Free Wayward Wind by Dorothy Garlock Page B

pin a fly to the wall.
     It was plumb pleasant to hear her atellin’ ’bout her great-grandpa ’n grandma back in the olden days. They walked all the
     way out here from Saint Louie, just the two of ’em, when this country had nothin’ but Injuns, bears ’n rattlesnakes.”
    A sudden stab of anger and hurt pierced Cooper. He faced it for what it was—jealousy. Griffin had been the one to share the
     night hours with Lorna. He tried to shrug off the feeling by flipping the sand and burrs out of his bedroll and rolling it
     into a tight roll.
    “I’ll be up soon as I saddle my horse,” he said curtly and headed for the corral.
    He could smell meat frying when he led Roscoe up to the cabin and tied him to a rail. The rumbling in his stomach reminded
     him that he had been eating sparingly for the past several days. He stepped up to the open door and hesitated while his mind
     absorbed the scene within. Griffin was kneeling on the pallet holding Bonnie up against his arm and trying to get her to drink
     from a cup. Lorna was beside the fire forking meat out of a skillet onto a tin plate.
    “Morning, Mr. Parnell.”
    “Morning, Miss … Lorna.”
    “There’s meat and biscuits to go with coffee. Do you have a cup in your saddlebag? I don’t have an extra one.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I do. I’ll get it.’
    She looked worn out, Cooper thought as he backed out of the door. Her hair was tied close to the back of her head and again
     in two more places making a long rope that lay on her back. She still wore the britches, the long belted shirt and well-worn
     moccasins. She had looked at him directly when she spoke and he could see dark smudges beneath her eyes caused by little or
     no sleep for the past two nights. His eyes had roamed her face and the strange feeling stirred in him again.
Had he been too long without a woman?
    When he returned, she was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall watching Griffin gently urge Bonnie to drink. Cooper
     squatted down beside the fire, filled his cup and picked up the plate. He moved away from the heat of the fire and settled
     down on his haunches to eat.
    “Do you think she’s better, Griff?” Lorna asked.
    “She’s adrinkin’. It’s a good sign. She needs to eat somethin’. Do ya have anythin’ a’tall to make gruel?”
    “I used the last of the cornmeal. All that’s left is flour for biscuits. I could go home and get more but it’s a good day’s
     ride there and back.”
    “I’ve got a bag of dried beans.” Cooper watched her head turn slowly toward him. “Mexicans swear by beans. They eat them three
     times a day.”
    She looked at him with her great, violet-blue eyes for so long that Cooper began to think she would refuse his offer. Finally,
     when he was convinced she wouldn’t speak, she murmured, “Thank you.”
    He finished the meal and got to his feet. “I’ll water the horses before I go,” he said to Griffin. “She’d better get some
     sleep.” He jerked his head toward Lorna. The young nester looked up and nodded. Lorna remained quiet, but Cooper could feel
     her eyes on him as he went to the door. Before he stepped outside he turned. Lorna was looking up at him, her eyes glazed
     with fatigue. For a frozen moment in time they maintained that pose, their eyes locked. She was a beauty, Cooper thought.
     She was a woman to cherish. He had a sudden, strong urge to protect her, to hold her and watch over her while she slept. What
     would she do if he went to her, knelt down beside her, and told her he wanted to hold her in his arms? Would she turn on him
     like she had last night and try to stab him with the knife she wore in her belt? Someday, he decided grimly, he’d have to
     find out.
    Cooper dropped the leather bag containing the beans inside the door without saying a word. He mounted his horse, cursing himself
     for being a tongue-tied fool. By God, when he came back he was going to talk to her and see if he could find out what it