Wait For The Sunrise Part 11

"Idon't want you to read anything into this," she began."Read anything into what?" He laughed but it was a nervous laugh."Just tell me why I'm here."Cynthie took a deep breath."When your friends brought you into Wichita, Dr. Gordon sent for me."Winn nodded. He knew that already."Why?""My father was blind."It took a second for the statement to register but when it did the full implications. .h.i.t him like a blow. She was supposed to be his teacher.They never expected him to see again!Cynthie watched the blood drain from his face. He slowly shook his head."He lied to me."She quickly moved to the swing beside him."I know what you're thin king.That's why I didn't tell you before, but"-- He didn't let her finish.'torn lied to me. ""No! Please listen." She put her hands on top of his. He didn't even feel them."You're supposed to teach me how to be blind. What did you think? By thetime you told me I'd never see again, I wouldn't care?" His voice was deceptively quiet, but Cynthie could feel the tension in the big hands under hers.

"Winn, listen."

"No, I think I'd rather believe we're cousins."

"Dr. Gordon wouldn't lie to us. He just thought I'd be more understanding because I've had some experience."

Winn turned his face toward her, as if he needed to see if she was telling

the truth. Those pale blue eyes tore at her heart. Her hand was halfway to his face before she caught herself.

Winn took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I always thought I was a patient man, and I've had to accept some changes before. But this..." He shook his head.

Leaning closer, Cynthie squeezed his hand.

"Then don't accept it yet. Just realize it's a possibility. I've written toa doctor in New York, and Dr. Gordon said...""I know what he said."Cynthie felt tears form in her eyes. She hoped they wouldn't make her voice shake. She swallowed hard before she spoke."Do you have family somewhere? I can write them for you."Winn thought about it a moment. The letters he got from his sister were always rea.s.suring, but he knew it had to be a struggle for the family tosurvive on what was left of the home place. If Cora knew about this, shewould want him to come home. She might even try to come and get him.

"No,"he said finally. "There's no one."Cynthie noticed it had taken him some time to answer. She decided to let it go for now. She gave his hand a pat as she came to her feet."Shall we go finish our coffee?" she asked, trying for a cheerful tone.

"No, thanks," he said. "I think I'll just stay out here a while." At the door she turned toward him again. "It's too early to give up hope," she said. Cynthie carried her boots out of the bedroom and padded down the stairs in her stocking feet. It was still early but she couldn't sleep. She was hoping a morning ride would clear her head enough that she could tackle thebooks again before they left for town.

Maybe she was wrong to insist that Winn come with them to town. He had been quiet yesterday, and it made her worry. But then, he was usually quiet. He never gave her much sign of what he felt. The trip to town would give himsomething to do, and something to think about. Mostly, she hoped, it wouldgive him more confidence.

She closed the stairway door behind her and started across the front room.

She stopped suddenly when she saw the silhouette of a man on the porch.

She recognized Winn and didn't even glance toward the bedroom to confirm it.

She stopped long enough to pull on her boots before she joined him outside.

Winn was leaning against the porch post when he heard the door open behind him. He had heard tiny sounds from inside the house already, sounds of doors

and floorboards that told him someone was up. He didn't turn to greet her.

He couldn't have seen her anyway.

"You're up early," she said softly.

"If you say so," he answered.

She stepped up beside him.

"The sun is just barely

turning the horizon gray. Everything's still in shadows."Winn didn't answer. He was used to getting up before dawn, but sometimes nowhe had trouble knowing what time it was. He hated relying on the d.a.m.nedclock chimes.

' "I was going for a ride. Do you want to come?"

The suggestion took him by surprise, and he couldn't stop the humorless laughthat escaped from his chest."No, I'm serious," she added almost urgently. "My father used to ride."Winn pictured himself on a tired old nag being led around a corral."No, thanks," he said.Cynthie decided not to push. He might not be ready to ride yet. She wished she knew the circ.u.mstances of the accident. That could help her know how toproceed. For now, she would let it go."The horizon will be streaked with color soon," she said softly."Would you like me to describe it?""No, thanks," he repeated, a little more firmly.

"It might help you picture it."He wanted to shout at her, "I don't want to picture it. I don't want to hearyou describe it. I don't want to think that that's the only way I'll eversee a sunrise again!" Instead he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Go on and enjoy your ride," he said softly. "I'll enjoy the morning in my

own way."Off to their right, the sh.e.l.ls clattered in the breeze. A bird called andwas answered. Cynthie stood so close, he could feel her heavy riding skirtbrush against his leg.

"All right," she said finally. He felt

her hand touch his shoulder and heard her feet tap down the steps and crunch across the gravel.

He heard the hinges squeak as the barn door was opened. He stood listeningfor several minutes, wondering if the sky had colored and if there wereclouds catching the first rays of light. He heard Cynthie ride out of theyard and wondered if she appreciated the freedom she enjoyed.

The sh.e.l.ls, the birds, the whinny of a horse were all peaceful sounds but hedidn't feel a part of them. Each new sound, the buzz of an insect, the slamof the bunkhouse door, made him feel more alone, more separate--even from themorning. He felt the sting of tears and brushed them away quickly. It seemed his eyes had found another way to betray him.

Winn stood at the river, Greg's hand clasped firmly in his own, and listenedto the harness chain rattle and clink as the team was unhitched.

Peter had been appointed to drive them into town, and he talked softly to thehorses as he led them onto the ferry.

Cynthie stood nearby. He could hear the wind rustle her skirts. His feelings toward her were more confused than ever. He had entertained some rather morbid ideas about why he was staying with her. He had thought thatperhaps she was so ugly the only man she could ever catch would have to be ablind man. He had even pictured himself as her prisoner. Somehow the truth was more chilling.

Her father had been blind. How could he have been anything more than abeggar? Had Cynthie married Franklin for his money then, as a way to lookafter her father? His head was full of questions about this other blind man.

Questions that he was afraid to ask.

"I don't like the ferry," a small voice whimpered. Winn realized that Greg'sgrip had become unusually tight.

"I don't like them much myself," Winn said, going down on one knee.

Cynthie had bent down beside the boy, as well. Winn felt her skirt brush his leg and smelled her lilac perfume on the breeze. He wished he knew what she looked like, what thoughts he might read on her face.

"I don't like the ferry," Greg repeated, dropping Winn's hand in favor of hismother.

"I wanted to be brave for Winn." The shy little confession was m.u.f.fled, Winnguessed, against his mother's shoulder.

"Winn understands," Cynthie said.

Winn had been listening with divided attention to the voices of the ferrymanand Peter calling to one another as they rolled the wagon onto the ferry. He realized that it was almost time to board.

"Believe me, Greg, I understand." Winn was still on one knee. Cynthie andher son were so close to him that he could hear their clothing brush togetherand the child's m.u.f.fled breathing.

"Carry me." The plea was meant for his mother's ears alone.

"You're just too heavy, baby. Here, I'll hold your hand." When she tried to pry him loose, he turned quickly toward Winn and locked his trembling armsaround the big man's neck.

The child was obviously terrified. Winn didn't hesitate.

"Make sure I don't stumble," he said, coming to his feet. It was strange howCynthie's light touch on his arm had such a steadying effect. She led him onto the ferry, where he stood with his feet braced apart. Greg's face wasburied in Winn's neck and Cynthie's hand stayed rea.s.suringly on Winn's arm.

"Has he always been this frightened of water?" Winn asked. The ferry gavean initial lurch and Cynthie's grip tightened.

"Not water," Cynthie said softly.

"Just the ferry. And no, he hasn't always been afraid. It just startedabout a year ago."

"I'm not afraid," Greg protested in a voice choked with tears.

"I just don't like them!"

Winn rubbed the tiny back.

"All right, about a year ago you got big enough to have some sense."

"Yeah." Greg didn't raise his head but Winn noticed he had stopped shaking.

Cynthie, at Winn's side, seemed to move and sway easily with the ferry.

Winn, however, felt like he would fall at any moment. With no horizon to watch, he didn't know how to compensate for the ferry's movement and heexperienced some vertigo. If this ride lasted long enough, he'd be seasick.

Only Cynthie's hand let him keep his equilibrium. Though she pulled away orleaned toward him as the ferry rocked, she was always touching him, alwaysstabilizing him.

Finally her hand tightened and she warned him that the ferry was about totouch the landing on the town side of the river. After she had helped himregain his balance, threatened by the sudden stop, she led him off the ferry.Peter was there at his other arm to help him onto solid ground. He listened to the young man's steps as he walked back onto the ferry to lead the horses off.

Greg allowed himself to be lowered to the ground and ran to join Peter.

Now that the ferry had docked, it no longer frightened him, and he let Peter swing him onto the wagon for the ride.

Cynthie watched this activity, perplexed. How could he be terrified of theferry just a moment ago and not at all concerned now? And he used to likethe ferry.

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Sutton. Sometimes that boy's a riddle."

Greg's fear didn't seem inappropriate to Winn. He hated boats himself, andGreg was only a child. But it wasn't his place to interfere so he kept quiet.A short time later they were in the wagon again, moving down the rutted streets toward the center of town. Winn was in the back. Greg was sometimes on his lap and sometimes at the other side of the wagon exclaiming over some sight or other.

The sounds around the wagon seemed too numerous and varied for Winn to sort out so he concentrated instead on Greg. From the child he learned that there were hunters, Indians and ladies in town as well as a gentleman with a tall hat who seemed to be dressed in a much more peculiar manner than anyone else.

"Are we going to the store?" Greg asked his mother.

"Peter's going to the store. I'm going to the bank, and you're going to takeMr. Sutton to the barbershop.""I want to go to the store," Greg said cheerfully. "I don't like the barbershop."

Winn had caught the child on his lap for the moment If he didn't like the

barbershop the same way he didn't like the ferry, Winn hoped they could revise the plan.

"How would it be if you and Peter get me to the barbershop then you can go to

the store together?""You won't get lonely?" Greg asked with real concern."I'll be fine, son. What are you going to do at the store?"Greg leaned close and whispered loudly, "I'm gonna pick out some candy.""Now I see why you don't like barbershops," Winn teased."Naw. Barbershops are itchy."That particular description came back to Winn later as he sat in the shop waiting for his turn. Besides the barber and the man getting a haircut,there seemed to be two others in the shop. Winn guessed that they were justthere to visit, because the barber had told Peter that Winn would be next.

"You can expect him to be done in about half an hour," the barber had said.

Winn had introduced himself when he came in but since the others had not,

their ident.i.ties remained a mystery. All conversation had stopped when theboys had led him in. While it had resumed fairly quickly afterward, Winn wa.s.sure it was quieter than when Greg had first opened the door. He decided the atmosphere was definitely itchy.

The two men in the corner were discussing the railroad in quiet generalities.The smell of cigar smoke drifted from that direction.