out."Mama gets mad 'less I use the outhouse."Winn suppressed a smile."Women sometimes have foolish notions but it's best to accommodate them.""Yeah," agreed the child knowingly."Can you lead me to the outhouse, sir?"Greg giggled again. He had never been called sir before."Me and Mama put a rope from the back door. Mama's in the kitchen fixing breakfast. That's where the back door is."

"Is there another way around? It's embarra.s.sing to need help with somethinglike this, you understand?" "I don't need help with nothin' much," Greg a.s.sured him, leaping from the bed.

Winn pulled on his boots, which Greg had found and handed to him. He stood

up and felt the boy's small hand wrap around his finger. Winn began towonder if this had been a good idea after all. "You'll have to tell me what's in front of me so I don't b.u.mp into things,"

he reminded him.

"nothin's in front of you for four steps."

"Your steps or mine?" Winn questioned.

"Your steps." Greg responded quickly to the odd question."I can't walk for you." As Winn started forward he added, "But take littlesteps."

They made it out of the bedroom and into the front room with littledifficulty. Cynthie heard her son's voice and stepped to the kitchen door toinvestigate. Greg had evidently gone straight to Mr. Sutton's room thismorning. He had put on a shirt, which he had mis b.u.t.toned, and half tuckedit into a pair of short pants. His feet were bare, as usual, and hisstraight black hair was sleep-ruffled. He looked so tiny next to the big manbut was very intent on directing him step-by-step toward the front door. Sheput her hand to her lips and watched them.

"There's a table right there," Greg said, pointing."Remember, I can't see where 'there' is." Winn's voice was patient."Here." Greg smacked a little hand on the tabletop, rattling the gla.s.s bowl that sat there.Winn moved slightly to the left."Will I miss it?""Yeah." Greg tugged on his hand again."Now you can go a long ways." ."How big is this room?""I guess it's huge," Greg sympathized."We can go faster outside.""How come you can't see?" Greg asked. He had stopped Winn and was opening the front door.

"My horse threw me and my head hit a rock." He moved forward as Greg tugged his hand.

"Your eyes don't look broke. The bandage is up above them."Cynthie watched them step out onto the porch. When she heard Winn send Greg to close the door, she ducked into the kitchen so he wouldn't know she had been watching.

She went back to work, glancing out a window from time to time. She saw them

on the way to the outhouse, and deep in conversation later. It seemed like along time before the two of them appeared at the back door. When Greg ledhis charge inside, she saw why. They had made a trip to the well.

Greg's shirtfront was damp, and drops of water glistened on Winn's beard.

"Good morning ma'am," Winn said, standing stock-still where Greg had put him, fearful that any movement could knock something over.

"Good morning Mr. Sutton," Cynthie answered, winking at Greg. The big man

couldn't know that the little boy had planted his feet wide apart and clasped

his hands behind his back, mimicking his new friend.

"We washed," said Greg, wanting to be sure he received proper credit for this extraordinary deed.

Cynthie smiled."You both look very nice. Show Mr. Sutton to his seat, Greg.""I'm supposed to take Winn...""Mr. Sutton," Cynthie corrected."He said he was Winn," Greg responded stubbornly."It's true, ma'am," Winn said."Under the circ.u.mstances I didn't see the need to be so formal." The dimples deepened beneath the beard.

"I see." Cynthie watched the pale blue eyes that

seemed to watch somethingfar away. At least he wouldn't see how fl.u.s.tered she was by his charmingsmile. She was grateful the little boy provided her with a distraction.

"He calls me sir," Greg announced.

"So much for informality." Cynthie laughed and Winn shrugged, his dimplesdeepening again.

"Please sit down."

"I'm supposed to take him back to bed," Greg insisted.

Winn hastened to explain.

"If it wouldn't be too much bother, could you bring something to yourfather's room for me? I'd be more comfortable eating in private." He unclasped his hands, dropping them slowly to his sides, hoping to come incontact with Greg before he had to grope around for him.

Fortunately, Greg grabbed his hand eagerly and began to lead him forward.

"Mr. Sutton," Cynthie said, "I eat with a four- year-old."

"I understand, Mrs. Franklin, but I'm not four." Winn hoped she wasn'toffended but he had no way of gauging her reaction. As Greg led him slowlyfrom the kitchen and through the front room, he tried to remember how hervoice had sounded. She had laughed at him for calling the boy sir.

Otherwise, she hadn't sounded especially warm or friendly. He remembered how she had treated the neighbor they had ridden with the previous day and feltmildly apprehensive.

"Do you think we hurt your mother's feelings?" he asked when Greg haddeposited him safely beside the bed again.

"Naw," said Greg, dismissing the notion.

"You better hurry back and have your breakfast." Winn was sit ting on thebed, although he felt tired enough to go back to sleep. He heard purposefulfootsteps coming through the front room and stood up.

Cynthie carried the tray to a small table and set it down.

"Here's your breakfast, Mr. Sutton. There's a knife and spoon to the right,fork to the left, napkin in front. On the plate are scrambled eggs at twoo'clock, ham at six and biscuits at ten. Your coffee cup's above the knife.Do you take sugar or cream?"

"No, ma'am," he answered, surprised by her efficiency. It was odd listeningto a voice that he could put no form to. How big was she?

What did her face look like? What color was her hair? Greg, with all hisopen chatter, was easier to picture.

Cynthie took his hand and led him to the table, counting the steps aloud ashe walked. She turned him so he was between the table and a chair. "The bed is four steps to your right, Mr. Sutton." She made sure he had located both the chair and the table. He stood hesitantly, fingertips lightly touchingthe tabletop next to the tray.

Cynthie waited a moment and realized he wasn't going to sit down until sheeither left the room or sat down herself.

"Where are you from, Mr. Sutton?" The question was out before she thought.He would think her as ill-mannered as her curious little boy, but he neithertalked nor acted the way she expected. Nor did he look like she had expected, but she dismissed that thought as foolishness.

"Virginia, ma'am," he replied. She had a feeling he would have tipped hishat and bowed if he had had his hat and could have bowed without endangering the tray.

"Enjoy your breakfast," she said, taking Greg's hand and leaving Winn alone.

Winn sank carefully into the chair. Maybe he shouldn't have told her, butshe had asked. She might easily hold it against him, though. A lot of people he knew were still fighting the War in their hearts, and she soundedNorthern to him. The doctor had said something about New York but hecouldn't remember just what.

He felt the tray lightly, finding everything she had mentioned except thecoffee. He was afraid to reach for it. If he spilled the coffee on theplate he would lose his whole breakfast. He would save the coffee for last.

What was he doing in this place? He felt like a prisoner.

"Don't leave me here too long, Mike," he muttered, lifting the fork.

North of Cynthie's ranch and slightly east, two riders leading a third horsetopped a rise and pulled up to rest their mounts, loosening the reins to letthem graze. Mike removed his hat and wiped the inside band with hishandkerchief, shook the damp cloth to cool it and wiped it across his brow.The prairie stretched as far as they could see--low rolling hills and endless gra.s.s. A distant cloud of churned-up dust pinpointed the moving herd.

"Boss'11 water 'em at the Little Arkansas. Probably plans to cross it andpush them a few miles farther afore bed din' 'em down," Mike drawled, raisinghis canteen to his lips.

The younger man replied with an inattentive grunt.Mike swung a leg over the saddle horn in an effort to ease a sore hip.From his pocket he took out the ma kings and began to roll a cigarette."You want to tell me what's both erin' you?" he asked quietly."We shouldn't'a left him," Slim said flatly. "One'a us should'a stayed or we should'a brung him with us. We shouldn't'a just left him.""Brung him with us?" Mike repeated with a chuckle, eyeing the young man overthe match as he lit it with a thumbnail. Slim fit his nickname, long andawkward except in the saddle. If he had yet reached his seventeenth birthday it couldn't have been long ago. And unless the boy could develop some sense, he wouldn't make it to many more.

"Well, leavin' him there's about like leavin' him out in a desert or

something'! We just up and left him when he needed his friends the most."

Slim jerked off his hat and wiped his brow with a dusty sleeve.

Mike grinned.

"That little lady we left him with didn't exactly look like the desert to

me." He puffed on the cigarette, shifting slightly in the saddle.

Slim gave his hat a vicious slap against his leg, sending dust into the air and a comforting pain into his leg.

"He can't see her, Mike. He can't even see her! What good's a pretty woman

you can't see?" He ignored Mike's chuckle.

"Besides, that ain't the point."

"The point," Mike said quietly through the thin veil of smoke, 'is we done

all we could for Winn. We got him to a doctor. He's in good hands.Now we gotta get on with our lives. ""Get on with your lives? I wouldn't even have no life if it wasn't for Winn!" Slim was staring at his friend in disbelief.

"You don't plan to go back."

Mike dropped his leg over the saddle and slid his toe into the stirrup.

Catching up the reins again, he started down the hill. Slim caught up withhim quickly and grabbed the halter to stop the other horse. He looked into the older man's face, demanding an answer.

Mike carefully stubbed out the cigarette on the saddle horn, leaving a newb.u.m on the scarred wood. "If Boss'11 pay us what's due Winn, we'll bring itback to him. That, along with that crazy mare. Will that satisfy you?"

"No!"

' "Look, son. I fought in the War and watched people die. Some things is worse. Men came back from the War missing arms or legs or blind from someexploding sh.e.l.l." Mike leaned forward for emphasis. "They come home to siton their porches. Slim. Think, boy, you've seen 'em, too, these past few years. Like old men, but they ain't old. They can't do like they used to sothey can't be who they used to be."

Mike swung his horse's head away from Slim and started on.

"The Winn we knew is dead," he said. "It might'a been better if we hadn'ttried so hard to help him."

Slim looked after him in shock. He had grown up believing life was alwayspreferable to death. He quickly caught up with Mike and rode beside him.

"The doctor said he might not stay blind."

Mike glanced at the young man's defiant face and said gently, "You everknow a blind man what could see again besides in the Bible?"

They were silent as the horses walked slowly on. A killdeer burst noisilyinto the air and flew low in front of the horses, trying to lead them awayfrom her nest. Mike made a wide detour around the spot where she had risen.

Finally Slim cleared his throat.

"Doc said some- thin' about swellin' on some nerve." His voice trailed awayat the end. What had seemed like reason to hope back in Wichita soundedfoolish now.

"We better catch up with the herd," Mike said, and they kicked their mountsinto a faster pace.

Winn wasn't sure how big a mess he might have made. Mrs. Franklin seemed to have thought of everything. The meat had been cut, the biscuits b.u.t.tered,everything planned except the coffee. The cup had felt too fragile in hishands. He imagined himself setting it down in midair. He wished she had served his coffee in a tin cup. His luck might not hold.

He had a tin cup with his gear if she didn't own one. Winn frowned and rubbed his forehead. He wasn't sure where his gear was. It might still bewith the herd. Yes, of course. His knapsack had been in the wagon. He didn't think anyone had thought to get it before Mike and Slim hurried himoff to Wichita. His saddlebags had been on Lullaby's back. He could remember the boss saying Lullaby would slow them down.

It hurt to think. He was suddenly very tired. His head ached more the longer he was upright.

He counted his steps to the bed and was surprised to find that it had been made with sheets and turned down for him. Mrs. Franklin must have done it while he was out with Greg. He sat on the edge of the bed and removed hisboots. He would have liked to remove his trousers, too, but he never knewwhen the lady might come in.

A few minutes later he heard the sound of footsteps outside the door and alight rap. Winn felt too tired to answer. The door opened with only awhisper of sound and the footsteps were inside the room.