Return of the Outlaw Read Online Free Page B

floorboards that told her she was alone. Slowly she crumbled. Her stony expression melted into grief, her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees. Her shoulders shook with racking sobs, but no sound escaped her lips. She inclined forward until her forehead rested on the floor and torrents of pain flowed from her eyes.
     
     
    Jeff ’s reunion with his grandfather and Amado was as he had expected it to be. There was handshaking and back slapping with much care taken not to say too much or show too much emotion. Jeff noted his grandfather looked older, but Amado appeared unchanged. Half Yaqui Indian, the old Mexican had been John Havens’ right hand man and closest friend since before Jeff was born, and the nearest thing Jeff had had to a father since early childhood when his own parents had died. 
    They ate supper and sat long into the night, talking and reminiscing. The night had cooled a little. The sounds and smells of this place caressed Jeff ’s senses and filled him with remembrance. The three men sat on the porch, sometimes talking, sometimes maintaining silence, listening to the mind-soothing night sounds. During these silent stretches, Jeff sat deep in thought and experienced the familiar yet unaccustomed ambiance of home. It was all as he remembered, but he could not be happy.
    He spoke little of the war and they did not question him, knowing he would tell them what he wished to tell them when he wished to tell it. The subject of Anne came up only once. It was toward the end of the evening, and it was Jeff who brought it up, knowing they would already know about her engagement to Milt Carr. “I stopped by the Hammond’s place on the way in.”
    Old John looked away but Amado looked at Jeff, his eyes searching, penetrating; and to those eyes Jeff unwillingly revealed everything. Then, Jeff dropped his gaze and turned away.
    Amado loved Anne too, loved her like a daughter as he loved Jeff like a son. The three of them had many times ridden out together and shared the wild beauty of the desert., and in times of difficulty, Anne had often come to Amado for advice, trusting him, as did Jeff, with her secrets and her sorrows. Amado was that kind of man.
    Presently, John sto od up stiffly and said, “Well, think I’ll get some shut-eye.”
    When John had gone into the house Amado spoke without looking at Jeff . “Will you stay?”
    “No .”
    “Don ’t be gone too long; he’s not young.”
    “No, but he doesn ’t need me.”
    “No, but . . .” Amado paused, “No.”
     
     
    A cool breeze billowed the curtains that hung before the window of the bedroom and the morning light danced patterns along the wall. Anne stirred from her position on the floor where she had spent an anguished night until finally in the early morning, sleep had overcome her exhausted mind. Her hair was tangled and still damp from the perspiration of the hot night. Her eyes were hollow and her features were drawn and lifeless. She lifted herself from the floor, slumped onto the bed and absently reached out and touched a small plant in a clay pot on the windowsill. It would need watering today, but she didn’t care.
    She shared the room with her sister, but because of the heat, Alice had slept on the porch with the rest of the family, mercifully leaving Anne to herself.
    There was a small sound at the other side of the door. She knew it was her mother, who would listen for a while, then turn the knob. Finding it locked, she would give a resentful knock. The turn of the knob and the knock were longer than usual in coming this morning, but they came, though Anne dreaded the sound of them. The voice: hard, demanding, void of tenderness said, “Anne, it’s time to get up. We’ve things to do today.”
    Anne said nothing, and a louder knock ensued.
    “Anne, wake up,” the voice commanded.
    Still silence. Then, the sound of the key Audrey had brought with her. The door opened.
    “So you ’re up. Why didn’t you answer me?” Audrey