by DiAnn Mills
“I’m sorry. Would you like to talk about it?”
Uneasiness swept over me. If I told Walt about Grandfather’s murder, he could be placed in danger. And he already had men who’d attempted to kill him. I’d expressed my grief, but that was where my openness ended. “I’d rather not discuss his passing. Like your wound, I’m still bleeding a bit.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk about our problems. I’m a good listener.”
“Maybe another time. I’m still working through my feelings.”
He smiled, and it warmed me. “When you return tomorrow night, I’ll have a surprise for you. And thanks for bringing the extra food tonight.”
I left shortly thereafter and cried all the way back to Ghost Ranch. Why hadn’t I tried harder to have a good relationship with Grandfather? We could have shared a hobby. He enjoyed chess, but I played a bad game. If I had it all to do again, I would have studied politics and economics and learned the banking business. Now everyone was gone—Mother, Father, and Grandfather. Only Mr. Murdock and Victoria remained.
When I woke the next day, every muscle in my body ached, and my eyes felt as though the desert dirt had taken up residence. I had to find time to catch up on my sleep. Mrs. Monarch and Miss Arnold believed I was ill. How wicked of me to deceive them. Both had insisted I take the day off to rest and write letters.
However, during this bright fall afternoon in the privacy of my cabin, I allowed my thoughts to dwell on Mr. Walt Chambers, and I wondered what he’d look like clean, without the bushy beard and sporting a civilized haircut. In the lantern light, I’d detected his eyes were hazel, which contrasted handsomely against his dark brown hair. At times, I thought I’d heard his deep voice before, but that was ridiculous. He’d become familiar, and like an old friend, his traits were endearing.
Victoria would never have approved of Walt Chambers, who stated he didn’t have family on the East Coast or an Ivy League education. Those things were highly important to her. And she’d surely have condemned him for cheating men out of good money.
As I lay on my bed and peered up at the ceiling, I began to question my values. Miss Arnold had agreed to let me live at Ghost Ranch and found me a rewarding and satisfying job to fill my hours—a job I loved. Even today, I missed my three adopted boys. She’d shown me how to clean and fire a rifle and had shared her gift of music. I’d repaid her graciousness by stealing food, bandages, and medicine for a man with a shadowed past.
I despised my actions. Dishonesty was not becoming.
My foolish sentiments for a man who was probably unscrupulous had to end this very minute. I rose from the bed and walked to a window that looked out at the barns and on to the road that led to the Monarchs. I had behaved like a schoolgirl who had been given an inch of freedom and snatched up a mile of rebellion.
So I chose not to take anymore evening excursions. My time with Walt had ended. He’d survived his stabbing, and I’d fulfilled my obligation to him. He’d healed well enough to walk to the town of Abiquiu without difficulty, and I’d left him plenty of food and water. I liked him—very much. But my life had enough complications and responsibilities without adding yet another.
The nights of riding off into the darkness had taken their toll. Closing my eyes, I resolved to never again allow the fancies of adventure and romance to tempt me from propriety. My thoughts should be on providing excellence to my boys and pondering any of the past with Grandfather that would help law officials find his killer.
I closed the door to the past with Walt and steadied my gaze on the future. This afternoon I’d felt sincerely homesick. But what I missed had disappeared. Never again would I see the sometimes cantankerous old man with thinning gray hair and a vocabulary to rival Daniel Webster.
Tears dampened my cheeks. I felt sorry for myself, and I knew it. But it was so difficult to continue when I’d been abandoned to the ebb and flow of life.
CHAPTER 15
Tahoma could not move for three days. Every time he attempted, his body throbbed from Claude’s beating. That also meant his father kept the vigil over Eva Fortier alone. Another source of concern over his father’s failing health.
Mother left early in the day and didn’t return until late afternoon. Not that he blamed her, for he could barely tolerate himself. Not a single person came to see him while he mended at his parents’ hogan or after the third day when his father helped him hobble to his home and clinic.
Willencia and Claude had done a fine job of making sure their people knew Tahoma’s medicine would kill. To think he’d studied all those years to heal and give quality of life to those he loved. He’d studied the medicinal properties of herbs that his people had used for centuries so he could gain their confidence. The one purpose in his life had been scattered in the wind.
Except he hadn’t fulfilled his purpose of telling others about God.
Strange, he thought he’d heard God’s call on his life, but Tahoma had disappointed Him. The Creator and Ruler of the universe did not bless those who swayed from acknowledging Him.
What did he have left? More importantly, what was he to do with his life now that he’d tasted failure? Even his mother didn’t approve of his medical practice. He hadn’t had the discussion with his father—yet. But why would the aging man behave any differently? His parents had always supported him, but that was before he’d been blamed for Yanaba’s inability to give birth.
Claude wanted him dead. He believed his and Yanaba’s babies had died because she had not waited for Tahoma while he attended medical school.
Willencia accused him of bringing evil to their people.
All of that in three years’ time.
What did God want him to do? He could move to the Navajo reservation and practice medicine. He might even be able to talk to them about God, since they’d be strangers and not family.
When Tahoma was able to return to his clinic, he pulled out his Bible. For once he didn’t care if anyone found him reading God’s Word. Regret seared his soul. If he chose to tell others how Jesus Christ had changed his life, no one would believe him. No one wanted to hear anything he had to say.
He turned to Genesis and prayed that every word would touch his life. If the patriarchs found courage to stand up for their beliefs, then he could too. All creation was to glorify God, and every man had a reason to be walking the earth. So far, Tahoma had been content in crawling. It was time to stand up. But he needed a guide. Thus the God of Genesis.
The mind-staggering truth had come to him so many times: God couldn’t use a man who rode the fence. In the beginning, he’d hoped to heal others and attribute it to God. But instead Tahoma had said nothing.
Now he had nothing.
Early Wednesday morning, Tahoma stood at a distance with his binoculars and watched the Rancho de los Burros where Eva and the Monarch boys conducted classes in the courtyard. His body still felt the agony of Claude’s beating, but he refused to put his father’s life in jeopardy any longer. He walked closer and noted the Monarchs’ bodyguard also observing them. The two men had talked earlier. They had the same goals.
The temperatures were much cooler, and the boys studied outside around a fire. Watching them with their books open, he recalled his own school days. The youngest one yawned, and the oldest one poked him. Both of which Eva saw. Tahoma remembered well the boredom of studying. He had fought every moment of it, always looking for a chance to steal away.
Tahoma had observed Eva’s habits enough to know she spent the morning teaching the boys reading, math, geography, penmanship, and sometimes science. After lunch, the boys became the “Wild Bunch,” and she joined them.
That was the favorite part of his day.
After lunch, the four saddled up and headed south toward the Pedernal. He had no idea where the Monarchs’ bodyguard stood watch, but that wasn’t his concern. Tahoma trailed behind them, always keeping an eye out for someone who might intend Eva harm. He’d discreetly asked about for the man his father had knifed,
but no one had seen him. He’d probably died, and Tahoma pushed the thought aside. His people did not need a murder investigation in their midst.
He shivered. The air was growing colder. Winter snows would arrive any day.
At the foot of the Pedernal, Eva must have given instructions for what they were to do. He crept closer, curiosity snatching away his better judgment. He chuckled at the sight before him. Eva and the boys stood on rocks and shielded their eyes.
Brice raised an invisible spyglass. “Land ho!”
“Where are we, Captain?” Eva pretended to man the helm. “I see the shore in these warm waters, but I have no idea where we are to land.”
“Off the coast of Louisiana,” Brice said. “Aye, we’re to capture the pirate and take his plunder.”
“What pirate is that?” Cuttin lifted an invisible spyglass to his left eye.
“I know, Captain,” Alex said. “’Tis the French pirate Jean Lafitte and his brother, Pierre. I hear he has joined up with an American general.”
“Aye, mate.” Eva looked to Brice, the captain. “Who is the American?”
“I shan’t ever forget the rebel’s name.” Brice pulled out his sword. “General Andrew Jackson.”
“We shall take New Orleans, and Lafitte will not have the Gulf as his kingdom.” Cuttin jumped to another rock and swung his sword. “Brave Captain. What else do we know of Lafitte?”
“Yes, tell us more.” Eva wrestled with the helm.
“He has established his empire on these waters. His fleets were scattered at Barataria, but I’ve heard rumors of him setting up forces on Galveston Island. But he will not escape us.”
“Aye, Captain.” Eva’s voice rose over the others. “Who said this about Lafitte? ‘He left a corsair’s name to other times, Linked one virtue to a thousand crimes.’”
“Lord Byron,” Alex shouted. “We must convince the inhabitants of Louisiana that he is not their benefactor.”
“Aye, good mates, but he supplies food to the Cajuns and the Creoles,” Alex said. “They will never help us.”
“Then we will take him ourselves for the king and England.” Brice raised his sword into the air. “We shall fight to the death for honor and victory. The terror of the Gulf will be no more.”
“Captain,” Eva called. “I ask permission to go ashore and see what I can learn about the pirate. I’m in the mood for a good swim.”
“Sharks infest these waters,” Brice said. “And gators swarm the shores.”
“I shall be careful, Captain. Can Mate Cuttin take over the wheel?”
The captain waved her away. “Your foolishness may take your arm or leg. But I respect your courage.”
“I will swim with my knife between my teeth.” She faced away from the boys and pretended to dive.
Tahoma nearly laughed aloud. No wonder the Wild Bunch adored her. She taught them geography and history while they played. Such a beautiful woman, a free spirit. He stood from behind a juniper, and at that instant, Eva looked his way. For less than a second he captured her sky-blue gaze.
CHAPTER 16
I held my breath, hoping I’d not lost my senses. I stared for several seconds and then blinked, but the Indian disappeared. He was much younger than the aging man I’d seen before.
I didn’t analyze my reason for chasing after the apparition. Perhaps my courage had something to do with my former role as a British sailor, or the resulting newfound gumption of fleeing killers, or my fierce protectiveness for the Monarch boys.
His image etched in my mind: jet black hair that hung below his ears, a strong physique, jeans, and a tan shirt. His left eye was an ugly shade of purple. Certainly a different sort of a spirit.
“Stop. I want to talk to you.” I saw or heard nothing, but the juniper tree hadn’t been something I’d conjured up. It stood there, its branches reaching up to greet the sky.
The man stepped into view, real and fierce looking, and I reconsidered my goal of interrogating him.
“You want to talk to me?” He stood wide-legged and crossed his arms.
“How dare you?” I caught my breath, and the fury exploded. “You were stalking us.”
“Not exactly.”
I stomped closer to him. “Then what would you call it?”
“I’m not sure you’d believe me.”
“Try me before—”
“Dr. Benally!”
A doctor? I swung around to see my three charges racing toward us. They knew this man?
“Hey, boys,” the man said. “Are you having a good time?”
“Sure.” Alex beamed. “This is our new teacher, Miss Fortier. She’s keen.”
I started to correct Alex’s slang, but finding out about the man dominated my priorities.
The man laughed, a pleasant, deep-throated rumble. For the first time I noticed he was extremely good-looking—except for his purple eye. How had I gone all my life never noticing the opposite gender?
But I was still angry. “Alex, would you like to introduce me to your friend?”
“I will.” Brice cleared his throat. When I glanced at him, he blushed. Sweet boy, his infatuation with me needed to end.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Miss Fortier, this is Dr. Tahoma Benally, the only doctor between here and Santa Fe. He’s Navajo, and he takes care of us when we’re sick or hurt.”
A real doctor? Maybe I should calm down a bit. Bad manners were not acceptable from anyone.
“Dr. Benally, this is Miss Fortier, our teacher.”
He reached out to shake my hand, and I responded, noting his callused palms.
“She’s the best.” Cuttin’s freckles darkened in the sun. “We like her ’cause she’s fun.”
“I see,” Dr. Benally said. “Are you behaving?”
“Yes sir.” Brice lifted his chin. “What happened to your face?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
Alex laughed, and I started to chastise his inappropriate reaction, but Dr. Benally caught my eye and winked.
How rude!
“I was wrestling with a wildcat, and he got the best of me.”
Cuttin’s eyes widened. “Would you tell us all about it?”
“Someday soon.” Dr. Benally turned to me. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“I wasn’t frightened as much as annoyed.” I wrapped my arm around Cuttin’s shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”
He smiled and revealed the most perfectly white teeth I’d ever seen. But his rugged features and captivating appearance would not dissuade me.
“I’d be glad to tell you when you’re free from your responsibilities.” His sparkling gaze switched to a narrowed brow, and I instantly figured out he knew about Walt. He must know about the knifing. Perhaps he’d done it. Walt could be in more danger.
“I’m most anxious to hear your story. I’ll be back at Ghost Ranch around five-thirty.”
“You’ll want to have supper. I’ll meet you in front of your cabin at seven.”
He knew where I lived? I didn’t like this turn of events. No, not at all. I’d do my best to find out about him before he arrived.
“All right.” So many things I wanted to say and ask, but not with the boys listening to every word. “Come along, boys. Let’s ride toward your house, and we can discuss our history lesson.”
“Dr. Benally, would you like to come along?” Alex said.
I nearly choked.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I have work to do.”
“Is someone sick?” Cuttin said.
He smiled, reminding me of an advertisement for Ipana toothpaste. “I’m helping my father.”
I bit back a remark—hard to help one’s father when you’re stalking a woman and innocent children. As soon as I returned to the ranch, I’d find Miss Arnold to get this matter settled.
The rest of the afternoon dragged on. I had so many questions filling my mind but no answers. And no way to obtain satisfaction until I returned to Ghost Ranc
h. I fretted about Walt, thinking I might need to ride to the rock to see if he still camped there.
Yet, if I took the word of my boys and their mother, Dr. Tahoma Benally, the famed Navajo doctor, held the title of sainthood. Would a man dedicated to healing the sick seek revenge on another man?
I managed to get to my cabin before five thirty in anticipation of talking to Miss Arnold. Unfortunately, she was nowhere around her house. I hurried to the horse barn where she often spent her free time. The smell of hay and horses met my nose, a scent I’d always associated with adventure and freedom. I found her talking to a ranch hand who appeared to be an educated man. Most likely the depression had sent him to the high desert to find work.
When she noticed me, she startled, reminding me to calm down.
“I’m sorry. I’ll wait for you outside,” I said.
“I’ll be just a moment.” Miss Arnold tossed a smile in my direction.
For the next few minutes I observed the ranch hands grooming and feeding horses in the corral. They were all friendly. Odd, it seemed the fewer teeth they had, the friendlier the conversation. I needed to remember that when I dealt with Dr. Tahoma Benally.
Once Miss Arnold was finished, she invited me for a walk to the cookhouse—a title that would have appalled Victoria, who insisted upon the dining table set in regal china and highly polished silver.
“I met Dr. Tahoma Benally this afternoon.”
She clapped her hands, as though she were my precious Cuttin. “Wonderful man. We adore him.”
Those words were not what I wanted to hear. “I think he was spying on me and the boys.”
“Did he frighten you?”
“A little. The boys knew him, and that relieved my apprehension. I was hoping you could tell me about him.”
“Eva, Tahoma is not someone you should fear. He is the kindest, gentlest man around. If I were a little younger, I’d be trying to get his attention.”
I laughed at her humorous comment, but I didn’t feel comfortable with her knowing I found the mannerisms of her friend strange. “Then you trust him?”