I Will Fight No More Forever

by E B Corbin

  Sam knew the Native Americans saw treaty after treaty broken by the government, and she didn’t blame White Cloud for his reluctance. “I know you don’t have much faith in government agencies, and maybe I have too much. But this is too big for three people to handle alone. We need help.”

  “My people will be willing to help.”

  “But what can they do? If Native Americans openly go against these white supremacists, they could start a conflict that reaches far beyond Oregon and your reservation. It could put every reservation in the country in jeopardy.”

  White Cloud stood still for several seconds, then: “You are correct. We must ask your friends for aid.”

  “They’re not my friends,” Sam said. “But they’re all we’ve got at the moment.”

  “Yes. Do whatever you think is best. Right now, I must leave.” He turned to Henry. “If we are to meet with Nina tomorrow and still be at the Totem Pole by eleven, I should pick you up by seven at the latest.”

  “Seven is good.” Henry stood and slapped White Cloud on the back. “Meet us at the back service entrance instead of the front. We need to try to avoid our surveillance.”

  “I will borrow a car from a friend so the taxi is not as noticeable.”

  “Good idea,” Sam said. “We could always try to rent one if your friend’s car is not available.”

  “He will be happy to drive the cab for a day.”

  “We’ll pay him for the use of the car.” Sam dug into her purse for her wallet. “I only have a hundred in cash on me, but I’ll get more tomorrow.”

  “That is not necessary. My friend does not care about money. He is a musician.”

  “Is his car reliable?” Henry asked.

  “It is. His father was a mechanic and taught Little Bear all about engines. He sometimes works in his father’s shop during the day when he does not have a gig.”

  Henry realized he sounded a bit disagreeable and tried to make up for it. “What does he play?”

  “Drums and rattles, sometimes clapsticks.” White Cloud’s face held a faint smile. “But do not worry. I will make sure the rattles and clapsticks do not make noise when we are following you.”

  “What kind of car is it?” Sam worried it would not be able to keep up.

  “It is a Pontiac Firebird.”

  “A Firebird? Pontiac quit making cars a long time ago. What year is it?”

  “It is a 1971, I believe, but do not worry. It has all the latest equipment. Little Bird is quite anal about his cars.”

  “How many cars does he have?” Sam was intrigued. She’d never been in a Firebird but was still hesitant to depend on it to follow Henry.

  “His drums he keeps in an old hearse. The Firebird does not have room for them.”

  “A hearse?” Henry said. “I thought that went out of style with musicians years and years ago.”

  “Not for Little Bear. He is a bit of a throwback.” White Cloud moved to the door. “Do not worry. I will not let you down on transportation. I will see you tomorrow at seven at the service entrance.”

  Sam and Henry watched White Cloud walk out before they burst into laughter. “At least a Firebird is better than a hearse,” Sam mumbled between snickers.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  At five the next morning, Sam’s alarm played “I Will Survive” at maximum volume until she fumbled for her phone and turned it off. Used to getting up around six thirty to be at the gym downstairs by seven, she was not thrilled to get out of bed an hour and a half early. She gave herself fifteen more minutes and turned on her side.

  When Henry stuck his head in her room, she was sound asleep. “Sam! Wake up!”

  She jerked, sat up in bed, and reached under her pillow for her .38. Before she pointed the weapon she realized who had spoken and where she was. “Jesus, Henry. You scared me to death!”

  “You should have been up an hour ago. We don’t have time to waste.”

  Sam looked at the time on her phone: six o’clock. “I still have plenty of time to take a shower and get dressed. Now get out of here.”

  “Don’t you fall back to sleep.” Henry threw her a threatening look before he backed out. “I ordered two pots of coffee and breakfast. They’re waiting for you out here. So hurry before it gets cold.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Sam muttered as she dragged herself out of bed. She’d tossed and turned half the night before she finally drifted off sometime around three a.m. She felt they were way over their heads in trying to deal with the current situation. The fate of the reservation hung in the balance, sending cold shivers through her body. She didn’t want to be responsible for what could only be a shitload of death and destruction. She had to convince Pete Singer and the FBI to act. Before she went to bed, she’d emailed him the recordings they had, but she didn’t hold out much hope that they were enough.

  She tried to shake the gloomy thoughts from her mind and focused on their next moves. First, find out what Nina had to tell them, then uncover the location of the missiles. If Henry could disable them and get photos, that should be enough to get the FBI interested. She stepped into the shower feeling more confident they could work it out.

  The cold water did its job. In a slightly better frame of mind, she stood at her closet trying to figure out what to wear. Since it was still dark outside, she had no idea what the weather would do today. It could be dreary, rainy, and cold all day or the sun may peek through to warm things up by the time they reached the reservation.

  She decided on jeans with a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her suede jacket would have to be warm enough if the damp chill won over the day.

  Henry was at the table, chowing down a veggie omelet. “There’s another one for you.” He pointed to a plate with a silver lid. “There are donuts, too.”

  Sam joined him, grateful that he thought of her sweet tooth. Caffeine and sugar would help wake her up for sure. She took a few bites of egg and switched to the donuts. “Have you heard from White Cloud?”

  Henry shook his head. “He said he’d be here at seven. He hasn’t let us down yet.”

  Sam swallowed the sugary treat. “We need a disguise to get out of here unseen.”

  Henry threw her a hooded sweatshirt. “Wear this and pull the hood over your head. I’ll have a baseball cap on. I doubt that the woman following us will be here this early in the morning. She must rest sometime. Buckley’s people may be around, but they’re more than likely waiting outside the front entrance. They’re not going to look for us in the stairwell. We can slip out through the kitchen. I already cleared it with the cook on duty this morning.”

  Sam put her arms through the sweatshirt, and even though it was way too big, she zipped it to her chin. Then she tucked her hair into the hood. She could smell Henry on the soft fabric as she rolled the sleeves enough to free her hands. She tried to put her jacket on over it but found she couldn’t move her arms. “Shit!”

  Henry looked at her. “Just throw your jacket over your arm. You can take the sweatshirt off once we’re in the car.”

  She didn’t necessarily want to ditch it. She liked the feel of the soft cotton against her skin and the aroma of Henry’s aftershave. She preferred the anonymity it gave her, too. She hung her jacket back in the closet by the entrance. “Screw it. I’ll just wear the sweatshirt.”

  “It might be chilly out this morning. Maybe you should take it.” Henry had a flannel shirt on over a thermal shirt plus his oldest beat-up jeans. He looked more like a lumberjack than a bodyguard except the Timberland boots looked too new. The flag pin was hard to see attached to the red plaid shirt.

  “Are you wearing your jacket?” Sam asked.

  “No, I’m trying to look like a hard-ass.”

  She smiled. “You always look like a hard-ass.”

  “I hope so. That’s the persona I want Buckley’s organization to see.” He took a last sip of coffee. “Are you ready?”

  “I need my messenger bag.” She ran into her bedroom. “And I need all my guns.” />
  “Leave the Smith & Wesson. We can’t afford to be tracked today.” Henry dug through his duffel he’d placed on the sofa. “Here’s a nine-millimeter you can use today.”

  Sam looked at the gun as if it carried a disease, but she took it, inspected it with both hands, and tucked it into her bag. “I have my backup, too.” She lifted the leg of her jeans to show him.

  “Good. Let’s hope you don’t have to use either.” Henry took her elbow and started toward the door. “Are you sure you don’t want your jacket?”

  “Yes. Let’s go.” She double-checked that she had a key card in her messenger bag, pulled the door shut, and tested the handle to make sure the lock kicked in.

  Henry strolled past the elevators and held the stairway door open for Sam. “We’ve got to hurry. It’s almost seven.”

  “White Cloud will wait.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want a car sitting in the alley any longer than necessary.”

  Sam grabbed the handrail and sprinted down the ten flights without pausing. When she reached the bottom, she stopped abruptly.

  Henry banged into her then grabbed her to avoid falling or slamming into the wall. “Warn me when you’re going to do that.”

  “Sorry, needed to catch my breath before we barged out into the hallway.”

  Henry’s dimple appeared. He heard no buzzing, so he felt confident the kitchen was safe. He led the way that he’d mapped out yesterday, through a set of swinging doors into the heat and bustle of the kitchen. Steam rose from two pots on the six-burner stove while the smell of bacon permeated the room. Sam’s mouth watered as she passed by a bowl of fruit. She was tempted to grab a strawberry, but Henry kept his hand on her back, guiding her out a door on the far side of the room.

  “Thanks, Andre,” he called as the door slammed shut behind them.

  “You know his name?”

  “Can’t ask somebody for a favor unless you at least learn their name.” Henry stopped at the passenger door to the Firebird. “I’ll climb in back.”

  Sam pushed him aside. “No, I’ll fit better.”

  “I don’t mind the back seat.”

  “Your legs are longer than mine.” Sam elbowed him out of the way.

  White Cloud leaned across the front seat. “It is not wise to stand around arguing this morning.”

  “You’re right,” said Sam.

  White Cloud folded the passenger seat down. Sam ducked her head and maneuvered into the tiny back seat.

  Henry pushed the seat back up, slipped into the passenger seat, and slammed the door. “Have you seen anyone suspicious around?”

  “There are two men lurking in a doorway across from the hotel entrance. They seemed more interested in smoking cigarettes and keeping warm. Did not seem to be terribly alert. I do not think we have to worry about them noticing us.”

  Sam slouched in the rear. She stuck her legs to the side so that Henry could slide his seat back. The Firebird was not the most comfortable car for more than two people, but she hoped it would help retain their anonymity. Later Henry would become a beacon when he switched into the orange pickup, but they wouldn’t get the truck until they’d talked to Nina, and by then it wouldn’t matter.

  Traffic was light at the early morning hour, so they made it to Nina’s in fifteen minutes. She greeted them at the door and hurried them to the living room. She wrung her hands and reached for a pamphlet on the coffee table. “I don’t know what to do about this.”

  Sam took the colorful brochure and studied it. The cover showed a group of people, young and old, dressed in traditional Native American garb. Some wore feather headdresses, some wore colorful beaded vests, some sat on horses decorated to match the rider’s clothing, but all were smiling and happy. In large letters: THE CONFEDERATED TRIBES OF WARM SPRINGS POWWOW, 2019. Inside, a list of events, starting with an entry parade on Friday, April 5th. The events would last three days with a grand finale ceremony on Sunday.

  “This looks like an important event.” Sam passed the brochure to Henry.

  “They hope it will be.” Nina rubbed her hand over her forehead. “I didn’t think of it before, but it starts next week. If someone wanted to get maximum impact for disrupting the reservation, any one of those days would be a good time.”

  Henry frowned. “How many people are we talking about?”

  “The town of Warm Springs has about twenty-five hundred, but the powwow could add another four to five thousand people. Mostly families. We’re talking about grandparents, parents, children—all innocents.” Nina looked at White Cloud. “I am thinking you should talk Uncle into canceling.”

  “That would be hard to do on such short notice. They have been planning this for months and many may not get word out about the cancellation in time.”

  Henry closed the brochure. “So this is why Buckley is in such a hurry to get me to the compound. He wants everything ready by this weekend.”

  “You’ve talked to the senator?” Nina’s eyes widened.

  “I did. Met with him last night. Toby was there, too.”

  Nina’s lips quivered. “Toby does not know what he is getting into.”

  “I think he knows enough to be careful.” Sam patted Nina’s arm. “Henry will be around to keep an eye on him.”

  Nina lowered her head to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I lost my sisters when they were sent away to boarding school. I cannot lose my son, too.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to keep him safe.” Henry turned to Sam. “Maybe we can use this powwow to get the FBI to move their butts.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Sam turned to Nina. “Can I keep this?”

  Nina nodded. “There are hundreds floating around back at NAYA. We’ve been passing them out for the past two months.” She paused and wrinkled her forehead. “I do not know why I did not think about the danger sooner.”

  “Nothing you could do about it, anyway. You’ve told us now, and we have a better idea of what we’re facing.” Sam took a deep breath. “Things wouldn’t have changed whether we knew a couple days ago or not.”

  “But Toby is sticking his nose into the middle of it.” Nina leaned on the arm of a chair.

  “Henry told you he’d do his best to keep your son out of trouble. So will White Cloud and I.”

  “What was he thinking? Walking into that den of iniquity like that.” A tear slipped from Nina’s eye, but she quickly rubbed it away. “I’m sorry. The danger is great, and here I am thinking only of myself and my son. Can I do anything to help?”

  “If something comes up for you to do, we will definitely let you know,” White Cloud said.

  A small smile appeared on Nina’s face. “I will be at work every day from two until ten, but you can call my cell.”

  “Have you had any more trouble with those skinheads?” Henry rubbed his chin. He felt responsible for drawing their ire onto Nina.

  “Haven’t seen them since you kicked them out.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Sam slapped her forehead. “I transferred the money into your account last night. If you want to quit your job, you have enough to live on for quite a while.”

  A look of horror passed over Nina’s face. “I would never quit my job. That money can be put to good use instead of making me lazy.”

  Sam shrugged. “You are free to use it however you see fit. I just want you to know it’s there.”

  Nina looked at the floor. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you for what you did. I never expected it, and I will use it wisely.”

  “I’m sure you will. Now, we’d better get going. Henry’s supposed to meet someone to take him to the compound, and I want to scan this brochure and send it to the FBI. Time is getting short.”

  Nina bit her lower lip. “I am sorry I did not give you this sooner.”

  “Don’t worry about it. A day or two won’t make that big of a difference.” Sam tucked the brochure in her purse as she followed White Cloud and Henry out the door.

  This time, H
enry did not argue about the seating. He held the door for her to climb in the back. “It’s close to nine. I should get the pickup and be on my way if I want to make it by eleven.”

  “We will get to the truck with time to spare.” White Cloud peeled away from the curb, the Firebird’s tires screeching.

  Intent on making his meeting, Henry didn’t notice the silver sedan pull out behind them or register the light buzzing in his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The light at the corner was red, but White Cloud did not slow as he downshifted to second gear and pulled a right turn, ignoring the garbage truck that had the right of way on the cross street. The driver slammed on his brakes and leaned on the horn.

  With no seat belts in the back, Sam flew to the opposite side in the rear of the car. She grabbed on to the seat back, her heart jumping into her throat, as she imagined the Firebird squashed under a ton of garbage. “Jesus Christ!” The words flew out of her mouth before she even realized it.

  “Sorry. I noticed a car pull out after us. It was the same one that was parked across the street from Nina’s the other day. I did not want to give that woman a chance to follow us today.”

  Sam looked out the rear window. “Are you sure it’s the same car?”

  “A woman with yellow hair was driving. I did not want to risk it.”

  Henry recognized the underlying buzzing—low but persistent. “It’s her.”

  “How do you know that?” Sam poked his shoulder from her perch in the back.

  “My gut.” Henry turned to face White Cloud. “Can you lose her?”

  “She will have trouble getting around the garbage truck.” White Cloud picked up speed as the light at the next intersection switched to red. Without slowing he blew through it, causing the brakes of oncoming cars in both directions to squeal. Horns blared but White Cloud ignored them. He swung onto a side street two blocks past where the silver car sat trapped behind the garbage truck, which had lawfully stopped at the red light.

  Sam slumped in her seat. “How did she know we were there?”