"Insurance," Charlie replied.
His grandfather shifted his attention from Charlie to George Eagle Feathers as if Charlie's words had no importance. "Only a foolish man says foolish things."
Rebuffed, Charlie's face lost some of its smugness while he leaned forward and addressed George. "I checked. There was no sign of a break-in, and other than the Council, Sean is the only one who has keys. If there were three men as he claims, how did they get in?"
Moving past Sean, his grandfather stood directly in front of Charlie and placing his hands on the table, leaned in. "I know what you're trying to do—"
A sudden commotion at the door interrupted him. All eyes turned toward the sound and watched R.J. blunder into the room.
Sean suppressed a groan. Ah hell, what's she doing here? Steeling himself, he didn't look her way when she came to stand beside him.
"I apologize," she began, focusing on the Elders and ignoring Charlie, "I don't mean to intrude in private matters, but when I heard Sean had been accused, I felt I needed to come forward."
"Why?" Charlie barked. "You barely know him."
Shifting her attention to Charlie, she gave him a stiff smile. "True, but I know for a fact he isn't responsible."
"How?" Charlie scoffed.
Turning back to the Elders, she showed her dimples. "I was here, too."
From behind him, Sean heard his grandfather's gasp.
Charlie shifted forward. "Really? Why?"
"I recently received some information," she replied, giving Charlie a pointed look, "and I wanted to give Sean a chance to respond." She turned her attention to George. "When we arrived, there were three men...at least I think it was three...it was dark." She glanced at him as if she expected him to confirm her story. When he didn't, she gave a shrug and glossed over what really happened. "They saw us and ran off."
George's eyes shifted from R.J. to him. "Is this true? Why didn't you speak of her?"
Sean's jaw clenched and unclenched. He appreciated R.J. coming to his defense, but in reality, she'd only made the situation worse. He'd kept an eye on Charlie during R.J.'s explanation. Speculation had played across Charlie's face the whole time. Not good. By aligning herself with him, she'd just made an enemy. He had to get this inquisition over quickly and get her out of town.
"I didn't think it right to involve her in tribal business." He finally allowed himself to look at her. "She has her story and will be leaving town today," he said with emphasis on 'today'.
R.J. refused to meet his eyes.
George placed his hands on the table and stood. "Thank you for stepping forward. If you'll excuse us?"
She took the hint. And after casting a triumphant look first at Charlie then at him, she left the room.
It didn't take long for the Council to dismiss Charlie's allegations. Relieved, Sean and his grandfather quietly walked to the door. Sean could feel the disapproval rolling off his grandfather in waves, and he wasn't looking forward to the explanations he'd have to make. He'd acted foolishly last night, letting the woman distract him. Only by luck had he won this battle. If he were to continue to win, he had to forget her and step up his guard.
His grandfather didn't wait long to jump him. They stepped into the hallway and he pulled him to the side.
"What were you thinking," his grandfather hissed. "Why did you bring the woman here? Did she see—"
Sean held up his hand, stopping him. "Yes, but I think I convinced her that she imagined it."
His grandfather exploded. "You think? For god's sake, she's a reporter—a white reporter."
"Grandfather, I mean no disrespect, but who would believe her if she wrote the truth? A story like that would destroy her reputation as a reporter. And trust me, she'd never risk her career."
Slightly mollified, his grandfather continued down the hallway. "May be, but stay away from her," he cautioned.
"Don't worry, I w—"
The words died as he stepped outside and saw R.J. waiting by her Jeep.
Shit.
When she came running up to them, he had no choice, but to introduce her to his grandfather. "R.J. Baxter," he said, indicating her. "R.J., this is my grandfather, Jon Swifthawk."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she replied, rummaging around in her bag. A second later, she withdrew a pouch of tobacco and handed it to his grandfather. "I've heard a lot about you."
Reluctantly, he accepted her gift, while Sean felt a glimmer of pride that she'd remembered their custom.
"Miss Baxter," his grandfather said gruffly. "Thank you for defending my grandson."
With a shy smile, she nodded. "I appreciate the time he's given me."
"Hmm," his grandfather said with a steely look his way. "I must get home—Sean?"
"I'll be there in a minute," he said, "I need to discuss something with R.J.."
She waited until his grandfather had reached his pickup then leaned in.
"He doesn't approve of me," she whispered.
"It's not personal, it's—" his voice faltered. "Look, I don't have much time. I want you to leave today. You'll no longer be welcome here." He made a move to join his grandfather, but she shifted to the side, blocking him.
"Wait, I need to talk to you."
He made a move around her. "No you don't. You have your story."
"Do I?" Her eyes narrowed. "You want me to write about what happened last night?"
"Go ahead," he answered with a shrug. "We stopped a break-in. That's it."
She cocked her hip and gave him a long stare. "Yeah? Well call me crazy, but I think there was a little more to it than that."
"Such as?"
"Such as...who were they? How did they get in? What was their motive?" she replied, ticking off her questions. Her voice dropped and she stepped closer. "And, last but not least—how in the hell does an owl change into a man?"
"That's impossible. The blow to your head must've addled your brain," he scoffed.
"Really?" She touched the back of her scalp. "If I hit my head, why don't I have a bump? Now what about that owl?"
"There wasn't an owl," he insisted.
Her eyebrows lifted. "Tell that to the grandson of the guy who owns the motel." She whistled through her teeth. "Man, you should see the gouges on the side of that kid's fa—"
"A white boy? I thought—" He stopped, and taking her arm, pulled her around the side of the building. "You recognized him from last night?"
"No, but I can recognize claw marks when I see them."
He plucked on the white streak at his temple. Great, what did he do now? This woman was too clever for her own good—for his own good. He gave her arm a shake.
"Thanks to your butting in today, they now know you were with me," he said through clenched teeth. "It's not safe. You have to leave today. Go back to Michael's Creek. Forget about the story. I'll square it with your editor."
Her face took on a mutinous look. "I don't want to forget."
"I told you," he hissed, "people have disappeared on the prairie. You could be next."
"I'm not afraid," she blustered.
"You should be. There are ravines deep enough to hide a body until next spring. Do you want to wind up a pile of bleached bones?"
She gulped. "Not really."
"Then leave." He spun on his heel, but her hand on his arm stopped him.
"Listen. I'll leave. Tomorrow. Meet me tonight," she pleaded, "I can't walk away without answers. I promise I'll keep my mouth shut..." she hesitated. "I just need to know I'm not nuts."
His mouth formed in a grim line. "You're not, but I am. Meet me at eleven."
*
Leaning her head against the driver's window, R.J. waited for Sean. She glanced at the dashboard clock. He was late. Was he standing her up? He'd better not. If he tried, she'd hunt him down like a dog. She wasn't leaving town without answers.
Regardless of what he'd said, R.J. still had a problem wrapping her mind around what she'd seen. Lying awake last night and staring at
the ever blinking lights, she'd gone over and over the scene in her mind. It had happened so fast. First there was the owl then there was Sean. Being a reporter, her life had brushed up against a lot of odd things, and she'd become convinced a long time ago that life really was stranger than fiction. But this?
Only when the first rays of morning lightened the sky had she decided it hadn't been her imagination. Old legends were true. Sean Swifthawk O'Brien was a shape shifter. And she wanted him to confirm it.
But first she needed more information. Before she confronted him, she needed to learn all she could about shape shifting and Native American lore. She'd tried going online, but she couldn't find a connection from her crappy motel room. It was when she'd gone to the motel's office to ask where the nearest Internet connection might be that she'd seen the kid. And overheard him and his grandfather discussing the accusations against Sean. The discussion ended the instant they'd seen her, and the kid had hot-footed it out the back door, but not before she'd seen the marks on his face.
How they'd known about Sean so early in the morning was anyone's guess. She had her suspicions. No proof, but plenty of suspicion. She longed to dig deeper and find the truth, but Sean's remark about bleaching bones gave her pause. Nope, the best she could hope for was an explanation from Sean about his peculiar abilities. After he gave her one, she'd cut her losses and get out of town.
The irony of it all? She'd be walking away from a story bigger than she could've imagined. Only no one would believe it, and if she tried to convince them, her credibility would be ruined. She'd be laughed out of the newspaper business. She'd find herself working for some rag, writing about alien abductions and crop circles.
Sean was right. Go back to her life in Michael's Creek and forget everything. Well, maybe not everything. She doubted she could ever lose the memory of his kiss. Thinking about it now made her feel all soft and gooey inside. She shoved the feelings away. He wasn't for her. Even if they hadn't come from two different cultures, she'd seen his type before—a selfless do-gooder out to change the world.
Good luck with that one.
She'd go back to Michael's Creek and focus her energy on landing a story that everyone would believe. Sooner or later one had to come along.
Sitting up, she stared out the window. My god, it was spooky out here tonight. Last night, moonlight had lit the landscape, but now clouds chased across the moon, dimming its light. The Center sat like a hulking beast and even the air felt heavy. Her hand stole over to the passenger's seat and the jack-handle lying there. She wasn't a fool. She'd lost her mace last night, but she wasn't going to go traipsing around in the middle of the night without some kind of weapon. Just in case. The jack-handle seemed like a good choice. Settling her head against the window again, she placed the handle on her lap as the lack of sleep overtook her.
What seemed like only moments later, a sharp rap on the window made her jump. Sean. Her eyes flew to the clock. My god, it was four o'clock in the morning.
She pushed the door open, still hanging onto her weapon. "I thought you said eleven? Where have you been?"
"Something came up." He eyed the jack-handle. "Planning on using that?"
She snorted. "You were the one who said it wasn't safe."
Without commenting, he turned and headed toward the hill beyond the Center. R.J. ran after him. At the top of the rise, he suddenly whirled on her.
"What do you want to know?"
Caught off-guard, the words stumbled out, sounding silly even to her. "Are you a shape shifter?"
"Yes."
Shocked at his honesty, R.J.'s jaw dropped and she waited for him to continue. He didn't.
"That's it? 'Yes'?"
A wry grin twisted the corners of his mouth. "I think that word covers it."
Frustrated, she kicked a clod of dirt. "Not bloody likely, Mister."
"I suppose you want to know the 'who, what, when, and where'?"
"Damn straight I do," she exclaimed.
Sean sighed deeply. "My gift, talent, whatever the whites would call it, runs in my family."
"Your grandfather, too?" R.J.'s eyes widened.
"No, not him, but his father." He stopped and looked up at the sky as if trying to decide what to say. "This is hard," he said finally. "Not even our people are aware. They know that my family has powerful medicine, but they've never questioned what it might be."
"Have you always been able to shift?"
"No. It started shortly after I came to live with my grandfather. I was lucky in a way that I'd come here. Because of what he'd learned from his father, he recognized what was happening to me and was there to guide me through it."
"Does it happen...um...well...you know...whenever the moon—" she broke off, feeling foolish.
"Are you trying to ask me if I only change during a full moon?" he inquired, not hiding the humor in his voice.
Irritated, her chin hiked. "According to movies and literature—"
"In case you haven't noticed," he cut in, his humor gone. "We're not in a movie—this is my life we're discussing. No, it's not only during a full moon, I can change at will. At first, when I was a teenager, it happen whenever I experienced high emotion."
"Must've happened a lot."
"It did. After the first change, my grandfather took me out of school for about a year and taught me at home. During that time, he showed me how to manage the changes."
"Are you like?" She paused, trying to think of the right word. "Well, invulnerable?"
"We're back to the movies, huh?" He shook his head. "No, I can be killed just like any other animal. It wouldn't take a silver bullet." Tugging on his bottom lip, he studied her. "I've never had to explain this to anyone and I don't really know if I can. When I'm in animal form, there is still a part of me that's human, but I feel the freedom of being a wild thing."
"Last night, when you were fighting those men, why didn't you become something other than an owl? Something a little bigger with a few more teeth?" she asked.
He gave a rough bark of laughter. "You really don't know anything about the legends, do you?"
She pulled herself up and glared at him. "Nope, sorry, never saw the need to do research on shape shifters," she replied sarcastically. "If I'm not asking the right questions, you'll just have to forgive me."
"I can only become an owl—it's my totem. I told you that as an owl, part that of me is still human?"
She nodded.
"As a human, the owl is always with me, too."
"I don't get it."
"I can move silently whenever I need to, I can see things in the dark that are invisible to others, and my hearing? Unbelievably sharp." He came close, looming over her. "And I will do everything I can to defend and protect my family and my territory."
She swallowed. "I'm not going to write about this," she insisted.
"I believe you. It wouldn't be in your best interests."
"You think I'm selfish, don't you?" she asked defensively.
He stepped back. "I think you're so driven by ambition that you'd do anything to succeed."
"What's wrong with that?" she huffed.
"Nothing...in your world. In mine, we're worried about surviving."
"And you're using, what did you call it? Medicine?"
"Trying to." His eyes roamed the landscape. "There are those who've been seduced, lost interest in the good of the people. They see only their own desires."
"Charlie Two Horses."
"He's one. There are others."
"Why do they want to ruin the Center?"
"There are several reasons. People with little else have donated possessions that have been in their families for years. To see them destroyed would be destroying the heart of our people." He focused on R.J.. "People without heart, who've been beaten down, are easier to manipulate," he said sadly. "Then there's the money. The Center is heavily insured, if something happened to it, a large sum of money would be paid to the tribe. That money could be used for other thing
s."
"Like a casino?"
"Exactly. Some people lose enough of their money in town; they don't need easy access to gambling here."
"Have you made this argument to the Elders?"
"Of course, but it's not that simple. My grandfather has a lot of honor in the eyes of the tribe, but I'm still a half breed."
She saw lines of weariness tighten his face. "They don't trust you?"
"Not completely."
Moving close, she dropped the jack handle and laid a hand on his arm. His muscles quivered at her touch. "Then why are you fighting for them? Why not leave this place and start a new life away from all of this?"
A look of regret crossed his face, and he opened his mouth to speak. Abruptly, his features hardened. His lips closed and he shook his head. "I can't. My place is here."
The sadness in him reached out and swamped her. Putting her arms around him, she laid her head on his chest and felt him shudder. His hand stole up to her face and he tilted her chin, looking deeply into her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the fire burning inside of him. Unblinking, he began to lower his face to hers. Suddenly in the depths of his eyes, a yellow spark flamed.
"Down!" he whispered harshly, pulling her off her feet.
"Wha—"
He clamped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet," he hissed, crouching beside her. "You'll give away our position to the men down there."
Her eyes strained against the darkness, trying to see what he saw, but all she could make out was the dark shape of the Center.
He released her arm and began to steal away. "Stay here."
"Oh no you don't, Bird Man," she said softly, picking up the jack handle. "You're not leaving me behind this time."
"Bird Man?" he sputtered. "You make light of my medicine?"
"Hey, I'm just going with the flow," she murmured, "and happy I'm not insane after all."
She felt him tense and saw the conflicting emotions race across his face. She almost sensed what he was thinking. What if he lost the fight?
Finally, he made his decision and motioned her to follow. "Quietly," he cautioned as he crept ahead.
R.J. tried to mimic Sean's stealth. He hadn't been kidding when he said he could move silently—the tall grass barely stirred as he edged forward. He led her to the side of the building and moved her into the shadows. Laying a finger on his lips, he pointed to the ground with his other hand, indicating she should stay put. Then without a word, he disappeared around the side of the building.
Shadow Tales Page 13