Part 7 (1/2)

Q^^s^Q Winn sat on the porch swing listening to the sh.e.l.lsrattle in the wind.

It was Sunday morning and Greg and his mother had gone into town forservices. The house was empty without the little boy, and Winn realized howmuch he counted on Greg's chatter to pa.s.s the time.

He had been staying here just over a week. The Double M herd should have gotten to Abilene, and in a few days his friends would be back to get him.

He would be more than ready to go. The possibility that he might not haveregained his sight by then entered his head and he s.h.i.+ed away from it. Of course he would be well. The headaches had decreased, and he knew he wasdoing much better.

Dr. Gordon had been out on Friday and he had confirmed Winn's opinion.

The swelling had not completely subsided, but Winn was certain he would seeagain once it had. He touched his forehead gingerly; it was still tender.At least he was through with the bandages.

Winn allowed the swing to rock gently. He felt more comfortable out here at night. He didn't know how many people might still be around the ranch orwhat they would think of him sit ting here. He had learned to get around thehouse a little and even around a small part of the yard. He could find the well to get a drink and, thanks to Mrs. Franklin's rope, find the outhousewithout help. He smiled. He remembered Greg counting off all the things hehad learned to do.

During the past week, he had spent a lot of time with the boy. Mrs. Franklin brought him his food, offered instructions, but it was Greg who spent the daywith him. In fact, now that he thought about it, Mrs. Franklin had seemedvery cool toward him since the night of the storm.

Through the open window he heard the clock chime once. It was half pastsomething. He would have to wait thirty minutes to find out what.

Ten, he guessed, because it was already getting warm.

He rolled up the sleeves of his blue s.h.i.+rt. He knew it was blue because it was his own for a change, not one that had belonged to Mrs. Franklin'shusband. He hadn't noticed the others being uncomfortably tight, but hecould move more freely in this one.

Maybe he should have gone to town with the others. The offer had seemed sincere. But the thought of a church full of people to b.u.mp into hadn't beenappealing, and the picnic dinner that was to follow had been terrifying.

What was she planning to tell all those people, anyway?

”This is a blind man I'm loo king after out of Christian charity”

Winn knew some people did things to help others without expecting anything in return. He tried to himself, sometimes. Mostly, though, folks contentedthemselves with small acts of kindness. Taking in a stranger with only theclothes on his back was more than most people were willing to do.

Maybe she took him in so she could show everyone how good she was. He knew people like that, too, but she didn't seem to act the way they did.

Anyway, if that was the case she would have insisted he go to church withthem.

He couldn't figure her out, and something about her made him hesitate to askquestions. He couldn't watch her face to know what she was thin king.

He almost chuckled out loud. Being blind was turning him into a coward, atleast where this woman was concerned.

He heard a faint whistling in the direction of the barn and corral.

Smell alone had determined their whereabouts when he had gone to the wellwith Greg. The whistle was a nearly tuneless strain that ended briefly andstarted up again. As often as he had been outside he could not remember having heard whistling before. The sound grew louder, and Winn put thepieces together. Someone unused to whistling wanted Winn to know he wascoming.

Winn heard the visitor's feet crunch on the gravel in the yard. The whistle was weakening.

”Good morning” Winn called.

”Good morning yourself,” came a warm, deep voice. The steps continued towardthe porch with a quicker stride. Spur less boots came up the three steps,and the porch post creaked slightly when a heavy frame leaned against it.

”Louie LeBlanc,” the voice said.

”I met you when you first came.”

”Winn Sutton,” he said. He reacheda hand toward the voice and felt it

gripped firmly by a hard, callused hand.”Mrs. Franklin asked me to check on you while she and the boys are gone,”he explained.”Can I do anything for you?””No, I'm fine,” Winn answered.”Wanted to invite you down to the bunkhouse come noon. I don't cook as good as Mrs. Franklin but it'll fill your stomach.”

And pa.s.s the time, Winn thought.

”I'd be obliged. The other hands all went to church?”

”Peter did,” Louie said.

”He and I are all that's left around here till the others get back from the

drive. You met Peter?”Winn grinned.”Not yet, but I hear a lot about him. Greg thinks he's quite a hero.”Louie laughed, a relaxed, easy sound.”Well, the boy does have a way with horses, and that's about tops in little Greg's book.” Louie paused and studied the big man. He seemed curiously outof place on the docile swing. Strong forearms showed beneath the rolled-upsleeves, and the loose s.h.i.+rt couldn't hide the broad shoulders and hardmuscles from Louie's practiced eye. His job called for him to pick men theway Peter could pick horses.

He watched Winn's face for signs of shame or pride as he continued.

”He talks about you a lot when he's down with Peter.” Winn didn't respondand Louie grinned. ”Yeah, seems like you're a real cow boy and all of a sudden Peter and I nolonger qualify. Sleeping in a bunkhouse is our main failing, I think.”

Winn laughed.

”He does ask a lot of questions about the drive.”

”Questions he's good at. Well, enjoy the quiet while you've got it.”

The post creaked again as Louie pushed away from it. He clapped a handfirmly on Winn's shoulder.

”Give a holler if you need anything.”

Winn nodded his thanks and Louie walked down the steps. Halfway across theyard he turned to look at the man on the swing. If he stayed blind, thosehard muscles would soften and he wouldn't look out of place on the swing anymore. It was a shame, too, Louie decided. Sutton looked to be the kind of man he would have liked to work with.

The same Sunday morning Mike Grady and Slim Jackson rode south out ofAbilene. Winter Sutton's mare, with his saddle and gear strapped to herback, was secured to Slim's saddle horn by a lead rope. The boy occasionallyturned to regard the animal with distrust.

Mike noticed the action with some sympathy. The boy had developed a fear ofthe horse that wasn't altogether uncalled for. She did seem to enjoytrouble, though she wasn't quite the witch Slim seemed to think she was.

He would take over the responsibility of leading her as soon as this headachewent away. He looked up at the cloudless sky and realized that instead ofimproving, the day would probably get worse as the sun grew stronger.

Last night had been a disappointment. Sat.u.r.day night in Abilene with moneyin his pocket and all he could think of was Winn Sutton. He kept imaginingthe fun he would have been having if Winn had been around, and every time hethought of Winn he had ordered another drink. To make it worse, he had beensaddled with the care of this youngster who planned to take all his moneyhome to Papa. Slim hadn't turned out to be any fun at all.