Part 35 (2/2)
”Peter'11 get 'em,” he heard Jeremiah say.
”I got my rifle on the son of a b.i.t.c.h.”
Dempsey had watched his plans fall apart as the others awakened and Jeremiahgrabbed a rifle. He glared at that rifle as he let Peter take the twopistols. Once he had decided there was no way to regain the upper hand, hestarted thin king of a story. It had to be something that Cynthie wouldbelieve. They were framing him, had gone to his house and brought him here.Anger was ma king it hard for him to think clearly but he knew he would thinkof something.
Sutton had backed off a step and Dempsey turned toward him.
”How did you...” He stopped when he saw what the man was holding. A silly little wooden stick!
”I guess I won't be needing this anymore,” Winn said and shoved it into his
pocket as if he were bolstering a gun.
”Why, you” -- Dempsey started.
”Stop.” It was Peter's voice. He had tossed one pistol on a nearby bunk but
still held the other.
”Better tie his hands, Peter,” Winn said.
”Did you kill my pa?”
Winn wasn't sure what Peter was doing but he knew he had made no move to tie
Dempsey. He also knew Peter was the one who had taken Dempsey's gun andmight decide to take matters into” his own hands.
”Peter,” he warned.Dempsey watched the boy as he turned a pistol slowly, studying it, and wantedto laugh. Merlin's brat wouldn't have the nerve to shoot him, no matter whathe knew. His only worry here was Jeremiah. If he could get the little foolbetween himself and that rifle there might still be a chance.
”It's kinda late now to be trying to prove it,” he sneered.
Dempsey edged away from Winn as he spoke. Peter didn't move but continued tolook over the pistol as if he had never seen one before.' ”Maybe,” Peter said.”Peter.” It was Cynthie's voice.Dempsey turned to see her step inside and place a hand on Sutton's arm.He couldn't believe his bad luck. Until she arrived there had still been a chance
of carrying out his original plan. He spoke quickly to Cynthie,”They've brought me here to kill me!” ”Forget it, Dempsey,” Winn said. Jeremiah spoke up, clearly nervous about the situation. ”Get his hands tied, Peter.” Cynthie had just started to relax and now she felt all her fear return.
She watched Peter as he handled the gun, oblivious to anyone but Dempsey. She wanted to step forward, to try to bring him out of his trance, but shewould be between Betts and Kyle if she did. The boy slowly leveled thepistol at Dempsey.
”Peter,” she warned again.”Did you kill my pa?” Peter's voice was soft.Kyle went cold with fear.”The boy's gone crazy.”Peter sighted down the barrel of the gun.”W. M.,” he said almost casually.Kyle was afraid to move. He spread his arms out at his sides.”Cynthie, you've got to stop him.””You ever notice those initials when you cleaned this gun?” Peter asked, slowly lowering the gun to his side.
Cynthie sighed with relief when Peter tossed the gun onto a bunk and turned
to get a length of rope. Betts stepped forward to remind Dempsey that he andthe rifle were still there.”Initials, Peter?” Winn asked.Peter nodded toward the pistol on the bunk. ”Pa's,” he said.Dempsey was quiet as Peter tied his hands together.Winn asked, ”Jeremiah, can you deliver our friend, here, to the sheriff?””Yes, sir!” he answered.
”Where's your horse?” Peter asked Dempsey as he took his arm and directedhim toward the door. Dempsey stared at him in stony silence.
”We'll find it in the morning” Jeremiah said. Peter left the bunkhouse to saddle two horses.
Dempsey cast Winn a loathing glare as Jeremiah urged him to follow.
Chapter Fifteen.
Q^yips^Q 1 he bunkhouse seemed quiet. Cynthie watched Winnand knew he listened carefully to every sound she made, watching her in his own way.
”What made you come out here?” Winn asked her.
”We weren't ma king enough noise for you to hear us at the house.”
”I was watching you,” she said a little hesitantly. She wanted to scold Winn for putting himself in such danger. At the same time, she wanted to slipinto his arms and stay there until her knees quit shaking and her racingheart returned to its normal pace. With a rueful smile, she realized thatthat wouldn't happen in Winn's arms.
She felt a need to move around, break the tension she was feeling. Winn might not have forgiven her for doubting his warning about Kyle. She wasn't sure at all that she was welcome in his arms.
She crossed the room to the bunk where her son slept. As she tucked the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, she wondered how he had sleptthrough all the excitement.
It was Winn who broke the silence.
”I think you'll find that Dempsey was the cattle thief. You should be ableto ranch in peace now, I hope.”Cynthie watched him a moment. She loved him so much and wanted to tell him but she wasn't sure he would believe her. Not after the way she had yelled at him when Louie was shot.
”I'm sorry I didn't listen to you,” she whispered.
Winn shook his head.
”You were right, though. I had no business asking Louie to take me to Dempsey's.”
Cynthie accepted that as hope that he would forgive her, but how could she
convince him that what she felt was love and not pity, as he suspected?She took a step toward him. How could she express something she didn'tunderstand? How could she make him believe something that still surprisedher? Could she tell him she loved him for the way he played with Greg, forthe way he treated everyone, in fact? Would he believe her if she told himshe loved him for who he was and that had no thing to do with sight?
”Winn,” she whispered, moving closer.
' ”Will you two do your ma kin' up somewheres else and let an old man sleep?”
Cynthie turned quickly to Louie's bedside.
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