Roberta’s eyes grew serious. “That’s pretty big. Did Fred know Kitty saw him?”
“Yes. He caught her, and threatened to kill all the horses in the barn if she told anyone.”
Callie shivered. “She couldn’t talk, anyway. Did she know how to read and write? I suppose she could have posed a real threat to him if she wrote it down and showed someone.”
I pulled my sweatshirt tighter. “I don’t know if she’s literate. I hope so, but something tells me if they wouldn’t get her help for her speech, they wouldn’t send her to school.”
Roberta frowned. “It’s so wrong. She’s a very bright girl.”
We talked for another half hour, then started to yawn. When we finally turned in, the strange whistling sounds again reverberated softly through the trees, and I imagined they were telling me that I did the right thing, in spite of how much Kitty would hurt now when facing her memories; in spite of the deep sadness I heard in my dear Callie’s voice. We had to dig down to the truth, no matter how much it pained us.
***
Quinn and I woke before the rest of the group and took a walk down by the lake, holding hands. Mist rose off the water, and the temperature had plummeted. It felt like it had dropped below forty.
“Do you really have to go to the reservation, honey?” I linked my arm through his. “I mean, couldn’t you just call someone and ask questions?”
He put both arms around me and lifted my chin. We locked eyes. “I have to check on Birdie. Who’s going to help her if she’s being assaulted like that? It’s obvious Big Fred hasn’t been stopped. And what if he does it to another girl? Or girls?” He frowned. “And I need to get Kitty’s mother, Polly, away from Fred so I can talk to her to find out what the hell is going on; to figure out why they’re chasing Kitty.”
My jealous heart exploded. “Why? Why can’t you just call Birdie or Polly?”
“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this whole thing. Like I need to get over there pronto.”
I turned away from him and clenched my fists at my side. “You haven’t gone back for eight years, Quinn. Why now? And what if Fred sees you? What if he tortures you until you tell him where Kitty is? He might kill you!”
“Marcella, I’ll be okay. I just want to make sure Birdie’s all right. If it makes you rest any easier, maybe I can stay with my grandfather’s brother, my great uncle. He’s way out in the woods and will keep me hidden.”
“Quinn?” I felt the tears welling. “Do you still love Birdie?”
“Of course not.” He frowned and took my hands. “But I do care about her. She was a very good friend.”
I pulled away from him, pouting like an insouciant child. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”
He reached for me, but I shook him off. Inside, I knew I was being an idiot. But I couldn’t seem to control myself.
“Marcella. Please.”
I stalked alone back to my tent, feeling simultaneously angry and embarrassed at my outburst.
Quinn and I hadn’t been apart since we were married. And I didn’t want to start now.
There was a small part of me that worried about Quinn and Birdie. I knew he loved me, but what if he were tempted to stay at the reservation, to learn the ways of his ancestors? To rekindle his relationship with her? And what if she could have children?
Would that influence him?
But worse than that, what if Big Fred found him and hurt him?
What if I never saw him again?
I ducked into the tent flap to find Kitty crying in the corner, and promptly forgot my own worries.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kitty fell into my outstretched arms, quietly sobbing. I stroked her hair, rubbed my hands on her back, and tried to comfort her. Rocking quietly, we swayed back and forth together for a long time until my shirtfront was soaked and her weeping slowed.
Roberta and Callie still slept on the far side of the tent, probably exhausted from the night’s adventures.
I zipped Kitty into a heavy sweatshirt and led her outdoors. Quinn had disappeared back into his tent—and most of the others were still sleeping. We walked toward the horses, where she found her pinto and leaned against his neck. For a long time, we stood patting him.
Finally, I turned her toward me. “Kitty? I have to tell you something.”
Her eyes widened in anticipation, and somehow I knew she understood me.
“Listen. Last night at the ceremony, with the moon and the stones and oils…I had a few visions.”
She looked worried.
“I saw Birdie, from your memory. I saw her get hurt by your stepfather.”
Pain flashed in her eyes, and I could almost feel the horror shudder through her body again.
“And I saw your stepfather pay off that guy in a suit, while you watched.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“Shhh. Don’t cry. We’re going to try to help, okay?” I looked toward the camp. Quinn and Harrison were starting the fire. “Quinn is going back to the reservation. He’s going to check on Birdie, and find out what’s going on.”
Kitty’s eyes widened in fear and she began to shake her head violently back and forth. A gravely sounding “NO!” came from her. She twisted away from me, running fast across the grassy expanse. Untying her horse’s lead rope from the line, she leapt onto his bare back and turned him away, cantering across the field and down toward the lake.
I watched her go, feeling less and less confident about everything. “Oh, Kitty. Why won’t you talk to us?”
Her hair bounced up and down on her shoulders as she loped away.
“I know you can speak. Why won’t you let us help you?”
***
Kitty came back a half hour later, subdued and aloof. She seemed to want to be alone, so we let her sit by herself under a silver birch tree, keeping a close eye on her from afar.
The trail hands arrived within the hour. Pablo cooked a big breakfast of sausage, pancakes, and eggs, while the others broke camp and packed up the mules. I didn’t sit next to Quinn while we ate, nor did I meet his gaze. Instead, I wedged myself between Roberta and Callie on the log by the fire pit and inhaled the food without even noticing how delicious it probably was.
He kept glancing at me, his clear turquoise eyes begging for resolution. But—idiot that I can be—I ignored him.
Callie watched me, frequently glancing between Quinn and me. Roberta seemed preoccupied with Kitty, who had come back after her ride with puffy, reddened eyes. The rest of the men just ignored the tension that felt thick as molasses, attacked their plates until they were cleaned, then went about their chores.
At ten, we started down the mountain. I urged Trooper to follow Harrison’s chestnut gelding, and Callie followed me. I chanced a glance backward to see Quinn bringing up the rear with Pablo and Manuel, but didn’t want him to see me watching him.
This was the longest we’d ever stayed mad at each other, and I hated it. But I was feeling ridiculously stubborn, not to mention scared to death.
During the ride down the hill, with the comforting bobbing of my horse’s head, his tail swishing with regularity, and to the sounds of all the horses’ clomping hooves, I finally relaxed enough to realize that Quinn was right. We couldn’t leave Birdie to be abused by that brute.
I pulled my horse to the side and waited for Quinn to reach me. With a soulful glance, I gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m a jerk.”
He sidled up close to me with Lancelot until his leg brushed mine. He reached one hand out and squeezed my fingers. “It’s okay.”
Lowering my voice so I wouldn’t provide daytime trail drama for the ranch hands riding behind us, I leaned toward him, wishing I could kiss him. “No, it’s not. Sometimes I’m a selfish idiot.”
He chuckled. “No, you were worried. But listen, it’ll be okay. I’ll be in and out of there in a day.”
“What can you do, though? How can you go up against a tribal leader who has a bunch of cron
ies protecting him?”
He looked off into the distance. “I might have to get Birdie out of there.”
I swallowed hard. “You mean bring her to Tall Pines?” Our little cabin was starting to get pretty crowded.
He nodded. “Just until I can figure out how to help her.”
“What about talking to Copper? Maybe she’d go with you.”
He thought about it. “Maybe. But I’m afraid bringing her onto the reservation might get me more attention than just slipping onto the land on my own. She does stand out quite a bit, you know.” He smiled.
We both loved our six-foot tall black policewoman. Especially because of her devotion to Callie.
“Yeah. You might have a point there. But maybe she could stay nearby, at a hotel or something? Then if you get in trouble, you could call in her help.”
“I’ll ask her. I suspect, though, that she’d rather encourage me to use the local cops.”
I had a terrible thought. “What if they’re in cahoots with Big Fred?”
“Hmm. I didn’t think of that.”
Quinn studied my face for a while. “You’re not really worried about Birdie, are you? I mean, about her and me?”
I gazed into his clear eyes, filled with love and concern. How could I have doubted him? I rubbed my thumb across the back of his hand. “No. Of course not. I trust you, sweetie.”
Relief flooded his face. “Good. I was really starting to wonder back there.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a jealous shrew.”
He chuckled and moved his horse closer. The expression on his strong-jawed face moved from relieved to shameless lust. He lowered his eyebrows and gave me his most lecherous smile. “Apology accepted. Now let’s get down off this mountain so I can bid you a proper goodbye.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
After picking up Dak and Ruby, we followed Callie back to her A-frame on the east side of Route 30 facing Lake Pleasant. Copper still had another hour before going on duty for Hamilton County and agreed to talk to us about Quinn’s trip to the reservation.
Copper scooted close to Callie, with one arm draped over the back of the couch. Callie’s head lay on her shoulder. “You realize, Quinn, that you’re talking about some very serious crimes here.”
Quinn patted Dak, who had sprawled over our laps. “Naturally. That’s why we have to do something about it.”
She continued, almost in a lecture-hall voice. “We’re talking two counts of assault—Birdie’s rape, and the attack on Kitty at your lake cottage. There’s breaking and entering, attempted kidnapping, and maybe some kind of conspiracy or blackmail, too, if what you saw in that vision was real.” She expelled a loud sigh. “This is nasty stuff. I suspect that someone would likely be willing to kill you to keep it quiet.”
Quinn leaned forward. “I know. Probably why they’re after Kitty, right?”
She pursed her lips, her glance darting toward the girl. “Right.”
I leaned forward and locked eyes with Copper. “Could you go with Quinn? And then if things get bad, you could call for backup, right?”
She grimaced. “It’s not that simple. I’d be out of my jurisdiction.”
“But if you went, at least there’d be two of you.”
Quinn held up a hand. “I’m not really against Copper coming, but we don’t have much to go on yet.” He drained the last of his coffee and set the cup back on the counter. “I’d rather have her work on those idiots who tried to kidnap us on the side of the road.”
I nodded somberly. “You have a point there.”
Copper sat forward, her eyes alight. “I actually do think we’re getting close. One of them—his name is DeWinter, the shorter of the two men—is about to spill it. I can feel it.” She sat back again. “I could try to get a contact near Buffalo and have him keep in touch with Quinn. If there’s any trouble, you could call the local guy and I’m sure he’d respond to a summons for help.”
I sank back into the cushions. This wasn’t going the way I’d hoped. “I guess that’s better than nothing. And if you can really grill these guys, maybe they’ll give you enough to arrest Big Fred.”
Copper stood up. “Maybe. Matter of fact, I’m on my way to question them some more right now. Wish me luck.” She disappeared into the bedroom to change into her uniform.
Callie gathered the coffee mugs. “She’s very good at her job, guys. I’m sure she’ll get those creeps to talk.”
Quinn and I stood to leave. I hugged Callie and patted Beau, and we headed back to Tall Pines. I had only one night left with my husband before he left for the reservation, and I wanted to make it count.
***
I lay in the crook of my husband’s arm. Cool air from the window dried the perspiration on my body, and with it came the soft murmurs of the Sacandaga River. Through the window, stars twinkled in a dark velvet sky behind the even blacker limbs of balsam fir reaching heavenward. I stretched my legs, enjoying the tingles that still pulsed in my most tender parts, and ran my fingers over Quinn’s smooth, muscled chest. He had given me a more than proper goodbye. It had been deliciously earth-shattering, and I’d almost been surprised when the ground beneath us didn’t quake.
I smiled to myself and shivered with pleasure in the afterglow.
He moaned and turned toward me, but his eyes were closed and his lower lip hung slack. I ran my hand along his naked hip, letting my fingers trail down to his butt. He was in such good shape—tremendously good shape—but I knew I’d adore him even when his muscles flagged and his skin wrinkled. With a few soft caresses to one of my favorite parts of his body, I realized he really was in a deep sleep, and we wouldn’t have an encore.
He almost always fell asleep afterwards, but I didn’t care. He looked so cute when he slept, and somehow the transition was like melting time backwards. One minute he’s my randy Indian brave—full of power and tenderness—the next he’s my sweet boy-child, the picture of innocence. It was magical.
I leaned over and kissed his lips three times, then turned and backed up to him, spooning into his body. I felt safe in his strong arms and didn’t want to think of tomorrow.
For now, I’d enjoy the security of his embrace.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I sat on Roberta’s back porch, legs propped on the railing and a cold glass of Niagara wine in my hands. Still warm for October, the sun shone through the tall pines overhead, and I had just unzipped my sweatshirt to cool off a little.
Dak lay beside me, legs pumping after the imaginary rabbit he chased in his dreams.
Oddly enough, I’d never been to Roberta’s cabin. It wasn’t far from Mountain Memories, and was located on a secluded dirt track off Buttermilk Hill Road in Wells. A thick cable padlocked between two heavy metal poles protected us from stray cars wandering the half-mile dirt road leading to the cabin. Shrouded with pine and oaks, it was completely hidden from the road. There were no neighbors for miles in either direction.
I’d been trying not to worry about Quinn for two whole days. Two excruciating long days that tore me apart inside. As always, I imagined the worst and my thoughts ran wild.
And if you know me, you know I hate not being in the middle of things. This whole “stay home, woman, and worry about me” stuff didn’t sit well with me. I was ready to tear my hair out after the first four hours.
I’d slathered my skin with my essential oils to calm myself, and they had helped. But inside I still burned with questions.
Was Quinn safe?
Had they found him?
Why hadn’t he called me? Was there no cell service on the reservation? Didn’t his grandfather’s brother have a landline phone?
I figured if this elder was a shaman like his brother, he probably didn’t go for contraptions like phones. So Quinn probably had no chance to call me. I hoped.
But I still worried my fingernails to the quick.
I turned a page in my book, The Abduction of Mary Rose by Joan Hall Hovey, then glanced up at the
view from the cabin. Majestic pines towered overhead, and the white tails of two leaping deer flickered in the trees to the north. Far to the east, blue mountains heaved from the earth, nearly touching the cottony piles of cumulus clouds above.
It was so beautiful here. So different from our cabin on Honeoye Lake, which had its own charm, but was frequently marred by too darned many people.
My right eye had been twitching for the past two hours. I kept closing it and holding my fingers over it, frustrated with the jumping nerves that made it hard to read. Finally I decided to try an essential oil. Which oils helped nerves?
I remembered that peppermint was good for pain and nerve damage, like sciatica. But it was too strong, too concentrated to apply near my eyes. It would sting.
What else did I have in my arsenal?
I opened my zippered case and ran my fingers over the tops of the bottles. Oregano? This one was an anti-bacterial oil, good for killing infections and such. But would it affect my jumping eyelid?
My hands lingered over the orange-labeled bottle of helichrysum. I had a vague recollection of reading about this oil in relation to hearing problems. It was something about it regenerating nerves in the ear canal. And of course I knew it was used like a topical anesthetic, to soothe pain. But would it help my eye?
I applied a few drops on the skin beneath my eyelid where it was twitching, careful not to get it in my eye, then lay back in my seat and started to read again. I’d always loved the books of Joan Hall Hovey, but this one was a real keeper. Its suspense worked miracles on my frayed nerves and provided distraction when I needed it most. I buried my nose in the book and lost myself once more in the story. After a few minutes, I sat up straight and touched the skin under my eye.
The twitching had stopped.
Had I discovered a new use for helichrysum? Proud of myself, I decided I’d have to tell Sky, and see if anyone had tried this before. Maybe I was the newest oil pioneer.
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 59