Wind Song by Margaret Brownley Read Free Book Online Page B

too aware of the thin, dark line of hair that started below his waist and disappeared into his drawers.
    It wasn't until his gaze took a dive down the length of her that she realized she was standing in such a way that the light from the window was behind her.
    In an effort to regain some measure of modesty, she sank down on the bedroll and reached for her boots. Shaken by her unexpected encounters with nature, she checked her boots for any other unwanted guests before donning them.
    Her screams had dislodged more of the ceiling, and a clump of dirt fell out of her boot. Thinking it another critter, she threw the boot down with a cry.
    This brought a hearty laugh from her host, which surprised her. Given the circumspect attention he paid to manner and speech, it seemed uncharacteristically spontaneous. Even Matthew seemed surprised and looked up at his father with rounded eyes.
    As if to catch himself, Luke's face grew serious, but there was still warm humor in his voice. "Between the buffalo and you, Miss Percy, we're not going to have much ceiling left."
    Under normal circumstances, she would have appreciated the humor of the situation. Today, however, between her sore muscles and her unsettled future, she was in no mood for laughter. She had been in Kansas for less than a day, and it had been one disastrous event upon another. She had no intention of spending one moment longer than necessary in this dreadful excuse for a house.
    She grabbed her boots and pulled them onto her feet.
    Her host watched with interest. "Where are you going in such a fired-up hurry?"
    "I want to get an early start for Hays." She didn't want to sound ungrateful, but surely he must understand her desire to leave.
    "No sense going anywhere before you've eaten. It's a long journey. Matthew here will get us some fresh eggs, won't you son?"
    As eager as she was to leave, she agreed to stay until after breakfast. Matthew looked so anxious to please her, she didn't have the heart to disappoint him.
    Luke tossed her a flour sack. "I'll let you have some privacy," he said. "You know where the water is. I'm going to check around to see how much damage was done by the buffalo." He glanced overhead. "We're lucky. Last time they took out the entire back wall." He nodded to the wall behind her.
    "You mean that wasn't the first time the buffalo stampeded?"
    "First?" He frowned. "Hardly."
    Her stomach clenched into a tight knot. The knowledge that buffalo stampeded on a regular basis was yet another reason to leave Kansas as quickly as possible . As if I need another reason, she thought, quickly buttoning up her shoes.
    Luke grabbed a pair of overalls and a shirt and walked outside, followed by Matthew, who carried a wicker basket over his arm.
    She waited until she was certain her host had time to dress before cracking open the door. She stuck her head outside to check for Indians, buffalo, snakes and any other unpleasant surprises she might yet encounter. When she saw nothing had seemed in any way, shape or form the least bit threatening, she stepped outside, remembering to close the door gently behind her.
    Luke walked around the barn. One entire sod wall and a third of the back wall had collapsed. He hesitated before stepping over the heap of dirt. He'd not been in the barn for two years, not since Catherine-Anne had died.
    Shaking off the memories that suddenly assailed him, he made a quick assessment. The collapsed wall had done no damage to his workshop. It was exactly as he'd left it, except for the dust that covered everything, including his tools. In one corner stood a baby cradle, crafted by his own hands. At the center of the barn was the dining room table he had planned to give his wife for her twenty-fifth birthday.
    The beautiful wood was all but hidden beneath a thick layer of dirt. Someone once said that Kansas was a state in transit, that one day it would blow away completely. In his estimation, that day was not too far in the future.
    His