difficult than he had ever imagined.

Greg didn't wait for Winn to answer.

"I ain't giving them away to n.o.body, but you can have one."

Winn corrected and Greg dutifully repeated the words.

"I'm not giving them to anybody."

"But wait a minute," Winn said.

"I thought this was Peter's dog. How can you give her puppies away?"Greg had stopped so he could open the barn door. "Peter said he'd give meall the puppies. But he don't know how many 'cause she didn't tell him that."

"Doesn't know," Winn corrected.

"Doesn't know," Greg said leading Winn into the barn .

"It's dark in here,"

he cautioned.

"Good. That'll slow you down."

Greg giggled.

"You got long legs, you should move faster'n me."

"Yeah, but it's dark out there," Winn mimicked, and let Greg hold his hand

out to meet a cool damp nose.Greg and Winn were filling buckets with water for the wash. Winn worked thepump and Greg watched the bucket to tell him when it was full. Greg's attention was easily distracted, but the system worked as well as it needed to.

"Peter says if we was Indians, Mama'd wash the

clothes at the creek and we wouldn't have to carry no water."

"Any water," Winn corrected absently. He was trying to learn how the bucketsounded when it was full. When he stopped to answer Greg he realized that hehad been counting the pump strokes. It was becoming a habit. He counted everything.

"Our clothes will get cleaner in the hot water than they would at the creek."

"We wouldn't care if they wasn't clean if we was Indians," argued the child.

"And I'd never get a haircut. Stop!" Greg giggled.

"More water always keeps coming after you stop pumping and it spills on mytoes."

Winn laughed. Greg found fun in everything. "Let's get these buckets to thefire," he said, feeling for the handle of the bucket at the Waterspout.

"I'll help you carry one," Greg said, but the water only spilled when hetried to help.

"Maybe you better take my other hand and lead me. We can come back for the second bucket."

Earlier, Cynthie had asked Winn to help her carry the heavy metal frame fromthe shed. Now she had her large pot suspended on it and a fire startedunderneath. She was going to take advantage of the pretty morning and getthe laundry, sheets, blankets, everything clean.

Cynthie had listened to the exchange between Winn and Greg as she tended thefire, and couldn't help but marvel at how they got along together.

Victor would never have thought of let ting Greg help with anything.

To be fair, Cynthie reminded herself, Greg had been only three when Victordied and therefore less able to help. Somehow she couldn't picture it, anyway. Victor wouldn't have been out here pumping water for her. He would have sent one of the hands to help her in the first place.

She watched Winn walk toward her, noting the confidence in his stride.

She knew she watched him with more than a caretaker's eye. She noticed the width of his shoulders, the strength of the arm that carried the bucket andthe gentleness of the hand that held her son's. She noticed the blue eyes,masculine jaw and dimples and found herself longing to touch him.

When he stopped in front of her, she offered to take the bucket.

"Just guide it over the pot. I'll pour," he said.

Greg had already raced back to the well. Before she could talk herself out of it, Cynthie decided to take advantage of their moment alone. She steppedas close to him as possible and guided the bucket over the lip of the pot.The nearness made her heart race. She leaned closer still and let her arm touch his as she helped him dp the bucket up. His arm was warm from the sun and sent little tremors of heat through her body.

Her shoulder brushed against his upper arm when he lowered the bucket to hisside. She couldn't help but wonder if his body was reacting the way hers wasto these briefest of touches.

He stepped away and she tried to not sigh in frustration. How could she flirt with a man who couldn't see her? She ought to know better anyway. It would just lead to disappointment, but it felt so good that she didn't wantto be reasonable.

Winn turned and counted his steps back to the well.

He hoped she would think he was grinning at Greg as they returned with thesecond bucket. He wasn't About to tell her that all she needed to do was getthe bucket resting on the side of the pot. He could tell easily enough whenit was empty. He wondered how many buckets of water it took to do the wash.

His guide deserted him suddenly, halfway to the fire. Cynthie was there tohelp him empty the second bucket. Her hair smelled the way it always did,sweet and fresh. The brief contact, which he did no thing to avoid, made himwonder more about the rest of her. What did she look like? What might shefeel like in his arms, right now, right here, with the wind in her hair andthe sun on her face? He decided it was probably a good thing that Greginterrupted them just as he lowered the bucket and Cynthie stepped away.

"Someone's coming," announced the boy.

"Somebody's riding a horse but he's bringing another horse."

"Let's go see," Cynthie said. She took the child's hand quickly and grabbedWinn's hand before the child could. Winn dropped the bucket and the three ofthem went around the house to wait for the visitor.

Cynthie was feeling very clever, but when they stopped she had no choice b.u.t.to let his hand go. His fingers felt strong and hard and slightly cool fromthe water. She felt a moment of jealousy when Greg left her side to claimthe hand she had just dropped.

"It's Kyle Dempsey," she said, unable to hide a touch of annoyance in hervoice.

"The horse is a beauty!"

Greg was clinging to Winn's arm and seemed to be almost edging behind him.

He remembered the boy telling Ott that he didn't like Kyle Dempsey andwondered if that meant he was afraid of him. He tried to distract him.

"Tell me about the horse, Greg."

"It's brown. It looks mean."

"Sorrel," the mother corrected.

"And he's right. She looks at least half wild. She's got a saddle and asmall pack of some kind hanging from the pommel."

Winn barely heard the last of her description. Could the half-wild sorrel mare be Lullaby? He started to take a step forward but Greg held him back.

He heard the horses come to a stop a few yards away and the creak of leatheras the rider dismounted. Fancy spurs jingled toward them and Greg pulledfarther away.

"You must be Sutton," said the voice from the barbershop. Winn could smell the tobacco smoke that clung to his clothes. He would have offered to shake hands but he wasn't going to force Greg to let go.

Cynthie made the introductions and Winn nodded a greeting. This man had to remember him from yesterday. Why hadn't he bothered to introduce himself atthe barbershop? If he was enough of a friend to Mrs. Franklin that hevisited often, he must have recognized her son.

And if he hadn't made the connection before, why didn't he mention theearlier meeting now? Did he think a blind man wouldn't remember him?

It made Winn wonder what the man was trying to hide, and he found himselfdisliking Kyle Dempsey. If Dempsey wanted to pretend he hadn't seen himbefore, Winn would go along.

"I guess I've got some things that belong to you," Dempsey said.

"Friends of yours left your horse and gear in the livery stable yesterdayafternoon."

Cynthie felt her head spin. This was it. His friends were in town and Winn would leave.

Kyle continued, "Seems they just left her there and headed on south." He hadn't seen Cynthie turn pale, nor did he notice now as she brightened firstwith relief and then with anger. He was watching Sutton for his reaction,and the man showed almost none. Maybe he was too stupid to grasp what thismeant.

Well, Kyle could grasp it, and it made him furious! If he had been around when those men had left the horse at the livery, they wouldn't have leftWichita without taking Sutton; he would have seen to that.

Rumor had it the two men had argued the whole time they were in town, withthe older man threatening to leave the younger if he didn't do as he said.If Kyle had been there, he would have shot the one that wanted to leave thehorse.

Winn could feel Greg trying to pull his hand out of Winn's and he wondered ifthe boy wasn't about to run and hide. He didn't much like standing therebeing watched by Kyle Dempsey, either.

"Let's go see the horse," he said softly to Greg.

Kyle watched them walk away and turned his attention to Cynthie. She took his arm and led him toward the house.

"Couldn't you have broken the news more gently than that?" she whisperedfiercely.

"I'm not the one who deserted him." When she would have stopped on theporch, he propelled her into the house.

"I need to talk to you," he explained.

Cynthie took a deep breath and led the way to the kitchen. There was still

coffee on the stove and she went to get the cups.Kyle took his usual place at the table. He was right, of course. Sheshouldn't blame him for bringing bad news. And it wasn't really bad newsanyway. Maybe that was why she had reacted so strongly. She was trying tocover her own pleasure at what had to be a disappointment to Winn.

"What do you suppose he'll do now?" Kyle stretched his long legs under thetable."I don't know." Cynthie brought the pot to the table and filled the cups."I don't think it occurred to him that his friends might not return.""Had it occurred to you?"

Cynthie watched Kyle for a moment.

"Yes," she said, returning the pot to the stove. When she sat down across from him she clarified.

"I thought they might not come and he might have to give up waiting for them.I didn't expect there to be a sudden message that they weren't ever coming.

They must have learned he was still blind and decided not to find him. "

Kyle groaned. Had the whole town been questioned about the cowboy living with Mrs. Franklin?

Cynthie mistook the reaction for sympathy.

"I can't really blame them.

What could he do if he went with them? "