by Myrna Temte
This was crazy. Wayne Kincaid had been declared missing and presumed dead for what? Twenty-four, twenty-five years now? Hardly a day had passed since Wayne had left for Vietnam that Sam hadn’t thought of his friend and missed him. If Wayne had survived that miserable war, he would have come home. Wouldn’t he? Dammit, of course, he would.
Winona’s words played through Sam’s mind again. Your Mr. Cade is not who anyone thinks he is. I’ve…seen him… walking across the land with masks falling behind him one by one, but he tries desperately to hold on to them. Whoever he is, he doesn’t want to be exposed, Janie, and a man like that can be very dangerous—
Lungs screaming for air, Sam finally forced himself to inhale. The oxygen cleared enough fog out of his brain cells to kick-start a more rational thought process. First, he had to find out if J. D. Cade really was Wayne.
Janie came by with the coffeepot, pausing to give Sam a long, searching look. “You feeling all right? You look a little pale.”
That’s because I’ve just seen a ghost. Sam chuckled at the thought, then shook his head when Janie’s expression turned puzzled. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have her thinking he was nuts. Maybe he was.
“Nobody’s ever accused me of being a paleface before,” he said with a grin that felt stiff. It must have looked okay, because she grinned back at him, then reached for his cup. Shaking his head, he pushed back his chair and picked up his check. “Thanks, but I’ve got to be going.”
Sam hurried to the register, practically threw his check and money at the cashier and went outside. A battered green pickup was parked next to his own. A white, medium-size mutt sporting a black spot over one eye and a long, pointed snout stood guard over the bale of hay in the back. Watching for signs of aggression, Sam walked between the two vehicles as if he were checking on something.
The dog observed him with interest, but made no menacing moves. Sam leaned back against his own truck and spoke softly. “Hey there, Brother Oeskeso. You speak Cheyenne, Brother Dog?” The animal’s ears pricked up. “How’re you doin’, Freeway?”
Freeway woofed and wagged his bushy tail. Sam stepped closer to the other pickup, holding out the fingers of his right hand for the dog to sniff. Freeway did so with surprising delicacy for such a rough-looking mutt. Encouraged by his behavior, Sam gently petted Freeway’s head.
“Yeah, you know your name, and you’re a good dog, aren’t you, boy?”
Carrying a paper sack, J. D. Cade stepped out of the restaurant, pausing on the sidewalk when he spotted Sam. Freeway’s ears pricked back up and he woofed and wagged his tail at his master. J.D. shoved his free hand into his front jeans pocket and ambled toward Sam with a slight smile that never fully reached his eyes.
“Nice dog you’ve got here…pard.” Gut clenching with anxiety, Sam gently scratched behind Freeway’s ears.
“Yeah, he’s pretty good company.” Cade shot him a wary look, then dug a hunk of chicken out of the sack and fed it to Freeway. “Brightwater, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.” Sam moved in closer and lowered his voice. “Of course, you already knew that before I ever introduced myself, didn’t you, pard?”
Cade looked at Sam again, and in that instant of eye contact, Sam knew he was right. And so was Winona. Aw, hell. All those years he’d looked up to Wayne Kincaid like he was a superhero… J.D. sucked in a harsh breath, but fury drove Sam to cut him off before he could speak.
“You miserable, lying son of a bitch,” Sam muttered. “How could you—”
“Not now, Sam.” Wayne cast a worried glance at the Hip Hop’s entrance. “You don’t understand—”
“You’re damn right I don’t understand, but I sure as hell intend to. Where have you been?”
“I’ll tell you all about it, but not here.” Turning his back to the restaurant, Wayne fed Freeway another chunk of meat, giving the impression to anyone who might be interested, that he and Sam were having nothing more than a casual chat. “Midnight tonight. The old hanging tree.”
“All right.” Sam leaned in closer and said, “But you’d damn well better be there, pard. If you’re not, I’ll come looking for you. And if I can’t find you, I’ll be talking to Sheriff Hensley.”
The fur on the back of Freeway’s neck suddenly stood on end, and a growl rumbled deep in his chest. Dale Carson came out of the restaurant and the dog let out a deafening torrent of barking. Dale shouted something, but Sam couldn’t hear him well enough to understand what he’d said.
“Easy, Freeway.” Wayne stroked the dog’s head, then murmured, “I’ll be there, Sam. Trust me.”
Sam turned away, climbed into his own truck and drove away, wanting to snarl and curse as loudly as Freeway had barked. Trust him? Oh, right. He’d trust a guy who came back in disguise after twenty-five years of letting everyone who’d ever cared about him think he was dead. Sure. You betcha. No-o-o problem.
Damn Wayne Kincaid! Just how dumb did that son of a bitch think Sam was?
Waiting for Sam to arrive, Wayne paced beneath the old hanging tree with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Damn, he’d known something like this could happen, but he hadn’t wanted it to happen with someone he liked as much as Sam Brightwater. Sam had written so faithfully to him in Vietnam; the letters had been a lone bright spot in hell, always newsy and insightful, as if the kid had put a lot of time and effort into them. And so much heart.
So much for good intentions. Sam had been hurt as well as angry this afternoon. Wayne figured his best shot at keeping his identity a secret lay in continually reminding Sam of their friendship. Maybe, if he was real lucky, Sam still harbored enough warm feelings to give him the benefit of the doubt.
The longer he stayed in Whitehorn the more complicated everything became. If only he could leave this cursed place right now…but he couldn’t. Contrary to what most folks would think if they knew who he really was, his dad’s ranch didn’t have a thing to do with it.
Although he’d sure love to know who was behind all of the recent trouble out there, he’d never wanted the burden of responsibility that automatically came with running the Kincaid Ranch. Besides, it belonged to his little half sister, Jenny McCallum, and she was the only thing holding him in Whitehorn. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, chubby and adorable as only a three-year-old can be, Jenny had him wrapped around her tiny pinkie finger as tightly as she had everybody else who’d ever seen her smile or heard her giggle.
Unfortunately, the poor little tyke was awful sick now, and Wayne couldn’t bring himself to leave until he knew for sure what was wrong with her. If the rumors of leukemia turned out to be true, little Jenny might need him. Or, at least his bone marrow.
Of course, she had another half brother in town in Clint Calloway. For all anyone knew, there could even be others in the area with a similar genetic makeup—never let it be said that Jeremiah Kincaid had been stingy with his…affections. Randy old goat.
Wayne grimaced at the distasteful memories of his father pushing at him from the past. Jeremiah was no longer his problem, dammit. Sam Brightwater could easily become one, however. What could he possibly say that would convince Sam not to blow his cover?
Freeway let out a soft woof, then tipped his head to one side and wagged his tail. A second later, Sam stepped out into the moonlight. He paused at the edge of the clearing, feet set wide apart, shoulders back, his face an unreadable mask. Wayne’s tension rose another notch. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Sam met and held Wayne’s gaze, still finding it hard to believe this man was alive. Despite old times, however, Sam was determined to get some solid answers to his questions or go to the sheriff. He probably already should have done so, but even as cynical about whites as he’d become, Sam couldn’t believe Wayne would deliberately risk hurting people and innocent animals in some weird attempt to sabotage the ranch.
Wayne crossed the clearing to join Sam. “It’s really good to see you again, Sam. Thanks for coming.”
“Let’s just cut to
the chase here,” Sam said. “What the hell are you doing?”
One side of Wayne’s mouth kicked up in a lopsided smile. “I’m working my daddy’s ranch.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. Tell it to the law.”
He turned to leave. Wayne reached out, stopping him with a touch on the arm.
“Wait. Honest to God, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not the one causing all the trouble. I’ve stayed on because I’m trying to find out who is.”
Sam searched Wayne’s eyes for signs of deception, but didn’t see any. That didn’t mean there weren’t any, he reminded himself, only that he didn’t see any.
“Come on, Sam, you know me better than—”
“I don’t know you at all. The Wayne Kincaid I knew never would’ve let everybody think he was dead for twenty-five years.”
Wayne heaved a deep sigh. “Look, I can’t be away from the ranch long enough right now to give you all the details, so here’s the short version. I was a POW for a long time, and when I finally escaped and got myself back together enough to even think about going home, there wasn’t any reason to come back.”
“Lots of folks cared about you.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly Whitehorn’s golden boy anymore. I didn’t want to talk about what happened over there, and I sure as hell didn’t want to listen to Jeremiah brag about his son the war hero. Mom was already dead, my brother Dugan resented me and I knew I’d been gone too long to expect Kate to have waited for me,” he added. Sam knew how much Wayne had loved Kate Randall and could only guess how it felt for him to see her married now to his best friend, Ethan Walker. “Didn’t seem like I had anything to come home to.”
The quiet bitterness in Wayne’s voice aroused Sam’s compassion. The guy really had changed, and the haunted expression in his eyes spoke of horrors Sam didn’t want to imagine.
“Why come back now?” Sam asked.
“I finally heard about my dad and brother dying, and I’d never seen my mom’s grave. I decided it was time to come and have a look around, but I’m not planning to stay forever. I just want to find out what’s going on at the ranch, and see if I can help Rand out. Okay?”
“Why the disguise? Why not just tell folks who you are?”
“Because I didn’t want to upset Kate’s and Ethan’s lives. And because then I’ll spend all of my time explaining my whole stinking life to everybody in this town the way I’ve been trying to explain it to you.” Wayne cursed under his breath, then glared straight into Sam’s eyes. “I don’t owe you or anybody else a blessed thing, and I’ve got better things to do with my time than stand around answering a bunch of damn questions.”
Sam nodded to acknowledge the jab. “All right, Wayne.”
“All right, what?”
“I’ll keep your secret for now. But if I get one whiff that you’re hurting anyone—”
“You won’t. I got a bellyful of that in the war.” Wayne smiled then, and he suddenly looked more like the young man Sam had known so long ago. “Tell me about your life, Sam. I’ve heard you’ve got your own construction company and all. I’m real proud of you for that. Are you married? Got any kids?”
Warmed by Wayne’s interest in spite of his remaining doubts, Sam shook his head. “Not yet. I’m still waiting for the right woman.”
“I’ve seen you talking with that little waitress at the Hip Hop,” Wayne said. “I think her name’s Julia. She’s sure a pretty gal and she seems to like you a lot.”
“She’s all right,” Sam said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. In fact, his heart stuttered a beat when Wayne mentioned Julia liking him. “I couldn’t get serious about her, though.”
“Why not? She seems awful nice to me, and she’s real smart.”
“Yeah, she is, but I made up my mind a long time ago that when I get married it’s going to be to a real Cheyenne woman. Julia’s half-white and doesn’t know one end of the res from the other.”
“Are you serious?”
Sam nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Wayne stared at him for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head. “Hell, Sam, I don’t mean to criticize, but it sounds like all you’re looking for is a pedigree. Don’t you think it might be more important to find somebody to love, who maybe loves you back?”
Sam shrugged. “I’m not sure I really believe in love.”
A sad, wistful expression skated across Wayne’s face. “Love exists, all right, and when it’s the real thing, you’ll know.”
“Does that mean you’re in love with somebody?” Sam asked.
“I was, a long time ago. And I think maybe I was wrong not to fight for it.”
“You mean Kate?”
Wayne nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I wish Kate and Ethan all the happiness in the world. All I’m saying is that loving Kate and having her love me back was the finest thing that ever happened to me. Compared to that kind of happiness, blood-lines don’t seem very important at all.”
“If you feel that way, why aren’t you married and raising kids?” Sam asked.
Wayne’s laugh held no real humor. “I’ve just been drifting since the war ended, and I’ve been alone so long, and I’ve been through things that…” He paused. “I’m not much of a bargain for any woman. Kate knows about me, Sam. She’s forgiven me for not coming back. Do you think you could?”
“Yeah,” Sam said after a moment. “I don’t know if I’ll ever completely understand, but I’m really glad you’re alive.”
“Thanks,” Wayne said. “Well, I’ve got to get back. Good talking to you, Sam.”
“Same here.” Sam turned to leave, hesitated, then looked back over his shoulder at Wayne. “You know where to find me if you need…help or anything.”
Wayne gave him a thumbs-up. Feeling better, but still unsettled, Sam headed for the res and aimlessly drove around. His moods shifted, swinging down, then up, then down, like the hilly contours of the land on either side of the back roads.
Oddly enough, he found himself remembering more of Wayne’s comments about love than anything else his old friend had said. Could loving a woman really be as special as Wayne had made it sound? Sam couldn’t remember his parents ever acting that happy to be together, not even before his dad had started the really heavy drinking.
Sam had been attracted to lots of women. He’d had his share of physical relationships. But he’d never felt anything close to the depth of emotion he’d seen on Wayne’s face when he’d talked about loving Kate.
Well, he’d felt that strongly about Julia, but not in any positive way. Most of the time he just wanted to strangle her. Except for when he’d kissed her. They’d generated so much heat, they’d damn near fried each other…but that wasn’t love. That was lust, and lust wasn’t enough to sustain a marriage.
It was dumb to think about Julia and marriage in the same breath, anyway. Even if he could get past her background, she probably wouldn’t even speak to him now. Yeah, he’d really blown it with her. But maybe, if he ever saw her again, and if he handled things right for a change, they eventually could become friends. Maybe they could even have an affair. Marriage wasn’t for everyone. His thoughts rolled on with the miles, bouncing from Julia to Wayne and back to Julia.
Finally, as the moon completed its trip across the sky and his gas tank neared the empty mark, he spotted a light on at Dan’s house and turned in at the driveway. Like Sam, Dan occasionally suffered from insomnia, and he was the only person Sam knew who could help him make sense out of so much confusion.
If there was a problem with Julia, well, Sam figured he’d just have to resolve it. Dan came out of the house to greet him. There was no sign of Julia or her car, but since Dan didn’t mention her, neither did Sam.
They sat in the kitchen talking and drinking Dan’s rotgut coffee, just like old times. As usual, the simple act of sharing his worries with his mentor calmed Sam. Nodding thoughtfully, Dan puffed on his cigarette while Sam told him about Wayne without mentioning any na
mes.
“If you believe this man had a good heart when you knew him before,” Dan said, “why wouldn’t he have a good heart now?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “He was always honest before, but I still don’t understand why he’d lie about who he is now. And he seems so…different.”
“A lot can happen to a man in wartime.” Dan stubbed out his cigarette. “It’d be interesting to know what all has happened to your friend.”
Sam shot him a wry smile. “You think I should shut up for a change and listen to him?”
Dan’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Maheo gave us two ears and only one mouth. Make of it what you want.”
“I guess you’re right. I just feel…betrayed.”
Dan nodded. “I imagine his decision involved his father more than it did you.”
Sam stiffened. “You know who I’m talking about?”
“It’s a small town,” Dan said with a shrug. “It’s not that hard to guess. And if my guess about your friend is correct, his whole family was pretty weird.”
“Well, his mom was okay, but now that you mention it, he never did get along with his dad.”
“That says good things about your friend. His dad was a sesenovotse. A rattler.”
Sam grinned. “You sure you’re not insulting the rattlesnakes?”
“You got a point there.” Dan tipped back his head and laughed. “Yeah, that man was one mean bastard, all right.” After a moment’s silence, he shook his head as if at a bad memory, then pushed back his chair and stood. “Want to stay for breakfast?”
“Not today, thanks.” Sam climbed to his feet, and felt his chest tighten when he looked into Dan’s eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed their talks until this moment. He didn’t want to wait so long to have the next one, and he knew what he had to do in order to achieve that goal.
He shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets and ambled over to the door, buying a little time to pull his thoughts together. With one hand on the screen, he stopped and looked back at Dan. He finally asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all evening. “I haven’t seen Julia around this week. Is she working the evening shift now?”