by Beverly Bird
Dallas scowled. There was more. There had to be more. Because that wasn’t really the kind of experience that would make her so wary of intimacy now. And she had put up a pretty good fight until last night, even if she had only been fighting herself.
Then he understood. “So this Jericho was safe. You could let yourself care for him without having to worry about sex.”
He saw a tremor go through her. She stood abruptly.
“I’ve got to get back to the clinic. It’ll take me forever and Cat’s already frantic. She said people are pushing through the door left and right.”
He would let her go, because he had already learned far more than he’d expected to. He would let her go, because there was always Saturday and he could dig deeper then.
Ellen hurried into the bathroom and made herself somewhat presentable, she thought, considering the fact that his shirt was much too large for her and it was readily apparent that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She figured a lab coat would effectively hide everything but her jeans. Still, she had to get into the lab coat, and Catherine was sure to have a thing or two to say before she did. She’d be so eaten up with curiosity that she’d never stop asking questions.
“Can I help?” she whined aloud, mimicking her, then she flushed. In this case, the saint was innocent. It was her own temper that was making her feel irritable and nasty this morning—her temper and her panic and this sensation of sinking fast.
She left the bathroom and grabbed her purse, heading for the door. Dallas took a few quick steps and blocked her way. Her eyes widened, then narrowed.
“What are you doing? I have to go.”
“I know.” But he closed his mouth over hers again anyway, hard and quickly. Her heart leapt and panic slid through her, trailed by something hot. She wanted to wrap herself around him and lose herself in him all over again. And the voice of her conscience hissed and sneered at her, so much louder now than her fear, guilt so much more violent this time than desire.
“Dallas,” she managed, pulling back from him, but he stepped away as quickly as he had kissed her, opening the door for her.
“See you Saturday,” he said mildly.
“Right.” She darted through the door. When she heard it close behind her, she began running, stopping only when she reached the elevator.
That was when she glanced back and realized that he had closed the door behind him. He was standing in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a thoughtful look that made her feel like a rabbit being sized up by a hawk.
* * *
Ellen arrived at Chinle first on Saturday. She pulled up in the parking lot of the park headquarters, turning her engine off, fighting the reflexive need to wipe her palms on her thighs. She glanced in her rearview mirror, but no car—neither a Cutlass nor a Jaguar—was coming up the road behind her.
She had time to think then.
She snorted aloud. As if she hadn’t done enough of that all week, hadn’t thought so hard and long on the drive here that a dull headache was building behind her eyes. She finally got out of her car, wandering into the visitor-information building for some water so she could take a couple of aspirin.
She didn’t think they would do any good.
She waited at the counter while a young woman spoke on the phone behind it. Maybe she shouldn’t tell Dallas the truth, she thought. She still wasn’t sure how Monday night had changed things between them, wasn’t sure exactly what it meant. She supposed it was still entirely possible for her to extricate herself from their lives after next weekend’s visitation. She really didn’t owe him any explanations. She could just tell him that it had been fun, they’d had a good time, but now it was over.
Oh, God, her head hurt.
She rubbed her temples and jumped when the young woman spoke to her. She got the feeling that she had already done so once and she hadn’t heard her.
“Miss? Can I help you?”
Ellen nodded. “A bathroom.”
“Right down that corridor, first door on your left.”
She found the rest room and went inside to dig her aspirin out of her purse. She cupped water in her palm and swallowed them, then she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. For the first time in a long time she didn’t like what she saw, didn’t like herself.
She had to tell him about her connection to Ricky, she realized, closing her eyes, leaning weakly against the basin. Not because of what might happen next weekend or the one after that, but because of what was already done. She remembered his eyes when they had made love. He cared for her on some level, and if she simply waved and walked away when it was over, with no explanation, it would be so...cowardly and cruel. He had a right to know why she was walking out of their lives.
She sighed and picked up her purse again, stepping out into the hallway. Ricky barreled down the narrow corridor to greet her.
“Guess what?” he demanded when he reached her. “Guess what my dad did? This is going to be great.”
Her heart gave a little thump of foreboding. She looked past him into the main lobby. Dallas stood at the front door and when she saw him this time, her heart whaled hard against her ribs.
He wasn’t even looking her way. He was gazing out into the parking lot, one shoulder leaning against the glass door in that relaxed, almost lazy way he had, the way that was so deceptive because she knew he could react as fast as he had to. He wore jeans and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, and the jeans were just tight enough to make it difficult for her to swallow.
He looked so solid, rugged and unbearably attractive. She thought of how kind he was, of how fiercely protective he was of his son, and in spite of herself, she felt his hands on her skin again. She re-membered the feel of his breath at her neck, of him sliding into her, going still, watching her for her reaction.
He was such a good man, much kinder, much stronger than she deserved. Her knees went weak and emotion closed her throat.
“Come on,” Ricky demanded. “Guess!”
“I...can’t,” she managed, without knowing exactly what it was she was denying.
“He bought some tents and some sleeping bags and all sorts of neat stuff so we can sleep over in there! He called the park and got a pass and we can stay all night.”
Her head started to swim. She had pretty much thought they would just hike the rim and peer down into the vast chasm. She should have known Dallas would draw up his own game plan.
He finally glanced back in her direction and grinned slowly.
“That’s great,” she answered carefully, forcing herself to walk again. Ricky bounced along beside her, alive with energy. Think, she commanded herself. She could always tell him she had to get back tonight, that she had something important to do tomorrow. This was never intended to be an overnight visitation, not like the previous weekend when it had been a virtual necessity. Buses traversed the canyon floor once every couple of hours, she thought. They would take one down, then she would hop right back on the next one and return here to her car.
“You’re going to stay, too, aren’t you?” Ricky demanded. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”
The plea in his voice made her want to close her eyes and weep. “No,” she answered carefully. “We’ll see.”
“Please? We got everything we need.”
“We’ve got,” she corrected absently. She reached Dallas. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He glanced down at his son. “I imagine Ricky already filled you in on my plans. Are they okay with you?”
Why was he even bothering to ask? she thought wildly. Even if she came right out and said no, he would manage to persuade her, to change her mind again—and she realized suddenly that that was more of a commentary on her attraction to him rather than his dogged determination. She had never put up much of a fight, not from the first, at least not half the fight she knew she was capable of.
“We’ll see,” she said again.
“Sure,” he answered as if the is
sue were settled. He pushed open the door, waving them outside. “Our chariot awaits.”
Ellen followed them and her heart dropped fast.
A rented Jeep wearing park-service stickers sat beside her Toyota. Had he read her mind? “I guess we’re not taking the bus.”
Ricky bounded into the back of the Jeep and she slid into the front passenger seat. Dallas took the wheel.
“Belts on, everybody. They said the trail could be rough.”
“It is.” She looked back at Ricky, reaching to tighten his seat belt. “And leave it on,” she warned him. “I’m serious. This Jeep will be bouncing all over the road.”
She didn’t realize she sounded just like a mother until she straightened in her seat again and found Dallas’s appraising eyes on her. She managed a halfhearted shrug.
“You’ve been here before.” It wasn’t a question.
“Before college I went to one of the Indian schools on the Res. My parents were pretty traditional.” At least they pretended to be. But she pushed that thought out of her mind fast before she could look at Ricky in the rearview mirror, before she could remember, before Dallas could read her face as easily as he always seemed to.
“Anyway,” she went on, “a lot of the education there is Navajo history and culture and language, stuff they don’t want our children to forget. I came here when I was in...I don’t know, about sixth grade. It was a field trip sort of thing.”
“Did you get to camp overnight?” Ricky asked.
“No. You’ve just got a pretty adventurous dad.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, beaming.
“We took one of those big open buses down to the bottom,” she explained. The one she had promised herself she could ride right back up to the top, only now she didn’t have a return ticket.
“I saw them when we rented the Jeep,” Dallas said. “It looked like a supermarket tour. Pack everybody in, let them get a quick taste of the place, then run them back up to the top. I thought this would be better, more leisurely and comprehensive.”
She could hardly deny it. She nodded.
They headed up the road toward the Canyon del Muerto entrance—it adjoined de Chelly and was the only way to get to the floor. She twisted around a little to explain to Ricky that until Kit Carson had breached the place to flush out the last of the hiding Navajo, no white man had ever gained entrance into the canyon. Ricky nodded, peppering her with questions, and she told him how the soldiers had actually infiltrated Canyon del Muerto, on the very trail they were going to now. Then they had hiked back to attack the unsuspecting Indians in Canyon de Chelly—mostly women and children.
Ricky was thrilled to know that they were actually following the soldiers’ footsteps. In spite of herself, Ellen was thrilled to know that he cared. Dallas was scarcely paying attention.
It had just occurred to him that he had learned something else about her and he’d barely had to fish this time. His instincts clicked into gear, too. Something about her parents’ traditionalism bothered her.
When they reached the canyon floor, they looped all the way back into the deepest bowels of de Chelly. Dallas wouldn’t accept any of her suggestions about where to camp. Ellen gritted her teeth as they passed first one potential site, then the next, and he vetoed each of them. Either they were too far from water, too shady, too sunlit, too devoid of trees, but for one reason or other Dallas was sure they wouldn’t work.
She knew what he was doing, but with Ricky in the car there was no way to argue it out and stop him. The deeper they went, the less practical it would be to take her back to the rim before nightfall.
She did manage one barb. “You have absolutely no sense of shame, do you?”
“None.”
“What if I don’t want to stay?” she hissed.
She expected another blithe response, but he surprised her. His expression turned thoughtful. “If I really believed that, I wouldn’t have bought the camp equipment.”
“How much do I owe you for my share?”
He looked surprised. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
Yes. No. She slid down in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest militantly.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said after a moment. “It was my choice to buy the stuff.”
“You wasted your money.”
“It’s all returnable until we use it.”
Ricky leaned forward between the seats, his eyes darting from one of them to the other. “You mean we’re not staying?” he demanded. “Da-ad!”
“We’re staying,” Ellen allowed, her jaw clenched.
Dallas grinned.
He finally stopped at the next site she pointed to. “Water, shade, sunlight and trees,” she said. “Take it or leave it, Dallas. It’s not going to get any better than this.”
He raised a brow at her, as if there were some question as to what she was talking about. “You never know,” he murmured. But he parked the Jeep beneath a thick stand of trees and Ricky barreled out. She helped Dallas collect the stuff he had bought from the back of the vehicle.
It was hard not to enjoy herself, she realized later when they had their camp set up. It had a cozy, comfortable feeling about it, the two tents pitched side by side, the fire laid out and ready to be lit when dark finally came. Dallas had brought a cooler full of hot dogs and soft drinks—diet, of course, although judging by the way Ricky was tearing about Ellen couldn’t imagine that anything would keep him awake tonight.
The canyon was huge, its red rock walls towering up on all sides of them. A creek trickled by at the center of it, and they had come far enough that the buses wouldn’t intrude upon their privacy. This part of the canyon was rarely used by anyone except the few Navajo who still lived here—only a handful of people, really, and their hogans were spread far and wide. Ellen couldn’t see any of them from where she stood, although the tracks of a small flock of sheep showed in the sand of the creek bed.
Ricky found them first and dragged her off to see them, demanding to know what they were. That had ended any discussion of the history of the place or the lives of the people who still used it. Ellen settled herself beside the unlit fire and watched while he played, climbing a tree so he could see further down the chasm. Dallas sat beside her and handed her a can of soda.
“I can’t remember ever being so young,” she murmured, “so unconcerned.”
Dallas’s gaze went to Ricky as well. “I know. It was what pulled me through when Mary died. Everyone said I’d have to be strong for him, but it was the other way around. He was my strength because he coped so easily. Everything had changed and his mother was gone and that was horribly sad—but he just kept going. It was like he knew there was no way to change it, so he would just have to accept it and find what pleasure he could in other things. He’s even stood up to the pressure of being all I have left.”
Something squirmed inside her. All I have left. If she told him the truth about herself, would he see it as a threat? Would he think she wanted to take some of what he had back again? She rubbed her forehead, feeling her headache starting to return. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it anyway. Ricky could rejoin them at any moment.
Dallas stood. “Let’s hike back a little way to those ruins. I want to see them up close.” Suddenly he scowled. “What’s wrong?”
She had gotten to her feet as well, but now she shook her head. “You look at them up close. That’s a chindi place.”
He looked disbelieving. “Here?”
“I don’t mean it has anything to do with Ricky. It’s just that people died in there. The Navajo called them the Old Ones.”
“I know. The Anasazi. I’ve read about it.”
“Then you know their bones are probably buried in there somewhere. I’ll hang back by the stream and watch you guys poke and prod into something you shouldn’t. I want no part of it.”
He could tell by her expression that there would be no talking her around this one, either. They collected Ricky and hiked the distanc
e, longer than any of them had appreciated when they were in the Jeep. Ricky climbed up and prowled through the old ruins, and Ellen cringed. He’s not Navajo, not really. He was undoubtedly Catholic—she thought she remembered that from the adoption file. So chindis had no meaning for him, held no terror. And she didn’t think Dallas would appreciate her teaching him about them. She gritted her teeth and kept silent.
It was late afternoon when they started back. By the time they reached the campsite, the setting sun was turning the canyon walls blood red. Shadows were collecting on the floor, drawing together in caves and crevices. Ricky wanted to light the fire right away, and neither Dallas nor Ellen could think of any reason not to.
They spitted the hot dogs on sticks, then they roasted marshmallows. Afterward, feeling stuffed, Ellen fought the urge to stretch out and lie down, to study the stars. She felt at peace perhaps for the first time in her life.
It was because of them, she realized. They could have been on a crowded city street or in the middle of a war zone, and it wouldn’t have mattered. The warmth that filled her had nothing to do with her environment, everything to do with being with two people she cared deeply about...two people she loved.
She jolted, stricken, panicked. Love? How could she have let herself fall in love with the man who was raising the son she had given away? How had it happened? Suddenly she felt wild, needed to get up and run from it. She couldn’t have Ricky back and Dallas was transient, had to be a transient part of her life.
“Wow,” Ricky said suddenly. “Look at that moon.”
It was coming over the rim, a perfect half, an eerie pink orange in the dying light. A shimmering halo hung around it. Ellen looked up and felt yet another jolt go through her.
“What makes it get like that?” Ricky asked.
“I...scientifically, I don’t know,” she managed. “But the Navajo call it a warrior’s moon.”
“How come?”
“In the old days, it was the best time for raiding, when the moon was exactly half like that, not too dark, not too bright.”