Wayward Wind Read Free Page A

still startling to Volney, who had known her all her life. She had a lovely mouth, full
     lipped and red, with a curious deep cleft in the low lip. Her slim young body moved with vibrancy, yet with the grace of the
     wind on the grass of the plains.
    She needed a man by her side, Volney thought, just as Maggie had needed Light to stand between her and the varmints who would
     use and dishonor her. She was far too sightly to be left alone. A man had only to look at her to start a fever in his veins.
     White Bull loved her like a daughter, just as he did, but they wouldn’t always be there to protect her.
    “I’ve got to be getting on home.” Lorna got to her feet.
    “Ain’t you got no better footgear’n that?”
    “Of course I have, but what’s wrong with these?” Lorna held out her foot. Her moccasins were well worn and her toe was coming
     through the end.
    Volney’s bony shoulders jiggled with his dry chuckling. “If ya ain’t the damndest! I’d give a prime beaver pelt to see ya
     all gussied up in that white deerskin dress Little Owl made fer ya a few years back.”
    “For goodness sake, Volney! You’ve seen me in it,” she sputtered. “Are you getting so old you’ve forgotten we spent a week
     at White Bull’s Little Snake camp?”
    He laughed. “I ain’t forgot how White Bull yanked ya off’n that pony when ya thought to sneak off with a party huntin’ a killer
     b’ar.”
    “You told him, or he wouldn’t have seen me,” she accused.
    Volney ejected a stream of amber juice. “ ’Pears like even White Bull’s got sense enuff to know his warriors don’t have no
     bumps on their chest.”
    “Oh, shut up about it,” Lorna said crossly. She swung into the saddle with her lips pressed together to keep from smiling.
     It was funny now, but it hadn’t been at the time. She’d dressed in Gray Owl’s clothes and had even put black river mud on
     her face. Just as the party was about to ride out—whish! White Bull had grabbed her by the back of the tunic and yanked her
     off the pony. He’d threatened to switch her legs with a willow switch if she tried to deceive him again.
    “Are you going to be around long, Volney?”
    “I’m athinkin’ on it.”
    “Keep an eye on Brice’s cabin, will you?”
    “You knowed I was agoin’ to anyhow.”
    “Come up to the house for supper.”
    “Nope. I got me things to see ’bout.”
    “All right then, you old goat, don’t come!”
    Lorna rode along the edge of the shelf until she found a break in the wall’s sheer face and sent her horse downward in a dangerous
     descent that laid her almost flat over its croup. She grinned wickedly, knowing that Volney was watching and that she’d get
     the sharp edge of the old man’s tongue when next they met. She struck the level ground with a jolt that rocked her forward
     and ran her horse in under the trees screening the canyon’s lower end.
    Half an hour later, coming out into the open, she saw, a hundred yards away, three riders driving a small herd. They were
     facing her and she saw alarm evident in their attitudes. There was a brief run of time in which she walked her horse toward
     them. No one spoke, but one man lifted his hand in greeting. Lorna dragged her horse to a halt and faced the men. She knew
     them all. They were cronies of her father.
    “What are you doing with old man Prichard’s cows? Are you taking them somewhere for him?” She looked at each of them with
     a level, searching gaze.
    “It ain’t no business of yores what we’re adoin’, missy,” Eli, the older man, growled. “Ride on.”
    “Seems you’re short handed. Looks like mighty hard work if it takes three men to drive a dozen steers. I’ll be glad to give
     you a hand.” Lorna leaned on the saddle horn and smiled sweetly. She stared at each man in turn. Luke, Eli’s young son, looked
     away and didn’t meet her eyes, but his cousin, Hollis, grinned and edged his horse close to hers so that his knee rubbed