Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] Read Online Free Page B

directly in the eye. Something was going on that she didn’t understand, but she had rights here. This was
her
home,
her
land; and from the looks of it, she should have come back long ago.
    Aubrey McCall felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach by a horse. Why had Shannon McCall’s daughter returned home? An educated miss such as she would have no reason to come to this place after all this time unless she intended to sell it. He suspected that Shannon McCall had left money in a bank in Denver to pay for her schooling, but had been unable to find out for sure until he had stopped sending money to the school after the first year and not a word had been said.
    The girl had written she had a good-paying position at the school. What had caused her to give it up? Why hadn’t she let him know that she was coming? He would have put a stop to her if he had known. She was going to be every bit as stubborn and self-righteous as her father, he could see that. Aubrey turned on his heel and went into the house. Damn her for bringing that bastard here! He ignored his wife’s calls from the bedroom and went directly to the cupboard in the kitchen and poured himself a stiff drink.
    Trellis returned with two men. Mara had no idea of the picture she made standing at the end of the wagon. Her straw hat was askew. Sun glinted on the copper in her hair that hung loose from its knot. Her dress was soiled, her cheeks were red and sparks of temper flashed from her emerald green eyes. Determination to have her way was evident in every line of her body.
    She had a chance to observe the men as they approached. One was thin with a narrow face and eyes set close to his beaklike nose. His arms were long, hanging almost to the knees of his bowed legs. The other was strongly built and wore a high-crowned Texas hat designed to keep the sun off his skull. He was tall and had a long, lean, hard face burned brown from his forehead to a square chin. His clothes were those of a man who spent long hours in the saddle. A gun belt was strapped about his waist; the other man had a weapon tucked into his belt. Mara was used to seeing men wearing weapons as if they were part of the clothing, but it crossed her mind that these two didn’t appear to be the type of men to work on a farm.
    “Sam Sparks, ma’am.” The tall man put his fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded politely to Mara before peering down at the man who lay in the back of the wagon. He whistled through his teeth. “Godamighty!”
    “I found him about halfway between here and Sheffield Station. He’s been shot in the side and in the leg, I think.”
    “He’s in bad shape,” the tall man said slowly in an accent of the deep south.
    “Do you know who he is?” Mara asked.
    “I’ve seen him around.”
    “Ma wants you to bring him into her room, Sam,” Trellis said in a low tone, his eyes going from Mara to the tall man. “There’s a bunk in there,” he added.
    Aubrey came out onto the veranda carrying the whiskey bottle in his hand and watched the injured man being lifted out of the wagon. The two men and Trellis staggered under his weight, but they made it up the steps and into the house.
    Mara followed them, passing Aubrey without a glance. She kept her mind firmly on the injured man so that she wouldn’t look at the destruction done to her mother’s house. The layout of the rooms was familiar, four rooms downstairs, two rooms upstairs. They passed from the parlor into the kitchen and from the kitchen into the back bedroom, the room that had been Mara’s parents’ room.
    Brita McCall was sitting up in bed with pillows behind her. Mara saw the fear and pain on her face. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, her face showed the lines of age, but it was still as sweet as Mara remembered. Blue eyes clouded with pain sought hers, and Brita lifted a crippled hand toward her.
    “Hello, Cousin Brita.”
    “Hello, Mara Shannon. Ach, ’n what have they been doin’ to me boy?”