Wind Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

remember ever seeing a man with his shirt unbuttoned in Washington City . After encountering the half naked Indians, and now this open-shirted man, she was beginning to think that those stuffy city men with their high-collared shirts could take a lesson or two from the residents of Kansas . She'd seen more manly flesh in the last few hours than she'd' seen in her entire twenty-six years.
    "The nearest hotel is three hours away."
    Upon hearing this disconcerting news, she found her normally commanding voice deserting her. "Did you say three hours?" After wandering around for some six hours, she supposed three hours wasn't all that bad. If only it weren't for the dark. And the Indians and the buffalo and the…
    "I've heard tell that a man chased by a Cheyenne war party can make it in two." He regarded her a moment before adding, "You could, of course, try to flag down tomorrow's train. The engineer has been known to stop on occasion to pick up a distressed traveler or two."
    She wasn't sure she liked being called distressed. She considered it a matter of pride to keep her wits about her under trying circumstances. Particularly given the way the man's gaze slid down the length of her, she decided this was one of those situations that required rationality of mind.
    She wasn't accustomed to being the object of male interest. Normally, most men took one look at her tall, slender frame and didn't bother to look further.
    Not only had this man taken a second look, she had the feeling nothing had escaped his attention. Not the unruly strands of red hair that had escaped her bonnet nor the tip of her dusty boot that tapped impatiently beneath the hem of her trousers.
    "If this isn't a fine kettle of fish!" Her voice was edged with irritation and fatigue. It was late and getting later by the minute.
    "You better come in." He turned and walked away from the door.
    She debated whether to follow him inside. He was a stranger, and although it was all too clear that he found her womanly attributes lacking, she wasn't at all certain if he could be trusted. Heaven only knew what kind of a man he was and who he had mistaken her for. She stood firmly in place. "I'm a schoolteacher," she called to him, aware that she probably looked like a wanton woman "A respectable schoolteacher."
    She peered inside the house and was surprised by the cozy domestic scene that greeted her. The room was filled with wood furniture, as fine or finer than any that could be found in the grand manors of Washington . Steam rose from a large black pot centered on an iron woodstove.
    A delicious smell wafted out to her. Her stomach growled in response, reminding her that she'd not eaten since morning.
    She was greatly relieved and more than a bit surprised to see a small boy sitting at the table. She relaxed. If there was a child, there had to be a woman somewhere. That would explain the quality of the furniture.
    Maddie stepped onto the dirt floor and closed the door hard behind her, causing tiny clumps of dirt to shake loose from the sod ceiling. Carefully brushing the soil from her shoulders, she looked upward at the tree branches supporting the sod surface. Never had she seen such a dwelling. It was like a cave. "My name is Madeline Percy."
    "Luke Tyler."
    "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Tyler." She turned toward the young boy who was looking at her with open curiosity. He had the same vivid blue eyes and dark, almost black hair as his father. She guessed he was around seven or eight. "And what is your name, young man?"
    "Matthew," his father replied.
    "How do you do, Matthew?" The boy made no reply, but he watched her through eyes sharp with interest.
    Mr. Tyler spooned out a plateful of stew and set it on the table in front of his young son.
    Noticing that Mr. Tyler demonstrated remarkable domestic skills for a man, she stared at the food hungrily. She wondered about the man's wife and glanced around in search of feminine belongings. But the clothes and headgear