Part 20 (2/2)

”I like Peter,” Greg said. He was still staring at the string and the watermoving slowly past it. His voice sounded almost groggy.

”I know you do,” his mother said softly.Winn tried to hear the sound of the water but couldn't separate it from thecottonwoods. Insects and birds added more noise. He tried to picture thescene around him and discovered it wasn't too difficult. He didn't know howbig the creek was but he had some clues; it had to be big enough to support fish but small enough to be quiet. Maybe he was wrong, but the mentalpicture remained.”How did the fence mending go?” Cynthie asked after a few minutes.”All right, I guess. They got done anyway.”Cynthie reflected on his short answer. Why hadn't he said, ”We got done”When no more details seemed to be forthcoming, she said gently, ”You know, Winn, I'm much less interested in the fence than I am in how you got along working out there with the other two men.”

”I got along fine.”There was the same tightening in his muscles. For some reason he didn't wantto talk about it so she let it go. She hoped Greg could provide adistraction but he had stretched out on the gra.s.s and had fallen asleep.

She watched him for a moment and smiled. He looked so innocent, his darkhead lying on one outstretched arm, his bare feet covered with dust. Sheloved her little boy so much she often wondered how she could be so lucky.

Nudging Winn with her elbow, she pa.s.sed her fis.h.i.+ng pole to him.

”You get to share my pole after all. Greg's gone to sleep.”

Winn took it gingerly in his hands.

”What do I do if I get a bite?”

Cynthie grinned, picking up her child's pole. ”Same thing you usually do.”

Winn felt the anger surge to the surface again. Was she intentionally beingcruel or hadn't she stopped to think? He tried to stay calm.This wasn't worth getting upset over. When he could trust his voice he said,”I'm going to have a little trouble catching hold of a string I can't see.””I know,” she said.”Just swing it over the bank and I'll take it off the hook.””Swing it over the bank,” he repeated.”Yeah, that way.” With her fingertip she drew an arrow on his chest pointing away from her.The sweet touch of her finger changed everything. She wasn't setting him upfor failure, they were just here to have fun. He knew by now that he could trust her. It was his own frustrations that caused him to worry. ”Thatway?” he grinned, pointing toward her.”If you flip a fish in my lap, I'll remember it at supper.”Winn laughed at the threat but sobered suddenly when he felt a tug on the line. Instinct told him to hold on to the pole and tug back. He struggledto his feet. Cynthie was yelling instructions that made very little sense.He could tell when the fish left the water because the flipping shook thepole. He brought it carefully around, afraid he'd lose it.

”I've got it,” Cynthie said.The excitement woke Greg.”That's a big one. Did you catch it, Winn?Where's my pole? ””It's on the ground,” began Cynthie loo king up. ”Grab it, Greg!”The boy jumped on the pole that was only inches away from where he had beenhalf sit ting. He scrambled after it for several inches before he got a goodgrip and could start pulling back.

”Help!” he screamed.”No, I got it. It's mine. No, help!”Cynthie was laughing so hard it took her a while to come to her son's aid.Finally she caught the end of the pole and helped him hold on as he backed away from the bank.

”You were great, Greg,” she said, still laughing as she removed the fish from the hook.

”Wow! They're really bitin' today,” Greg said. He eagerly handed his

mother another worm to bait his hook so he could go back to fis.h.i.+ng.

When his line was in the water and he was staring at it again, she asked him for another worm for Winn's hook.

”It's a good thing you didn't roll over in your sleep,” she said to Greg.

Winn had been laughing at the earlier excitement but felt himself turn cold

with fear. She couldn't have left her baby sleeping where he might roll over

into the water, could she?

Cynthie saw his expression change and clarified. ”The worms are in his pocket.”

Winn digested that for a moment then laughed. ”My mother would never have

stood for that,” he said, sit ting down on the bank.

”Well, his pockets have seen worse.” She handed him the pole after she cast it and busied herself getting the two fish on a string to keep them in the water until they were ready to leave.

Winn was still laughing.

”What's worse than a pocket full of worms?”

Cynthie thought about it a moment. She looked at

her son, who covered hismouth to hide a guilty giggle.

”Bird eggs,” she said finally.

Cynthie was almost through cleaning the dishes left from dinner. The five of them had eaten together. Even Winn had not objected. She was glad to seehim more at ease.

Something was bothering him, though. Jeremiah had talked about Peter's session with Lullaby, but Winn had shown very little interest. He seemed angry every time she tried to draw him into the conversation.

She wondered what was wrong, but she couldn't make him talk if he didn't wantto.

She heard horses coming into the yard and left the sink to see who it was.

Winn and Greg had been on the porch and had started toward the rider ahead ofher.

Louie was riding in leading another horse, but her attention was on thesecond man, draped across the saddle. Peter and Jeremiah were coming fromthe barn but somehow she got to Louie first. He caught her shoulders andwhen she looked into his face, he slowly shook his head.

”It's Billy Emery,” said Jeremiah in amazement.

”What happened?” Winn was the only one who seemed calm enough to ask.

Cynthie thought at first that it was because he couldn't see the horror ofthe lifeless body on the horse. She looked at his face and knew that wasn't the reason. He was feeling all the same things they were but he had taken onan authoritative calm necessary in emergencies. She wondered, vaguely, wherehe had learned it, before her attention was drawn back to Louie.

”I found him,” Louie said. He sounded too tired to be on his feet.

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