Part 18 (2/2)

Cynthie got to her feet and returned to the stove, more out of a need to

expend some restless energy than concern for their breakfast.

”Well, you know how slow the mail can be. And doctors are slow, too.”

Her voice trailed away and she concentrated on saving the eggs that had

soaked up too much grease while she was at the table.

Winn sighed then chuckled to himself.

”I was waiting for the boys to get back. Now I'll wait for this letter.

What do I wait for after that?”

Cynthie wanted to tell him she would have thought of something by then.

Instead she scooped up the eggs and ham and brought them to the table.

She told him quietly where everything was on his plate and sat down across

from him.

He made no move to eat.

”There's such a thing as waiting too long. It will just get harder to leaveand I don't belong here.””But you could.”Winn looked genuinely startled, and it made Cynthie blush. It hadn't been something she had meant to say aloud.

”I mean whatever you decide to do with your life, you could do right here.”

A flash of anger crossed Winn's features.

Cynthie wanted to explain.

”I just think you should be thin king about the things that you can do

instead of what you can't. When you know what you want to do with your life, you can think about where you want to go and when.”

Winn's tone was cool.

”What if I come up with no thing? What if there isn't anything I can do?”Cynthie watched him for a moment, trying to get her own emotions in check inthe face of his. When she was sure her voice would sound steady and a.s.suredshe answered him.

”That won't happen.””What won't happen?” asked Greg, coming into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.He went straight to Winn and climbed up on his lap.”Greg, Winn can't eat with you there.””That's all right, ma'am. I'm not hungry.” He lifted Greg off his lap and came to his feet. Greg climbed into the chair and reached for the plate as

Winn started across the room.

Cynthie watched him leave thin king she'd like to slap him next time he called her ma'am. She focused her attention on Greg, who stood on the chair with one hand supporting his weight on the table, picking

at the eggs withhis fingers.

”Use a fork, Greg,” she said in exasperation.

Winn went through the front room and out the door. He stopped on the porchand leaned his shoulder against the post. He hadn't meant to fight withCynthie. For some reason he was picturing this place as a prison once more,a prison with a very persuasive guard. She had trapped him here again, thistime to wait for a letter. But it was easier to stay trapped and blame herthan to do anything about it.

His stomach rumbled and he wanted to kick himself. If he spent the morninghungry he had no thing to blame but his own stubborn pride. It seemed like pride was about all he had left.

Pride and one crazy mare. He walked down the steps and started slowly acrossthe yard. He would see if he could make it to the barn without breaking hisneck.

Something in the wind made him change direction. He had gone several stepsbefore he realized that his stomach was leading him toward the bunkhouse; thesmells of breakfast there had caught his attention, but now he wasn't sure heshould invite himself to join the men. But the decision was already out ofhis hands.

”Peter saw you comin' and sent me to fetch you in,” called a voice.

”I'm Jeremiah Betts. I been gone till just recent and didn't get the chanceto meet you.” He took Winn's arm and walked beside him.

”I'm Winn Sutton.”

”That's what the boy said. He said you the one owns that pretty sorrel mare.”

”I'm afraid she's mine, all right.” They had come to the door and Jeremiah

held it open and helped Winn inside.”Peter's just getting' started on breakfast. With Mr. Louie gone, we bothjust slept late somehow. Now you set yourself here. I let Peter do the cookin' but I got to watch him.”

Winn took the seat and heard his guide slide a chair across the floor until it ended up nearby. There were sizzling and bubbling sounds from the direction of the stove, but Peter hadn't said a word.

”Now Peter here is good with eggs,” Jeremiah continued.

”He likes to eat 'em and he knows how to cook 'em, but 'sides that, he ain't got no real talent for coo kin'.”

<script>