Wayward Wind Read Free

night, ’n nobody dares lay a hand on ’er.”
    When Lorna finished her song, White Bull lifted his arm in silent tribute. He knew she had sung for him and it made his heart
     glad. He put his heels to his pony. It was time to return to the Wind River encampment and prepare his people for the trek
     south. They would break their journey here on Light’s Mountain, and he would see Singing Woman again.
    Lorna sat with her back to a mountain spruce, her hat on the ground beside her.
    “I’m afraid Brice will kill Bonnie.” She handed the sack of dried fruit back to Volney and met his eyes with her dark, violet-blue
     ones. Under strangely smoky lids and level black brows, they gave her an intense look of concentration.
    “Ain’t nothin’ ya can do if’n she won’t leave him.”
    “He’s letting the men use her, and her carrying his babe.” There was both worry and scorn in her voice. “Sometimes I think
     men are the lowest things on this earth. All they’ve got on their minds is fornicating. They don’t care if a woman wants to
     do it or not. It’s just like she’s not human. Back in the olden days, Light
loved
Maggie and my grandpa
loved
my grandma. What’s happened to people, Volney?”
    “You bein’ bothered by them no-goods?” he asked tartly.
    “They know better than to bother me. I’d kill them.”
    “Brice’s fondness for other folk’s cows could get
him
killed.”
    “I can’t wait for that, I’ve got to get Bonnie away from here.” Lorna chewed the fruit slowly and spat out a seed. “When Brice
     came here four or five years ago, he wasn’t so bad. He’d been discharged from the army and said he wanted to start a little
     ranch. But the longer he’s here the worse he gets.”
    “He showed his good side at first. Your granny was alive then. She saw him fer what he was ’n told him to steer clear a you,
     or she’d clean his plow. Guess he feared she’d sic White Bull on ’em. Brice is the kind a man what’s got to have a woman,
     ’n he went out ’n got hisself one.”
    “Bonnie’s had it hard. Her folks made her feel like she was dirt because she was born with one hand. Godamighty! It wasn’t
     her fault. Her own folks sold her for a keg of whiskey and a broken down horse and wagon.” Lorna pounded the dust from her
     hat by slapping it against her leg, her dark lashes hiding the worry in her eyes. “She’s only sixteen, Volney. At least that’s
     how old she thinks she is.”
    “What’re you now? Eighteen? Nineteen? My, how the years go. It ain’t been no time a’tall since ya was wearin’ rags on yore
     hind end.”
    “Don’t change the subject, you old coot. Can’t you see I’m worried about Bonnie?”
    “I see it, youngun, but there ain’t nothin’ I can do. Talk to Frank. Maybe he can get Brice to let up on ’er.”
    “Fiddle-faddle! Pa won’t do anything. I think he’s scared of Brice. That’s another thing, Volney. It’s crossed my mind that
     Pa’s up to something. He’s throwing out a lot of big talk about maybe setting up a hauling business and going to California
     or Oregon.”
    This was news to Volney. He shook his unkempt mane from side to side. “What a ya think of it?”
    “I’m thinking there’s plenty to do here, if he’d just knuckle down and do it. He’s never taken an interest in Light’s Mountain.
     It’s like he was here visiting. But if he’s set to leave, he’ll go alone. There have been Lightbodys on this mountain for
     more than sixty years. I’m the only one left. Here I stay, here I die.”
    Volney looked at the girl’s set face. She always had a look of preoccupation about her, an air of listening to some distant
     music that no one else could hear. To him, she was the prettiest thing in the world. A shiny mass of hair was drawn back from
     her face and tied at the nape of her neck, accentuating her high cheekbones and the pure creamy pallor of her skin. The contrast
     of pale white skin and dark hair was