by DiAnn Mills
She nodded. “Of all the men you will meet here and around the ranch, Tahoma is the most trusted of them all.”
Had Miss Arnold followed me to check on Walt? I swallowed hard just thinking about how I’d deceived her with my past dealings surrounding him. Maybe it was guilt causing me to interpret something different from what she’d said.
“Eva, write Mr. Murdock about Tahoma and his father, Nascha. He’ll tell you the truth about those two men.”
“You’re not making much sense.”
“Once you understand what those two are doing for you, you’ll be more at ease.”
What did she mean? “Tahoma is coming to see me tonight. I’m a little nervous, but you don’t think my trepidation is founded?”
“Not at all. Enjoy his company.”
After supper I rushed back to my cabin to collect my thoughts and begin a letter to Mr. Murdock before Dr. Benally arrived. The temperatures had dropped considerably all day, and I shivered in the cold. Miss Arnold had enlisted one of the ranch hands to build me a fire each evening, and tonight it felt exceptionally comforting. We used the fireplaces on cold nights at home, and I savored the scent of burning wood. It occurred to me that I should be building my own fire. Tomorrow I’d talk to Miss Arnold about learning how to take care of my own needs. She’d shown me how to wash my clothes, but I still lacked cooking skills—and the knowledge of how to build a cozy fire.
My thoughts wandered back to Dr. Benally. Confusion escalated while I composed my inquiry by lantern light to Mr. Murdock and waited for my visitor.
When all my questions finally poured onto the paper, I collapsed on the bed. My life had become one dilemma after another. I could scarcely remember the days when which dress I should wear to an upcoming tea held the most importance in my life. What I thought I couldn’t do without had been replaced by black coffee—no cream.
A knock at the door told me the time had come for a few answers. I stood from the bed and smoothed my trousers before snatching up the lantern.
I opened the door to a bitter wind. In the faint light, Dr. Benally leaned on one leg and gave me a crooked smile. My heart did a little flip. I couldn’t remember Walt inciting such a scandalous inner twinge.
“Dr. Tahoma Benally, I’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
“Do you always talk so formal?”
I stiffened. The boys had asked me a similar question, but I thought they were being children. The man before me was a medical doctor, certainly accustomed to proper grammar and word usage. “I’m not certain.”
“I should have asked if that is how everyone in New York talks.”
“If you mean proper English, the answer is yes. How did you know I was from New York?”
“Word travels fast.”
“It’s extremely cold out there, Doctor. I’m at a loss for a place to suggest where we should talk.”
“I have an idea, but you’ll need to bundle up.”
I wavered between anger at his suggestion that I hadn’t the good sense to dress appropriately for the weather and a hint of gratefulness that he was concerned about my welfare. “Are you going to explain to me why you were stalking me and the Monarch boys today?”
“No. I decided against it.”
I clenched my fists, and my jaw refused to work for a moment. “Dr. Benally, of all the nerve. I—”
He held up his hand. “Why don’t you get your coat, and we’ll talk?”
“Give me a substantial reason why I should step out into this frigid evening with a man with whom I am not acquainted. And a man who refuses to divulge the truth about his actions.”
“Have you ever been escorted on a walk by a Navajo in the high deserts of New Mexico?”
The man was exasperating. “Of course not. But if I permit it, will you tell me how you know James Murdock?”
“I could be persuaded.”
At least I was getting somewhere. I set the lantern on the table and grabbed my coat to hand to Dr. Benally, who still stood in the doorway. He laughed and held it for me while I slipped my arms into its warmth.
“We’ve been invited to Charlotte’s for cake and coffee.”
My eyes widened, and I hoped he didn’t see my surprise. Rather than hurl any more questions his way, I wrapped my frustration around the lantern’s handle and vowed not to be in the dark about anything. Ever again.
CHAPTER 17
“Juan, I can outride, out-rope, out-shoot you any day of the week. We Navajos taught you how to survive here.”
“Is that so? Even with my limp, I could take you on any day of the week. Gotta horse out there now that needs breakin’.” Juan lifted a cup of hot coffee to his lips.
“Name the day.” Tahoma laughed. “How about six in the morning?”
I watched with increasing curiosity while Dr. Tahoma Benally interacted with Miss Arnold and several ranch hands during the ginger cake and coffee event. Ten people were in attendance, and Miss Arnold and I were the only ladies. In the past, I would have cringed, but being the center of attention had its defining moments. And I found myself learning more about the male gender—odd creatures, but likable.
“I’ve had a toothache for nigh onto a month,” a slim, weathered man by the name of Rex said to Dr. Benally. My nose detected, he also needed a bath and a scrub brush.
Dr. Benally laughed. “I’m a doctor, not a dentist, but I might be able to help you. What are you taking for pain?”
Rex grinned, revealing a near-toothless smile. “Good ole whiskey.”
“Too much of that stuff can cause you to stumble.”
“Oh, I only drink it at night so I can sleep better with the pain.”
What nonsense. I’d smelled liquor on his breath a few times this evening. He’d wasted no time in catching up with his drinking since Prohibition had been repealed less than two years ago.
“Can you ride out to see me some evening?” Dr. Benally said.
“What about tonight? Might as well jerk it out of there. Don’t have many left anyway.”
The rest of the people in the room laughed, but I didn’t think losing one’s teeth was a happy occasion. These ranch hands ate their weight in beef, so how would he chew?
“Let me finish a second piece of cake first.” Dr. Benally lifted a mug of coffee to his lips. He smiled at me, and the man with the toothache snickered.
“Tahoma, I think you’re here tonight to collect favors from Miss Fortier.”
Heat rose from my neck to my cheeks. Miss Arnold needed to conduct etiquette classes among the ranch hands.
“Well, I think Miss Fortier has a mind of her own, and right now I’m not on her acceptable list.”
The room roared, and my cheeks burned. Were all Indians so blunt? But I knew how to gain the upper hand. “We have a common acquaintance, and Dr. Benally has yet to give me the information I requested.”
More laughter.
“Miss Fortier, before I examine Rex’s tooth, I shall give you the information you want.”
I smiled, but I didn’t mean it. “Thank you. Perhaps we should step outside?”
“My guess is it’s dropped five degrees since we entered Charlotte’s little party.”
“Dr. Benally, the outside temperature could not be any colder than what we have in here.”
I realized my words would bring on more amusement, but I didn’t care. No one, absolutely no one, was going to get the best of me.
“No one meant any harm.” Miss Arnold’s soft voice was full of compassion.
I nodded, not knowing what to say, since I didn’t fit in with any of them.
“Then I will answer your questions promptly.” Dr. Benally gathered up my coat and held it for me just as he’d done at my cabin. He shrugged into his and opened the door. From the light shining behind us, I could see snow falling in heavy flakes.
“How beautiful,” I said.
“Pure, white, and innocent,” he said. “Reminds me of you.” His gentle tone soothed me in an odd sor
t of way.
For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single smart retort. Then it occurred to me that “pure, white, and innocent” might have meant “stupid and weak”. I tossed him a bewildered look. “Are you insulting me?”
“Not at all. It was a compliment. Miss Fortier, the laughter inside is because the men in there like you. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be wasting a good joke.”
I guess that was supposed to make me feel better. Even so, Miss Arnold had enjoyed the humor. “I’ve not been involved in a social event in which people were openly mocked.”
“So they were talked about behind their backs?”
He was right, and the truth seared my heart. Society could be cruel. “Dr. Benally, I’m not sure if your question is something I want to answer.”
“I understand.” He stared off into the night. “In answer to your question, Mr. Murdock and my father are friends. I’ve never met your family’s attorney.”
“Your father?”
“Yes, Nascha Benally.”
“So your father is the reason I was sent here? Can I talk to him?” I shivered in the cold, the wind whipping around me like a demon jabbing me with a sharp knife. I staggered to catch myself, or maybe it was the new information that shook my balance. “Not tonight, of course.”
“I’ll ask him.”
The thought raced through me that I might have already seen his father, especially since Dr. Benally had been following me.
“Dr. Benally?”
“Please, my friends call me Tahoma.”
He might have given me permission to call him by his given name, but I wasn’t ready for him to call me Eva. “Sir, I’d like to meet your father as soon as possible. In fact—”
The door opened, and a man stepped onto the porch. I’d seen him earlier this afternoon when I searched for Miss Arnold. I paused for a moment to recall his name…Pete Davidson.
“Doc, if you have time, I’d like to talk to you about an ailment. Been bothering me since yesterday morning.”
When he dropped the r in his words, I immediately detected his New York accent. My gaze flew to his face, and something between slight realization and dread assailed me. Could he mean danger? Fear wrapped its fingers around me. Had I been discovered?
“I’ll step back inside and allow you gentlemen to talk.” I needed time to think. Maybe I needed a new place to hide.
“She would like to talk to me about my friendship with James Murdock.” Tahoma’s father nodded slowly, as though he needed to digest Eva Fortier’s request.
“I preferred to tell her a portion of the truth, but it was not my place to speak of her father.”
“She may not be ready for the whole story.”
Tahoma remembered her spunky mannerisms. “I think she could easily accept her father’s relationship with you.”
“Is she blunt? Speaks her mind?”
Tahoma laughed. “And beautiful.”
“I wouldn’t have referred to Andrew as beautiful. But when he wanted to know something, he refused to let it rest.”
“Then she is her father’s daughter. She will not give up until you have told her everything.”
“That’s nothing new. Your mother does the same.”
Both men chuckled.
“I also talked to Pete last night. He told me things were quiet at the ranch. I asked him if anything unusual had turned up in the area. He said no, which means the man you knifed is either dead or escaped.”
His father said nothing for several seconds. “I’d like a couple of days to prepare before meeting Eva Fortier.”
Tahoma understood his father needed to perform a ceremony before the meeting. The time would allow Tahoma to decide whether he should be present when Eva learned why she’d been sent to the high desert.
“I can tell she is in your thoughts,” his father said. “And I know you admire handsome women.”
“Not in the way you might think. She’s frustrating and very proper.”
“A white woman could break your heart.”
Tahoma didn’t need a lesson about fickle white women. He’d ridden that train, and when it derailed, he vowed never to climb on board again.
CHAPTER 18
That night I snuggled beneath the layers of quilts and attempted to push aside my thoughts about the intriguing and mysterious Dr. Benally. I had so many questions surrounding him that my mind refused to slow down. Everyone seemed to like him, and I really wanted to. But the man infuriated me with his…charm. That was it. He had charm, and a Navajo Indian should not challenge my mind or be so handsome. My breath caught in my throat. Had I succumbed to prejudice or branded Dr. Benally with an ethnic stereotype? Oh, I hoped not. Grandfather would not have been pleased with my judgmental attitude, although he had his own set of rules to live by. Lately I found myself dwelling on his positive traits instead of those things that upset me. His passing had much to do with my change of heart.
I’d always wondered why the killer had spared my life. Was it pity? Had he been in a hurry? I shook my head in the dark. His warnings had taken longer than if he’d pulled the trigger again. But something had caused him to change his mind. After all, he could have later realized my testimony against him would lead to his arrest. How ironic, when I wasn’t able to identify him.
My concern rested on the ranch hand with the New York accent. He could very well be associated with Grandfather’s murder, and he could have been sent to eliminate me.
In the wee hours of the morning, I resigned myself to consult Miss Arnold about the man in her employ. I valued her wisdom. He was her ranch hand, and she knew my plight.
Perhaps I should pack my things and leave in the morning. At the very least, resign from teaching. My boys were too precious to subject them to danger.
If only I might find a few hours of sleep.
Before four a.m., I rose with a strange inclination to read the Bible. When I lived in Syracuse, my Bible gathered dust on my nightstand until Sunday mornings. My religion was what I did in church—never at home. Victoria claimed she was an atheist and never attended church. But Grandfather did, and I accompanied him, which I always felt was for appearance’s sake. We read our prayers from a hymnal, and the reverend suggested we remember those who were sick and in need. Afterward, Grandfather would quiz me on the sermon, but once we drove up through the iron gate of our three-story stone mansion, all talk of God ended.
In the far corner of my dresser drawer tucked behind a silk shawl was a Bible, probably left by another guest. I remembered the sermons at home and the Scriptures we read. I couldn’t see how something written thousands of years ago might apply to my life today. But I desperately needed hope.
By lantern light on my nightstand, I thumbed through the thin pages. How peculiar that the violence in the Old Testament quickly changed with a turn of the page to Matthew. Instantly the reader was supposed to love everyone. The idea of embracing Grandfather’s killer had as much appeal as selecting a rattlesnake for a pet. I admit, much of the Bible didn’t make sense to me. But many people used it as a road map to guide their lives, like Mrs. Jessop, the cook at home. She always sang hymns while she cooked—when Victoria or Grandfather were not within hearing distance. Mrs. Jessop told me once that she used the Bible as a map for life’s journey, and I could tell she meant it. My road map had twisted and turned from Syracuse to Ghost Ranch—and maybe soon to a Navajo Indian village.
I looked through all the books listed in the table of contents and recalled the stories about Abraham and Moses, David, and all the prophets who declared hell’s fire and brimstone, and then to Jesus. Since I didn’t understand most of the writings, I decided to begin reading Genesis. Like most books, perhaps it would make sense when seen in one big picture.
Then when the sun came up, I resumed my target practice.
Miss Arnold joined me for breakfast at the cookhouse. I appreciated her company amidst so many men, who were usually too busy to notice me. The food was not as delectable as
what Mrs. Jessop made at home, but I’d begun to enjoy ranch cooking.
“Do you have time to talk to me a moment?” I said after she’d taken a few sips of coffee and eaten a generous amount of scrambled eggs.
“Of course. What’s on your—” The look on my face must have alarmed her. “What’s wrong, Eva?”
“Can we talk in private?” I looked around the room and pointed to an empty spot at the end of a long table.
Once we moved our plates and coffee, I glanced up to see the man with the New York accent staring at us.
“Good morning, Miss Arnold, Miss Fortier,” he said.
I felt the blood draining from my face. Dizziness followed, and I poked a forkful of eggs into my mouth—not exactly proper etiquette.
“And a good morning to you, Pete.” Miss Arnold turned to me. “He’s a fine man.”
I studied Mr. Davidson. Nothing out of the ordinary about him—average height, average looks. Ah, he did have a scar on his left cheek. “What is he doing so far from home?”
“With the country still not back on its feet, people have to go where there’s work.”
I picked up my mug of coffee, a little thick with grounds. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Miss Arnold stiffened, and I feared I’d offended a good friend.
“I’m sorry. I’m concerned that he is not like the other ranch hands—and his accent.”
Her eyes filled with compassion. “Eva, my dear, Pete Davidson is not the enemy.” She glanced about, obviously to make sure no one was listening. “Pete was hired by Mr. Murdock to look after you. He’s guarded you every late evening until morning since you arrived.”
My insides churned at my profound error. “Oh, Miss Arnold, I—”
“Please, my name is Charlotte.”
I smiled, relieved on so many fronts. “Thank you—for allowing me to call you by your given name and for telling me about Mr. Davidson. How good of Mr. Murdock to look after me.” I stared at her and swallowed hard. “That also means Grandfather’s killer hasn’t been found.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together. “I’m so sorry. No one’s been charged.”