him about Volney bringing them to this cabin, saying he’d be back,
but that he hadn’t come.

“I know that old codger.” Cooper chuckled. “He stops by my place once in a while.”

“You do? Oh, Cooper, do you think something could’ve happened to him? He always does what he says he’ll do. He’s getting so
old—” She giggled looking up into his face and he almost forgot what they were talking about. “He’d be madder than a flitter
if he heard me say that.”

“Maybe he thought there was no hurry getting back. Maybe he thought to wait till after the birthing.”

“No, he didn’t think that. We told him it was a month away. He was going to find a place for Bonnie and get her settled before
she had the baby. Do you suppose he meant to take her to your place?”

“He might’ve figured to ask my mother to take her in. She’s talked to him some.”

“Would your mother have taken her?”

“She would have taken her.” She’d have seen herself in that poor creature, Cooper thought, and a shiver of hatred for everything
Clayhill ran through him.

Lorna stared into the gloom and Cooper stared at her. When she spoke again it was to tell him about her father who wanted
to leave Light’s Mountain, and of the shame of knowing he was stealing cattle. She left nothing out.

“I don’t know what to do, Cooper,” she said with so much anxiety in her voice that his heart swelled with the need to comfort
her. “I don’t think my pa has laughed since my mother died. He never had anything much to do with anyone until Brice Fulton
came to the mountain. Now, he spends all his time with him and his bunch. If he talks to me at all it’s to grumble about being
stuck on Light’s Mountain. He wants to start a freighting business, and to get the cash money he tied in with Brice. I just
know he’s ashamed, but he’s caught in a trap.”

“If he’s set on going, the sooner the better,” Cooper said quietly. “He’ll steal the wrong man’s cattle and get himself killed.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve been wondering if I should give him the cash money my granny gave me. He doesn’t know about
it. Granny wanted me to keep it. She said for me to keep it hidden until the time came that I really needed it. Do you think
I should give it to him and let him go?”

Cooper held her hands in his and gently rubbed the palms together. “Only you can decide that, Lorna. I can only tell you to
weigh the odds. What’s the worst thing that can happen if he stays and continues to steal another man’s cattle? And what’s
the worst thing that will happen if you give him the money and he goes away?”

Lorna was thoughtful for a moment, then she smiled her happy, three-cornered smile. “Oh, Cooper, I knew you could figure out
what to do. Of course, I’d rather he’d take the money and go away, even if I would never see him again, than to have him stay
here and be caught and hung for a rustler. I don’t need the money. I can always get a little cash money by running a few cows
up on the mountain.”

For a long while they were silent. There was a smoky smell to the cool air caused by the thin plume of smoke that rose from
the chimney of the cabin. The grass in the valley was already wet with dew and the forested mountain shadows on each side
of them loomed thick and dark. They watched the flickering fireflies dance their brief life away and heard the far-off sound
of a hoot owl. Long habits of vigilance were hard to break, and Cooper lifted his head to listen. The call came again and
he relaxed.

“It’s peaceful here,” Lorna murmured. “I love the nighttime, and you like it, too, don’t you, Cooper?”

“Yeah, I do. When I was a kid I used to try and count the stars.”

“See that star up there?” She lifted her face to the heavens.

Cooper looked up. There were a million stars in the sky, and they had never shone so brightly or seemed so close.

“Which one?”

“That one. It’s mine.” There was the laughter in her voice. Cooper lowered his eyes and found hers, sparkling like twin stars,
looking into his. She was laughing. It was a soft, breathless, happy laugh.

Cooper felt the happy chuckles form deep in his chest, roll up and join her laughter. “If you mean that one, it’s mine. I
saw it first.”

“I like to hear you laugh, Cooper. Does it make you happy to be with me?”

“Godamighty! Of course it does.” He felt the air go out of his lungs. Her frankness jolted him—she was a constant surprise,
a constant pleasure. “Do you always say whatever comes to your mind?” There was a gentle firmness in his face and his voice.

“I like being with you and I like hearing you laugh. So what’s wrong about telling you? Didn’t you want to know?” She squeezed
his hand with surprising strength and held his eyes with hers until his features relaxed.

“I guess so. Are you always like this?”

“Like what? You mean talking to you like I’m doing? Of course not! This is the first time and this is… special. I’ve finally
met you and I feel good about it. I knew when you touched me and I turned and looked into your eyes that you would be special
to me. You felt it, too. I could tell.”

Cooper laughed nervously. “I think you’ve bewitched me.”

“Not enough,” she said regretfully, her face sobering. “You’re making me do all the telling.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. All I know about you is that you’ve got a horse ranch and that you don’t have a woman of your own.”

“How do you know that?” he teased, feeling a great swell of joy wash over him.

“Because…
I’m
your woman, Cooper,” she whispered with a tremor in her voice. “I know I am. I feel it here.” She took her hand from his
and placed it over her heart.

He could see the shine in her eyes and feel her breath on his face.
His woman?
He felt a queer pang of fear. He didn’t want to love a woman. He didn’t know how to love a woman!

“Lorna! We don’t even
know
each other.”

“Yes, we do. We know everything that matters about each other, we just don’t know what has happened to each other up to now.
Tell me, Cooper.”

“Aren’t you cold standing there?”

“A little. I could sit beside you and you could put your arm around me.” She laughed at the surprised look on his face. “I’m
not asking you to get under the blankets with me—just put your arm around me.”

“Lorna! Are you trying to shock me? Don’t ever say that to any other man or you’ll be under the blankets before you can take
a deep breath!”

“I know that. I’ve said things to you I’ve never said to anyone. Now, help me up there.”

Cooper lifted her up beside him, wrapped his arm around her, and fitted her shoulder into his armpit. Her thigh nestled against
his; her head fit into just the right place on his shoulder.

Lorna snuggled against him, curled into the crook of his arm, warm and content. She felt that this was something she had been
waiting for, this time, this place.

Afterward Cooper couldn’t remember how he had started talking about himself. Once he started, the words poured out of him
and he couldn’t seem to stop.

“At first I didn’t know what a bastard was. I just knew that I was one. It was, ‘get outta my way, ya little bastard,’ or
the kids would say, ‘ma says I can’t play with ya ’cause yo’re a bastard.’ My mother washed clothes at the fort, and we lived
in a room beside the laundry. I remember one time her ma and pa came to see her, but they wouldn’t look at me. They called
her a fallen woman and said that she’d burn in everlasting hell for her sin. My mother was angry and sent them away. Later
I heard her crying in the night and I wondered if I was the sin they were talking about.”

Lorna made a small clucking sound and hugged his hand to her breast.

“When I was eight, my mother married Oscar Parnell. He was everything to me a father could be. I worshipped him and dogged
his footsteps from morning till night. He left the army because my mother was so unhappy at the fort and took a job with a
man who raised mules. By this time I was doing a man’s work, and we saved enough money to put a payment down on a ranch; but
he didn’t live to see it. He was kicked to death by an ornery mule. Ma and I came on north and settled on the ranch. We’ve
been there ever since.”

Lorna’s hand curled around his. She pressed her face to his shoulder. She said nothing; she knew he was moving toward the
anguishing part of his story, the hurting part. His arm held her tightly to him and he stared up at the impassive, benign
face of the watching moon and then gazed at the ever-moving water in the stream.

“One time I asked my mother about the man who sired me and she said that Oscar Parnell nurtured a seed that was sown in the
wind, and that he was my pa in every sense of the word except for a minor one. I understood that. Now I wish to God I’d never
found out about Adam Clayhill. He’s everything I despise in a man; selfish, greedy, without conscience or principles. He thinks
that because he was one of the first to ranch here, the whole territory belongs to him.