Nightway by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online Page B

talking to?” The man, Rawlins, walked up behind the woman and saw Hawk on the porch, unconsciously looking guilty. “Where were you going, Hawk?” the man demanded.
    “Hunger and thirst will be killing my horse. I must feed it and bring it water before the school bus comes.” However, he wasn’t at all certain that the school bus would know where to pick him up since he had left his home.
    “Don’t worry about your horse. Luther will feed and water it when he grains the others,” Rawlins told him. “As for school, it’s closed for the holidays. Besides, you won’t be going to the Reservation school anymore. You’ll be transferring to another school that’s closer to us. You might as well come in the kitchen. Vera will be starting breakfast.”
    The woman turned away from the opening and disappeared into the room, yet Hawk hesitated. “Are there not things I should do?” he asked uncertainly.
    “Things?” Rawlins frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “It was my work to cut wood for the fire, carry water, and help my mother in the cornfield.” None of which needed to be done here, since water ran from pipes in the house, heat came from a stove that burned oil, and there was no sign of any garden.
    “I see.” Rawlins paused to take a deep breath, then smiled. “You’ll have chores here, too. I’ll be checking the cattle after breakfast. You can come with me.”

Chapter IV
    The ranch and its way of life was alien to Hawk. There was so little that was familiar to him that he often felt lost and forsaken. Yet his father wanted him to learn of these things, so he accepted the strangeness of it all.
    Tom Rawlins gave Hawk his first glimpse of what being a cowboy entailed. The first day he merely observed what was going on around him. The second day he began asking questions.
    “Who owns all these cattle?” He gestured to the herd with the Flying F brand on their hips. Their heads were down, feeding on the hay the cowboys had thrown to them from the wagon. Its color was gold against the dirty snow.
    Rawlins hesitated an instant. “Mr. Faulkner owns them.”
    The confirmation that they did belong to his father merely raised another question. “Everyone comes to you to find out what should be done. You give the orders. Why doesn’t he if these animals are his?”
    “Because he hired me to take care of them. I am what is known as a foreman, which means I’m in charge.”
    A cowboy called to Rawlins, ending the questionperiod. But Hawk realized that Rawlins was an important man, much respected by the others.
    On the morning of the third day, Rawlins sent Hawk to the house with a message. “Tell Vera I have to be in town early this afternoon and ask her to have lunch ready by eleven-thirty.”
    When Hawk got to the back porch, he heard voices coming from the room they called the living room. One voice he recognized as belonging to the woman, Vera, although its shrill pitch was muted by a respectful tone. It was the sound of the second voice, soft and pure like the night cry of the owl, that lured Hawk toward the room.
    Their talking had evidently covered the sound of the porch door opening and closing, because his presence went unnoticed when he paused in the opening to the room. He stared at the strange woman seated on the long sofa, slim and supple, her hands moving with the flowing grace of a willow in the breeze. Her hair was the color of a newborn fawn, blown away from her face to fall in long waves around her shoulders. Smooth and shiny, her face held the golden hint of the sun, and her lips were as red as the Vermillion Cliffs. She wore a white, bulky sweater that encircled her neck; but, most astonishing of all, she had on a pair of men’s trousers. Hawk was so fascinated by this white woman that he barely noticed the tall boy seated next to her.
    “J. B. is convinced there is going to be another land boom in Phoenix,” the woman was saying. “Can you imagine? The place is an inferno in the