by Myrna Temte
“Sorry about that.” Sam offered his hand and introduced himself. “Sam Brightwater.”
“J. D. Cade,” the cowboy replied with a good, strong handshake and a stiff smile that looked as if he might not use it very often.
“Have we ever met?” Sam asked.
Cade shook his head and shouldered past Sam into the restaurant. “Don’t think so, pard. Have a nice day now.”
“Yeah, sure. You, too.” Sam left, still feeling a haunting sense of recognition that would undoubtedly bug him until he figured out where he’d seen the guy before.
Seemed as though everyone he met today intended to bug him. Some days were just like that. He climbed into his pickup, started the engine and turned north toward the res instead of going back to the job site.
It was entirely possible that even if Julia Stedman was his daughter, Dan Talkhouse wouldn’t want her to find him. If that was the case, he deserved a fair warning. Sam considered himself a close enough friend to feel compelled to deliver it.
Too bad the woman was such a looker. What a waste.
Two
Parked in front of a sprawling government building an hour later, Julia sat in the driver’s seat of her trusty, but rapidly aging, maroon compact and read aloud from the sign painted on the front door. “Welcome to the Laughing Horse Tribal Center. Home of the Northern Cheyenne, Western Band.”
Lord, she felt so confused and upset. Her muscles ached with tension. Her eyes were dry and scratchy because she knew she would weep if she blinked. Her throat felt so tight she feared she would choke if she tried to swallow her own saliva.
She swallowed anyway, then slumped down in the seat, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Oh, Mom, how could you?” she murmured, hurting all the way to her core.
That question had been whirling in her brain ever since Sam Brightwater told her she wasn’t an orphan, after all. Of course, there was no answer. Even when she’d been alive, Betty Stedman had rarely offered any explanations for her behavior.
Julia cleared her throat, opened her eyes and sat up straight. A few deep breaths steadied her and, summoning all of her schoolteacher’s dignity, she stepped from her car and entered the tribal center. Wondering if all the Northern Cheyenne would be as unfriendly as Sam Brightwater had been, she mentally braced herself and slowly walked down the tiled hallway.
A door stood open on her left, revealing a suite of offices with standard, government-gray furniture. When Julia knocked, a petite, pretty Indian woman with short hair poked her head out of the office on the right and smiled.
“Hello. May I help you?”
“I hope so,” Julia said. “I want to find someone who lives on this reservation. At least, I’ve been told that he lives here.”
“Come in.” The other woman turned back into the office and said something Julia couldn’t hear. A moment later she walked into the reception area, followed by a tall, extremely handsome Indian man who wore his hair in two long braids. Both were dressed casually in jeans and cotton shirts, and Julia sensed an aura of closeness about them that went beyond a co-worker relationship.
“Welcome to Laughing Horse,” the woman said. “I’m Maggie Hawk and this is my husband, Jackson. We both work for the tribe.”
Julia introduced herself and heaved a silent sigh of relief at Maggie Hawk’s friendly manner. Jackson seemed more reserved, but not hostile. Maybe he simply had a hard time getting a word in when his talkative little wife was around.
“Who did you want to find?” he asked a moment later when Maggie paused to take a breath.
“His name is Talkhouse. Daniel Talkhouse. Do you know him?”
Maggie’s eyes widened in surprise and she inhaled a sharp breath, but Jackson silenced her with a glance. Then he turned back to Julia. “May I ask why you’re looking for him?”
Julia met Jackson’s suddenly piercing gaze without flinching, but her voice sounded thick in her own ears. “He’s my father. I want to meet him. Will you please tell me where I can find him?”
“Do you have any proof that Dan is your father?” Jackson asked.
Julia cleared her throat. “Only some old letters to my mother. They were never married.”
“I see.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“What does that mean?” Julia demanded. “You don’t believe he’s my father because I don’t have a birth certificate with his name on it?”
Maggie shook her head, then elbowed her husband in the ribs when he would have cut her off again. “No, honestly, it’s not like that, Julia. We have no reason to doubt your word, but we must respect our people’s privacy.” She stepped forward and gestured toward a small room furnished with a wooden table and chairs. “Come. I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee and we’ll get acquainted while Jackson drives out to see if Daniel’s at home.”
“Couldn’t you just phone him?” Julia asked.
“He doesn’t have a phone. Many of our people don’t.” Maggie shot her husband a questioning look. “Will you tell him she’s here and wants to meet him?”
Jackson raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully frowning at her for a long moment. Then he shrugged and headed for the door, pausing on his way out only to grab a black cowboy hat from a row of hooks. A sick, nervous sensation invaded Julia’s stomach, and she couldn’t hold back a soft groan. Maggie gave her a sympathetic smile and went into the coffee room. Not knowing what else to do with herself, Julia followed.
With quiet efficiency Maggie set up a drip coffeemaker, making no mention of Julia’s pacing while the coffee brewed. When it was ready, she filled two mugs and carried them to the table. Julia took a chair across from Maggie and appreciatively sniffed the steam rising from her mug. They sipped in silence until Julia could no longer repress the questions pounding around in her head.
“Do you know my father?”
Maggie nodded. “He’s a friend and a neighbor.”
“What’s he like?”
“Well, he’s not quite six feet tall, he’s very thin and he wears his hair in long braids like Jackson does.” Maggie grinned as if at some private amusement. “Dan’s hair is getting gray now, but he always has a bunch of widow ladies after him.”
“But what’s he really like?” Julia asked. “I mean, what’s his personality like?”
“He’s not easy to describe.” A soft smile spread over Maggie’s face. “Dan’s a wonderful man in a lot of ways. Very polite and considerate and intelligent. He’s kind of…mystical, but he’s also a great mechanic.”
Julia glanced at the clock. “If he has a job, why would he be at home now?”
“We don’t keep rigid schedules. Dan has his own shop at home. He works there whenever he’s needed, but he also has to do some ranching on the side to make ends meet. Summer’s a busy time for him.”
“Does he like children?”
“Oh, yes,” Maggie said. “He certainly seems to enjoy our little hellion whenever he comes over to visit.”
“Do you think he’ll, um…” Julia hesitated, wondering if she dared ask the one question whose answer she desperately wanted to know. Maggie had seemed like a nice person so far, but would it be wise to expose so much of herself to a woman she’d barely met? Well, heck, coming here in the first place was a huge risk. What was one more? “Do you think he’ll want to meet me?”
Leaning forward, Maggie reached across the table and laid her palm over the top of the fist Julia had made with her left hand. “I believe he’ll be absolutely thrilled. And I think you’ll like him.”
“But will he like me?” Julia whispered, forcing the words past the constriction in her throat.
Maggie squeezed her hand. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t. He’s really a very nice man, and you seem nice, too. Believe me, I know exactly how scared you feel.”
Exhaling a shuddering breath, Julia lunged to her feet and started pacing again. “How can you? I’m twenty-seven. What do you say to a father you’ve never met when you’re that old?”
; “You say hello, and then listen to your heart,” Maggie said. “You’ll find what feels right to say.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I didn’t grow up on the reservation,” Maggie said. “My mother took me away when I was a baby, and I didn’t come back here until after she died.”
“Oh, wow,” Julia murmured. “This is so weird. My mother did the same thing, but I wasn’t even born when she left. She died almost six months ago.”
“And you came looking for your roots?”
“Something like that. Mom didn’t like to talk about my father or his side of the family,” Julia said. “There were just too many unanswered questions, you know?”
Maggie nodded. “Oh, yes. My birth father was already dead when I came back, but Jackson helped me to find my grandmother and a whole bunch of other relatives. They were all very welcoming.”
“But your mother was, um, Cheyenne, too, wasn’t she?”
Maggie nodded again. “Yours was white?”
“Yes. Will that make a difference?”
“I don’t know for certain, of course, but I doubt it. Dan obviously already knows about your mother. Any other relatives will probably welcome you for his sake. We have many broken families here, Julia. Your situation is not unusual.”
Julia glanced at the clock again, then made another lap around the table. “How long will it take Jackson to bring my father back?”
Maggie shrugged. “It all depends on whether or not Dan is at home and what he’s doing if he is. I’m sure it will be at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half.”
“Well, you can’t sit here and baby-sit me for that long,” Julia said with a grimace. “Feel free to go back to work and I’ll just…pace.”
“You won’t chicken out, will you?”
“No,” Julia promised, giving a rueful laugh. “I’ve come this far. I couldn’t stand not meeting him now. Go ahead, Maggie, I’ll be fine.”
“All right. Perhaps you need some time alone, but if you start to freak out, just yell and I’ll be happy to baby-sit you.” Maggie stood and walked to the doorway, then turned back to Julia with a sympathetic smile. “If you need something to do, you can look at the tribal-council pictures hanging in the reception area and try to pick out your father. Dan’s in all of them.”
Julia waited while Maggie went to her office, then practically sprinted to the reception area. Poring over the framed photographs, she searched for any hint of a likeness to herself. She eliminated the heavier men and the younger men, but there were still at least three tall, thin gentlemen with graying hair and long braids who matched Maggie’s description. Two of them looked awfully cold and stern.
Desperately hoping her father was the one who usually smiled, Julia traced his features in the latest picture with a shaky forefinger. He had kind eyes. His nose was larger than hers in proportion to his face, but she thought it was almost the same shape.
She had wanted to know her father from her first week of kindergarten. She could still remember that painful moment when she’d realized most of the other kids had a daddy. Lord, he could walk in here at any moment.
The thought tied her insides into hard knots and made it impossible to breathe normally. She needed something to distract herself, and yet she couldn’t look away from the photographs. Look at someone else, she told herself. Look at the younger men.
There were six younger men. Maggie’s husband, Jackson, four guys she hadn’t met and Sam Brightwater. Well, surprise, surprise, sour Sam knew how to smile. He looked good when he did, too. Actually, he looked really good when he smiled. So why had he acted like such a jerk at the restaurant?
Well, who knew? And who cared? Some people were simply cranky and rude, and she wouldn’t be at Laughing Horse very long, anyway. In fact she had to be back in Denver next week to start a summer job. With any luck at all, she would never see Sam Brightwater again.
She looked again at the smiling older gentleman she hoped was her father, but found her gaze traveling right back to Sam. There was something so powerful about him. Physically powerful, yes, but Sam also had a…well, a…presence, for lack of a better word. Or perhaps the word she wanted was passion. She only wished he wouldn’t direct so much of his passion into disliking her.
“You’re losing it, Jules,” she muttered, sighing as she turned away from the photographs. “You really should get a life.”
Outside, several vehicle doors slammed in rapid succession. Julia froze in midstride, her heart suddenly pounding so hard, it was all she could hear. Then the building’s outer door opened and Jackson Hawk strode into the tribal offices. Two other men walked more slowly behind him. Maggie appeared at Julia’s side in a silent show of support.
Julia concentrated on Jackson’s face, searching for a scrap of reassurance in his expression. He grinned and winked at her so fast she was afraid she might have imagined it. A moment later, he stepped to one side, and the older man standing before her commanded every bit of her attention.
He wore faded jeans and a short-sleeved western shirt in a red-and-white plaid. His cowboy boots were plain brown with scuffed, rounded toes and run-down heels. A battered straw cowboy hat shaded his eyes, but it was easy to tell he was the one from the pictures she had hoped for.
Unfortunately he wasn’t smiling now. His lips were so tightly pursed, it was difficult to imagine them ever smiling. Instead, he stared at her with the same desperate eagerness she had felt while studying the photographs, looking for evidence of a kinship they had never been allowed to share.
“Fa—” Her voice cracked and she had to clear her throat before she could try to speak again. “Are you Daniel Talkhouse?”
“And you are Betty’s girl? Betty Stedman’s?” he asked, his voice as ragged with emotion as hers had been.
“Yes. My name is Julia Stedman.”
“When were you born?”
She told him, then watched him silently tick off the months on his fingers. When he reached the ninth finger, he met her gaze again.
“Did Betty send you to me?” he asked.
Julia shook her head, then cleared her throat. “She died of a heart attack six months ago.”
Daniel grimaced, tightly closed his eyes and lowered his head for a moment. When he looked up at her again, Julia saw grief in his eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear that. But I thank you for coming to tell me.”
“Actually, I…well, I thought you were dead, too,” Julia said. “I guess Mom told me that so I’d stop asking her about you.”
“Then why did you come here?” Daniel asked.
“When I was packing up her things, I found some letters you’d written to her when she was pregnant with me. You sounded so nice, I was…curious about you. I wanted to know what my father was really like. I was hoping to find some of your relatives.”
Tears trickling from his eyes, Daniel opened his arms to her. She moved toward him, hesitantly at first, and then, in a blur of motion, they were hugging each other and laughing and weeping and hugging again.
His arms were thin, but incredibly warm and strong. For an instant she was a child again, a child clinging to someone who loved her unconditionally. He smelled of tobacco and leather and laundry soap. When she rested the side of her head against his chest, the most exquisite sensation of safety washed over her. His hands trembled as they tenderly stroked her hair and her back. He murmured, “Nahtona,” over and over.
She pulled away far enough to see his face. “What does that word mean?”
“My daughter.” With a sweet yet poignant smile, he scrutinized her face, feature by feature. “Yes, I can see my Betty in this stubborn little chin and in the shape of your ears. You have her eyes, as well, although maybe there was a white captive somewhere in my family tree to give them that color. You are beautiful, Nahtona.”
“Thank you,” Julia murmured. Happiness swelled inside her, filling her body with the buoyancy of bubbles, the richness of a decadent chocolate torte and so many other, imposs
ibly wonderful sensations, she feared she would suddenly awake and discover she had merely dreamed of her father as Dorothy had dreamed of Oz.
He removed his right arm from around her back. Sweeping it wide to his side like a circus ringmaster, he turned her to face Jackson and Maggie Hawk, and the other man she hadn’t noticed beyond a dark shape. Daniel puffed out his thin chest and hugged her against his side with his left arm.
“This is my daughter,” he said.
Jackson smiled and Maggie sniffled, wiping the corners of her eyes. The dark shape turned out to be Sam Brightwater. The expression on his face made Julia feel about as welcome as a cockroach. What was his problem?
She moved closer to Daniel, as if somehow he could protect her from the younger, more physically powerful man. Daniel turned back to face her, the corners of his eyes crinkled by a huge smile.
“I am so happy you found me, Julia.”
“Me, too…Dad.” He chuckled and nodded encouragingly at her use of that title, giving Julia the courage to continue. “Do I have…half brothers and sisters?”
Daniel’s smile faded and he slowly shook his head. “Your mother took my heart away with her when she left. But you have many other relatives here at Laughing Horse, and they will all want to meet you. I must go and tell them of your arrival.”
Fearing he would leave when she had barely found him, Julia clutched at his arm. “No, wait. I want to meet everyone, but there’s so much I want to know about you… Couldn’t we spend some time together first?”
“We will,” Daniel assured her. “But news travels quickly on the res. I don’t want your grandmother’s feelings to be hurt that someone else heard about you before she did.”
“I have a grandmother?”
“Oh, yeah. And you’d better believe she’s a real character.” Smiling again, Daniel patted her hand, then gently removed it from his arm and stepped back. “She has a phone, and she’ll get a kick out of telling your aunts and uncles and cousins about you. You watch, she’ll plan a big feed for you, too. Soon as I call her, we’ll sit down somewhere and talk. Okay?”