Next to the Thunders, Melonie Bodine had a blanket laid out. She was helping Jamie, the boy she’d adopted with Nobody, with his feathered bustle. Tim wasn’t sure if the kid had danced before, but if Melonie and Jamie were here, that meant Nobody couldn’t be far away.
Funny how that thought didn’t bother Tim as much as it might have.
True enough, the Tall Trees women welcomed Summer with open arms. Flo Tall Trees insisted Summer take her shawl, a deep blue with rainbow fringe along the edge. Tara, the receptionist at the Clinic, helped Summer drape the shawl over her shoulders so the fringe lined up perfectly along the bottom before her daughter Nelly needed help with her jingle dress.
“Hey,” Tim said, standing out of the way next to Clarence Thunder, who was putting the finishing touches on his son Mikey’s bustle. “Congratulations on your daughter.”
The big man stood and beamed at his wife and baby. “Thanks, man. Tammy was just happy she could make it out today—you know how much she loves to watch Mikey dance.”
Tim nodded as Tammy, with her newborn daughter Farrah on her shoulder, showed Summer how to step carefully to make the fringe all swing the same way at the same time.
“She’s really fitting in,” Clarence said quietly to Tim as the women found an extra beaded comb to stick in Summer’s hair. “Tammy loves her.”
So did Tim.
The realization rocked him back. He had fallen head over heels for Summer Collins. Which was something rare and wonderful yet also tinged with sadness. “She’s leaving soon. And taking Georgey with her.”
Clarence thought about that for a minute. “She’s going to get the kid through school?”
“Yeah.” Wasn’t that the problem? What was best for Tim wasn’t the same thing that was good for Georgey.
“Think the kid will come back?”
“Might.” He might not. Summer and Georgey might very well drive off this rez, never to be heard from again. Or at least not for a decade or so.
Just like the last time Summer left.
Not that it was Summer’s fault. That was her mother’s doing, Tim was pretty sure. “I think Georgey’s planning on joining the army, doing a few tours, maybe looking at law enforcement.”
Tim had never had a kid. He’d been on his own since, well, since he’d been Georgey’s age. But he had to admit, he felt a certain amount of pride that the kid was considering following in his footsteps.
But would Georgey join the force here? Or somewhere else? Would he be an Urban Indian or would he come back to the grass and the sky?
Didn’t matter. Wherever that kid went, they’d still be family. Always.
Clarence stepped forward to take his daughter from his wife. The baby was so small against the giant man’s shoulder, Tim couldn’t help but grin at the pair of them.
“We left,” he reminded Tim, patting his tiny baby with a gentle hand. Tim ducked around to see the little one was fast asleep. “We left and we came back. So did she,” he added, nodding his head at the women.
Tim turned to see Summer, her hair braided with the comb in it, the shawl draped over her shoulder. Damn, she took his breath away. Right now, he couldn’t see the woman he’d met months ago, lost and a little afraid of what she might find on the rez.
Instead? Summer fit here. She fit in with the tribe. She belonged next to him. Behind her, Tammy, Tara and Flo all beamed widely. Tara, in particular, was giving him A Look.
“Well?” Summer asked, spinning once for him, the fringe rippling out from her shawl.
Damn it all, he was completely in love with her. And he wasn’t fooling anyone.
How was he going to let her go?
The announcer called for the dancers for the opening dance, so Tim forced those depressing thoughts away. “You look perfect,” he told her, guiding her toward the end of the line.
They lined up behind the competitors and waited while Rebel Runs Fast and the Catholic preacher from the far side of the rez gave the opening prayers. Then the drumming started and the crowd shuffled into the circle.
“The grass dancers go first,” Tim said, leaning down to explain the dance to her. “They flatten the grass down for the rest of us. They also dance like they’re hunting through the tall grass. Then the fancy dancers, the jingle dancers and the women’s traditional, then the shawl dancers, then the kids.”
He was surprised to see Jacob Plenty Holes, with his eye patch, lining up with his daughter Kip Two Elks, the little girl in a huge hat and sunglasses to protect her albino eyes from the noon sun. Jacob rarely joined these things. Tim nodded when he caught Jacob’s eye and Jacob nodded back.
Summer craned her neck around. “Then us?”
“Then us—tribe members who aren’t competing—and anyone from another tribe or other outsiders.”
The drummers hit the skin drum and their voices rose in the lilting song and finally, Tim and Summer danced into the circle.
It always amazed Tim how the rhythm could come back to him after months or years away. He’d only been home on the rez for a few weeks after he gotten out of the Army when there’d been a pow wow and he almost hadn’t danced because he wasn’t sure he still could. The Army had turned him into a solider but it had stripped away some of what made him a Lakota.
But the moment he’d heard that drum beat, he’d let go a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in for years and his feet found the grass and he’d known then—he’d come home.
That same feeling of belonging hit him again as he moved alongside Summer. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they moved slowly around the circle, the song reaching its crescendo. She took it all in, grinning and waving when one of the little kids from the center recognized her.
He didn’t want her to leave, but he hoped like hell she’d know she could always come home.
Back to him.
When the song ended, the circle cleared. “I’ll take these things back to Tammy and Tara,” she told him. “But I didn’t see Georgey in the circle.”
Tim mentally translated that statement. “I’ll check on him,” he said and forgot she didn’t like public displays of affection because he leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips. Her cheeks darkened but she didn’t pull away. “Wait for me with the Tall Trees, okay? Then we’ll get some fry-bread tacos. Heaven on a plate.”
She nodded and, blushing furiously, managed a graceful turn that sent her fringe swaying along with her hips. Tim watched her walk away and then, when the crowd swallowed her up, turned and caught Rebel watching. The medicine man had the nerve to wink.
Tim rolled his eyes and settled back into his usual role—watching from the edges of the tribe, keeping his eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Pow wows were big family affairs, something everyone looked forward to—but sometimes drama spilled over into violence, especially later in the evening, when people started drinking after they’d competed.
But right now, the sun was high in the sky and the biggest risk was someone eating too much fry bread and getting sick. Tim made a circuit around the outside of the dance circle, keeping an eye out for Georgey.
He spotted the boy with Circle, standing back by a pickup truck crowded with other teens. Tim kept his distance. Georgey wouldn’t want it to look like Tim was his babysitter in front of his friends—and besides, some of those kids? They were known to run with the Killerz. Georgey might be able to pick up some valuable gossip—as long as Tim didn’t barge in and chase everyone off.
So he kept moving until he got back to where the Tall Trees and Thunder families had set up camp. Flo was in her lawn chair and Tammy was nursing her daughter under the shade of a beach umbrella. Tim made sure to avert his eyes.
But that was it. Clarence was probably at the drum circle and Tara with the older kids. And Summer?
“Where’s Summer?”
Tara looked up, her brow furrowed with concern. “I haven’t seen her since you led her into the circle.”
Flo added, “I thought
she was with you?”
“I went to check on Georgey—she said she was coming back here to return the shawl.” A prickle of unease made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Not that he was worried. Summer was a grown woman. She didn’t have to let him know where she was at all times. Besides, she’d probably run into Dr. Mitchell or something. Rebel was here, after all, which meant his wife was probably scowling at people even as she smiled.
“Well, tell her I’m looking for her,” he said, turning away.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Flo called after him.
Tim wanted to agree—but he wanted to find Summer more. That prickle of unease was getting pricklier by the damned minute.
He made another circuit around the dance circle, where the grass dancers were timing their steps to the irregular beat of the drums. He was three-fourths of the way around when he ran into Rebel again. “Please tell me Summer is with your wife,” he said without any other introduction.
Rebel gave him a worried look. “Madeline isn’t here. Problem?”
“Just a feeling.” He didn’t explain because, if there were one man on this rez who would understand a bad feeling, it was Rebel.
“You go this way, I’ll go that way.” Rebel took off without another word.
Tim didn’t have time to be grateful. With every second that ticked by, he got closer to straight-up dread.
Where the hell had she gone? It wasn’t like she’d been here long enough to make enemies. From what Georgey said, the kids she tutored at Sinte Gliske thought Summer was really nice and heaven knew the kids and parents from the Child Care Center thought she and Georgey were a godsend. Everyone liked her.
But not everyone liked him.
And, despite her discomfort with public displays of affection, it was common knowledge she and Georgey were staying with him. That she was with him.
When he spotted a grass dancer in full regalia hurrying away from the dance circle next to a woman with light brown hair and a blue shawl around her shoulders, every single one of his senses kicked into high gear.
There she was. Thank God.
But the relief at finding her was short-lived. Who the hell was she with? All the grass dancers were in the circle. Something was wrong, he realized, dread dumping adrenaline into his system. This was not good. Not good at all.
It only got worse when Georgey stepped out in front of the grass dancer. The bottom dropped out of Tim’s stomach.
Sunlight glinted off a gun. Pointed at Georgey.
Tim bellowed in rage and took off at a dead run.
***
“No,” Summer whispered in horror as the man in the dance costume leveled a second gun at her baby brother. A minute ago, she might’ve said having a stranger jam a gun against her side and tell her to move was the scariest thing that had ever happened to her.
But now she knew—being forced to stand next to the stranger while he apparently debated shooting Georgey was by far the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.
“Shit, Levi—what the hell are you doing?” Georgey said. His eyes were wide but that was the only sign he was even a little concerned at this development.
Summer was beyond concerned. She was about to have a panic attack. Keep an eye on your brother. That was literally the only thing her father had asked of her.
But how was she supposed to do that? This guy was armed to the teeth! She wasn’t a black belt. She’d never defended herself from anyone more dangerous than drunk, handsy guys at a bar.
“Dude,” Georgey said again, still sounding damnably calm, as if this were part of the afternoon’s festivities. The steady rhythm of the drumming filled the air. She tried to get her heart to beat at the same pace, but that was a lost cause. “This is not the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”
In and amongst the panic, Summer was proud for her brother standing up to this guy. Terrified he was about to get shot, but proud nonetheless.
“It’s the middle of the day and everyone’s here,” Georgey went on, waving a hand around the pow wow. Off to the side, the kids he must have been hanging out with were watching the proceedings with a cautious interest. Why weren’t they going for help? Why were they just watching? “Kidnapping her? Did you honestly think you were going to walk right out of here?”
“Shut the fuck up, Georgey,” Levi hissed. “You sold me out, man. Sold out the Killerz. Went running to that asshole Tim and that fucking sica Nobody. Nobody doesn’t come out in daylight and I can handle that old man.”
Summer made eye contact with Circle. Get help, she tried to say with her eyes. Circle had come back to tutoring several times and she obviously liked Georgey. If anyone in this group would get help, it’d be her.
The girl nodded, bless her heart, and slipped backwards.
“I sold you out?” Georgey’s voice cracked with indignation. “What the hell are you talking about? You shot Shorty!”
Summer wasn’t sure because she couldn’t hear much over the rush of blood pounding in her ears, but she felt a hush fall over the kids watching this exchange.
Georgey must have felt it, too, because he seemed to physically grow right before her eyes. Bigger. Meaner. And pissed as hell. “You shot Shorty in the ass, man. He’s just a kid. A little kid who looked up to you and what did you do to deserve his respect? You told him to run and then put a bullet in him like he was nothing. Nothing but target practice.”
Levi made a high-pitched noise that was almost a laugh. The sound sent another chill down her back because that was not a noise a sane, well-adjusted person made.
Shit, this Levi was going to kill them all.
“You sold us out, man,” Georgey went on, his voice vibrating with rage. “You put your own people in danger and for what? Guns? Drugs? You’re no warrior,” Georgey said, his voice getting meaner—and louder. “Put the gun down, Levi.”
Levi was clearly in no mood for this because he jabbed the one in Summer's ribs even harder. Summer winced and aimed an imploring look at Georgey. Quit pissing the armed madman off!
“You stupid whelp,” Levi seethed. “Get the fuck out of my way or I shoot her and I shoot you. You could’ve been a Killerz, man. We could’ve been your family.”
Georgey’s eyes flashed. “We are all family,” he intoned in a damned respectable imitation of Tim’s favorite refrain. “Even when we do stupid shit like attempted kidnapping and gun running. But if you hurt my sister, I will end you.”
“Georgey, no,” Summer pleaded. She couldn’t just stand here and watch this asshole shoot her brother. “Just get out of his way.”
“Levi? Did you kill Shorty? Is that why he hasn’t been around?”
Summer didn’t know who spoke—she couldn’t look away from Georgey. But the question at least accomplished one goal—Levi swung sideways. He kept the one gun against her side and the other pointed in Georgey’s general direction, but at least he had a better chance of missing at this angle.
“I didn’t kill that crybaby,” he snarled, sounding less stable by the second. “You can’t kill a kid with rat shot. I just needed to teach him a lesson. Because that’s what happen when you betray the Killerz.” He swung back to Georgey, the gun leveled at her brother’s chest. “But I shot the wrong kid, didn’t I?”
Time slowed down. At least, that was how it felt to Summer. Levi took aim at the same second that a little kid—no more than five and dressed in a miniature dance outfit like Levi’s—ran between Levi and Georgey. The drum beat pulsed through the air and the hair on the back of Summer's neck rose as electricity raced through the air. Someone screamed—Summer and maybe someone else.
Georgey yelled, “Jeremy! No!” at the same instant he dove for the kid, at the same instant Levi pulled the trigger. The gun roared.
Lots of screaming. Red bloomed on Georgey’s shoulder.
Someone grabbed Summer’s arm, the one away from Levi’s gun, and spun her away from Levi. Levi was jerked backward at the same instant a huge shape rus
hed at him from the side, knocking the arm with the gun that’d shot Georgey up into the air. Lightning struck. Another gunshot tore through the afternoon air.
Then Summer was sprawled in the dirt, a body on top of her and a man yelling, “Stay down!” in her ear.
“Georgey!” she sobbed. Her baby brother had been shot!
She’d failed. Her dad had asked her to keep the kid safe and she’d failed him. All of them.
“Rebel? Call your wife, man.”
The man on top of her moved. “How bad?”
“Through and through. But we’ll need to get him patched up.”
“Him? Him who?” she demanded as Rebel rolled off her. Because there were a lot of hims present.
She sat up to survey the scene. Clarence, the big nurse from the Clinic, knelt next to Georgey. Tim and Nobody Bodine had Levi face-first in the dirt. Tim was tying Levi’s arms behind his back and Nobody had a foot on Levi’s neck. Circle had Jeremy, the little dancer, in her arms. A strange sort of electricity pulsed through the air.
The drumming stopped and a silence that felt absolute fell over them all.
No, she wanted to cry. But she couldn’t because that was the exact moment she realized that everyone she loved was right here and she might have just watched her brother die.
“Jeremy’s okay, right?”
Summer choked out a sob at the sound of Georgey’s voice. He was alive. Hell, he didn’t even sound that upset.
“Yeah,” Circle said. “Scared, but okay. Can I take him to find his mom, Sheriff Means?”
“Wait for Rebel,” Tim said, finishing his knot. “I have to deal with this,” he added, scorn dripping off his words as he leaned his knee onto Levi’s back, “but I’ll call her to explain. Might be a few hours.”
Summer inhaled sharply. She’d never seen Tim this furious. But instead of a wild, uncontrolled rage, Tim was ice cold.
Or he was, until he looked at her. His eyes gave him away. “You okay?” he asked, somehow managing to sound worried and tender and perfect even as he leaned against Levi harder, making the asshole whine with pain.
The Sheriff (Men of the White Sandy Book 5) Page 16