[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
up with Shorty." She took him by the shoulders and pointed him to the door.
"Go outside and play while I get supper ready."
In the predawn hours, Shorty drifted intoo semiconsciousness. His mumbling
wakened Lorna as she dozed in the chair next to his bed. She moved to quiet
him and moisten his dry lips with a wet cloth. Benteen came soundlessly to the
bed and leaned over it.
"What happened, Shorty?" His murmured question brought a brief lifting of the
cowboy's eyelids.
"Indians ... run off ... stock ... ambushed me." The mumbled words were faint,
most of them unintelligible, but Benteen got the gist of the story.
"Indians." Lorna looked at Benteen with vague alarm. They'd stolen cattle
before, but there had never been any attack on the men.
Shorty curled his fingers into Benteen's shirt. A bewildered frown clouded his
pain-filled expression. "... thought ... white man ... with them." He closed
his eyes tightly. "... must have been ... wrong."
"Sssh." Lorna became concerned that it was taking too much of his strength to
talk and firmly took his weakly clutching hand from Benteen's shirt. "It's all
right, Shorty. You just rest."
There was a slight nod as he seemed to relax. She smoothed the covers over
him, then turned to Benteen.
"What do you suppose he meant about the white man?" she asked.
"I don't know," he muttered with grim impatience. "He shouldn't have gone
after them alone, but you can't tell Shorty that. He'd take on an army to
prove he's as big as anyone else."
For five long days and nights Lorna nursed him through fever and bouts of
delirium. There were times when Shorty became violent and Benteen had to hold
him down to keep the wounds from being ripped open.
Lorna fed him broth when he was conscious and force-fed it to him when he was
not. But Shorty managed to pull through the worst of it. Rusty declared that
Page 166
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the cowboy was too damned ornery to die.
Benteen didn't attempt to question Shorty about his reference to a white man
being a party to the rustling until the fever and delirium passed. But Shorty
couldn't shed much light on it.
"Everything was just blackin' out on me when I caught a glimpse of him-or
thought I did." Shorty was agitated by his own vagueness. "I can't swear one
of the riders was white, Benteen. The more I think about it, the more I think
my eyes was playin' tricks on me."
"It happens," Benteen agreed.
"I'm sorry. It just never occurred to me they'd be watchin' their backtrail.
I'd a-been more careful about followin' 'em."
"Remember that, if there's a next time. And don't try to take them on alone.
That's an order," Benteen added for good measure; then his mouth crooked in a
playful angle. "Get some rest. I want you out of my bed and back in the
bunkhouse where you belong."
Before Shorty was moved to the bunkhouse, I orna attacked it. She started by
moving everything out, then washing down the walls, floors, and bed frames
with the strongest solution of hot lye water she could make. Over the cowboys'
objections, she boiled their clothes and bedding and laid them out in the
September sun to dry.
When she was finished, the bunkhouse came close to sparkling. Every bone and
muscle in her body ached, and her hands felt raw from the burning lye soap,
but she looked on the results with satisfaction.
Her pleasure wasn't shared by Vince when he stepped into the bunkhouse and
wrinkled his nose at the sharply clean smell. "It just don't seem like home
anymore." He mumbled the complaint and shuffled past Lorna to his bunk.
When she mentioned the remark to Benteen, his reply was equally disapproving
of her actions. "You didn't expect to be thanked for interfering, did you?"
Loma realized she was fighting alone in a man's world.
When Jessie Trumbo returned from the Canadian drive, he reported being
harassed by Indians during the trip. He figured they had run off twenty head
of steers and ten horses, but no one was injured. After the incident with
Shorty, Benteen gave orders for the men to work in pairs and carry their
rifles with them. The same day Jessie returned, Zeke Taylor accidentally shot
himself in the toe, and complained bitterly about ruining a good pair of
boots.
The black buggy didn't stop by the cabin. Lorna watched from the window as it
went directly to the house on the knoll. Her lips thinned into a straight
line. 'lhrning, she grabbed up the black shawl and swung it around her
shoulders.
Webb was running to the cabin to tell her of Mr. Giles's arrival when she
walked out the door. He was thrilled when he discovered they were going to the
house to see him. Lorna was walking too fast for little Arthur to keep up, so
she straddled him on her hip and carried him, while Webb cantered ahead on a
makebelieve horse.
Bull Giles showed his surprise at her approach. Usually he came to the cabin
to see the boys; Lorna didn't bring them to see him. Arthur wiggled to be put
down. She let him slide off her hip to the ground and scamper to his big
friend.
She didn't stop to speak to Bull, and ignored his questioning look that
followed her when she swept by the buggy to climb the steps to the front door.
The husky sound of Benteen's laughter greeted her, its warmth sending a shiver
down her spine as she paused in the entryway. Her feet were drawn to the
study, where the sound had originated. The door stood ajar, permitting Lorna
to see inside.
Benteen was standing fairly close to Lady Crawford, so stunning in black with
her dark eyes and silvered blond hair. It was a second before Lorna noticed
Benteen was filling a glass Lady Crawford was holding. Liquid foamed from the
Page 167
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
bottle in his hand to fill a second long-stemmed glass.
She could hear the murmur of their voices but couldn't make out what they were
saying. They were both smiling. Pain began to spread through Lorna. As Benteen
partially turned to set the bottle on a wooden crate in the room, Lady
Crawford cupped a hand to his cheek to turn his face back toward her. The
action was so natural and familiar that a protest screamed inside Lorna. For a
split second she glimpsed a taut yearning in Benteen's features. Jealousy
seared through her.
Her hand shoved the door the rest of the way open as she stepped forward with
an angry tilt to her head. "Is this a private celebration, or can anyone
attend?" she challenged.
Benteen made no attempt to hide his grim displeasure at her intrusion, but
Lady Crawford turned and smiled at her with brazen ease. "Do come join us,
Lorna," she invited. "We were about to drink a toast to our first success."
"A toast?" Her feet hardly seemed to touch the floor as Lorna swept into the
room to cross to Benteen's side. "Is that champagne? How wonderful," she
declared with icy brightness. "I've never tasted it before. Do you mind?" She
took the glass from Benteen's hand without waiting for his permission. She
sipped at it and pretended to like the dryly sour effervescence. "It's quite
good, isn't it?" _
"Actually it is a poor year, but it was the best they had," Lady Crawford
replied.
"I'm not experienced about such things," Lorna admitted freely, and passed the
glass back to Benteen.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]