Wayward Wind (42 page)

Lorna hadn’t realized a crowd had gathered. She glanced at the circle of men who were waiting, grinning.

“I’d like to see what the sprout can do with that lash, Freiden. Ya got two eyes, ya don’t need both of ’em.” There were loud
guffaws from the men behind her.

“Hell! I ain’t fightin’ no kid what’s still shittin’ yellow.”

“Ya sure it ain’t you what’s yellow, Freiden? Air ya ’fraid of a wet-eared kid?”

Lorna turned. The man talking was standing on spraddled legs, a wicked grin on his whiskered face. He was an agitator, a troublemaker,
one of those who stood on the sidelines and urged other men to fight. It stuck out all over him.

“At least he’s doing honest work, and he’s smart,” Lorna said. With a flick of her wrist she cast the whip and whisked the
hat from the agitator’s head.

Now it was the teamster’s turn to laugh. The rest of the spectators joined in. The agitator picked up his hat, beat the dust
from it against his thigh, and slammed it down on his head. His face had turned an angry red and Lorna knew she had made an
enemy.

“The lad’s all right,” the teamster said. “He’s got guts. I’ll bet you five dollars against that whip, kid, you can’t put
that mule in line.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Lorna coiled the whip and looped it over her shoulder. “Hold my rifle,” she said to the teamster.

She went to the big, brown mule and put her hands on each side of its face and spoke softly. “Did he hurt you, big fellow?
You’re just scared, and that big, old, dumb man doesn’t know it.” She put her arms around the mule’s neck and pulled its head
down so she could whisper in its ear. She patted its sides and flanks, then came to the front and pushed gently. The mule
obediently backed up and Lorna maneuvered it into place.

The watching audience was quiet, and when she walked behind the mule to hitch the harness to the leveler, she heard the teamster
gasp, “Don’t!”

Lorna finished hitching the mule and patted the big face affectionately. “You’re a nice fellow, you are. Behave yourself now.”
She reached for her rifle and the dumbfounded teamster gave it to her.

“Wal, I’ll be hornswoggled! That’s the meanest damn mule this side a hell.”

“No. He was scared.”

“Here’s your money, lad. Do you need work?”

Lorna’s hat was suddenly snatched from her head. She sucked in a painful breath and turned. The surly cowboy sailed her hat
far out into the street, bent and thrust his face close to hers.

“Ain’t no lad, a’tall, Friedman. Hit’s a split-tail in them britches.”

“Wal, by jinks damn if it ain’t.”

“Purty ’un, too.” The cowboy’s big rough hand closed over the braid of thick dark hair.

Lorna stood perfectly still and held him with her eyes. “Get your hands off me,” she said calmly.

“Make me.” The cowboy laughed, showing yellow teeth. He glanced at the men ringing them. “Looky here, boys. I think I’ll whap
me a soft, little ole round bottom.”

“Leave her be.” The teamster grabbed the cowboy’s arm.

“Ya wantin’ her fer yoreself, Friedman? Yeeow! Gawddamn—” He grabbed at his belly and his hand came away bloody. “You cut
me, you bitch!”

“I’ll cut you again if you don’t back off.”

“Leave the lady alone.” The commanding voice came from behind Lorna, but she didn’t turn. She held the knife ready. The cowboy
backed away, but his face was ugly and he kept his eyes on the man behind Lorna.

“Butt out,” he snarled. “Butt out or—”

“Or what? You’re about to get yourself killed, mister. I don’t hold with manhandling ladies.”

“Ladies? Ya ain’t callin’ this split-tail in britches a lady.”

“That’s exactly what I’m calling her. Now back off or make a stand, it’s up to you. And while you’re deciding, get the lady’s
hat.”

The crowd was suddenly quiet. The cowboy looked around for support from the onlookers, but found none. He hesitated, then
went to the middle of the street, returned with Lorna’s hat and slapped it against her chest.

“I’ll be lookin’ for ya,” he mumbled, turned on his heels, and shouldered his way through the small crowd.

Lorna slipped the knife in her sash, and put on her hat, not bothering to poke her hair up under it. It was no use closing
the barn door after the horse was gone, she thought, and turned to face the man who had come to her rescue. She wasn’t in
the least surprised to see the man in the tan leather vest who had been at Mable’s. He was taller than average, wide of shoulder
and chest, but with a lean trimness. His tawny colored eyes moved slowly but constantly. They crawled up and down and over
the crowd like live things, missing nothing. His stance told her that he was poised and ready for action. Lorna’s eyes flicked
to the two tied-down revolvers.
This was no two-horn drifter. This man was as dangerous as a rattlesnake, and the cowboy knew it.

“Thank you,” she said, walked around him, and started for the store where she’d left her horse. The man fell in beside her
and she said, without looking at him, “You don’t need to walk with me. I’ll be all right.”

“I mean to make sure. That rowdy is a braggart and a troublemaker. You set him down pretty hard, and he’ll cause you trouble
if he can.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I think you can… most of the time. You’re handy with the whip and the knife. What else can you do?” They had reached the
store and turned in between the buildings. Gray Wolf watched her approach with ears peaked.

“I can sing,” Lorna said simply, shoving her rifle into the scabbard and mounting.

“If you’ll wait, I’ll get my horse and see that you get out of town without being bothered.”

“No one can catch me on Gray Wolf.” It was a statement, not a boast.

“Which way are you going?”

“North. I’m going to The House.”

“The H-House?” Kain had stammered only a few times before in his life.

“Yes. Have you been there? Do you know Bessie?”

“Well… ah… yes, I guess I do.”

“I heard you tell Mable that your name is Kain. I’ll tell Bessie that you helped me.” She turned Gray Wolf toward the street
and was gone.

Kain stood for a long moment, and then shook his head and grinned. The world was full of surprises. Who would have thought
that innocent looking little baggage in that shirt and old patched britches was a whore? She sure had him fooled. By damn,
but she was a good actress. She ought to be on the stage.

He walked to the end of the building, lit a long slim cigar, and watched Lorna ride out of town. God, he thought, he hadn’t
been so wrong about a woman since he was sixteen. He would have sworn, when she walked into Mable’s, that she was fresh from
some backwoods homestead and it was her first trip to town. Instead she was from The House.
She was one of Bessie’s whores.
All dressed up, she’d be an eyeful, there was no doubt about that. But why in hell was he so disappointed? he asked himself.
She didn’t mean anything to him. Pretty women came out of the hills all the time and were dazzled by the money they could
get in town for what they’d been giving away at home. It was just one more lesson in human nature. You couldn’t really tell
by looking at the outside of a person what was on the inside.

Kain stepped up on the porch, nodded to the merchant who was standing in the doorway, and headed for the saloon. It had been
two days since he’d been to the Parnell ranch looking for Griff. He’d wait one more day and if the boy didn’t show up, he
was going to shake the dust of this two-horse town and head west.

Cooper and Griffin rode into town from the south not a half hour after Lorna rode out to the north. Cooper’s face was set
with worry lines and he was tired from a sleepless night. The night before he and his mother had hidden Lorna’s portion of
Volney’s fortune in the cellar at the ranch. They had decided that if he took all that gold to the bank in town, word would
spread like wildfire and attract every gold-crazed man in the territory. As soon as he found Lorna, Cooper would take her
and the gold to Denver where she could decide what she wanted to do with it. But first he had to find her—before she found
Brice Fulton and Hollis Johnson.

They rode down the busy street to the bank and Griffin handed over enough of his gold to pay for the land on the Blue and
to repay Cooper for the money they had used as a down payment on the land. Cooper had persuaded him that it was no longer
necessary for him to have an active partner, but that he would remain a partner in name only, until Griffin could establish
his credit with the merchants.

Griffin also carried in his pocket the money Kain had left at the ranch for the horse herd. He was eager to see his friend,
but more than that, he felt a burning desire to even the score with the man who had tried to hang him and with Brice Fulton
for his cruel treatment of Bonnie.

When they reached the Federal Land Office, Adam Clayhill’s landau was parked in front, and his driver stood at the head of
the team. Hatred knotted Cooper’s guts as it did each time he was near him.

“The old sonofabitch is here,” he said softly, coldly. “No doubt he’s heard the news that more of his free range has been
bought up. He hasn’t lost any time getting to town to find out for sure.”

Cooper and Griffin stepped quietly through the open doorway and stood unnoticed just inside the door.

Adam Clayhill was an imposing figure with his white hair and mustache, his large frame in a dark suit, white ruffled shirt
and string tie. He was livid with anger, jabbing his finger against the territory map that hung on the wall of the office,
shouting and cursing at the small man in the visor cap who stood with his hands clasped in front of him as if praying for
deliverance from the tyrant who raged at him.

“I’ve been using that range for twenty years, you peabrained, shithead bastard. I told you a month ago I was going to buy
it and for you to hold onto it for me. I’m not giving up land to every addle-brained fool who can rake up enough cash for
a down payment on range I took from the goddamn Indians and held on to when there wasn’t anything but a half assed platoon
of cavalry in all this territory. I held on to it then, and by Gawd, I’m hanging on to it now! Gawddamnit! Don’t you have
anything but shit between your ears?”

“It’s government land and my job is to sell it to whoever has the money to pay for it. I couldn’t hold it for you just because
you told me to.” The clerk’s voice climbed shakily above his fear of the big man who towered over him. His narrow shoulders
were bent under their burden of humiliation, but he was gamely trying to hold his own. “This is government property you’re
on and I’m a government official. The law says—”

“To hell with the law!”

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Clayhill.”

“Your job? You fucking bastard! Your job’s to see that this territory isn’t taken over by the scum that couldn’t make it back
East and come out here to get
free
land!”

“The land’s not
free
—”

“How many acres did they get?”

“Ah… I couldn’t say right off,” he hedged.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, you little weasel.” Without warning Adam grasped the man’s shirt front, and with a convulsive heave
he slammed him against the wall with a violence that shook the frame building. The man’s head cracked against the boards behind
him and his visor cap slid down over his eyes. “How long have you been here? Six months? That’s long enough for you to know
who runs things around here.”

“I… I couldn’t help—they told me in Denver to sell.” Terror burst from the small man in a choked sob as he righted his cap
and stared up into the furious eyes above him.

“Did you know that Cooper Parnell is my son?”

“Yes, sir. I’d heard—”

“Is that why you sold him the land?”

“No, sir,” the clerk said determinedly. “I sold it because the law says I have to. Mr. Parnell and his partner had the money
to put down. Lawyer Schoeller fixed up the papers. They paid a third down and will pay the rest in ninety days.”

“I don’t give a gawddamn about what that crackpot Schoeller drew up! Who’s Cooper’s partner?”

“Young feller named Fort Griffin.”

“Fort Griffin? Jesus Christ, what kind a name is that?”

“I don’t—”

“How much money do they owe?”

“I’m not sure.” The clerk’s agonized eyes darted from Adam to the men beside the door.

“You can lose your job for giving out confidential information.” Cooper took a couple of steps into the room as he spoke.

Adam’s hand dropped from the clerk’s shirt and he spun around. The scowl (topped from his face like a curtain. “Cooper, my
boy—”

“Don’t
boy
me, you rotten hunk of horseshit! I’m not your boy. I’m not
your
anything.” Cooper took a long step forward. “I’d rather have been sired by a mangy warthog than you.” Cooper spoke softly,
but his every word struck Adam like ice, and with each one his finger jabbed into Adam’s chest.

“Now, Cooper, you don’t need to get in a huff. I naturally wanted to know—” Adam backtracked a few steps, but Cooper followed.

“You wanted to know how your plan to hang Griff didn’t work? Luck. Pure luck. I happened to be there to cut him down.”

“I didn’t know anything about that. I swear.” Blood stained Adam’s face and his breathing deepened.

“Bullshit! I suppose you didn’t go out and threaten my mother, either. If you ever come to my place again, or speak to my
mother, or have your hired thugs waylay and beat up one of our friends, I swear to God I’ll cut your rotten, black heart out
and poke it down your throat.”

“Did she tell you that?” Adam’s face was a brick red, but he tried to appear unruffled. He smoothed his shirt front and flicked
dust from the dark sleeve of his coat. “Don’t you know by now that she—”

Cooper hit him in the mouth with his clenched fist. It was a lightning blow that caught Adam by surprise. He staggered back
against the wall; blood spurted from his split lip and stained his white mustache. He hung there, stunned with surprise, until
his head cleared.