lemonade. She watched him take it carefully in his hands, taste a tiny sip

and lower the gla.s.s to his lap.

"My guess, Mr. Sutton, is that your sense of direction has always been good,"

Cynthie said.

Winn decided there were times when he liked this woman's voice.

"Maybe,"

he said. Maybe the compa.s.s in his head had a needle that pointed straight to

Virginia. It was funny how suddenly, after three years, he was homesick.Maybe it was the lemonade. He took another sip; it tasted right, but therewas no mistaking this porch in Kansas for his veranda at home.

That was a curious thought. Why was it different? Why couldn't he imagine whatever he wanted around him?

The prairie smells were different from the flower

scents of home. The air felt different, warm but not as soft. And there were none of the sounds of home.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts. It wasn't good to dwell on memories."What's the rattle I hear?" He pointed in the direction of the sound."Mama's wind chimes," Greg said. Winn heard bare feet slap the porch floor."You want a cookie? They make the lemonade taste sour."Cynthie laughed."He's not trying to talk you out of your dessert. He likes it that way.""You may have my cookie, Greg, but you'll have to do me a favor in return.Tell me about the wind chimes. I've never heard any that sound like these. ""It's made of sh.e.l.ls," Greg said, biting into a cookie."Mama tied them to a ring with fishin' line. Couldn't we go fishin' in a hurry. Mama?" Greg persisted.

"I'm afraid not, baby," Cynthie answered.

"My family made a trip to the beach once when I was a child," she said to

Winn.

He smiled. Everyone out here brought memories of distant places. It madehim feel less alone."Somebody's comin'," announced Greg.Winn strained to hear some sound in the distance. Maybe Mrs. Franklin had been wrong about his friends; maybe it was Mike and Slim come to get him.

"Can you tell who it is?" he asked.

"I think it's Kyle," said Cynthie.

Greg handed his empty gla.s.s to his mother.

"I'm gonna see Sorry," he said.

" Sorry's a stray dog Peter found," Cynthie explained.

"He calls her that because she's such a sorry- loo king thing."

"Wanna come?" Greg put his hand on Winn's knee. Winn shook his head. "Maybe another time." Cynthie watched her child run toward the barn and wished Greg liked Kyle better.The rider was still a long way off. Winn seemed almost as distant."Can I get you anything else, Mr. Sutton?" she asked."No, thank you, ma'am. If you could help me back to your father's room, I believe I'd like to lie down again. I'm afraid I give out pretty fast."

"That's to be expected," she said, taking the gla.s.s from his hand and settingit on the tray. She took his arm and directed him to the door.' "You should count the steps from one place to another. You can get around without a guide that way."

"I think t can stand being led around for a few days, ma'am. Besides, howoften does a cowboy like me get to have a young lady on his arm?"They had reached the door to her father's room. She guided his hand to the k.n.o.b and stepped away. "As easily as you can turn on the charm, Mr. Sutton,I'd guess about as often as you like."The dimples under his beard deepened."Sorry, ma'am. I do appreciate the advice, but I'm not going to need it."

"I hope not, Mr. Sutton."She watched him disappear behind the door and, with a sigh, walked to theporch. She gathered up the remains of the picnic and set the tray and basketinside the house while she waited for Kyle. She wasn't sure why, but shesuddenly felt disappointed.

Cynthie lay awake listening to the approaching storm. The house was warm and she had left the windows open, hoping for a breeze before the rain.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and an irregular pulse of lightning playedoutside her window. She told herself she was staying awake to close thewindows at the last possible moment, but she knew she wouldn't have been ableto sleep anyway.

Somehow Kyle's visit had upset her. He had come primarily to find out if shehad taken in the stranger. Surely, he had only her best interests in mind.Yet she hated to have him checking up on her or questioning her decisions.She hadn't invited him in-or offered him the last of the lemonade. They hadtalked briefly on the porch, and she had all but sent him away.

She tossed away the sheet that covered her and scooted over, trying to find acooler place in the warm bed. She knew what she was feeling--guilt, and itwas becoming familiar. Recently, after Kyle's visits, she was left feelingvaguely guilty, as if she had not been fair to him.

Today had been the worst. She had treated him as if he was the outsider.

He had broken up Greg's picnic, driven the boy to the barn and Winn to his room. He had put an end to a very pleasant lunch. Even as she thought it,she knew she was being unfair.

Why were there times when she did not want to see Kyle Dempsey? He had asked her to consider marrying him. G.o.d knew he was better than the other men who had asked, some of them before the dirt had settled on Victor's grave.Something made her cringe at the thought of marrying Kyle. He was too much like Victor.

A sudden clamp of thunder made Cynthie jump. It was as if G.o.d took exceptionto her thoughts. She had loved Victor. She should be happy to many someonelike him. if was a dishonor to Victor's memory to think of herself as betteroff without him.

But she couldn't help the way she felt. She had been so young when she hadmarried Victor that until his death, she hadn't known what it was like to gothrough an entire day without being told either what to do or What she haddone wrong. He hadn't been mean to her, exactly. He had been like most husbands, she supposed. If her mother were alive she would probably tell hershe was getting too independent, a terrible sin in that woman's book.

She he^rd the patter of the first few drops of rain and got up to close thewindows, grateful for the activity. Maybe then she would be tired enough tosleep and the strange thoughts that were playing in her head would stoptroubling her.

In Greg's room, she closed the window and kissed his cheek as he lay sleepingpeacefully.

She systematically closed the other windows until she came to the room whereWinn Sutton slept. She had put that window off until last, feelinguncomfortable about entering his room. She turned the k.n.o.b as gently aspossible and left the door open as she crept to the window.

It creaked in protest as she lowered it, in spite of her efforts.

She turned toward the bed to see if she had disturbed the man sleeping there.She could discern no movement, but it was too dark to see.

She stepped closer to the bed as a lightning flash lit the room.

Winn slept sprawled across the bed, the covers thrown off much as her own hadbeen. He was bare- chested, his shirt lying in a tangle with the sheets onthe floor. The light lasted only a moment and left Cynthie with an image ofa broad chest and a bearded face as pale as the bandage above it.

His was not a peaceful sleep.

Not two seconds after the flash came the thunder, an explosive sound thatshook the house. Cynthie jumped and gasped, putting her fingers to hermouth. The cry she had heard had not been her own.

"Mr. Sutton? Are you all right?" Without thin king she stepped next to thebed. He was mumbling something in his sleep.

"Rosie," she thought he said.

Another flash of light revealed Winn's face, still lost in troubled sleep.

With the answering clap of thunder, Winn sat up abruptly.

"Mr. Sutton."

She was close enough to lay a hand on his bare shoulder.

With a groan he pulled her to him, bringing her down beside him on the bed.She found herself nearly sit ting on his lap, her face pressed against hiswarm chest. He seemed to gulp his lungs full of air, then, with anothergroan, he buried his face in her hair, which hung loosely over her shoulder,and held her more tightly against his chest.

Cynthie could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of her gown. His face felt feverish against her neck. Her whole body seemed tofeel his racing heartbeat. Somehow her fingers had lost themselves in thesoft hairs that curled at the back of his neck. She was aware of a warm tingle in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that made her want to press more tightly against himeven as her mind told her it was time to pull away.

Another clap of thunder rumbled and Winn raised his head and loosened hisgrip. As the sleep gradually left his brain, he remembered where he was andwho he was holding so tightly. He became aware of lilac scented hair that had caught in his beard and a small soft body that fit easily in his arms.

He was half naked and she was wearing something so thin he could feel thehard points of her nipples through it. In his confusion, he had takenliberties she might make him regret. He gently pushed her away but kept hishands on her shoulders, afraid she would run away before he had a chance toexplain.

"I'm sorry," he began.

"Shh, you had a bad dream." He felt her hand caress the side of his face.

It reminded him of another touch, one he had decided was only imagined.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"I was up to close the windows."

"It's strange to hear thunder and not see the lightning." He had tried for a casual tone, but a conversation with her in this position seemed evenstranger. Though he had pulled away, he was sure he could still feel herbody heating his.

"Does your head hurt?" She could see his face only because of the sporadiclightning. She kept her hand against his bearded cheek to know where he was,she told herself, not because the touch was so exciting.

"My head always hurts, but the dream's over." He dropped his hands from hershoulders and eased back against the pillow, pulling away from her touch.An other clap of thunder seemed to come from inside his head.

"The doctor left medicine for pain."

"No. It makes me feel groggy and stupid. The pain's better."

To his amazement, she leaned forward and caressed his temples.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He caught her hands quickly, holding them tightly in the s.p.a.ce between theirbodies.

"It's not bad. Really. Thanks for trying to help, but I'm all right now."He let her hands go.

She took the hint.

"Good night, then, Mr. Sutton." She rose and quickly left the room, closingthe door gently behind her.

Winn groaned softly and tucked his hands behind his head. All he needed now was to get entangled with this woman. He wasn't even sure why he was here orwhat she expected from him.

He couldn't have held Cynthie Franklin the way he had and not felt desire forher. But a woman like her wouldn't feel those same things for a man unlessshe had some long-range ideas. What kinds of plans could a woman likeCynthie Franklin have for a man like him--even after his sight returned?Surely she had no shortage of suitors. Winn knew for a fact that she was neither fat nor skinny, and her hair was soft as silk, and bound to be shinyand beautiful no matter what the color.

He could feel his blood pump faster in his veins as he remembered her scentand her touch. He tried to shake off the feeling. No, if she was desperateenough to want a blind, broke cowboy, she must be just plain ugly. And if he was blind, what difference would that make?

The thought made him smile. He could ask Greg, but all little boys thoughttheir mamas were pretty.

That led to another idea. She had probably comforted her child afternightmares. That was all she had done tonight. He had mistaken a comfortingtouch for something more, expecting her to be feeling the same things he was.He frowned and wondered why this disappointed him.

The rain was coming down steadily now. It reminded him of a night when hehad been on watch during a storm. He remembered the sound of the drivingrain as it hit his slicker and hat, pouring off the brim to make a curtain hecouldn't see through. It hadn't lasted long, but the beauty of the morninghad seemed to make the discomfort of the night worthwhile. He remembered the clear bright sky and the soft springy earth.

He shuddered as he remembered what else had happened that morning and hisnightmare came back to him. Suddenly the room was far too warm.

The window was closed and the rain tapped against the gla.s.s. If he could open the window and let the air in, he could breathe easier. He wasn't sure he could find the window.

He wanted to go outside and stand on the porch. It would be cooler out there, but he couldn't do it. He was trapped, a prisoner in this bed as ifthere were chains holding him. This was every bit as bad as the nightmare.He stared at the blackness around him. "Oh, G.o.d!" he whispered.

"What if this nightmare doesn't end?"

Upstairs Cynthie stared into her own darkness. Her cheeks burned when she remembered how it had felt to be in Winn's arms. What kind of a woman was she turning into? She was l.u.s.ting for a stranger! She hadn't felt desire since her courtship with Victor. Theirs had been a kind of wonderful antic.i.p.ation that gradually pa.s.sed during the early days of their marriage.Surely she wasn't such a fool to believe in girlish fantasies again!

Maybe she should consider Kyle's proposal more seriously. He was at least someone she knew and he had been calling on her for months.

Besides, he was very handsome and always clean and neat. She could at least let him kiss her, really kiss her, not just the brief touch she had allowedhim.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like. He was much taller than she. He would smell like the tobacco he smoked. He would hold her gently in his arms, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against his hard chest.

His beard would brush against her face as their lips touched-She sat up with a gasp. Kyle didn't have a beard. The man she was imagining was WinnSutton! It was Winn's touch that had brought on all these feelings.

Winn Sutton. She wanted to cry. He hadn't even wanted her to hold him. He had been dreaming of someone named Rosie. As soon as he had realized who was in his arms, he had pulled away. He had politely apologized for touching herand had pushed her away!

She sank back against the bed with a groan. What was she doing, daydreaminglike a schoolgirl? She was twenty-four years old, a widow with a child. She told herself firmly that she needed some sleep.

She tried to brush everything from her mind except the sound of the rain.Unfortunately she had no control over her dreams once she was asleep.

Chapter Four.