Greg had stopped sobbing but he still clung to Winn's neck.

"I'm sorry,"

Cynthie whispered.

One warm soft hand continued to rest on Winn's shoulder as the other

comforted her child. Her hair smelled like fresh air and laundry soap and ithelped to dispel the smoke that still hung in the air.The clock chimed and Greg pulled away to count. "One, two, three.""Time to be asleep," his mother said."Promise you won't go?" he said, turning to Winn.Cynthie wanted him to promise exactly that but she knew he would qualify it."Not without saying goodbye," he said."Promise." He solemnly put one hand on his heart.Greg allowed his mother to take his hand and lead him toward the stairs. When he turned around to look at his friend, Cynthie looked, as well.Moonlight was streaming through the window by the door, leaving him insilhouette. He stood erect, his head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side, listeningfor their footsteps. "Good night," she said softly.

"G'night," echoed Greg.

"Good night," Winn responded and heard them go up the stairs. He reached behind him to find the door and made sure it was closed. Using it to get hisbearings, he went to the bedroom. He opened the window as wide as possibleand returned to the bed.

He wanted to sleep but he didn't know what waited for him if he did.

The nightmares had become more frequent. They were often violent and alwaysdisturbing. He didn't want to think about them but he had to admit that he didn't know what waited for him during the day, either.

He tried to empty his mind and listen only to the creaking of the house andthe night sounds through the window. With a start he realized that the creaking he now heard was not coming from the house. Someone was opening thedoor to his room. It closed very gently and there was a whisper of bare feeton the floor. A moment later a tiny bit of weight was added to his mattress.

"Greg?" he whispered.

"Shh," was the reply.

Winn felt for the sheet to cover the child and moved to give him more room.Moments after the child was settled, Winn could hear his deep, evenbreathing. He envied his ability to relax so quickly.

In a matter of minutes, however, he, too, fell into a dreamless sleep,eased by the child's serenity.

It was later than usual when Cynthie dragged herself into the kitchen.

She had worked hard the previous day and had fallen into bed exhausted, onlyto be awakened in the night by her little boy's cry. Afterward, she hadfound it impossible to fall back to sleep. She had lain awake until the early morning hours thin king of Winn.

Through the window, she saw him ma king his way toward the door guided by the rope. She didn't want him to be startled when he came in and found her there, so she called out, "Good morning" before he opened the door.

"Morning, ma'am," he responded, coming inside and carefully closing the door.

"Have you seen Greg this morning?" she asked. Looking up from her breakfastpreparations, she saw the muscles in his face tighten for a second. She was surprised. It was just a figure of speech. He had never reacted that waybefore, and she knew it had slipped out more than once.

After a moment he answered, "He's sleeping in your father's bed."

Cynthie wasn't sure what to make of him this morning. Surely it was Winn'sbed by now. But he wasn't staying. She had to remember that.

Maybe he hadn't gotten any more sleep than she had.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Don't be sorry. He didn't bother me."

There was a sharpness in his tone that made her look up again. Was he angryat her for not keeping her son out of his room or for saying she was sorry?

She decided she'd let it go.

"Will you eat in here with us this morning?"

"No, thanks, ma'am."She wondered why she bothered to ask. He never ate with them if he couldavoid it. She had an idea. "You know, if you go back to your room now,you'll wake Greg. Why don't you have a seat here while you wait for him toget up? He never sleeps very late."

He seemed to think about it for a moment before he found the chair and satdown."Coffee?" she asked hopefully.Winn laughed, but it was a laugh of resignation. "It sounds good.""I'm glad." Cynthie got the cups and set them on the table."It'll be ready in a couple of minutes."

Winn laughed again.

"I suppose by the time my coffee's ready the rest of the breakfast will be, too."

"If I time it right."

"You know, for a woman who isn't very bossy, you sure seem to get your own way."

There was a teasing quality in his voice she had only heard him use with

Greg. She liked it, and even more, she liked having Winn to herself. She

hoped little Greg would sleep until noon. She brought the coffee to the table as soon as it was ready and continuedwith the rest of the breakfast preparations. She watched him while she worked. Despite his teasing, he didn't seem particularly comfortable. He kept his hands wrapped around the china cup and sat rather stiffly.

Finally he let her know what he was thin king.

"Ma'am, I've got to come to some decision but I just don't know what to do." Cynthie slid the skillet off the hot stove and came to sit across from him. "How can I help you?" "You've already helped me, but I can't stay here forever." Cynthie poured herself a cup of coffee to give her shaking hands something to do."Where will you go?" She was surprised her voice didn't shake as well."That's the problem, ma'am. I don't know.""Listen," she said, putting one hand on his arm. "Don't be in too big a hurry. When you first came, I wrote my father's doctor in New York.

I haven't heard from him yet. He may know of something we can do. Why don't you wait until we hear from him? "

Winn shook his head.

"If he hasn't answered by now, I doubt that he will."

Cynthie got to her feet and returned to the stove, more out of a need to

expend some restless energy than concern for their breakfast.

"Well, you know how slow the mail can be. And doctors are slow, too."

Her voice trailed away and she concentrated on saving the eggs that had

soaked up too much grease while she was at the table.

Winn sighed then chuckled to himself.

"I was waiting for the boys to get back. Now I'll wait for this letter.

What do I wait for after that?"

Cynthie wanted to tell him she would have thought of something by then.

Instead she scooped up the eggs and ham and brought them to the table.

She told him quietly where everything was on his plate and sat down across

from him.

He made no move to eat.

"There's such a thing as waiting too long. It will just get harder to leaveand I don't belong here.""But you could."Winn looked genuinely startled, and it made Cynthie blush. It hadn't been something she had meant to say aloud.

"I mean whatever you decide to do with your life, you could do right here."

A flash of anger crossed Winn's features.

Cynthie wanted to explain.

"I just think you should be thin king about the things that you can do

instead of what you can't. When you know what you want to do with your life, you can think about where you want to go and when."

Winn's tone was cool.

"What if I come up with no thing? What if there isn't anything I can do?"Cynthie watched him for a moment, trying to get her own emotions in check inthe face of his. When she was sure her voice would sound steady and a.s.suredshe answered him.

"That won't happen.""What won't happen?" asked Greg, coming into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.He went straight to Winn and climbed up on his lap."Greg, Winn can't eat with you there.""That's all right, ma'am. I'm not hungry." He lifted Greg off his lap and came to his feet. Greg climbed into the chair and reached for the plate as

Winn started across the room.

Cynthie watched him leave thin king she'd like to slap him next time he called her ma'am. She focused her attention on Greg, who stood on the chair with one hand supporting his weight on the table, picking

at the eggs withhis fingers.

"Use a fork, Greg," she said in exasperation.

Winn went through the front room and out the door. He stopped on the porchand leaned his shoulder against the post. He hadn't meant to fight withCynthie. For some reason he was picturing this place as a prison once more,a prison with a very persuasive guard. She had trapped him here again, thistime to wait for a letter. But it was easier to stay trapped and blame herthan to do anything about it.

His stomach rumbled and he wanted to kick himself. If he spent the morninghungry he had no thing to blame but his own stubborn pride. It seemed like pride was about all he had left.

Pride and one crazy mare. He walked down the steps and started slowly acrossthe yard. He would see if he could make it to the barn without breaking hisneck.

Something in the wind made him change direction. He had gone several stepsbefore he realized that his stomach was leading him toward the bunkhouse; thesmells of breakfast there had caught his attention, but now he wasn't sure heshould invite himself to join the men. But the decision was already out ofhis hands.

"Peter saw you comin' and sent me to fetch you in," called a voice.

"I'm Jeremiah Betts. I been gone till just recent and didn't get the chanceto meet you." He took Winn's arm and walked beside him.

"I'm Winn Sutton."

"That's what the boy said. He said you the one owns that pretty sorrel mare."

"I'm afraid she's mine, all right." They had come to the door and Jeremiah

held it open and helped Winn inside."Peter's just getting' started on breakfast. With Mr. Louie gone, we bothjust slept late somehow. Now you set yourself here. I let Peter do the cookin' but I got to watch him."

Winn took the seat and heard his guide slide a chair across the floor until it ended up nearby. There were sizzling and bubbling sounds from the direction of the stove, but Peter hadn't said a word.

"Now Peter here is good with eggs," Jeremiah continued.

"He likes to eat 'em and he knows how to cook 'em, but 'sides that, he ain't got no real talent for coo kin'."