But as Winnie continued to stare at him for a long moment, he saw that Clayton didn’t seem to be moving.
Winnie took a step toward him, walking as quietly as he could.
Clayton had not noticed him, and Winnie felt a surge of hope and excitement when he realized that, like the others, Clayton was asleep!
Moving quietly, and scarcely daring to breathe, Winnie crossed the floor and stepped up to the door. The problem now was whether or not he could open the door without it squeaking.
Reaching up with a nervous hand, Winnie turned the door handle, then pulled it open.
It didn’t make a sound.
Stepping outside, Winnie pulled the door shut. If he was lucky, he could be a considerable distance away before anyone noticed that he was gone. Looking back toward the door to make certain Clayton didn’t notice his absence and suddenly jerk the door open, he stepped down from the porch.
“Where are you goin’, boy?” a man’s voice asked.
Gasping, and with his heart leaping to his throat, Winnie turned around to see Poindexter standing in front of him. Before he could react, Poindexter reached out to grab him.
“Well, now,” Poindexter said. “It’s a good thing I came outside to take a piss, ain’t it? Otherwise you might have wandered off somewhere and got yourself lost. You don’t want to get lost up here, boy. There’s wolves and bears about.”
Still holding him by the arm, Poindexter pushed Winnie back into the line shack.
“Hey!” he shouted, his shout loud enough to wake everyone.
“What?”
“What are you shouting for?”
“What’s going on?”
“I just thought you fellas might like to know that the boy here was escaping. Seems to me like we was supposed to be keeping an eye on him.”
“Clayton, you the one s’posed to be watchin’ him now, ain’t you?” Logan challenged.
“I—I must have dozed off,” Clayton said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see the boy leave.”
“If this was the army you’d be stood up against a post an’ shot for fallin’ asleep on guard duty,” Logan said.
“I said I’m sorry. I don’t lie aroun’ all day like you boys. I cook, an’ that means I’m on my feet most of the day.”
“All right, here is the way it is going to be,” Logan said. “If the boy escapes again, I’ll kill whoever is supposed to be watching out for him.” He looked at Winnie. “Did you hear that, boy? If you escape again, you will be responsible for someone getting killed. And then when we find you—and we will find you—I’ll kill you as well. Now, get back over in that corner and stay there.”
Winnie complied with Logan’s order without comment.
Chapter Twenty-five
At the junction of Nine Mile Creek and the Powder River, Matt tied Spirit off so he couldn’t be seen. Then he climbed up onto a precipice that afforded him enough elevation to be able to see for a long way in either direction, or at least as far as he could see in the darkness. It was three A.M., and he had come in the middle of the night so he would be there far in advance of the time set by the note. It was his intention to see whoever Logan was going to send to meet him.
From here, he could see back down the Powder River and up the small creek, both streams reflecting silver in the moonlight. Sitting down, he leaned back against a Ponderosa pine and waited. Overhead, the wind stirred the pine needles and moved the branches in a quiet whisper. It was a pleasant sound, and the air was soft and cool; and if his mission had not been critical, one that could mean life or death for a young boy, he could enjoy this moment.
From the time Matt left what he now thought of as his “apprenticeship” with Smoke Jensen, he had never settled down in any one place. He knew that Smoke enjoyed his ranch, loved his wife Sally, and was comfortable as a stable businessman.
Matt had been tempted a few times to follow his mentor’s example and find a good woman with whom he could settle down. The closest any woman had ever come to filling that role was Kitty Wellington. Kitty had been one of the other orphans in the Soda Creek Home for Wayward Boys and Girls. A few years ago he had heard from her. A widow, she had inherited a horse ranch from her husband, and when she got into trouble, she sent for Matt. Sitting here now in the middle of the night, listening to the whisper of the wind in the trees, gave him the opportunity to think of his time with her.
The wind whispered as it came off the sails, and the sun created a million dancing diamonds on the surface of Lake Michigan. Matt and Kitty were seated on the afterdeck of the yacht, eating the meal the chef of the yacht had prepared for them. The yacht was about a mile off shore and from there, they had a great view of the city of Chicago. A passenger train was racing south along the lake shore.
“Where do you think that train is going?” Kitty asked.
“I don’t know,” Matt answered. “New Orleans, maybe?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to go to New Orleans?”
“Some day, perhaps,” Matt said. “But not today. I’m enjoying where I am right now.”
“So am I,” Kitty said. “I have had such a wonderful time in Chicago that I don’t even want to go back. I hate to say this, but I could almost be convinced to sell the ranch.”
“And do what?” Matt asked.
“The same thing you do,” Kitty said. “Just wander around.”
Matt shook his head. “No, Kitty, you don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t you say Tyrone, Prew, Crack, Jake and the others at the ranch were your family?”
Kitty was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” she finally replied. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Besides, you don’t want to quit now. The army not only bought all your horses, they told you they would buy as many as you could provide.”
“Did you hear them say that it was the finest bunch of horses they had bought all year?” Kitty asked, proudly.
“Yes, I did hear that,” Matt said. “And now, without the pressure of paying off a loan, the money you got from selling your horses to the army, and the guarantee they gave you for future contracts, you could just enjoy your ranch and your horses.”
“Do you think you could?” Kitty asked.
“Do I think I could what?”
“Enjoy my ranch, my horses, and me?” Kitty said.
“Kitty, I—”
“No,” Kitty said, holding up her hand and interrupting Matt in mid-sentence. She smiled at him. “Don’t answer that, Matt. Let me keep my dream.”
“Let you keep your dream? Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so sure about that,” Matt said, smiling.
“What do you mean, you aren’t so sure?”
“Kitty, you have just proven to me that your dreams seem to have a way of coming true.”1
And of course there was Jennie Churchill. In the years since Matt had become an adult, he had had his experiences with women—some, like Kitty Wellington, came close to winning his heart—but most were women who did nothing more than provide him with pleasurable interludes.
He knew that he could have such an interlude with Jennie—she had all but told him that. But though it might seem to some that Matt lived a life without parameters, facing death with equanimity, enjoying the pleasures of women when the opportunity presented itself, he was a man of strong moral character. And that moral character said that he would keep inviolate the sanctity of marriage. But he knew that wasn’t the only reason he would not have anything to do with Jennie. There was something about the boy, Winston Churchill, that reminded Matt of himself. And he would do nothing to tarnish the image the boy had of him.