Tempting Fate: A Colorado High Country Novel

by Pamela Clare

  That made Naomi laugh.

  Somewhere behind his beard, Joe was grinning. “Thanks for letting us pitch in, Naomi. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in Scarlet. Let Rain know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” Chaska got to his feet when Joe stood and shook the man’s hand.

  Ellie came and sat down where Joe had been sitting, Jesse following her. “You’ve just met Caribou Joe. What do you think?”

  “He seems like a really good guy. Why do you call him Caribou Joe?”

  Eric got to his feet and moved down the table to be closer. “He owns the defunct Caribou silver mine in the mountains west of here. A hundred and fifty years ago, his ancestors more or less owned this town and all the people in it. My great-great-granddaddy worked for his great-great-granddaddy. Hey, Belcourt, want to get some vertical time?”

  Hell, yes, he did.

  He glanced down at Naomi. He hadn’t spent much time talking with her tonight, first because of Nicole and then because of Joe. “Mind if I—”

  “I would love to see you climb.”

  As he walked away, he heard Win whisper, “You’re going to love this. My brother is an amazing climber.”

  Yeah, that was probably meddling, but he was okay with it.

  Naomi watched, awestruck, while Chaska climbed the wall, moving with a kind of grace and power she’d never seen before. Some of the holds were tiny, with just enough room for his fingertips or the tips of his toes. Others forced him to hang by two fingers or his closed fist. It looked like some kind of vertical dance or a poem made of motion and muscle, and yet she knew his moves weren’t rehearsed or part of a routine.

  It was sexy as hell.

  And to think he’d kissed her today, kissed her like he’d meant it.

  “Here comes the crux move.” Megs sat beside her, explaining things Naomi didn’t understand, answering her questions. “He has to dyno to finish the route.”

  “What’s a dyno?”

  “You’re about to see.”

  Chaska hung for a moment, both hands on a large hold, feet dangling in mid-air. Then he launched himself upward using only the power of his arms, his entire body airborne for a second before he caught another hold with his right hand. For a moment, Naomi was sure he would fall, his feet searching for purchase. The toes of one foot caught a tiny hold—and the table exploded with cheers.

  “Way to stick it, man!”

  “Great dyno!”

  “Sick!”

  A few moves later, Chaska reached the top of the wall.

  More cheers.

  “Belcourt is a strong climber, but he’s also extremely level-headed.” Megs had to raise her voice to be heard above the din. “I’ve seen him take a few whippers—serious falls—that would have made most of us scream. He didn’t make a sound.”

  “It’s true.” Winona took a bite of the ice cream she’d ordered for dessert. “He doesn’t get scared. When I climb with him, I can see him doing the math in his head.”

  Chaska switched places with Sasha, who had been his belayer—a term Naomi now understood.

  “There’s my girl.” Megs watched Sasha rope in, pride on her face. “She’s been the world’s top-ranked female sports climber for three years running.”

  Naomi had been looking forward to seeing her climb. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “My brother is good.” Win took another bite of her ice cream. “But Sasha—she’s an artist.”

  Naomi immediately understood what Winona meant. Chaska had climbed with strength and grace, but Sasha moved as if gravity had no hold on her. She was fast, smooth, elegant, flowing upward as if she were unstoppable.

  She reached the crux, exploded, missed the handhold—and fell.

  Naomi gasped, but Chaska caught Sasha’s fall, leaving her suspended mid-air.

  “Damn!” Megs laughed. “I think she’s tired. She’s been at it all evening.”

  There was a chorus of disappointed awws mixed with laughter.

  “How many margaritas was that, Sasha?” Eric called to her.

  Sasha motioned for Chaska to lower her to the ground. Far from being upset, she was laughing, apparently as easy-going as she was skilled. When her feet reached the floor, she gave Chaska a hug, and the two of them started untying themselves.

  “How did the Team get started?” Naomi was certain there must be a story.

  “I was climbing with friends on El Diente. This was back in the day before climbing was big and before there were search-and-rescue teams equipped for technical backcountry rescues. Our buddy Dean took a tumble not far from the summit and broke his ankle. Ahearn and I helped him get to a safe place, left him with food and water, and went for help. But there was no one prepared for that kind of rescue, no one who could respond immediately. The sheriff’s department said they’d head out for him in the morning. That night, the San Miguels were hit by a freak July snowstorm. By the time we reached him the next afternoon, Dean was dead, killed by the cold. I swore on his grave that nothing like that would happen again.”

  Naomi saw on Megs’ face the grief—and guilt—she still carried with her. “You took tragedy, and you turned it into something good.”

  Megs nodded. “We’ve saved thousands of people—a couple hundred every year—but I still wonder if Dean would be alive if we’d made a different choice.”

  Chaska walked up to the table, a grin on his face, sweat trickling down his temples and staining the front of his T-shirt.

  “Way to go, Belcourt.”

  Naomi looked up at him, unable to keep the smile off her face. “You were amazing.”

  “Yeah?” He reached for his water and drank. “You ready to go home?”

  There was something in the way he said it, something in those dark eyes, that made it hard for her to breathe.

  “Yeah.”

  Winona glared at her brother. “Can I please finish my ice cream?”

  Chaska stepped out of the shower, towel-dried his hair, then walked from the bathroom to his bedroom, the women’s voices drifting up from the living room below. He’d be going to bed soon, so he skipped the boxers and slipped on a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt, then made his way downstairs.

  Winona had already put Shota in his enclosure for the night. She got to her feet when she saw Chaska and stretched, even managing a yawn. “I’m heading to bed. We’re short a volunteer, so I’ll be spending a lot of the day tomorrow at the clinic.”

  Right.

  It was a good thing that Naomi didn’t know his sister as well as he did. She wasn’t a very good liar.

  Winona grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and headed down the hallway toward the stairs. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Naomi called after her.

  Chaska walked into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything—water, soda, tea?”

  “Do you have herbal tea?”

  He heated water on the stove, let her choose the flavor, then set the mug on the end table beside her. “What did you think of Knockers?”

  Are you nervous, kola?

  Yeah, he was.

  “It wasn’t what I was expecting.” She turned in her seat and put her feet on the floor so that he could sit on the sofa beside her. “Rain is a pro. She was on top of everything. The food was good, too, though I wasn’t very hungry. I think it’s cool that the place has a climbing wall. Joe really seems to understand the people in his community. That’s probably why Knockers is successful.”

  He hadn’t been expecting a professional assessment, but then he remembered. “You waited tables for a long time.”

  “It felt like an eternity.” Naomi picked up her tea, blew across it, took a sip. “None of the places I worked were as nice as Knockers. I doubt Joe lets his customers grope the wait staff.”

  “It happens once in a while, usually during hunting season. Joe might not look tough, but under all that facial hair and plaid, he’s ripped. I’ve seen him throw big men—bikers, hunters, tough guys—out
the front door like he was taking out the trash. Locals are pretty good about helping, too, and no one—and I mean no one—messes with Rain.”

  Naomi took another sip, set her mug down. “I really liked watching you climb.”

  “What did you like about it?”

  Color rushed into her cheeks.

  That was interesting.

  “I’ve never seen anyone move like that. You looked really graceful and powerful at the same time.”

  Yeah, this wasn’t hard on his ego.

  “Your hands must be so strong.” She reached over and slid her hand, fingers outstretched, beneath his, raising his hand his up as if she were examining it.

  Heat arced between them, the shock of it bringing his entire body alive, from blood to bones. “It’s more about legs than arms.”

  “What about that dyno thing?” She moved her hand slowly, making Chaska aware of how sensitive the skin of his fingers and palm truly was—and how small her hand was compared to his.

  “Oh, well, yeah.” There was that. “Most of the time you try to hang from the skeleton of your upper body while using your legs for strength moves. Climbing is all about strength-to-weight ratio. That’s why women can climb as well as men.”

  “How long, um… did it take you? To learn how to climb, I mean.” Her breathing had changed, her words coming slower, as if she couldn’t quite concentrate on what she was trying to say.

  He laced his fingers through hers, stroked her thumb with his. “I made the Team in about a year, but, uh, I was climbing every day.”

  Now he was having trouble thinking, her scent and the softness of her skin derailing his concentration.

  “Why did you kiss me this morning?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

  “Because then, like now, I wanted to.” He turned toward her, slid a hand into her hair, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  God, she was sweet, her lips warm and ripe, but he needed better access.

  He managed to stop kissing her long enough to turn her in his arms so that she lay back across his lap, her legs stretching the length of the sofa. “This is better.”

  He claimed her mouth again, catching her little whimper, her arms sliding behind his neck, drawing him closer.

  Bzzz-Bzzz Bzzz-Bzzz

  Damn it.

  Since only family was likely to call this late at night, he had no choice but to take this. “Sorry.”

  Still holding her, he set her upright, got to his feet, and retrieved his phone from the kitchen. The display on the screen read ZACH MCBRIDE.

  “What the…?” He answered. “Belcourt here.”

  “I understand that Ms. Archer is staying with you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Given what she’s been through, I didn’t want to risk waking her, so I thought I’d call you. I wanted to let you both know that we found the two suspects in the mountains west of Crestone.”

  That was only about four hours south of Scarlet.

  Shit.

  “Go head.” He glanced over at the sofa and found Naomi watching him, wariness in her eyes as if she somehow knew what this call was about.

  “An alert citizen recognized them when they went into Crestone for supplies and called in their vehicle with the plate number. A park ranger spotted the vehicle at a campground west of town. We moved in, and there was a firefight. Clem McConnell was killed. Arlie Harding crawled into the forest and got away.”

  Damn it!

  “I appreciate your letting us know.”

  “There’s more. The vehicle they’d stolen had several newspapers on the dashboard, all featuring articles about their attack on Ms. Archer. One had a photo of her, pulled from DMV files in South Dakota. Harding and McConnell had circled her image, and someone had drawn a penis on her face.”

  Chaska fought to control his rage and revulsion. He didn’t want to make this harder on Naomi. She was going to be upset enough as it was when she learned that her photo had run in at least one paper and that these bastards had defiled her image.

  Sick sons of bitches.

  “What do you plan to do at this point?”

  McBride was a chief deputy US marshal. He’d damned well better have a plan.

  “I told Ms. Archer that I didn’t think she was in any danger from these two. I’m more concerned now. I’ve already spoken with the Scarlet Springs police chief and the Forest County Sheriff’s Department. They will be stepping up patrols in and around your home. We’ve got checkpoints on the roads. All law enforcement are on high alert. We’ve got teams, including a K9 unit, standing by for a search at first light.”

  “I appreciate the call. Please keep me posted.”

  “Do you want me to talk to Ms. Archer in the morning?”

  “No. I think it’s best if I handle that.” Chaska ended the call, saw the fear in Naomi’s eyes.

  How was he going to tell her this?

  Chapter 11

  Naomi hugged her arms around herself, her pulse pounding in her ears, her head swimming. “What do you mean when you say they defaced it?”

  Chaska’s brow bent in a frown, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “They drew … They drew a penis on it.”

  Naomi let out a laugh, the sharp sound surprising even her. “Well, that’s desperate. Was it good for them?”

  Chaska drew her into his arms, stroked her hair. “I know you’re scared, but he’s on the run with McBride, the marshal’s service, the FBI, and every cop in that county hot on his tail. He doesn’t have a vehicle. He doesn’t have any friends or money or food. They’re going to find him.”

  “But you said McBride thinks he might come after me.”

  “That’s not what I said. McBride is just being cautious. I think it surprised him that the two were still in the state, and he wants to do all he can to make absolutely certain that you’re safe. He’s not the only one.”

  Chaska drew back, tucked a finger beneath her chin, lifted her gaze to his. “The local police are on alert. The sheriff’s department knows. I’m here, too, and I’m not going to let him hurt you. He has no idea where you are, and if he did show up in Scarlet and start asking about you, we would hear about it.”

  She heard Chaska’s words, but they couldn’t penetrate the ice inside her. “How am I supposed to sleep tonight? You and Win are upstairs, and I’m down here by myself. Win told me that wolves don’t bark at intruders. If Arlie breaks in, he could slit my throat, and you wouldn’t even know.”

  That didn’t sound hysterical at all.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Do you have an alarm?”

  “A burglar alarm? In Scarlet?” Chaska shook his head and was quiet for a moment. “Let’s move you and all your stuff into my room, and I’ll take your room. I think you’ll feel safer up there. Win and I can help you with the stairs.”

  “You … you don’t mind?”

  “I’d sleep better knowing you feel safe.”

  Why was he being so kind to her?

  She knew the answer as soon as she asked the question.

  He’s a good man.

  Hadn’t Megs said that tonight?

  “Let’s get you upstairs and settled. I’ll come back down for your stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  In the blink of an eye, Chaska scooped her into his arms and stood.

  She gave a little shriek, threw her arms around his neck.

  He chuckled, carried her toward the stairs. “I’m not going to drop you. You’re not heavy. You’re not even a workout. I had to carry Conrad on my back for three miles during rescue training once. He is one big guy—six-four, hairy, and probably two-twenty. That was tough.”

  Naomi leaned her head against Chaska’s shoulder, closed her eyes, let herself relax into his strength, the sharpest edge of her panic smoothed by the feel of his arms around her. He made her feel safe, protected. Had any man made her feel that way before?

  No. Never.

  He climbed the stairs with no difficulty
, not even out of breath when they reached the top. He pointed to a closed door to their right with a jerk of his head. “Win is through that door. I’m over here. The bathroom is across the hall there.”

  He carried her into his dark room, set her carefully on his bed, and then turned on the light. “I’ll be back with your stuff in a moment.”

  He disappeared out the door.

  She found herself sitting on a queen-sized bed. She wasn’t surprised to see that his room was neat and clean. The bed was made, covered with a gray quilt with a red, white, and black arrowhead pattern, the rustic headboard constructed of polished aspen logs. A small lamp with a rawhide lampshade stood on a nightstand of pine. There was a tall chest of drawers to her left. A black leather sofa sat in front of a row of windows, an abalone shell with a sage bundle resting in the center of the coffee table in front of it. The gray blinds were already drawn, shutting out the darkness.

  The walls were mostly bare. A dream catcher hung above the windows, and there were three wreaths on the wall across from the foot of the bed. They looked like they were made of sage that had been wrapped in bands of red cloth, long ribbons in yellow, white, black, and red hanging dangling from the bottom.

  The space was understated, masculine, very Chaska. It even smelled like him—sage and spice.

  Then she noticed the photograph of an elderly man on the night stand. She scooted closer, reached for it.

  “That’s Old Man—my grandfather.”

  Naomi picked up the photo, studied it. “Are you close?”

  Chaska set her belongings on the floor at the foot of his bed. “Yeah. He and my grandmother did more to raise us than our parents. He’s a Sun Dance chief, what old-timers call a true Lakota. He lives by the old ways.”

  “That’s what Winona told me. You have his eyes.”

  Chaska had heard that before. “That’s what my grandmother used to say.”

  Naomi set the photo carefully back on his nightstand, the care that she took with it touching Chaska. “Is she … Is she gone?”

  “She made the journey to the spirit world a few years back.” It had hurt more than Chaska could have imagined to let her go. She’d been like a mother to him and Winona. So much of who they were had come from her.