Sweetwater Read Online Free Page A

young body. Circumstances back home had robbed her of much of her childish eagerness. She was so bright. She needed stimulation to learn. Jenny had brought material to teach her, but was it enough?
    Jenny sighed deeply. This was the best she could do. She consoled herself with the thought.
    “What do you do, Mr. Wilson?” she asked, brushing unhappy thoughts from her mind.
    “Oh, this and that, I reckon.”
    “Do you have regular employment?” She stole a surreptitious glance at the holstered gun on his side.
    “I work for a rancher over near Forest City.”
    “Doing cowboy work?”
    “Yeah,” he said, and grinned again.
    The man had been respectful enough—considering his rough ways, but something about him irritated her. Behind the curly brown beard he tried to hide a smirk as if he had a secret he was itching to tell.
    They traveled steadily westward through an emptiness of grass and sky; distance and openness were all around them. The country they were passing through was the most beautiful Jenny had ever seen. Birds rose from the tall grass along the trail as they approached. The mountains were a purple shadow in the distance. She normally would have been enthralled by the landscape, but fatigue and the pain in her back that came from sitting on the hard, lowbacked wagon seat nagged at her.
    They had passed one homestead shortly after they left town. For the past couple of hours the only sign of civilization she had seen was a herd of cattle and a deserted shack. Even the wagon track seemed seldom used.
    “I was told the Whitaker land was next to the reservation, but I didn’t realize it was so … isolated.”
    “Isolated? What’s that mean?”
    “Means set apart. Are there no homesteads nearby?”
    “Couple.”
    When it became obvious he was not going to say more, Jenny prodded.
    “Farmers?”
    He laughed as if she had said something terribly funny.
    “People don’t farm out here, lady. Oh, some grow little patches of this and that. Mostly they run cattle or sheep. There’s a horse ranch across the river and ’bout five miles up. Squatters has set up on Whitaker land four or five miles south. Havelshell just heard about ’em. He’ll have ’em off afore they got time to spit.”
    “Why will he do that?”
    “’Cause they ain’t supposed to be there, that’s why.”
    “Surely Mr. Havelshell doesn’t have all the say about who squats on Whitaker land. I’d think that on six square miles of land there would be room for a dozen or more homesteaders.”
    Frank chuckled. “Tell him that.”
    “I will. Who owns that herd of cows we passed?”
    Frank laughed so loud and so long, she wanted to kick him.
    “Those cows belong to the Sweetwater Cattle Company.”
    “What so funny?” she asked irritably.
    “They’re steers, lady. Not cows.”
    “Why are they on Whitaker land?”
    “Havelshell is the Sweetwater Cattle Company. Ask him.”
    “I will,” she said again firmly. She turned to look at her sister, who sat uncomfortably on the feed sacks behind the wagon seat. “Are you all right, honey?”
    “No, I’m not all right. I doubt if I’ll ever be again.”
    Cassandra had removed her bonnet. The warm sun beat down on her small freckled face and dark auburn hair. Jenny understood the child’s feelings.
    Frank hauled on the reins and drew the sweating team to a halt.
    “Why are we stopping?” Jenny asked.
    “Deer yonder,” he said, taking the rifle from beneath the seat. “I’ll get you some fresh meat.”
    “You’ll do nothing of the kind!” Jenny’s voice was shrill. “You will not kill that animal in front of the children.”
    Wilson looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Wh … at the hell?”
    “Are you deaf?” She fired the words at him. “I would not allow you to kill that deer even if the children were not present. She has a young one. Can’t you see it?”
    “Hell, yes, I see it. What difference does that make?”
    “The difference, Mr. Wilson, is that