Sacred Ground

by Rita Karnopp

  * * *

  Willow dialed the phone. "Hello," she said the moment someone picked up on the other side.

  "Hello, dear," Elsie Turner said in a motherly tone.

  "This is Willow, I'm sure you've guessed that. Don't let the boys know you're talking to me.”

  "Certainly, I understand. We're all just fine here. That Wyatt showed up awfully early this morning looking for you. He didn't look like he was feeling all that good. Said you weren't home, and he needed to talk to you. Of course I had no idea where you and Brett had gone, but I sort of lied. I told him I thought you'd gone to the reservation to see how your parents were doing."

  Willow released a sigh of relief. "Did you mention Brett and I were together?”

  "No, dear, I didn't. He seemed awfully nervous and edgy. I didn't think your business was any concern of his. I don't particularly like the man. I know it's not very Christian of me, but that's the way I see it."

  Willow smiled. She liked Elsie Turner. "Mrs. Turner, we, I don't have time to explain everything, but be careful. Keep the boys away from my place and don't let either go anywhere with Wyatt. Tell the boys that, would you?"

  "Boys, walk down to the mailbox and get Grandma's mail, would you please? Don't go anywhere but down the lane and back or there'll be no cookies and milk.”

  Willow heard their, "All right, cool!" in the background, and a soft laugh from Grandma.

  "Now, dear, call me Mom, if you're comfortable with it. If not, Elsie will do. Now, I'm not dumb, so I'll assume there's trouble brewing. I knew something was wrong when you asked me to watch the boys last night and suggested we go visit your folks in Browning. You care to explain now?"

  "Gordon is back," Willow blurted out.

  "What? Are you sure? I mean, dear Lord, he isn't dead? Then whose body was strewn all over the land? Where has Gordon been all this time, making people believe he's been dead? Why?" Elsie’s tone one of skepticism.

  "It's a long story, one I don't have time to tell right now, but he is back. That's why you need to keep a close eye on the boys. Gordon and Wyatt are after your land, Mom," she said the word for the first time; it seemed strange, but nice. "I wouldn't put it past them to use the boys to get to you." Willow paused, considering her words. "Brett and I think you should leave for the Res now. Don't wait for breakfast or anything else, just go.”

  "Where's Brett?"

  Willow realized Elsie's words were cold and still. "You're going to hear he's a crumbled heap at the bottom of Rattlesnake Cliff."

  "Oh, my God! No! What will I do? It can't be true."

  "It's not true!" Willow blurted out. "I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but I can't make you suffer. You're going to have to act shocked and devastated, just as you did right now, when you're told―"

  "He isn't at the bottom of Rattlesnake Cliff?" she asked, her tone just short of shrill hysteria.

  "No. I won't lie to you. But bear in mind, you have to make others think you believe he's dead. His life depends on it."

  "Where is he?"

  Willow understood a mother's concern. "He's at my ranch. I've hidden him in a place only Lance and I know about. If something happens to me, well, he can tell you where to find Brett. Right now it's best you don't know. It's safer for you and him." Willow chose not to tell Elsie about Brett's leg, she had enough worries to deal with.

  "I'll take care of the boys, don't you worry. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. All these―"

  "Grandma, Grandma, Wyatt Anderson is coming," Sean shouted.

  "Oh, dear, hold on the line just a moment," Elsie said in a quivering voice.

  Listening, Willow heard Elsie's footsteps as she walked to the door.

  "Mr. Anderson, twice in one day is more than I usually see you in a year. Since you already know Willow isn't around, I'll assume you're looking for Brett, I'm sorry he isn't here either."

  "You know where he is?" Wyatt asked.

  "No. He went out last night, and to be honest, he hasn't come back. It's not often he does that, unless he . . . well, he has a lady friend. Believe she lives in Lewistown or nearby."

  "Yeah. You hear from Willow Jenkins yet? I have business with her, too. Ain't seen neither of them."

  Willow held her breath, wondering how Elsie would hold up to Wyatt's questions.

  "Now that's strange you should mention it. Lance spent the night with Sean and she said she'd pick him up around eight. But she hasn't come by to get him yet. Don't be giving me that look. There isn't a body in these parts that don't know Brett and Willow are like a cat and dog. There's no possible way they're together. It's mere coincidence."

  "I happen to agree with you there. But where are they?"

  "Like I told you earlier this morning, I haven't seen her. I wouldn't worry, though. She'll show up. Besides, I've heard that pretty Willow gal has been looking in your direction. Is that true, Wyatt? You and Miss Willow sweet on each other?"

  Willow couldn't help rolling her eyes upward. She couldn't believe how smoothly Elsie handled the conversation.

  "I'm hoping that's the way things is. Well, I don't got all day to wait for Brett. You own this place, right?"

  "Yes, on paper. But Brett has been running it for years so you could say it's more his than mine. I'll be signing the papers over to him real soon, so you could say it's his."

  "I'm prepared to make you a considerable offer for your property, Mrs. Turner. You know I've been struggling, and it's all because I don't have enough land to do all the ranching I need to do. Cattle take a lot of land, which leaves me little to do my planting. I want to do both. The way I see it, either I expand or I lose everything."

  "Surely things aren't that serious. Tell you what. I'll discuss it with Brett. Don't look so disappointed. I've been considering selling for some time. I'm too old to be out here. I'm by myself most of the time. There's no water now, things haven't been easy for us either."

  "Now that's good news for me. Tell you what, you think it over and discuss it with Brett. I'll stop by tomorrow and get your answer."

  "That might be too soon to decide. Besides, I have no idea what you're willing to offer."

  "Well, you tell me what figure you need to sell and I'll guarantee you a check the very day. I'll even help you pack, if that's what it'll take."

  "You seem awfully anxious, Wyatt. But, I suppose I would be too, if my life hung in the balance of saving or losing everything I've worked for. I've been after Brett to finish his veterinarian degree. Maybe this will be the answer. I'll have to talk to Brett."

  Willow’s heart pounded and her mouth grew dry. Elsie Turner was one smooth old lady.

  "You do that. Have Willow call me when she comes for her kid. It's important."

  "Are you planning on buying up her land too?" Elsie asked.

  "What? Uh, no. Well, you might say those rumors you've heard are true. I'm romantically involved with her. I want to give her your land as a wedding gift. We'll be able to link all three properties and have the largest spread in these parts. Not a bad plan, do you think?"

  "I see, how sweet of you, Wyatt. These properties haven't been together as one since the Blackfeet hunted buffalo on them. Matter-of-fact, Willow's back property is an old Indian burial ground. It's sacred to the Indians. I believe it ends just before it joins mine. I think she plans on turning it over to the Blackfeet. From what I heard, Gordon wasn't too happy about that idea some time back, and he put her in her place. Indians always seem to think possessions should be given away as gifts. Good thing that land was in Gordon's name. I’ve been extremely nervous thinking that Indians might own that property. I’ve been afraid Willow might follow through with it now that Gordon has passed."

  "I can understand your fear, Mrs. Turner. Damn savages! We sent them running to reservations years ago and we can do it again. Be assured, I won't let Willow give a square inch of that land to the Indians."

  Willow stiffened her back and clenched her fist, wishing Wyatt stood before her so she could
punch him in the mouth.

  "I feel much better already. I must admit, Mr. Anderson, you surprise me. Your being romantically involved with an Indian, I hadn't expected you to feel this way," Elsie said calmly.

  "Well, Willow is different. I've got things to do . . . I'd better go. You talk things over with Brett, and I'll be back tomorrow. You do realize the decision is really yours. You own the place on paper, and that's what counts. You don't have water, and a ranch this size is nothing but trouble for a widow. Just get me a price and you can go on with your life."

  "Your offer is very convincing. I'll talk to Brett. He may be dying to sell, who knows." Elsie's words were playful but the meaning was not.

  Willow heard a faint tremor in Elsie's voice as though some emotion had touched her. Hang in there; you're doing great, Willow thought. She heard Wyatt clear his throat. Elsie's comment had shaken him. Good, Willow couldn't help thinking.

  "Boys, go feed the ponies and gather the eggs. We'll be eating soon," she called out.

  "Well, I'd best be going. See you tomorrow, Mrs. Turner."

  "It might be best if you call ahead before coming over, just in case Brett and I haven't had a chance to talk. I'm rather angry with him for not letting me know where he went. A mother worries, even when her child has grown up. Bye, Wyatt."

  "Bye, ma'am."

  Willow couldn't help being amazed at how smoothly Elsie handled Wyatt Anderson. Willow gripped the receiver tighter and strained to hear the front door close, then what she guessed to be Elsie's footsteps on the hard linoleum.

  "Now that was an interesting conversation, wouldn't you say, dear?" Elsie asked.

  "Most certainly. You sure handled him. He didn't have a clue you knew anything. That man makes my skin crawl," Willow admitted. "I'll let Brett know what Wyatt said."

  "You tell my son we'll make it through this like we always have."

  "Mom, I don't want Gordon anywhere near Lance or Sean. Please take the boys to my parents now!"

  "I'll take them. Your relatives will be happy to have them visit. I do have a question, though. Lance had one of his headaches last night. I see why you're worried. I know a man at the reservation, and I was wondering if you would mind if I took Lance to see him? Maybe he can help."

  Willow felt her eyes fill with brimming tears. "You think something's wrong with him, too, don't you?"

  "A child would not fake something like this, even for attention. He's in pain, real pain. I realize it passes in time, yet it's not good. Brett told me you're worried. I think you're right to feel this way. Let me take him to Nat-O-wap-ah."

  "How do you know Blind Medicine? He's known only to the People."

  "Soon I'll tell you and Brett all there is to know, but now isn't the time. You must go back to my son, and I must take the boys to safety. Call me when it's safe for us to return."

  Willow wondered why she'd always imagined Elsie as shallow and frail. The woman on the other end of the line didn't fit either of those descriptions.

  "Mom? Thank you," Willow said, before her voice cracked.

  "Willow, I know my son cares for you. I ask you as a mother, please don't break his heart. I don't think he could stand another rejection."

  The soft click, then dial tone, told Willow the conversation had ended. Damn Gordon! If he stood before her, she'd kill him herself! Who would charge her with murder? The man was dead! Guilt filled her. As much as she hated Gordon, she wasn't capable of murder and he knew it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Straining, Brett listened. Footsteps came closer. It had to be Willow, but what if it wasn't? His leg ached beyond description, but the sharp piercing jolts had stopped. He lifted himself to his elbows and looked down at his leg. The sticks and heavy wrap had been removed. A mud-looking cast covered his leg from thigh to ankle. He leaned over and touched it, surprised it felt cement hard.

  He struggled to remember who had done it. Fragments of chants, a bitter taste, dancing Indians, and a warrior working over him. He was the same Indian that had been in all of his dreams.

  Brett dropped back on the pillow. He glanced down to find a steaming cup beside him. He picked it up and smelled it, recognizing mint and ginger, he drank. It warmed him and also eased away the pain.

  "Where have you been?"

  Brett recognized Wyatt's voice and tensed. He glanced around his small enclosure, but found no one. He must be in the barn, Brett thought.

  "Why do you ask?" Willow responded.

  "I woke and you were gone. I missed you. I'd hoped to wake with you in my arms."

  "Well, you were sleeping and I had work to do. This ranch doesn't run without a lot of hard work, I'm sure you know that."

  "Yes. Willow, about last night. It meant a lot to me to finally feel you in my arms. I admit I did have too much to drink. I had to have you, and I hope I wasn't too rough. I want you for my wife."

  Brett tensed. What had that bastard done to Willow? Had she been honest when she had said nothing happened?

  "You weren't rough at all. You expressed your feelings quite well, and I responded of my own free will. What we had last night, well, we'll never have again."

  "What do you mean, never have again?"

  "You know, our first night together. No night between a woman and man are like that first time. We'll only have memories. You do remember it all, don't you Wyatt?" she asked, a softness to her tone.

  Brett sensed a teasing in her voice. He wanted that part of her saved for him. He didn't want to hear their conversation, yet he wouldn't have stopped listening if he could.

  "Of course I remember it all. It was the best night of my life. What you smiling about?"

  "A woman smiles when she's happy, Wyatt. You have a lot to learn about women. That reminds me. I had a bit too much to drink last night too, and well, I couldn't get my truck started. So I borrowed your motorcycle. I hope you don't mind."

  "Saw that beat-up old truck in the yard, wondered why."

  "That's where I've been. It felt so free and exciting to ride. I've been having a great time. Rode all over the breaks and around my property line, then up and back from Rattlesnake Cliff. It was great!"

  "Rattlesnake Cliff? Why'd you go up there?"

  "Everyone goes up there. Best scenery around. Have you been up there lately? No, well you should go. Why don't we hop on your bike and ride up there? It's breathtaking. It was awfully early when I got there, couldn't see a whole lot, but it was fun and exhilarating. Should we go?"

  Brett knew she was playing a dangerous game with Wyatt. He admired her guts, but it angered him too.

  "I don't have time today, Willow. I have a tight schedule."

  "What you doing here then?"

  "I wanted to come over and tell you how much being with you last night meant to me. You haven't seen Brett Turner by any chance, have you?"

  "Why would I see that spoiled, out-spoken pain in the ass?"

  "Your sons are friends."

  "That definitely doesn't mean Brett and I are. Some things are meant to be and some are not. Brett and I fall in the are not category." Willow stated with obvious vengeance.

  "I heard you and Brett spent several nights together when your boys ran off. Caused quite a stir in town."

  "Might have caused a stir there, but not between us. We fought all the way up and all the way back. I couldn't wait to put our ranches between us. People in town can talk all they like; they didn't have to deal with Brett Turner."

  "I'm pleased to hear it. I thought maybe you and him . . . well―"

  "After what we shared last night, you could question how I feel? You surprise me, Wyatt."

  "How about coming over here and giving me a kiss to prove how you feel?"

  Brett tensed.

  "Now, Wyatt, I have scruples about falling into a man's arms when I feel all hot and dirty from work. There's nothing sexy or romantic about sweat."

  "I don't mind, really."

  "Well I do. You'd better get at that busy schedule of yours."


  "How about having dinner with me tonight?"

  "I'd love to, Wyatt, but I promised the boys I'd take them to a movie and pizza in Lewistown."

  "How about Sunday night?"

  "That'd be nice. Yes, I'd like that, Wyatt. Now, you'd better leave so I can feed these buffalo before they stampede you."

  Brett breathed a sigh of relief. Willow had Wyatt right where she wanted him. Brett couldn't help wondering what happened between them last night. He'd never forgive himself if she had to sleep with the bastard. Brett admitted he should never have allowed her to go. He’d promised to protect her. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't forgive himself for not being there for her.

  "Hi." Willow said in a soft and warm tone.

  Brett wondered how she'd entered the hideout without his hearing her. Lord, she was impressive. He liked how her Levis hugged her long slender legs and shapely bottom. Beaded feathers decorated her deep blue shirt, which was tucked into a shapely waist. She wore a sterling silver medicine pipe, which rested against her full breast. "You're beautiful."

  A pink stain rushed across her dimpled cheek. "You're looking much better too. I couldn't get a hold of Doctor Alfara. I'll try again later. Say, who put that on your leg? Who was here? I didn’t think I needed to tell you to keep a low profile and tell no one you’re in here." She looked around the straw area. "I smell sweetgrass."

  "I think a bunch of Indians. Don't look at me that way. I can't explain it. Same thing happened at Rattlesnake Cliff. One minute I'm clinging onto that overhanging branch with snakes everywhere. The next think I know I'm on top of the ridge with a brace on my leg. These old Indians keep dancing and singing. They shake rattles and bells and beat on drums and play flutes. Hell, I don't know what's going on. I think I'm hallucinating most the time. What are you smiling about?"

  "You're a chosen one." She settled next to him. Her hip pressed against his side and her nearness excited him, in spite of his weakened condition.

  "What's that suppose to mean?"

  "You're regarded with special favor by the old ones. You might be the son of the Ni-namp'-skan."