Wolf Runner by Constance O'Banyon Page A

last night…I really can’t explain why, but I was frightened.”
    The blacksmith’s jaw tightened. “Just say when you want your things moved and I will bring a wagon and my sons to help. Meantime, you must stay with us.”
    Cheyenne shook her head, knowing he was worried about her, and she didn’t want that. “I need to stay in the house until I pack away Gram’s belongings. Everything should be ready day after tomorrow. Can you come late in the afternoon?”
    “I will be there,” he told her with feeling. “How are you fixed for money, Señorita Cheyenne?”
    “I have enough to get me by until I find work.”
    He continued to look at her worriedly, and she was sure he did not believe her.
    “I wonder if you would accept the chickens and the milk cow?” she asked hurriedly, hoping to take his mind off her money situation.
    He nodded, feeling her heartbreak. “I can take them and even pay you a little for them.”
    “No. I don’t want money from you. I just want you to have them.”
    He lowered his head, feeling ashamed that he could give Cheyenne so little in her time of need. He had nothing to offer.
    “Señor Mendoza, I believe Gram would have liked Señora Mendoza to have her furniture. I have no use for it anymore. But I could not bear to get rid of Gram’s personal belongings. They are what I would like you to store for me.”
    “It is too much,” he said, shaking his head. “I cannot pay you what the furniture is worth.”
    “I could never sell Gram’s furniture. They are a gift to your family, for all your kindnesses.”
    “Kindness is not for sale, pequeña .”
    “No, it isn’t. I wouldn’t even try. It would mean so much for me to know your family is using Gram’s furniture. I couldn’t bear for anyone else to have the breakfront that has been in our family for generations. It was Gram’s pride and joy.”
    He watched her for a moment and saw tears swimming in her eyes. “I know Margareta will take care of it for you, and for the rest, I thank you.”
    She smiled. “You will never know how much your family means to me.”
    He picked up his bellows and started fanning the flame in the forge, too choked up to speak at first. When the fire leaped high, he turned back to her. “Señorita Cheyenne, remember, you will always have a home with us.”
    “Thank you. I may spend a night or two with you, but I have to make my own way, Señor Mendoza.”
    He had known her since childhood and he knew about her pride. “The offer is there for you if you should ever change your mind.”
    She reached up and kissed his rough cheek. “Thank you.”
    He watched Cheyenne turn and walk away—she was such a lonely figure that it tugged at his heart. The “good” people of this town treated her no better than the dust beneath their feet. She was a sweet young girl, and she had so many troubles. He wanted to help her, but she would not accept his help. The pride of the young was often their undoing, he thought sorrowfully.
    The sun had poked through the clouds again and it had stopped raining. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor surrounded by wooden crates and crumpled paper, Cheyenne lovingly wrapped each item before carefully placing it inside the crate. It was heartbreaking enough to pack up her gram’s meager belongings without the day being dark and gloomy.
    Time was of the essence. She had to be out of this house before Mr. Sullivan returned. And she wanted to have everything ready by the time Señor Mendoza came by with his wagon.
    Cheyenne found a packet of old letters wrapped in blue ribbon and she smiled—they were to Gram from her grandfather. She would not read them now, but she could not throw them away. They would be packed with the other things she was keeping and stored in Señor Mendoza’s loft.
    She lifted a faded tintype of her father and tears spilled down her cheeks. The world was a lonely place without family, without a home, without anyone who really cared about