Part 23 (2/2)

Mounting was just as difficult the second time, except he got his bearingsfaster using Cynthie's trick of standing in the stirrups.

The trouble this time was he wouldn't know when to stop her and she mightjust walk right past the house and yard. He tried to make her start with the usual heel in the ribs but she stood patiently, waiting for him to sing. He gave in to her wishes and sang two more verses of ”The Old Chisholm Trail.”This time he sang softer, and when he heard a shout behind him he stopped andwaited for the others to catch up.

After he had dismounted, Greg wanted a ride. Peter lifted him up and wentback to the barn. Winn stood with Cynthie as she watched her little boy onthe back of the big horse. He was singing his own version of Winn's song, making up any words that he couldn't remember.

”I should put something on those scratches,” she said softly.

”No hurry. Mostly, I bruised my, uh, dignity.”

Cynthie laughed again and covered her mouth too late.

”I'm sorry,” she said.

”It's just that...” She covered her mouth to stifle another giggle.

”It's just that I looked really funny. Did you know all along that wouldhappen?”

He was smiling again, and it made her heart race. She had been so frightenedwhen she had seen him fall that she had laughed in relief when she knew hewasn't hurt. She turned away to watch her little boy.

He had stopped singing for a moment and now he and the mare were on their way back. When she turned toward Winn she was serious.

”I know it isn't quite like the riding you're used to. But it's a first step. It's got to be better than no thing.”

Winn was quiet. Cynthie decided he wasn't going to answer and she turned towatch Greg again. Unwilling to end his ride so soon, Greg turned the horseaway and started singing again.

”It may be better than no thing,” Winn said finally. ”But it reminds me of what I can't do.”

”But don't you think about it anyway?”

That was certainly true. Trying to forget hadn't worked at all. He intended to remain silent, to let her think she was helping him, but the frustrationboiled over inside.

”What do you expect me to do, tell you all the things I want to do and letyou teach me how to do them halfway?”

What would she think if he told her that what he wanted most was her?

Would she let him love her halfway? Could she love half a man?

The bitterness in his voice frightened Cynthie. She had no answer to his question; she had no answers at all. She stood silently and watched her sonride around the yard until he tired of the game. Winn stood just as silentlybeside her, following the movement of the boy and horse by the child's song.

When Greg was safely on the ground again, she took the mare to the barn andunsaddled her and rubbed her down. She had to keep busy, too. She was feeling as lost and bitter as Winn. There was no thing else she could do forhim. She had tried everything she could think of. It was time to tell him about the letter and leave the decision up to him.

Cynthie tapped on Winn's door. ”I want to talk to you,” she said. It had taken longer than usual to getGreg washed and settled into bed and this was her first chance to be alonewith Winn. She had heard him moving around while she tucked Greg in so sheknew he hadn't been in bed very long.

After what seemed like a long hesitation he answered, ”All right.”

Cynthie carried a lamp into the room, knowing it would be dark. Once inside,

she closed the door and turned to look at him. He was stretched across thebed on his back, his hands tucked under his head.He had removed his s.h.i.+rt and washed. Drops of water on his chest glistened in the lamplight, and the ends of his hair were damp.”I got the letter,” she began. He didn't move. It was like he hadn't heard.”From the doctor in New York.”After a long moment of silence he prompted,”And?”Cynthie sighed.”And he's sorry.”She crossed the room and set the lamp on the table. She resisted the temptation to pace.”He mentions a school.” She watched for a reaction.”In Boston. We could send you there.”He seemed to be staring at the ceiling. She came to stand near the bed.”Would you go, Winn?”He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke his voice was very soft, almost too low to hear.

”I'll do anything you want, Cynthie.”

She sat down on the bed next to him and he turned his face toward her.

”I.

can't help you any more,” she said.

”I just don't know what else to do.”

Her fingers reached out and stroked his face. He caught them quickly with

his own.

”You've done a lot, Cynthie. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that.You've done more than most people would have.”Cynthie swallowed back the lump in her throat. ”I'll write to the school tomorrow if you want me to.”Winn nodded.”I don't know how I'll pay for it.””Don't worry about it.” Cynthie sat for a moment and watched him.”I'll write to your family for you, too, if you want me to. Isn't there someone?”

He turned his face away from her.

”Not that can afford a school like that.”

”That's not what I meant, Winn. Isn't there someone who'd like to know where

you are?”He still held her fingers in his hand. He squeezed them a little tighter.After a moment he shook his head.Reluctantly, Cynthie pulled her hand away and stood.”Good night,” she said. She retrieved the lamp and left the room.Winn lay for several minutes after Cynthie had gone, his fingers beating out a nervous rhythm on the bed. He rolled to a sit ting position and ran hishands through his hair. Resting his elbows on his knees, he held his head,trying not to think about what Cynthie had just said or what he was about todo.

Finally he got up and took the three steps to the corner where his bags were.

He felt under the larger

knapsack for the saddlebags and brought them tothe bed.

He tested the weight of each bag and chose one. He unbuckled the fastener,dumped the contents onto the bed and felt among the articles there,searching. Picket pins. They were what had fooled him. It must be on the other side.

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