Wayward Wind (47 page)

“I’ll tell ’er,” Griffin promised. “I’ll be gettin’ one of my own soon as I can get Bonnie to town.”

Now, as they approached town, Griffin began to feel the dissatisfaction that always swept over him when in a crowd. He ignored
the stares of the townspeople as they passed, for word had spread that a wagon was coming in with three dead men in the back
of it. Kain turned down A Street and continued on to a neat frame house with a new privy behind. Adam Clayhill’s landau was
parked in a shed and two horses were in an attached enclosure.

Kain pulled the team to a halt, wound the reins around the brake and jumped down.

“Back off, Griff,” he said when Griff started to dismount. “This is my show.”

“I’ll help ya with the bodies—”

“Stay mounted. I’ll do it.”

One by one, Kain carried the bodies of the dead men to the door of the house and dropped them. They lay, stiff and awkward,
sprawled on top of each other, arms and legs jutting out. As he dumped the last one, the door flew open and Adam Clayhill
stood glaring, his hands on his hips.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Bringing back your trash.”

“What do you mean? Get those gawddamn bodies off my doorstep. Who in the hell are you, anyway?”

“To answer your first question, this trash being the trash you hired to get
rid
of Griffin.” He tilted his head to the mounted man. “And Cooper Parnell. This is the same redheaded bastard you hired to
hang Griff and steal the horses we spent six months breaking. As you can see he bungled the job. You should pick your men
more carefully, especially when you have murder in mind.”

“What the hell is it to you?” Adam hunched his shoulders forward and peered more closely at the tall, dark man with the black
brim of his hat shading his face. He felt sharp amber eyes stabbing into him and realized that this was a dangerous man. Fear
touched him, but only slightly.

“Griffin and Cooper Parnell are friends of mine. If you want to live another few hours, weeks, months, or years, my advice
is to steer clear of them.”

“Are you a gunfighter they hired?” Adam sneered.

“Call it that if you want, but no money exchanged hands. Of course, that wouldn’t make sense to a bastard like you.”

“I don’t know you.” For an endless moment Adam stared, his senses shocked by the contempt in the stranger’s eyes. Then he
said hesitantly, “Do I?”

“No. You don’t know me at all. You… never did even try to know me.”

“Never did try? What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m talking about a smooth talking sonofabitch who went East to get a socially prominent wife of means in order to enhance
his standing in the community. The woman he brought back was my mother, Etta DeBolt.”

“Kain?” Adam would have stepped out into the yard if not for the dead bodies at his feet.

“Kain DeBolt. A boy grows into a man in fifteen years. I was just a kid, but I knew how rotten you were. I couldn’t convince
my mother, so she married you. I’m sure she died of disappointment and grief over being uprooted from family and friends and
her failure to get the companionship she yearned for. You didn’t care about her. You had control of the sizable fortune my
father left her. There’s just one thing you
don’t
know. My father feared something such as this would happen, so he left my mother only a third of his fortune. The other two-thirds
were put in a trust for me.”

“But… why are you back? Why did you leave? I treated you like a son—”

“Bullshit!” The word exploded from Kain and it was the first time he’d raised his voice.

“So we didn’t get along. I raised your sister—”

“You raised her to be a whore! I’ve been to Denver. I know what kind of place she runs. I pray to God that none of Mother’s
folks back East find out what she’s become.”

“That’s not my fault. It’s in her blood!”

Kain’s knees bent slightly. “Say one more word, old man, and I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam said quickly. “I didn’t mean that. Come in, Kain. Let’s talk. I need a good man… one I can put in charge
of my ranch. I’ve got no one to leave it to—”

Kain threw back his head and loosed a whoop of derision that echoed down the empty street. “By God! I’ve got to hand it to
you, old man. You’ve got the gall of a government mule!” He sobered instantly and his eyes glittered dangerously. “I wouldn’t
piss on you if you were on fire.” He spat the words contemptuously, turned his back and climbed back up onto the wagon seat.
“If I hear you’ve set your hired killers on Griff,
or
Cooper, I’ll be back—for you. I owe you plenty for what you did to my family. I’d kill you now and save myself a trip, but
I think it’ll be more interesting to wait and watch you hang yourself.”

“Now, listen, Kain.” Adam pushed one of the bodies over with his booted foot so he could step over the other two and get out
into the yard. “I think we can work things out. You’re obviously a businessman if you’ve handled money. It would be to your
advantage to listen to what I’ve got to say.”

Kain sailed the whip out over the backs of the horses and put the team in motion. He had to get away before he killed the
sonofabitch. He wished for the hundredth time he’d never come back to Colorado Territory. His desire to see his sister, Della,
had ended in a crushing disappointment when he found her running a brothel in Denver. He had stayed, wanting to lend a hand
to Griff, a kid who’d had enough hard knocks to last a lifetime. Things had smoothed out for him now, and he was free to shake
the dust of Colorado and head for California.

Adam stood in the yard and watched him leave. By God, there was a man. Why in the hell hadn’t he seen it fifteen years ago?
A stepson was as good as a son—better in fact. No one could blame him for the bad blood if he went wrong. Just as no one blamed
him for Delia. One thing was certain: He was going to find out more about Kain DeBolt. Goddamn! If he’d only known the kid
had money! He turned to go back in the house and almost stumbled over one of the dead men.

“Goddammit, Jacob!” he yelled. “Get your black ass out here and get rid of this trash!”

Two days later Cooper drove his bride home in a buggy he had rented from the livery. They had been married that morning. The
girls at Bessie’s had all vied for the honor of lending something to the bride for her to wear at her wedding, and she had
accepted something from each of them. Lorna was shocked, then laughed heartily when Cooper told her Bessie’s was not a school
for young ladies but a brothel. The young ladies who worked there were very nice to her, but the way they eyed Cooper encouraged
her to speed her recovery so they could leave.

Cooper had told her about Volney, about the gold, which didn’t seem to interest her at all, and about his and Griffin’s trip
to Light’s Mountain. Once again he’d told her that he would live there with her if that was what she wanted, but she was adamantly
against it. She’d outgrown that phase of her life, she said. She wanted to live in the place her husband provided for her,
to be a helpmate to him. They would build a legend of their own.

“I’m going to try to be a good wife, but I can’t promise that I’ll not make you mad sometimes, Cooper,” she said as they drove
out of town.

“I wouldn’t want you to make that promise, sweetheart, because I know you couldn’t keep it.” He tilted his head so he could
look down into her eyes. His face was wreathed in smiles and his eyes shone with happiness.

She laughed, hugged his arm, and rested her cheek against it. Cooper smiled down at her. He’d never seen anyone who looked
lovelier and his heart swelled with pleasure. She was wearing a sky blue dress with white lace at the neck and a tight bodice
that showed the swell of her breasts. Minnie, one of Bessie’s girls, had dressed her hair. It was swirled on top of her head
and was pinned there with the gold hairpins he’d bought from Bessie. On a chain around her neck was a small gold locket—a
gift from Kain. He had purchased it at McCloud’s store and asked McCloud to give it to her when she and Cooper came to town
to be married. He also left a short note, wishing them happiness and saying good-bye.

“Cooper—” They were in the quiet woods.

“Are you cold?”

“No. Do you think Kain will come back?”

“I don’t know. It sure surprised the hell out of me to find out who he was. I’d heard there was a boy who left here.”

“I liked him. I’m getting more friends all the time.”

“Well, it’s all right to
like
him,” Cooper growled. “Just don’t get to liking him too much.”

“You’re jealous! Does that mean you love me a lot?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you do. Cooper, I was thinking about that night in the barn. I wanted to mate with you, but you said you’d not do
it until we were married because you didn’t want to take the chance I’d get in the family way. You said that after we were
wed you were going to drown in me. Are you still going to?” Her caressing fingers moved to the inside of his leg and stroked
upward.

“Ah… darling!” He took a deep breath.

“I think you want to—now,” she whispered devilishly and spread her fingers in such a way he couldn’t control the jolt that
shook him.

“Stop that! You little imp. We can’t… not here!”

“When we get home? In your bed?”

“In my bed,” he promised. “The minute we get home.”

“I have to meet your mother first. I’m not scared anymore, my love.”

He bent to kiss her lips lingeringly, then slapped the reins against the back of the horse to speed him along. Lorna had never
been so happy in all her life; such happiness was almost unbearable in its intensity.

She began to sing.

“Down the stream of life together,

We are sailing side by side,

Hoping some bright day to anchor,

Safe beyond the surging tide.

Today our sky is cloudless,

But the night may clouds unfold;

Though clouds may gather ’round us.

Will you love me when I’m old?”

She ended the song and smiled trustingly up at Cooper, her eyes soft with love.

“Yes, darling,” he vowed. “I promise I’ll love you till the last breath leaves me, and even after that.”

Spring came to the Rocky Mountains.

It was a warm day in May when Lorna and Cooper returned to Light’s Mountain. They wanted to make the trip before it became
unsafe for Lorna to ride because they expected the first of what they hoped, would be many children before the summer ended.

They sat motionless on their horses and looked upon the cleared site that had once been Lorna’s home. Only two tall rock chimneys
and three walls of the rock smokehouse remained. The rest of the land had been cleared. Cooper moved his horse close to Lorna’s
and held out his hand. She slipped hers into it and gripped hard. When she turned to him she was smiling through her tears.

“It was a lovely place,” she said simply.

They stopped at the small graveyard and pulled the weeds from around the headboards. Lorna spoke for the second time since
she had come
home.

“Papa loved Mama so much.”

She mounted and took a trail to the top of the hill behind the homestead. Cooper followed at a distance. This was her private
time—her homecoming.

Lorna stood on the bluff overlooking the valley and began to sing. Her voice carried the length and breadth of the valley
below. She sang of mountains and valleys and cool pools where the lilies grew. When she finished, she stood quietly. From
far down the valley the call of a whipperwill floated on the warm spring breeze. Lorna mimicked the call. Soon an old Indian
on a spotted pony rode into the clearing. A red feather was tied to each of the gray braids that lay on his chest. He dismounted
and stood looking at her with his arms folded proudly across his chest.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my father, White Bull.”

“Yes. Word had come of what happened here and to our friend. My heart is sad that I was not here.”

“Your duty is to your people. The men who did this paid with their lives.”

“It is good that you no longer need the protection of White Bull. You have the Wasicun, your husband.”

“Yes.”

“The old days are gone, Singing Woman. It pleases me that you have made a choice.”

“Yes,” Lorna said again. “I want you to know my husband. He is a man of honor.”

“I know of Cooper Parnell and his brother Logan Horn. My people are made welcome on his land. You will be safe with the Wasicun.
My heart is glad, and our friend’s spirit can rest in peace.”

The old Indian looked at her silently for a long moment, then he mounted his pony and rode away without a backward glance.

Lorna watched him leave and for only a moment felt a twinge of homesickness for the days of her childhood on Light’s Mountain.
Then she saw Cooper riding toward her. She ran to meet him. He scooped her up in one arm and placed her sideways across his
thighs, whistled for her horse to follow, and guided Roscoe back down the trail.

From the safe circle of her husband’s arms, Lorna looked back over her shoulder and called, “Good-bye, Maggie. I’m going home.”

The town of Junction City is the fictitious name for Loveland, Colorado, a beautiful city just east of the Rocky Mountains,
as I imagine it would have been had it existed at the time of this story.

All the persons in this book are fictitious with the exception of such historical figures as Colonel J. M. Chivington, a former
Methodist minister. As commander of the Military District of Colorado he was responsible for the deaths of five hundred Indians,
mostly women, children and old people in a deed known as the Sand Creek Massacre. However, the people in my story could have
lived in the territory in the early 1870’s, where the harsh realities of life made some behave in ways less than human toward
their fellow man and strengthened others to build the great state of Colorado.

At the present time I am working on the third story of the trilogy. It will deal with Kain DeBolt, Adam Clayhill’s stepson.