Free Wayward Wind by Dorothy Garlock Page A

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