Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WayWard Wind by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page A

meet Peyton’s shocked look. “My mother worked in the house my grandmother ran in Dawson City.”
    Slowly turning her head toward Snake, Peyton’s eyebrows shot up. “You were a madam?”
    “One of the goddamned finest in the whole of the Yukon,” Snake bragged. “One of the prettiest, too.”
    “And the most humble,” Harper mumbled as he ladled stew onto his blue enamel plate.
    “Hell, ain’t no call to be modest when you know you’re the best, boy,” Snake said. “I done told you that how many times now?”
    “More than I care to remember,” Harper answered. He sat back in his chair and put his hand to his head again.
    “I don’t give a rat’s pecker what you say, I’m getting that laudanum,” Snake informed him and scooted her chair back.
    “Will you at least let me have my supper before you force that shit down my throat?” he countered.
    “Eat,” Snake said as she rummaged through a cupboard. “Ain’t stopping you.”
    “Interfering old viper,” Harper grumbled as he shoveled stew into his mouth.
    It was a strange relationship the grandmother and grandson had, but Peyton recognized affection when she saw it. She lowered her head and sighed wistfully. Family warmth was not something she’d ever experienced. Her father was a cold, brutal man and her mother had been fundamentally indifferent to everything save her silk dresses and jewels, although she had shown a degree of care when it came to Peyton’s health and well being. Her daughter chalked that up to being wary of angering her husband should anything bad happen to his solitary heir. Neither of her parents had given her much in the way of love. They had left that up to the succession of Mexican maids and cooks who had filtered through the ranch house.
    Snake mixed a portion of the laudanum in a glass of water then brought it to the table, slapping it down beside Harper’s plate. “And don’t be gagging on it like you always do.”
    “Sit down and eat, old woman,” Harper snapped. “Your food’s getting cold.”
    “Ungrateful little whelp,” Snake commented as she set in to eating with a vengeance.
    “So how old were you when you came to America?” Peyton asked.
    “I was twenty-nine,” Harper answered. “I came over to have my father sign some papers regarding the disposition of my grandfather’s estate.”
    “Boy was a lawyer over there,” Snake said with pride evident in her husky voice.
    “A solicitor,” Harper corrected.
    Peyton frowned. “How did you get so proficient with a gun if you were a solicitor?” she inquired.
    “Had a knack for it, he did,” Snake replied for him. “Strapped on a rig one day and spent the rest of it practicing his draw ‘til he had it down pat.” She glanced at her grandson. “Was a damned fine shot beforehand so he was a natural gunslinger, it seemed.”
    “My grandfather was a champion marksman,” he said. “He taught me.”
    “We’ll have to have a competition,” she suggested, “to see who’s best.”
    Snake paused with a biscuit at her mouth. “You a sharpshooter, girl?”
    Peyton’s face beamed. “I’ve been known to win a contest now and again.”
    Harper snorted to that and continued eating, sopping his plate clean with the last biscuit.
    “Take that elixir now, boy,” Snake demanded. “Ain’t going to do you no good just sitting there in the glass.”
    With a distinctly disgusted look on his face, Harper wrapped his hand around the glass, put it to his lips and tilted it back, pinching his nostrils closed with his free hand.
    “Ain’t nothing but an overgrown child,” Snake complained.
    “It tastes like shit,” Harper said, grimacing as he put the empty glass on the table.
    “You been eating shit, boy, to know how it tastes?” Snake threw at him. “No wonder you don’t eat what I put before you!”
    “You’d be surprised what I’ve been forced to eat, old woman,” he said in a soft voice as he got up from the table and went over to the far