Sweetwater Read Online Free Page B

the fawn would starve or be brought down by wolves if you kill the mother. Any fool should be able to figure that out.”
    “Anyone that lets fresh meat go by is the fool!” For a long moment their eyes locked. “We’ll see how ya feel about it come winter when ya ain’t got none.” He slid the rifle back under the seat, picked up the reins and slapped them unnecessarily hard against the team’s back. The unexpected blow sent the horses lunging forward.
    “Now are you convinced, Virginia,” Cassandra said when the wagon was moving again.
    “Convinced of what, honey?”
    “That these are barbaric people and this a barbaric land.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far. They just need some … enlightenment.”
    A snort came from Frank Wilson. He cracked the whip, urging the team to greater speed. The wheels of the wagon began lifting streamers of dust into the air as the horses trotted briskly along the narrow lane.
    “Jenny, I’m thirsty.” Beatrice had awakened and was leaning on Jenny’s shoulder.
    “I am, too,” she said gently and looked at the driver, who was staring stoically ahead. “Excuse me, do we have any water?”
    He reached under the seat, uncapped a canteen, took a swig, then handed it to her.
    “Thank you.” She passed it to the child.
    “Where’s the cup?”
    “There isn’t a cup. Just drink.” Jenny wiped the opening with her handkerchief and spoke over Frank’s loud snort.
    Beatrice spilled water down the front of her dress when she drank, and began to cry. Both girls were proud of their new clothes.
    “Don’t worry about it, honey. It’ll dry.”
    Jenny handed the canteen to Cassandra. She took a small sip, grimacing as if she were taking a dose of bad-tasting medicine. Jenny raised the canteen to her own mouth and drank several swallows of the stale water, even though it ran down her chin and into the handkerchief she held there. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that being uncivilized might not be proper, but at certain times it was exquisitely expedient.
    Jenny was suddenly aware of a change of scenery. They had entered a valley that flowed out of the grassland. Wildflowers and berry bushes flourished in abundance. Tall aspens dotted the area. A hawk rode the wind below billowing white clouds. A silent, brooding quality emanated from the surrounding hills. A small band of antelope stood at attention at the far end of the valley. The region, now, was no longer empty, but warm and comforting.
    “This is beautiful!” Jenny exclaimed.
    “Old Whitaker must have thought so. His place is just ahead.”
    “Where?”
    “Yonder.” Wilson pointed to a grove of cottonwood some distance away. “Ya can just see the top of the chimney.” Jenny’s enthusiasm had somehow caused him to lose his surliness. He grinned at her.
    “What’s this place called? Beside Stoney Creek Ranch?”
    “Valley of the Sweetwater. River’s a few miles from here.”
    “What a beautiful name. Where is the school?”
    “Just a hoot and a holler from the ranch house. Ya walk across the yard into the schoolhouse. It’s on the reservation ’cause the Indians can’t leave it without permission from Havelshell.”
    “You mean they aren’t allowed to come to the ranch house when it’s right next to the school?”
    “It’s off the reservation. Havelshell has put ’em in jail for leaving the reservation. He’s a stickler for rules. He says if they step one foot off, they is as guilty as if they go five miles.”
    They were pulling into the grove and Jenny got her first look at the ranch house. It was small, rather like the hunting lodge her uncle had in the mountains of upstate New York, and made of heavy logs. A rock chimney rose from one side. Glass panes in the front windows shone in the late-afternoon light. There was no porch. One stepped out of the house onto the doorstone. To the left and behind was an open shed attached to a building and two corrals with poles tiredly sagging. A couple of horses