Navajo's Woman

by Beverly Barton

  Where were Russ and Eddie? she wondered. And just how long would it take before the police caught them in the stolen truck? All it would take was for one policeman to spot the truck. And if her brother resisted arrest, what then? The thought of Russ being shot, perhaps fatally wounded, flashed through her mind. She hadn't realized that she'd gasped aloud until Joe questioned her.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "What?"

  “Is something wrong?'' He kept his gaze fixed on the dark, lonely highway.

  "Joe, we've got to find them. Sooner or later, either the police or the real killer is going to catch up with them. We have to get to them first."

  "Keep one thing in mind," he said. "There are a lot of places those boys could hide out and keep safe for quite a while. Just hold on to the thought that even if they're acting irrationally by running away, they're both pretty smart. They're well aware that they are only two steps ahead of both the law and a killer."

  "I know we have to report the shaman's death, but I can't help feeling as if we're wasting precious time."

  "Andi, we have no idea where to look next. We don't know if the boys even stayed on the reservation. They could be anywhere. We're going to have to regroup and hope we get another break, something that will lead us to them again. And we can pray that if we don't find them first, the police will."

  “And what happens if they resist arrest?''

  "Eddie would never—"

  "But Russ might," she said. "That's what you were going to say, isn't it?"

  "If you're honest with yourself, you'll admit that it was what you were thinking."

  Andi crossed her arms over her chest and scooted up against the door. Yes, that was exactly what she'd been thinking, but she would never admit it to Joe. Never! She closed her eyes and uttered a silent plea. Please, God, please, keep Russ and Eddie safe.

  "We've got to ditch this track," Russ said. "The police can recognize it too easy. We're just lucky we've gotten this far in it."

  "Why don't we go home? Or at least, let's call our mothers," Eddie said. "Believe me, my uncle Joe won't stop looking for us until he finds us."

  "I don't trust your uncle Joe, and you know why. I'd no more turn myself over him to than I would to the police."

  "You trust your sister, don't you? Mr. Nastas said that

  she's with Uncle Joe. She wants us to turn ourselves in. She knows we can't keep running forever. She and Uncle Joe just want to help us. We should have waited for them at Mr. Nastas's house."

  "Will you quit being such a crybaby!" Russ screamed as he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fe­rociousness. After taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's just that Andi is crazy if she thinks Joe Ornelas gives a damn about me. Yeah, sure, he cares what happens to you, but he's probably already got me pegged as guilty. He's not going to give me a break."

  "Uncle Joe's not like that."

  "Yeah, well, tell that to my father. Joe sure didn't give him a break, did he."

  Eddie grabbed Russ's arm. "That guy who's after us killed the yataalii and he would have killed us, too, if Hosteen Kieyoomia hadn't held him off until we could get away. For all we know, that guy is right behind us, following us, just waiting to kill us."

  Russ tugged on his arm, but Eddie held fast. "Let me go, will you? Nobody is following us. Don't you think I'd know if somebody was right behind us?"

  "I want to go home," Eddie said. "If you want to keep on running—"

  "No! You aren't going home and neither am I. Not yet. I have to call Jewel again. Maybe this time she won't hang up on me. Until she can back up our story, we have no way to prove that I didn't kill Bobby. And I can hardly go to her house. Her family knows the police are looking for us. Besides, I don't want to lead the killer to her and put her life in danger."

  "The police don't have any proof that you shot Bobby." Eddie tugged on Russ's arm again. "I thought we'd be safe at your great-uncle's house, but we weren't. We aren't safe anywhere."

  "Damn it, Eddie, will you quit bellyaching."

  When Russ jerked his arm free of Eddie's hold, he mo­mentarily lost control of the truck. The vehicle went ca­reening across the highway and straight through the guardrail. Both boys bounced forward. Russ's chest slammed into the steering wheel and Eddie's head thumped against the windshield as the truck came to a halt in a deep, rocky ditch.

  Joe wished he could read Andi's mind. After they left the Echo City police station, she didn't say two words to him and hadn't been particularly talkative since. But what had he expected? Had he thought she would thank him for not mentioning the fact that they had found Russ's wallet at the scene of the crime? Even now, he wasn't one hundred percent sure why he'd withheld the infor­mation. Was it because, just this once, he wanted to look like a hero in Andi's eyes again? Or was it because he thought he owed it to Russell to protect Russ? Hell, maybe it was just because he knew that telling the police he had evidence Russ was at the scene of the crime wouldn't help them solve Edmund Kieyoomia's murder. The police already suspected that the boys had been at the shaman's hogan, so why cloud the issue by throwing unjust suspicion on Russ? Whatever his true motivation had been, Joe felt guilty for not being totally honest.

  He and Andi had been on the road all night, after leav­ing the police station at well past one in the morning. He was taking them straight to his house where they could shower and change clothes, then they'd head out to J.T.'s ranch for a strategy meeting. He figured they would prob­ably reach his place within the next fifteen minutes. Dawn sunlight streaked across the eastern horizon in front of them, painting the sky with vivid color. He glanced quickly over at Andi and noted that she was still asleep. She was huddled in a ball, her knees drawn up and her arms crisscrossed over her stomach. She was lovely. Tired, probably hungry, with her hair slightly disheveled and her face void of makeup, Andrea Stephens was still a beautiful woman.

  Just catching shadowy glimpses of her in his peripheral vision as he'd been driving had whetted his appetite to see more of her. Despite her obstinance and hostility, he couldn't convince his body that she was the wrong woman for him. He wanted her. As much now as he had five years ago. Back then, he had been patient, willing to wait for her to decide when the time was right for them to become lovers. But that was when he had hoped they might one day marry. Now, there was no hope for the future, no possibility that they would ever become hus­band and wife. Too many obstacles stood between them— far more now than in the past.

  On some instinctive level Joe knew that if he never made love to Andi, a part of him would remain incom­plete. He would always wonder. And he would always long for what had never been. But did Andi feel the same?

  When Joe pulled the Expedition up in front of his hum­ble home, Andi didn't move. He reached out to nudge her, then stopped himself. He got out, rounded the SUV and opened Andi's door, then shoved her car keys into his pocket and retrieved his house key. She didn't move, didn't open her eyes. He slid one arm beneath her and lifted her up and into his arms. She moaned softly and snuggled against him, wrapping her arm around his neck. His body reacted in a typical male fashion, and he ad­mitted to himself that he would like nothing better than to take her inside to his bed and make passionate love to her.

  Maneuvering awkwardly, still holding Andi securely, Joe fiddled with the door lock, inserting the key and trying to balance the sleeping woman in his arms. The lock clicked. He turned the knob and the door swung open. Andi mumbled. Her eyelids flickered. “Joe?''

  "Yeah?"

  "Oh, Joe." She nuzzled his neck with her nose and buried her face against his shoulder.

  As much as he wished she were consciously reacting with pleasure to being in his arms, he realized that she wasn't fully awake, that she wasn't aware of what she was saying or doing.

  Joe carried her through the living room and into his bedroom. When he deposited her on his unmade bed, she clung to him, her arms tugging him down to her. His muscles strained. His body
yearned. Kiss her, an inner voice advised. Even if she wakes and slaps your face af­terward, won't it be worth it? Joe came down over her, bracing himself with his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his lips to hers. For a split second he almost stopped himself, but the urge to take her mouth, to taste her sweet lips, overpowered his conscience.

  Her mouth was soft and warm and inviting. She partic­ipated in the kiss, from first tender touch to the hot, moist tongue-mating. Joe's sex hardened. He wanted more. He wanted everything she had to give. He couldn't resist touching her. Bracing himself with one hand, he lifted the other and slid it just inside her collar, his fingertips ca­ressing her neck as his thumb stroked her throat.

  As if his touch had brought her to full consciousness, alerting her to reality, Andi's eyelids flew open and she stared up at Joe. Just for a moment she smiled at him, and he saw the desire in her eyes. But in a heartbeat, the smile faded, replaced with a frown. The hunger in her eyes van­ished.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

  "Nothing you didn't want me to do."

  Andi shoved against his chest. "Get off me!"

  Joe lifted himself up and off the bed, then stood and glared down at her. “You were asleep when we got here, so I decided not to wake you. But when you wrapped yourself around me and kept calling my name, I took it as an invitation to—"

  "To take advantage of me?" Andi shot straight up in bed, glanced around the room and then groaned. "I'm in your bedroom."

  "So? It's the only bedroom in the house."

  "If you thought I was going to. . .that we were going to. . .I'll have you know that you're the last man on earth I'd have sex with." She jumped out of bed and confronted him. "What's happened to you? You used to be a gentle­man. When we were dating you never would have. . .well, you didn't ever try to push me into doing something I wasn't ready to do."

  "Maybe I should have."

  "What?" She glared at him, an incredulous look on her face.

  He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and force her to admit the truth—that despite all the obstacles that kept them apart, the old chemistry between them still existed. Stronger and more compelling than ever before. But he didn't touch her. Instead he captured her with his intense gaze.

  "I always treated you with respect and I let you set the rules that governed our relationship. I gave you your way in every situation, about everything that concerned us."

  Joe had never voiced his resentment. And certainly never to Andi. "I was so afraid I'd lose you before you were truly mine. I didn't want to do anything that would scare you off. I thought that if I were patient and understanding, you'd come to see my life on the reservation as a life you wanted to share with me.

  "But what good did catering to your wishes do me? The first time I did something you disapproved of, you turned against me. I did what I thought was the right thing—the honorable thing—and you wouldn't even let me explain my side of the situation."

  "My father killed himself because you arrested him, because your actions shamed him before his family and his people. I was in shock and mourning my father's death. How did you think I should have reacted? You didn't give me time to deal with anything before you tucked tail and ran."

  "Your father's own actions shamed him," Joe said, barely able to control the rage seething inside him. "He disappointed everyone who knew and respected him. But by doing my duty, by being a good lawman, you and many others treated me as if I were the one who had committed a crime. Don't you think that every day of my life, I mourn Russell Lapahie? He was like a father to me. He didn't have to kill himself. He could have faced up to his actions and made amends."

  "And you could have stayed here on the reservation and given people a chance to forgive you, but instead you deserted us. You ran away and never looked back."

  "Maybe I didn't think I'd done something that required forgiveness," Joe said. "And if you believe that I never looked back, then you're wrong. Not a day passed that some part of me didn't remember my old life, didn't long to return."

  Andi looked at him for a moment longer, then broke eye contact. Squaring her shoulders, she stiffened her spine and walked around Joe and across the bedroom. Pausing in the doorway, she said, "I'm going to take a shower and change clothes."

  "Go ahead. I'll fix us some breakfast, then call J.T. and let him know we'll be there in a couple of hours. After we eat, you can clean up the dishes while I shower and change."

  "Fine."

  When Andi disappeared from view, Joe smashed one fist into the palm of his other hand and cursed under his breath. Their frank discussion had accomplished nothing. They were exactly where they had been—at an impasse.

  He headed toward the kitchen, thankful that Kate had filled his refrigerator and cupboards with supplies. But before he had broken the first egg into a bowl, his cellular phone rang. He removed the telephone from the holder attached to his belt, flipped the phone open and answered.

  "Ornelas here."

  "Joe, I've got some bad news."

  A shudder racked Joe's body. "Has something hap­pened to the boys?"

  "I haven't had any word on Eddie and Russ," J.T. said. "But it seems the police have found the murder weapon."

  “How is that bad news?''

  "They found the gun in a water trough in one of the corrals next to Doli Lapahie's barn."

  "Damn!"

  Chapter 7

  Rita Gonzales, the Blackwood family's housekeeper, served coffee in the den, where Joe and Andi sat on op­posite sides of the room, each occasionally glancing the other's way. Joanna had tried her best to include them in conversation, but her efforts had been futile. Andi as­sumed that after their confrontation at his house earlier this morning, Joe's emotions were as raw as hers.

  She still couldn't believe that she had thought she was dreaming about Joe kissing her, only to waken fully and discover that it had been no dream. Even now, a couple of hours later, she still felt embarrassed by the incident. Had she said anything that Joe could have taken the wrong way? She had definitely done something that had prompted his actions—she hadn't resisted when he'd put his lips on hers. She had given herself over to that kiss and enjoyed it with total abandon.

  "Elena and Alex are returning this afternoon, from Alex's one-man show in Albuquerque," Joanna said.

  "Why don't you two stay for dinner? Joe, you haven't seen them in years and—"

  "Honey, I'm sure Joe will see my sister while he's back in New Mexico," J.T. said. "But right now, we have more urgent matters to take care of."

  J.T. smiled at his wife, his one-eyed gaze resting lov­ingly on her. Joe's cousin had lost his left eye years ago when he'd been in the Secret Service. Andi had always thought that the black eyepatch he wore gave him a rogu­ish quality. She greatly envied the Blackwoods—their marriage, their children, their good fortune to have found each other and fallen in love. Joanna was one of the first friends Andi had made when she arrived in New Mexico five-and-a-half years ago. Perhaps it was because Joanna, as another bilagaana, had originally been seen as an out­sider, too—just as Andi had been, despite the fact that she was half Navajo. Or maybe it was because both she and J.T.'s wife had been raised in wealthy Southern families, she in South Carolina and Joanna in Virginia.

  When Andi had opened her arts and crafts gallery in Gallup, she had commissioned several paintings from Joanna, a talented and renowned artist, and a couple of sculptures from Alex, another bilagaana, who was mar­ried to J.T.'s younger sister, Elena. Over time, as they'd become close friends, Joanna had shared the story of how she and J.T. had met and that when they had married, he had built her a new home and deeded the original ranch house to Elena.

  "I'll make a point of stopping by to see Elena and Alex," Joe said. "After all, I've never met their little girl, and she's how old now—almost two?"

  "She'll be three in July," Joanna corrected.

  "Honey, I know that you're in nest-building mode right now," J.T.
said, "but Joe and I really need to get down to business here and discuss—"

  "Yes, I know." Joanna lifted her rotund body from the sofa before J.T., who'd been standing by the windows, hurried across the room to assist her. She caressed his hands affectionately when he touched her. "Andi, I'm sure you'll want to stay here and get all the news first­hand. But I'm afraid my husband has given me strict or­ders that since I'm an emotional wreck these days—" she patted her protruding belly "—I have to avoid any stress."

  "J.T. is a wise and caring husband," Joe said. "A man who loves his wife wants only to take care of her, espe­cially when she carries his child."

  A sudden hush fell over the room. A tender quiet. Joe looked directly at Andi, whose gaze instantly met his. The two of them shared a singular thought: a picture of Andi pregnant with Joe's baby flashed through his mind and hers.

  How could she even consider such a possibility? she wondered. She and Joe didn't belong together. Not now. Even if her body still yearned for his. Even if he wanted her. Even if she couldn't imagine spending her life with anyone else.

  "I'll see y'all at lunch." Joanna walked out of the room, taking her time and being very careful with each step.

  The moment his wife was out of earshot, J.T. turned to Joe. "Did you tell Andi about the gun?"

  "No," Joe said.

  "What gun?" Andi asked.

  J.T. huffed. "The murder weapon, the gun that was used to kill Bobby Yazzi, has turned up."

  "Where?" Andi steeled herself for the answer, instinct telling her that she wasn't going to like what she heard.

  "In a water trough at the corrals beside Doli Lapahie's barn," J.T. replied.

  "No!" Andi spun around and faced Joe. He lifted his gaze and met her questioning stare head-on. "You think this means that Russ killed Bobby, don't you." When Joe didn't reply immediately, she yelled at him. "Answer me, damn it! You think that finding the gun on Lapahie prop­erty proves Russ is guilty."