Yellowstone Memories by Jennifer Rogers Spinola Read Free Book Online

had just turned to follow along the rickety boardwalk when a long snort at the far edge of the wood made him turn his head. And there, not thirty feet away, stood a colossal, full-grown bull bison—chest-deep in the hot springs, steam clouding all around him like heavenly stained glass. Two sharp horns curved toward the sky in reckless splendor.
    The biggest animal Wyatt had ever seen. So strong his sinews stood out under his massive brown hide in taut lines, shaggy fur mounting around his enormous head like a king’s chain mail battle cloak. Daring anyone to disturb his respite on such a cool morning.
    The bison stamped his bushy feet, shaking the water into colored rings, and waded a pace or two deeper. Mockingbirds and meadowlarks parted; aspens cringed. He snorted again and tossed his magnificent head, horns gleaming. Breath misting over the water. Huge and defiant eyes caught Wyatt’s in an insolent gaze of absolute fearlessness, should Wyatt dare to challenge his majesty’s peace.
    Wyatt backed up, white-faced, and scrambled up the boardwalk to call for help.
    But no one had noticed the bison. Wyatt stopped, peering over his shoulder. The big beast turned his head away from Wyatt, silent and aloof.
    And Wyatt said nothing. Dry-mouthed. Keeping the secret to himself, a fluttering of pressed-down excitements too wonderful to voice.
    But as he rounded the forested bend, seeing nothing more of the bison but a cloud of steam through the aspen leaves, Wyatt knew one thing: No devil had made Yellowstone.
    It had to be God.

    Someone tugged open the cellar door, and Wyatt looked up at Jewel’s silhouette against stars in the open roof. Crazy Pierre’s dark and ruined house curved around her, silent.
    The stench of sour pickles wafted up from the root cellar, and Wyatt thought suddenly of spiders.
    “Are you all right?” Jewel knelt down and lit the lantern. The glow warmed her face and cupped hands.
    Wyatt tried to raise his head, but it felt heavy.
    “Mr. Kelly?” She shook his shoulder. “They’re gone. You can come out now.” She held up the lantern. “You should have covered me better, you know that? If it were up to you, I’d be dead by now. I think our deal should be more like sixty-forty, not fifty-fifty. But you did keep them out of the cellar. I suppose that counts for something.”
    Something twinkled over her head, like a spider dangling from a silken thread.
    “Did you shoot the buffalo, too?” he murmured, feeling a giddy blackness in his head. “I hope not. It’ll take more rounds than you’ve got in your revolver anyhow.”
    And Wyatt put his head down on the top step.

Chapter 4
    W yatt flipped the Bible page and fixed his glasses, trying to look calm and nonchalant, as if he didn’t care a bit. “So you really think I fainted, Mrs. Moreau?” He watched Uncle Hiram in the rocking chair by the fireplace, dozing. His fingers steepled together and eyes closed.
    “You did faint. I didn’t know you were so … sensitive.”
    “I’m not sensitive.” Wyatt felt heat flare in his cheeks.
    “And afraid of spiders.”
    Wyatt scooted his chair back in a huff, blood pulsing in his face. “That’s enough. Read the next Bible story, will you?” He glared over at his uncle again, wondering if he’d been bats to invite Jewel back for tutoring. But he needed to speak to her about the gold—and by George, Wyatt wasn’t the sort of fellow to slink around the ranch alone with a young girl—married or not—making the ranch hands whisper.
    Jewel looked up at him with a slight smile. “It’s all right, you know that?”
    “What’s all right?” Wyatt’s brow still made two angry lines.
    “To be afraid of things. To be … well, just like you are. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    Wyatt bristled, turning the pages of the Bible faster than necessary. He scrubbed a fist along his cheek, scruffy with patchy red, and hoped he could hide the blush. “Are you going to read or not?” he asked