by Meryl Sawyer
"H-m-m-m," Kelly responded, suddenly deciding the man and the horse had the same effect on her. They were both magnificent, yet they made her inhale sharply and remind herself not to be afraid.
"It's strange that Outlaw should take to you. Only my head trainer, Jim Cree can do anything with him." There was an odd note in Woody's voice, and Kelly pulled her hand away from the horse to look at him.
Woody moved closer to Logan. "Do you still like to ride?" For a second, Kelly thought Logan wasn't going to answer. His arm was draped casually around her shoulder, but she could feel the extreme tension in his body like a honed blade.
The silence in the stable became awkward, magnified by the thrashing movements of the stallions, the gurgle of water as the stainless steel water troughs automatically filled, and the whir of the ceiling fans overhead.
Finally, Logan stopped petting Outlaw. "I didn't know I could ride. The only time I was on a horse—that I remember—was when I rode some nag out of a rebel camp in Ecuador. I was sore for a week."
Woody's brows drew together. "Too bad. Riding is a lot of fun especially in Red Rock country. You're welcome to ride my horses. It won't take long for you to catch on again."
"You'll love it," Kelly said, batting her eyelashes shamelessly at Logan. "I could teach you."
He managed to smile at her. "Maybe."
"The colt's over there," Woody said as he stepped away from Outlaw's stall.
Kelly sensed Woody sincerely would like to get to know his son better. A pang of guilt made her ashamed of herself. Logan was here because he was committed to helping her. Why give Woody false hope?
"This is Thunderbolt," Woody announced proudly. The white colt was at the gangly stage where his legs seemed too long for his body. He had soulful brown eyes like a doe and long, jet-black lashes. His platinum mane and tail had been brushed until they glistened.
"He's precious, just precious," Kelly said.
An elderly man walked through the door at the stable entrance. Kelly might not have noticed him for some time, but Logan's head turned the second the door opened. Kelly recognized Jim Cree immediately.
The head trainer and shaman had mentioned a skinwalker at the old hogan. It was easy to understand why Jim thought Logan was a witch who could take any shape he chose. Logan looked exactly like his father had at the same age.
Jim ambled toward them, using a horseweed cane. The heavy stalk was gnarled slightly, but very sturdy. His inverted pear shape with a barrel chest and slim hips and skinny legs was typical of many Navajo men.
What set Jim apart, and always had, was his ability to command respect from his fellow Navajos for his work as a yataalii, shaman. He was equally respected by white men for his ability to train Arabian horses. For as long as Kelly could remember, people had flown into Sedona from around the country to consult with Jim Cree.
Woody was rattling on and on about Thunderbolt and hadn't noticed Jim come into the barn. Jim's hitching gait slowed even more as he spotted Logan. Jim had to be almost eighty now, Kelly decided. His eyesight wasn't as good as it once was, and he couldn't walk without the horseweed cane, but he spent hours in the saddle.
"Hosteen," she called, using the Navajo term for a respected elder, hoping to put Jim at ease. "Yaa' eh t'eeh. Woody's son has come home."
Unlike Uma, who rarely looked directly at people until she knew them well, Jim gazed right at Logan as he came closer. He was dressed in Levis and wore a red shirt with Western detailing. He'd taken off his black Stetson with the band of silver conches around the crown, but it had left a mark on his forehead.
He shuffled up to the stall and stopped in front of Logan. "You have come home. Yei Yiaash."
"Arrival of the spirits," scoffed Woody from inside the stall where he was petting the colt. "Now, Jim, don't you pull a shaman routine on us. This is just Logan. You remember searching for him, don't you?"
Jim's weathered hand dropped to his leather belt. Hanging between the gleaming silver conches set with turquoise was a jish. Inside the leather pouch would be a vial of pollen, sacred feathers, at least two crystals and small mineral stones, the tools of a shaman's trade.
"I remember," Jim said, his hand on the jish. "I remember."
"Jim is the best trainer in the world," Woody told Logan. "When you were lost, he searched for you."
"I wanted to call the belacani," Jim said, "but Benson did not want the sheriff. I rode out to search."
"When Benson finally reached me, I told him to call the sheriff," Woody said.
"A computer found me. Go figure." Logan's response seemed casual, yet Kelly thought she detected a certain stiffness in his voice that went beyond its usual harsh intonation.
Jim hobbled into the stall, telling Woody, "Thunderbolt is not eating as he should. He does not yet know what happened to his mother. I am going to chant for him."
"Navajos chant to cure things," Kelly told Logan.
"We'll get out of your way," Woody said. "Let's go back to the house and have a drink."
Woody and Logan started to leave, and Kelly said, "Go on. I'll catch up. I might do an article on chants."
Jim carefully set his horseweed cane against the side of the stall and hung his Stetson on the hook with the curry comb. "What do you wish to know, Kelly Taylor?"
He's a very perceptive man, she decided. He knew she didn't want information about chants.
"I was wondering if you were in the stable the afternoon Logan went riding Hellion."
Jim took an eagle's pin feather out of his jish and placed it on Thunderbolt's forelock. "I was here."
She noted that he answered the question without adding any more information. Like Uma, he'd been taught to evade, but not to lie. "On the day Logan disappeared, did you see him leave on his pony with the twins?"
He made counter-clockwise circles in the air with his hand facing palm down above the feather. "No, I had a horse running on the treadmill."
Jim began to chant in Navajo, his voice barely above a whisper. She started to ask him another question, then stopped. Native Americans considered interrupting rude. Interrupting a chanting shaman was unthinkable. She certainly hoped this wasn't one of those chants that went on for days.
In a matter of minutes, Thunderbolt's fringe of eyelashes drooped over his chocolate-brown eyes. His long legs slowly folded under him, and he sank to the bed of straw. Jim leaned over and took the eagle's feather off the sleeping colt.
Jim took great care in putting the feather back into his jish. Then he closed the leather pouch and secured it to his belt. He picked up his cane and hat. He pressed his finger to his lips and limped out of the stall.
Kelly had known Jim for years, since her grandfather had served on Sedona's Tribal Liaison Committee. He was usually more talkative than this. He wasn't going to lie to her, but he wasn't volunteering anything.
"When did you realize Logan was missing?" she whispered.
"Luz Tallchief came to get me."
"She'd been in her room sick, right?"
"Luz Tallchief is ahnii. This was not her fault."
Kelly had not realized that Luz had the status of a judge, being held in the highest esteem by her clan. She had never met the woman, but knew Luz had worked for the Stanfields from the time Ginger had discovered she was carrying twins. She served as nanny to the twins, then stayed on to help Ginger raise the children.
"Until the day Logan vanished, Luz had never missed work. She ate something bad the night before and became ill."
Interesting, Kelly thought. He's volunteering information about Luz to make certain I don't blame her. Why?
"You wanted to call the belacani," she said, using the Navajo term for white policeman. "The Coconino Sheriff back then was Tony Montoya, right?" Jim nodded. "Why didn't Benson call him?"
"Benson said the sheriff was nakai. A Mexican worth nothing. I could find the boy faster on horseback."
It was just like Benson to let prejudice override his better judgment. Or was it really
prejudice? Something strange had gone on that day.
"You searched and searched, but didn't find a trace of him, true?"
They had reached the exit, but Jim stopped, his world-weary eyes sought hers. For a moment he was silent, then he said, "I am born to the Silent Waters Clan, born for the River Bend People. Our history is as old as the red rocks of Sedona. I am yataalii. The great one has given his shamans the gift of diagnosing illnesses, identifying witches, and finding lost things."
He spoke with the deep pride and firm sense of honor that Kelly often heard in her grandfather's voice. He also told her first about his clan—his family—which was more important to a Navajo than his own personal achievements. This was a man who would not lie, yet she suspected he was hiding something.
"I have seen much in my time," he continued. "Cured many of my people. Found a lot of things that had been lost. If I had wanted to find Logan, I could have."
She wavered, struggling to comprehend what he had told her. "Wait!"
Jim hobbled out the door without another word. He disappeared into the night, leaving her baffled.
Why hadn't he wanted to find Logan? Why would he leave a little boy out in the wilderness at night? It made no sense.
Kelly walked down the path toward the house. Jim had given her a tip, but he had withheld much about the case. She supposed she couldn't blame him. He had a job he loved, and he must feel loyalty to Woody after working for him all these years.
Common sense said he would have done his best to find the boy. Unless he'd been told to do something different. Who would have been able to influence him?
Luz Tallchief, the nanny. It was obvious that he deeply respected her. She was an ahnii, a matriarch with as much power as a judge. Jim would have seen her as an equal and listened to her.
Unlike the male-dominated world of the white man, Navajo society was matriarchal. Upon meeting a stranger, they gave their born-to clan's name, their mother's clan. Then they told their born-for clan, their father's people.
In their world, the word of an ahnii would have been honored even by a man like Jim who was also a leader of his people. Most definitely he could have been influenced by Luz.
From what Kelly understood, Luz had taken Logan's disappearance hard. She'd quit her job and retreated to a cottage near Indian Gardens. She never ventured into town, so Kelly didn't know her.
Tomorrow she was going to find Luz Tallchief and try to discover the whole truth about what happened to Logan.
* * *
Chapter 16
« ^ »
Kelly returned to the main house, disturbed and confused by what Jim Cree had told her. She paused outside the open French doors, asking herself what had happened all those years ago. Why hadn't Jim tried to find Logan?
Inside, Logan and Woody were sitting at the bar, sipping drinks while Benson Williams stood behind the massive black granite counter, making a Martini for Ginger. Woody's wife sat back, her eyes tracking Benson's every move.
Still beautiful despite her age, Ginger wore a black silk sheath, a perfect complement for her shoulder-length, silver-blond hair dramatically swept behind one ear. Diamond studs that had to be four carats each adorned her ears.
Off to one side, stood Alyx, a glass of wine in her hand. She exuded a petulant arrogance that never failed to annoy Kelly. She giggled under her breath. Alyx couldn't forget her name now. They were going to be related.
Scary.
Alyx was not the kind of woman who inspired dumb blonde jokes. Instead, she reminded Kelly of the devil in drag. She couldn't help wishing she were home with Pop.
Away from these people.
"Kelly," called Logan. "Come in here, darling."
Everyone turned to look at her, and Kelly faltered a moment, then moved forward. Logan strode up to her, slid his arm around her in a way that said they'd been intimate for some time.
His seductive smile confirmed it. Boy, oh, boy. He was a good actor, Kelly thought. She hoped she was as adept at hiding her feelings. His touch elicited reactions she'd come to expect: heart beating out of sync and a hint of lightheadedness.
Alyx glided over to them the moment they came close to the bar. "Look at Kelly's engagement ring. Wow!"
Alyx gushed over it, and Ginger walked up, carrying her martini, which was already half gone. Logan's arm was around Kelly's waist but there was a sinewy tension about him, a man constantly on the alert.
"Tyler, look at this stunning ring," Alyx said as she looked up.
Tyler was walking into the room, but Logan had spotted him even before Alyx had spoken. Kelly was learning to pick up on subtle clues from Logan, a slight tilt of the head or a shift of his eyes.
A blue-eyed blond like his twin sister, Tyler was an exceptionally handsome man. A fact that had not escaped his notice. Kelly sensed the elevation of tension emanating from Logan's body. Kelly was positive Logan did not like his half-brother.
Logan was casually dressed as was Kelly, but Tyler and Alyx wore fancy cocktail outfits. A sheer red silk slip dress emphasized the sensuous contours of Alyx's body while Tyler's lightweight navy jacket and white trousers with stiletto creases would have been more appropriate for a yacht in the Mediterranean rather than a dinner party in Sedona.
Kelly couldn't help wondering if the family had deliberately dressed up to make them feel uncomfortable. Benson was in a sports jacket with a tie—a rarity in Sedona—and Ginger appeared more formal than necessary. Only Woody was casually attired in Dockers and a short-sleeved shirt.
"Let's see the ring." Tyler took her hand and examined the diamond. "Is it real?"
"Of course, silly," responded Alyx, but her tone indicated she had her doubts.
Logan grinned at Kelly, then winked. He had a devastating effect on her body, but she doubted that was his intention. He had to be fighting the urge to tell off the obnoxious twins.
"It looks like a Tiffany setting to me," Ginger added, clearly astonished. "It'll have the store's name inside the band. Woody buys most of my jewelry at Tiffany's, don't you dear?"
Woody walked up to them. The corners of his mouth had dropped a notch. It was obvious that he didn't care for the way his family was behaving.
"It's a really beautiful ring," Woody said with a sharp look at the twins. "Let's go in to dinner."
Benson Williams, who had yet to say a word, took Ginger's glass. Tall and attractive with a patrician bearing made aristocratic by a touch of silver hair at his temples, Benson had about as much charm as Atilla the Hun. He guided Ginger to the far end of the great room where a massive table was set with crystal and silver.
Interesting. The twins walked across the room, side by side, speaking in such low voices that it was impossible to hear what they were saying. Woody trailed behind them, alone. Kelly speculated about the rumors she'd heard about Benson and Ginger engaging in an affair that had lasted for years.
The glass table was long enough to be a bowling alley, Kelly decided as Logan pulled out a chair with swan's wing forming the back for her. The mammoth table was supported by the spread wings of two preening swans. It was a bit much for her taste, and it certainly wasn't "Sedona."
"Having fun?" Logan whispered as sat down beside her. The intimate pitch to his voice and the way he smiled at her did shameless things to her pulse. She reminded herself to smile at him.
It was embarrassingly easy.
Benson prattled on about his golf game that afternoon at Poco Diablo Resort while a uniformed maid served something odd-looking that Kelly didn't recognize. Another maid offered them a choice of red or white wine.
Taking care to conceal her hand with her napkin, Kelly slipped off the ring. Tiffany & Co. was engraved on the inside of the band. Oh, my God! He really had bought the ring at Tiffany's.
Why? He could easily have gone to a less expensive jeweler. Had he done it to impress the Stanfields? If so, why hadn't he told them Ginger was right? The ring had come from Tiffany's.
As silly as it seemed, Kelly
already adored the ring. Every time she moved her hand, a dazzle of light like a sparkler shot upward. The diamond had an inner fire that she'd never seen except in the windows of ultra-expensive jewelers. True, it was embarrassingly large, but the setting's simple lines made it elegant not gaudy.
When everyone had wine, Woody raised his glass, "To Logan, welcome to the family."
Kelly lifted her glass and smiled brightly, saying, "To Logan," but she couldn't help noticing the rest of the family was far less sincere-sounding than Woody. And Benson Williams had merely tipped his glass.
Logan turned to her, the searing blue of his eyes catching her off guard. She knew the Stanfields were watching and mustered a besotted smile. The look he gave her was as seductive as a caress.
Oh, my. How was she going to do this? A marriage of convenience to a man like Logan was more difficult than she could ever have imagined. She managed to smile adoringly at him.
"We wish you both a long and happy marriage," Woody continued.
"Isn't this rather sudden?" Ginger asked.
"You two just met," Benson added almost as if he were accustomed to finishing Ginger's sentences for her.
"It was love at first sight," Logan said.
The heart-rending tenderness of his gaze stunned her. He was a gifted actor. She was almost convinced he did love her.
"Th-there's no man on earth like Logan," Kelly stammered. Now, that was a fact.
"I'm so-o happy for you," Alyx gushed. "I've never been married."
"You're nuts, that's why." Tyler's comment was delivered with a teasing smile, and from Alyx's amused expression she was accustomed to her brother's jokes.
"I'm not nuts," Alyx replied. "Poor people are nuts. I'm eccentric."
Woody was watching Logan while Benson concentrated on something Ginger was saying in a low voice. The twins gazed at each other for a second, then chuckled as if sharing a private joke. The air had become dense, charged with emotion … and expectation.
Logan was the only one eating the suspicious looking brown mush that they'd been served. She had noticed that he had a tendency to eat too fast, and he hunched forward slightly as if expecting someone to take his food away from him.