by E B Corbin
“That would be something to see,” Sam said.
“If you don’t mind ogling the people that were nearly wiped out by the greedy settlers.” Henry mumbled the words as he looked away, disgusted that circumstances had changed a once proud people into a circus act.
“Now we are trying to get some of that cash back via the casino,” White Cloud said. “The tribes are hoping to make between nine and twelve million a year from those same greedy white people.”
“Good for them.” Sam pulled herself up to better see out the windshield. She fought the urge to whine “Are we there yet?” It had been a long, dreary ride, and the taxi’s suspension was not made for the long haul. Short, quick trips were the norm, and her butt hurt from sitting.
A glow came from ahead indicating the casino, whose parking lot was half full even on a rainy late morning in March.
“The casino seems to be doing all right,” Sam said.
“It helps,” said White Cloud. “It only opened last year. They had a much smaller casino off Twenty-Six in an area that was more remote. It was part of the Kah-ta-nee Village, which was built as a kind of resort with a motel, cabins, and tipis. But the resort never caught on; tourists preferred to stay in the forest. They closed that casino last year, when the new casino opened. It has been a struggle to keep the heritage as well as make a living. The museum has helped quite a bit.”
Henry sat up straighter in his seat. “I’d like to go through the museum when we have more time.”
“I will find out the hours and days it is open, although I am sure Uncle will let you tour it whenever you wish.”
“That would be great.”
Sam cleared her throat. “Guys let’s concentrate on one thing at a time. We have to find Toby.”
“I know, I know. Just making conversation,” said Henry. “You have to learn to lighten up, Sam.”
She knew he was right. “Okay, I’ll come along when you tour the museum. It should be interesting.”
“That’s better.” Henry tried to hide his smile, but she heard it in his voice and punched him in the back of his shoulder.
“Uncle does not live far from here.” The taxi turned onto a dirt road and bumped along slowly. “He does not appreciate having dust kicked up when he gets visitors.”
“Is he expecting us? Perhaps we should stay in the car while you touch base with him.” Sam settled against the back of the seat.
“That would be rude, and Uncle would never forgive me if I did not introduce my new friends to him.”
The road ended at a small cabin built out of unpainted planks, with a porch stretching across the front. An old man sat in a rocker near the door with a blanket wrapped over his shoulders. His face, with lines and crevices to indicate every passing year, lit up with a smile when White Cloud pulled to a stop in front.
White Cloud’s face softened more than Sam had ever seen. “Uncle, it is good to see you.”
“For me, also. I have missed our weekly visits.”
White Cloud bowed his head. “Yes, I have been busy. Sorry.”
“Too busy to see a dying, old man?”
White Cloud knelt at the man’s feet and took his wrinkled hand. “You are sick? Why did you not tell me?”
The old Indian made a sound like a screeching crow, which was meant to pass as a laugh. “I am not sick, my foolhardy son. But I am old. And we are all dying. Every day is another day closer to death. You take things too seriously.”
The younger man gave a curt nod and stood, half turning to Sam and Henry. He waved them up to the porch. “These are the friends I told you about.”
The old Indian turned a piercing gaze to the newcomers. His mahogany eyes may have shrunken into his face, but their strength and shrewdness showed through. “You are searching for Toby Martin.”
Henry waited for Sam to speak, but when she nudged him, he cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. He seems to have gone missing.”
“So I have heard.” With surprising agility, the old man rose from his rocker and extended his hand to Henry. “I am Thomas Walking Bear, and you must be Henry Samuels.”
“Very pleased to meet you, sir.” Henry pulled Sam closer. “And this is my employer, Sam Turner.”
Sam smiled and shook the wizened hand with its gnarled knuckles. “We have heard a lot about you. It is our pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Thomas Walking Bear grunted. “I am Thomas or Uncle, not sir. Now let us get down to business. I have several young men out searching the borders of the reservation. They all have walkie-talkies and keep me updated. So far, no one has discovered any signs, and they are all good trackers. If Toby is on our land, they will know it.”
An old-fashioned handset crackled on the table next to the rocker. Thomas picked it up, clicked a button. “This is Uncle.”
“Uncle, we are moving to the last quarter of the perimeter. Nothing so far.” The tinny voice could barely be heard above the static.
“Very well. Keep me informed.” The old man clicked off and turned to Sam and Henry. He stared at Henry for a moment and nodded. “White Cloud has mentioned your gift. You would do well to learn to control it better.”
“Ummm, yes sir. I will work on it.” Henry felt Sam’s scrutiny and hoped the old Indian would let the matter drop.
For her part, Sam narrowed her eyes, glancing between White Cloud and Henry. She knew now was not the time to confront them about what they were keeping from her, but she vowed to find out on the long drive home.
As if he sensed the tension, Thomas sat in the rocker and waited a beat. “We think highly of Nina Dark Horse and will do our best to find her missing son. Now, you must tell me if you have any news about the danger to my people.”
“I have begun to infiltrate the group to find out their exact plans, but it is slow going. They don’t trust me yet. Hopefully I will be able to tell you more when they contact me again.”
Thomas nodded. “You cannot appear too eager.”
“No, that would rouse their suspicion, for sure. But I promise, sir, I will do everything I can to prevent whatever they are planning from happening.”
“You are only one man against a horde of others. I hope you achieve your goal.”
“I am determined.”
“That is good. I would hate for my people to suffer more at the hands of the white man.” The Indian’s face held a deep sadness. “We have managed to accept our place here after many years of struggle and are attempting to build a better life for the young ones. We have an airport, such as it is, and have been certified for drone training. Although the Kah-nee-ta resort is a disappointment we still have the museum and casino doing well. We are doing all we can to attract tourists and help ourselves without giving up our culture and heritage. I would hate to see it all crumble.”
Sam thought about how these people had been treated throughout history, and even though she had nothing to do with past events, she felt oddly responsible to see that the future didn’t hold more of the same. Finding Toby had been uppermost in her mind, but now she realized that stopping those skinheads was equally, if not more, important. Henry and White Cloud caught that significance before she did. Toby, too.
She was supposed to be the boss, but she felt like a student. It would take some time for her to learn to pay more attention to both of them and give them the credit they deserved. “You have my word we will do everything we can to stop any destruction.”
Thomas turned his attention to her and studied her face. “You have the potential to be very wise. Do not let your impatience get in the way. You are not your father’s daughter.”
At the look of surprise on her face, Thomas continued. “Yes, I have heard of your father and his infamous deeds. You are doing what you can to make things right. Do not let barriers stop you. A stumbling block is only temporary as long as you believe in yourself—and do not dismiss the importance of friendship.” He shifted his eyes to Henry.
“We won’t, sir.”
“Now, you mu
st continue on your way. Try another area to search. The Totem Pole should be open soon and you can check with Mac, the owner. A large part of what is happening has been going on down there. I do not believe Mac has anything to do with it, but you must be cautious.”
“You know him? The owner.”
Thomas sighed. “I used to. The original owner is no longer with us. We signed up for the Army together during World War Two, and both of us were trained as code breakers.” Thomas hesitated. “Mac came back and opened the bar. It was a nice place at first, but I have heard it has fallen on hard times lately.”
“He still runs it?” She couldn’t see how a man of ninety-something years could run a bar.
Thomas smiled. “No, I believe his nephew is running it. He is also called Mac. I do not know this nephew, so if you are going to approach him, you should go with your feelings.”
“That is good to know.” White Cloud gave Henry a look that aroused Sam’s curiosity. Whatever was going on between the two of them that she did not know about, she did not like one bit.
Thomas slapped his hands on his knees. “But first, you must eat. It is just past midday and time to fuel our bellies.”
As Sam started to protest, Henry spoke over her objection. “We’d be happy to, sir.”
The elder’s look of disapproval had Henry stuttering, “Thomas, sir. Uh, Thomas.”
“You may call me Uncle if you wish. It is fitting for one with your abilities.”
Henry nodded and moved aside for Sam to enter the cabin. Once again, she felt like the odd man out. She knew it wasn’t Henry’s SEAL training the old man referred to but something else, something she had not a clue about. What was Henry hiding from her? And why?
Inside, the place was spotless, much like Nina’s. Wide plank floors covered the entire area, no walls broke up the great room, and a long table, at least fifteen feet of polished wood, took up the entire left side of the cabin. Benches lined each side of the table with two cushioned hard-back chairs at each end. Feather headdresses, bows and arrows, and intricate spears decorated with feathers hung on the walls.
Thomas took a seat at the head of the table and gestured to them. “Sit, sit. This doubles as the meeting room for the Tribal Council at times, but I use it for my lunch.”
As he spoke, a Native American woman came in through the rear door with a steaming black pot. Sam’s stomach growled as the rich scent permeated the room. The woman’s black hair had turned gray, and the lines on her face, not quite as deep as Thomas’, showed her age. She rested the pot at the opposite end of the table as she ladled its contents into ceramic bowls.
Although she wore a buckskin dress with long, beaded fringe on the sleeves, she managed to serve the soup without dragging the fringe into the liquid. Sam decided she would have a difficult time doing that, just as she could never be comfortable in the moccasins, which covered the woman’s feet to her ankles.
Since she’d been thinking about the woman’s feet, she almost choked when Thomas introduced her: “This is Anna Two Shoes. She is my fourth wife.”
Sam thought it a fitting name and tried to hide a smirk.
Thomas smiled as he watched the woman distribute the soup. “All the others have rejoined the spirit world. Anna will be here longer than me, so she is my last.”
“And your best,” Anna said as she sat the soup in front of him. Thomas nodded and said nothing, but the grin that crept across his mouth told the story without words.
A teenage girl wearing jeans and a Megadeath T-shirt brought in flatbread and corn on the cob and took away the empty soup bowls. She made certain that Thomas had all he needed. Her hair hung in a thick braid down her back, and she pushed it aside as she leaned over the old man to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Uncle, I am going dancing in town tonight, but Sheba is going with me, so you do not have to worry.”
“Then I shall have to worry about both of you. But I will not stop you. You need to do what calls to you.”
“Thank you, Uncle. We will be careful and will be home early.”
The old man harrumphed and bit into the corn as the young girl rested her hand on his shoulder. When he had swallowed, he returned the cob to the plate and wiped his hands. “Trudy, meet my new friends, Henry and Sam.”
The girl nodded at them. “You have befriended White Cloud. I have heard him speak of you.”
“Trudy is my great-granddaughter. She does not always know when to keep her mouth shut.”
“Uncle, I will not talk about what is going on when I am in town tonight. You do not have to worry.” She gave him another kiss on his leathery cheek, raised a hand to wave to Sam and Henry, and bounced out of the room.
It was close to two o’clock by the time they finished their meal and piled into the taxi. Sam grew anxious to be on their way, but Thomas pulled Henry aside and handed him a small leather pouch. She was too far away to hear the exact words, but she read Henry’s lips as he thanked the elder. Henry dipped his head and swung the pouch around his neck.
He tucked it under his shirt before he climbed in to join her and White Cloud. “Uncle is an interesting man.”
“He sees more than you and I combined,” said White Cloud. “I am sorrowful that my time with him is close to an end.”
Sam frowned. “Why do you say that? He seemed pretty healthy to me.”
“Oh, he will live more years, but I have learned all I am capable of learning, and we will soon go our separate ways. I do not like to think about it.”
And Sam didn’t like to think about what could happen to these peace-loving people if her team failed in their mission.
Everyone but Henry was lost in their own thoughts or they would have noticed the two motorcycles pull out behind them as soon as they left the reservation.
“We have an escort,” Henry said as he opened his jacket to have better access to his gun.
Chapter Nineteen
White Cloud kept the taxi at a steady pace, neither speeding up nor slowing down, as Henry maintained watch in the side-view mirror. The motorcycles stayed back and even disappeared at times when they rounded one of the many bends in the road. The riders did not seem to be making much of an attempt to catch them. Henry began to think that the buzzing in his head was faulty this time.
“We are nearing the Totem Pole. Should I stop or keep going?”
“Might as well stop,” Henry said. “We’ll find out what those two behind us are up to.”
Sam twisted to look out the back window. “I don’t see them.”
“They’re lagging pretty far behind, but they’ll be along in a minute.”
A few seconds later, Sam saw the two motorcycles appear and continue past the parking lot where the taxi sat. Neither rider turned his head to look at them, but the buzzing in Henry’s brain grew louder as the bikes roared along.
“They didn’t stop,” Sam said.
“Doesn’t mean they’re not interested in us.” Henry craned his neck to watch as the bikes continued down the road. He couldn’t see past a half mile, where the highway swung to the left, but the buzzing remained at an uncomfortable level.
The taxi driver scanned the area. “There is only one car in the parking lot. Probably belongs to Mac, the owner.”
“Do you know him?”
“I have never met the man, but if Uncle says he is okay, then he is probably okay.”
Henry turned from watching the road to gaze at White Cloud. “You doubt Uncle’s judgment?”
“Not in the least. But Uncle has not met this new Mac, either. He could have a different outlook than his uncle and not be as welcoming. Perhaps I should stay in the taxi.”
“I don’t think it’s smart to sit out here by yourself. We need to stick together.”
“Very well. Then I will come in, but do not speak to me as if you know me. I am your driver. That is all.”
“Okay, we can do that.” Sam unbuckled her seat belt. She agreed with White Cloud’s assessment of the situation. After all, Thomas ha
d warned them to be cautious, so cautious was her new middle name.
Henry wanted to tell her to stay in the cab, that he would go in alone. But he knew she would never agree to it. He had to accept that she could take care of herself as well as he could. And it would be no safer for her to stay outside than it would have been for White Cloud. He didn’t like this situation at all. But they came this far, so they might as well find out what Mac knew.
The dim light inside the bar helped to hide the scarred and sticky floor, the scratches on the tabletops and bar top, but did little to mask the odor of spilt beer and cigarettes. A man with salt-and-pepper hair tied in a ponytail stood behind the bar, washing glasses.
Sam thought that was something that didn’t happen much around places like this. Clean glasses had to be a rarity. She’d bet most beer was sold in bottles and the low-rent whiskey served in shot glasses. Who would come in here and drink out of a glass? She couldn’t imagine.
The man looked up as the gray light from outside seeped into the place. “Help you?”
“We’re looking for Toby Martin, the bartender?” Sam immediately knew they should have worked out what they would say to this man. Too late now. She’d just have to blunder through.
“He don’t come in ’til ’round eight tonight.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “What do ya want with him?”
Sam figured the partial truth was as good as anything. “Well, uh, well, he didn’t show up at his house last night, and his mother’s worried.”
The man snorted. “Hell, he’s a grown man. Nothing to worry about. He can take care of hisself.”
“We know that, but we promised his mother we would check into it for her.”
The man behind the bar watched White Cloud amble to a dark booth in the corner. “What’s that Indian got to do with it? He a relative or something? I know Toby’s a half-breed, though he don’t look it.”
“No relation. He’s just a taxi driver. We’re only visiting Portland, so we don’t have a car.”
“Ever heard of car rental places?”