Redhawk's Return

by Aimée Thurlo

  Fire danced in his eyes and he smiled as if he’d read her thoughts. “We’ll just have to try and act the part. Clothes will be a way to set the stage. Of course, once we get another vehicle it won’t matter, but the rest of the walk into town might be dangerous unless we camouflage ourselves a bit.”

  Fox looked around, then pointed to a solitary house a hundred yards across the highway in the opposite direction. A full clothesline blew in the gentle breeze. “I can see a long skirt hanging there. Let’s see what else we can find. We’ll take what we need if no one is home to sell us anything. But we’ll leave some money clipped in its place so it won’t be so much like stealing. I have some cash with me.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  No vehicle was around, and nobody came to the door when they stood in plain sight of the front window. Obviously there was no one at home, but Fox knocked anyway. Finally giving up, they walked around to the backyard and took a skirt, a shawl, and a scarf, and left some money clipped to the line. Travis noticed an old cowboy hat on the seat of a tractor, and grabbed it.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here,” she said.

  As they walked back to the highway, Fox ducked down beside a large culvert running beneath the highway and changed clothes. The slight dampness of the newly washed garments felt wonderfully cool against her heated skin. When she finally came out, Travis nodded in approval.

  “Even I’d have a tough time telling it was you from a distance,” Travis said, then added, “But you’d never fool me for long. In the clear light of day, or in the middle of the night, I’d know you, Fox.”

  The words made a wave of heat ripple down her spine. Everything feminine in her responded to him. She searched his eyes, hoping to find confirmation that he, too, felt a similar stirring, but the only thing she saw for sure was the same concern that had compelled him to go with her on this quest.

  A little part of her died of disappointment, but she hid it well. “But what about you? You still look the same.”

  “Jeans are common here. The old cowboy hat I found will do the rest,” he said, pulling it low over his eyes.

  She nodded. “That’ll work, I suppose. It does cover your face.” What it couldn’t hide was that indomitable maleness that issued a silent challenge with each step he took. “Try stooping a bit.”

  He tried, she had to give him that much. But it was like asking a wild stallion to bray like a donkey. It wasn’t convincing. “Never mind. Just avoid looking anyone in the eye.”

  He laughed. “Does that mean you don’t think much of my acting ability?”

  “Well, let’s just say that I understand why this role is particularly tough for someone like you to play,” she said, and shook her head when he started to ask more.

  They stayed on the shoulder of the highway as many elderly couples did, and avoided walking side by side. He led the way, but never let her fall back too far.

  Deciding that they should stay out of sight while taking a break, Travis found a spot behind a low, juniper-covered hill. They ate some of their remaining food, sipping lukewarm water from their canteens out of necessity rather than interest.

  Soon they were on their way again. When they arrived at a small grocery store, several Navajo families were having lunch at a picnic table under the shade of a large tree. The pay phone was within sight of a dozen or more people. Knowing that word about a Navajo man and the Anglo woman with the wig would spread quickly, they decided to wait across the road, and stay low profile until the families left.

  Two hours later, closer to dinner than lunch, the last of the picnic crowd left and they were finally able to get to the phone. Travis spoke to Ashe quickly in Navajo, never identifying himself by name, and then hung up. “He’ll get us another vehicle, something that doesn’t stand out. But we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for it. He wants to make sure it doesn’t come from the motor pool, because those are too easily tracked.”

  “Where are we supposed to meet him?”

  “I suggested the place where Alice used to buy our jeans. Remember?”

  She smiled. “The trading post near Rattlesnake, of course! You and Ashe both loved the brand they carried.” Her expression grew somber as she realized that they were at least fifteen miles from there—more if they followed the highway. “That’s a long hike, closer to Shiprock than here.”

  “I know, but we have until midmorning tomorrow.”

  She gasped. “Are you crazy? With night coming it’ll be impossible to make it there in time.”

  “We’ll make it. I know a shortcut.” He gestured toward a mesa far to the southwest. “We’ll go as the crow flies, veering just to the south of that mesa. It will cut two or three miles off our route, and we won’t be seen by anyone.”

  “Just the buzzards,” she muttered, wondering if she’d ever have a normal life again.

  Chapter Eight

  After they’d been on their way long enough to have left the highway far behind, Fox ducked behind an outcropping of rocks, slipped out of her wig and long skirt, and into her own comfortable jeans and T-shirt. Her large cloth shoulder bag was once again stuffed full.

  She managed to keep up with Travis through the miles of rugged desert terrain. Two hours later they reached a crest that allowed them to see for miles to the east. A vast stretch of desert dropped off before them, interrupted by the San Juan River valley far in the distance. The lights of Shiprock ran along that valley, on either side. To the left, and thankfully closer, were the oil field and supply buildings of Rattlesnake. Only a few lights gave away its location.

  Fox continued to match his pace, and realized her legs had finally stopped hurting. In fact, she couldn’t really feel them anymore. But the good news was that it was largely downhill from this point on.

  As the wind picked up and sand began to blast its way across the desert, she tucked her head down and forced herself to push forward. “This is going to get worse before it gets better,” she warned. “We’d better find some shelter.”

  “If memory serves me right, there’s an old, abandoned hogan not too far from here, just this side of Shiprock Wash. It’s a ‘killed’ hogan. You know what that is?”

  She nodded slowly. “It’s one that has been abandoned because someone died there.”

  “Exactly. My brother would never spend a night there, no matter what the circumstances. Fortunately, neither one of us shares his beliefs.”

  Fox gave him a long, furtive look, but couldn’t see any trace of reluctance in his eyes. Had Travis really left his roots so far behind? Accepting his word, she followed him toward the Navajo dwelling.

  TRAVIS SLOWED DOWN as they approached the hogan. It stood in a small clearing on higher ground, just as he’d remembered. A hole had been punched in the north wall, and the dwelling abandoned to the ghost of the dead.

  As they drew near, his gut tightened and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. In defiance, he threw his shoulders back, clenched his jaw, and continued forward. He would not give in to superstition.

  Travis stepped inside first and looked around. “It’s messy, but it’s safe.”

  She followed him in. “It was harder for you than you’d anticipated, wasn’t it?” she asked gently. “You looked as if you were in the middle of a battle—one you intended to win.”

  Fox saw too much. Her perceptiveness unsettled him. He couldn’t afford to be an open book to her. “I was just preparing myself in case a wild animal had crawled in here.”

  She studied the hogan. Once they dragged out a few tumbleweeds, it would be intact enough to give them adequate shelter. It had been a good choice.

  As his gaze settled on Fox, Travis saw the weariness in her eyes. Her skin was no longer creamy white, but sun browned, and it seemed to deepen the lines of worry around her eyes. His gut clenched as he remembered the child who had laughed at every one of his jokes when he was a kid. She deserved far more from life than the fate she’d been handed.

  Travis cleared off the
ground inside, making sure no snakes or centipedes had made the place their residence. “We can’t close up the hogan, so expect some dust to come in through the smoke hole and the two other openings. At least the entrance is opposite the direction the wind is blowing.”

  “The wind is mostly coming from the west right now, so not much will get through the north wall, either.” She studied the circular, soot-darkened clay opening in the piñon-and-mud ceiling. “It doesn’t look as if they ever had a woodstove. It’s impractical to us now, but I suppose that before someone died in here, the fire pit and smoke hole were the heart of this hogan.”

  “According to the Navajo tradition, the evil spirits are blown out through the smoke hole and that brings peace to the family. One of the reasons the traditionalists who move to modern houses, with their tightly closed windows and doors, feel so trapped is because there is no place for evil to escape.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “I would have expected Ashe to know stories like that. But I never thought you paid much attention to that kind of thing, let alone remembered it.”

  “My brother and I share the same roots. We both grew up at Rock Ridge. We’ve chosen different paths, that’s true, but the foundation of everything we’ve learned rests on the way of our tribe. That’s not something anyone forgets. We are alike in more ways than anyone can imagine.” He glanced at her and gave her a crooked half-smile. “Not that I’d ever say that in front of him.”

  She chuckled softly. “You two were always competing. I envied your relationship, though. You were there for each other. Always.”

  “And for you, too.” As his gaze strayed over her, he saw the way her T-shirt clung to her body, accentuating her soft breasts. Her nipples tightened, as if sensing his hunger. He forced himself to look away, trying not to dwell on how responsive she was to him. She was a living, breathing temptation. Desire clawed at him, sudden and fierce.

  She settled down on the ground, and as a blast of sand filtered down through the hole, she edged back against the south wall. “I’m going to try and get some sleep.” Using her makeshift backpack for a pillow, she turned away from him and closed her eyes.

  As the wind picked up and the entrance let in clouds of dust, he leaned back against the log-and-mud-chinked sides of the hogan and watched her. She wasn’t asleep. Fox hated storms and the shrill cry of the wind whistling through cracks would keep her awake. She’d been restless and uneasy during storms for as far back as he could remember.

  Despite that, he knew she wouldn’t reach out for him now. Independence was important to her and although he admired her for it, it always challenged him. Even the thought of having a strong woman like her surrender to him made his body swell.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Although he was no longer looking at her, he was aware of her soft breathing and of her body near his. Fox was Earth and Fire rolled into one. The warmth of the sun lived in her smile.

  He fought the urge to move closer to her and listened to the howl of the wind. It was said that Wind found purpose only in movement. His own nature was a match for that innate restlessness. But there was one major difference: he sought movement because he feared what would happen if he stayed still. He wanted no roots or ties that would hold him in place. Everything he’d ever loved had been torn out from under him. Home and family were for those who had not yet learned that love was simply the emotion that came before pain.

  Although Fox had never even suspected it, she’d been one of the reasons he’d joined the military as soon as he could after high school His feelings for her had been too strong even back then. Their first kiss had jolted him far more than he’d let on. Even as a boy, he’d understood the danger she’d posed to him. But fate had conspired against him, bringing him back to the Reservation—and to the girl he’d tried to forget.

  As the sand and wind raged over the desert, he kept watch over her. He was a man now, not a boy. He knew what he needed to do. He was a loner who intended to remain that way. His heart would never be tamed or gentled by a woman’s touch.

  IT WAS MORNING WHEN Fox awoke. The sun was up, shining almost straight into the hogan from the east, where the entrance was, and the desert was still except for the chirping of birds. She stretched slowly, her body sore from the small rocks that protruded from the sandy floor. As she sat up, she saw Travis standing just inside the entrance, eating a candy bar. He’d been her sentinel, forever on guard.

  “I hope you got some sleep,” she said, suddenly feeling guilty that she hadn’t spelled him.

  “I slept,” he answered, his voice taut.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I’m getting. But there’s no one out here now. I’m sure of that.”

  Fox gathered up her things. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. But I have a favor to ask before we leave.”

  He turned around. “Tell me what you need.”

  Somehow those words made her breath catch in her throat. There was raw power in everything Travis did or said. “Please use the radio and find out if the Bens are okay.”

  “Ashe would have told me if they weren’t,” he assured her.

  “But you didn’t ask him specifically, and I need to hear it. It’s important to me.”

  He hesitated for a moment, but then took the radio from the pack. Using the channel they’d been told would always be monitored, he called in.

  Fox heard for herself when Carl Andrews assured them that the old couple had not been harmed.

  “The sniper was gone when the police showed up,” Andrews continued, “but the officers reported two sets of footprints and four-wheel-drive vehicle tracks.”

  “Ask him if he has any idea how they might have found us,” Fox pressed, though she knew Travis wanted to cut the transmission short.

  Travis relayed the message.

  “I suppose it’s possible they homed in on the radio beacon,” Andrews said. “Though, frankly, I doubt it.”

  She saw Travis’s eyes become the color of a stormy, nighttime sky. For the first time in her life, the emotions she read on his face frightened her.

  “What the hell do you mean?” Travis’s voice held a lethal edge. “What beacon?”

  “It’s a homing signal sent out continuously, but it’s on a special long-wavelength frequency. It was meant as a safety precaution in case one of you got hurt or needed assistance and didn’t know exactly where you were.”

  “We’ve been followed, and I’m willing to bet that it’s due to that beacon. Someone obviously figured out a way to track the signal. Now tell me how to shut it off,” he snapped.

  Travis listened to the directions, then terminated the communication.

  “Those bureaucratic idiots,” he muttered. “It was bad enough when all we had to worry about was someone tracing any call we made using the cell phone. Now this. Maybe we should discard the radio altogether. There’s no telling what other surprises have been fit into it.”

  “Do you really think there’s something else they haven’t told us?” she asked.

  “Anything’s possible,” he answered. “But it couldn’t be too fancy. They didn’t have a lot of time to tamper with standard-issue equipment.” He moved one of the setting screws on the bottom of the radio one half-turn with a pocketknife, according to Carl’s directions, switching the beacon off.

  “I vote that we hold on to the radio,” she said. “We may need it if we get into trouble somewhere along the way.”

  “All right. But now we have to do some damage control. Just in case they’ve tracked us again, we have to leave this area fast,” he said, tossing Fox the last of their breakfast candy bars. “Are you up for jogging after you’ve eaten?”

  “I’ll keep up. Whatever you can do, I’ll match.”

  “Why did I know you’d say that?”

  Shouldering his backpack, he stood by the door and looked out as she finished eating. “I have half a mind to wait right here for whoever’s following us and finish
this fight.” He took the pistol out of his jacket pocket and checked the clip. “I’d get a lot of satisfaction out of pounding their faces into the ground.”

  “Maybe, but since you also like to win, a face-off right now is a bad idea. You’ll probably be outnumbered and outgunned. Staying on top of things is going to take finesse and intelligence, not brawn.”

  He let his breath out in a hiss. “Yeah, you may be right” He set out, leading the way. “Stay on the rocky spots whenever possible. Whoever’s after us uses the land, working with it like an experienced tracker.”

  “Or a Navajo who has lived here all his life.”

  He gave her a curious glance. “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “No. It’s just a thought.”

  Travis kept the pace brisk but not punishing. “McNeely was looking for work. It’s possible he joined forces with the people who are after you. Stan McNeely is one heckuva tracker. His cousin would have gone in with him, too, but the real threat would come from McNeely. I’ve met his cousin Billy once, and he’s a follower, not a leader.”

  “Does McNeely know the area around here well?”

  Travis nodded. “He was born and raised in Bloomfield. And, in the Rangers, he was the only man who could follow a trail as well as I could.”

  As they reached an area thick with boulders and underbrush, he stopped. “Hang on here a minute. I’m going back to leave a little surprise for anyone who tracks us to the hogan. I’ll loosen a few ceiling beams and arrange for a log or two to collapse if someone steps inside. I doubt it’ll kill anyone, but it should slow them down, and leave some nasty bruises.”

  Travis ran back, covering the distance they’d just traveled from the hogan in half the time, though it was uphill. He returned fifteen minutes later.

  His pace was quick as they continued down a dry wash that wound in the direction they needed to travel, and gave them complete cover. After twenty minutes, he stopped. “Let’s take a break. We can still see the hogan, and I want to have a look at our trackers.” Looking over the west wall of the dwindling arroyo, he searched the area above them carefully.