All Roads Lead Home

by Christine Johnson

He nodded. “But you’re obviously not here on business, so what does it matter?”

  She couldn’t set her concerns aside so easily. “He mentioned something about oil leases. Is that a good business venture?”

  Sowich steepled his fingers. “No one has made money off oil leases yet.”

  “No one? That doesn’t make sense. I thought…that is, Mr. Gillard says oil is the means to prosperity. Surely the Blackfeet stand to gain.”

  “Perhaps, but the lessees will be the real winners.”

  “Lessees?” The papers on Gillard’s desk flashed into her mind. Was that what he was after?

  “Entrepreneurs like Hill and Lambert and Sherburne.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know these men, but couldn’t help being relieved that he didn’t mention Gillard. “I thought the leases would give the Indians financial independence.”

  Sowich leaned forward. “How many altruistic entrepreneurs have you met?”

  “A few.” Some of her parents’ friends gave freely of their wealth.

  “Far more are out to line their own pockets or the wallets of their friends. Unfortunately, it’s hard to tell which are which until it’s too late.”

  “Which is Mr. Gillard?” she asked softly.

  Rather than answer, Sowich rolled his chair back and hunted in his filing cabinet until he located an old newspaper. He spread the yellowed newsprint in front of her. The headline jumped out at her: Tribal Council to Issue Leases.

  She scanned the article, but didn’t see Gillard’s name mentioned. The names Sowich had mentioned were listed as potential buyers, but most of the article focused on limitations placed by Indian Affairs on the size of the lease and the tribal council’s desire to ease the restrictions.

  She looked up. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s war, Miss Meeks. No guns or arrows, but it’s war all the same. Sides have been chosen. Between the federal government and the tribe as well as inside the tribe. Full-bloods resist white interference. Some mixed-bloods agree with them, but most have teamed with white settlers to oppose the full-bloods. Oil leases are the flashpoint.”

  That didn’t answer her question. “Forgive me, Mr. Sowich, but what does this have to do with Mr. Gillard?”

  The director reveled in his superior knowledge. “An unscheduled meeting of the tribal business council was held late yesterday. Apparently, Mr. Gillard was the crux of the discussion.”

  That’s why Gillard had suddenly left her, why he raced after the judge—not to file legal action to get Luke. He didn’t mistrust her at all. It was nothing more than a business transaction. Those papers on his desk were probably his application for an oil lease, and the meeting must have been called to grant or deny that lease. But why was it unscheduled?

  “Do you know what the discussion was about?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “How would I know? I wasn’t there.”

  Sowich might have his guesses, but he apparently wasn’t going to tell her what they were. She fidgeted when he drifted back to discussing the curriculum. She needed to talk to someone who was at the meeting, someone like Judge Weiss. Maybe that’s what the judge had been discussing with Talltree when Gillard took off after him. If so, Hendrick could get the answer from Talltree.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sowich.” She stood without waiting for him to finish. “I’ve taken enough of your time.”

  If he was shocked at her breach of etiquette, he didn’t mention it. The director walked her out and bid her farewell. She barely heard a word. She had her nugget.

  By the end of this day, she would have the upper hand on Frank Gillard.

  Hendrick could not believe Mariah and Anna had left this morning without telling him where they were going. He learned from Mrs. Pollard they’d taken off on foot. She divulged the information only after he paid for the next night’s lodging. That left his pockets empty, and his mind whirling as he went to the garage to work off his frustration. What were they up to?

  He had only one answer—Gillard. The man had invited them to tour the national park today. They’d accepted and didn’t tell him because they knew he’d object.

  They were right. Just thinking about Mariah with Gillard made Hendrick’s blood boil. The man was getting to her. After yesterday, she’d stopped talking. She’d slammed the door in Anna’s face. And now she was off with Gillard again. Gillard. Even the name tasted rotten. The man had everything Hendrick didn’t. He could give her a fancy home, nice clothes and Luke.

  Hendrick shook his head as he got to work on the engine. Mariah would never hurt her brother. She adored Gabriel, even mothered him a bit. She’d never take Luke away…unless she had no choice.

  Was that why she’d been upset last night? Had she cabled Gabriel that all was lost? Hendrick’s gut clenched. Impossible. Yet Anna had hinted that might happen. She’d also said that Mariah might be more interested in Gillard’s courtship if Luke was part of the package. She’d insisted he romance Mariah before it was too late. After considering his options, he’d bought a little cake from Mrs. Pollard to share with her at breakfast, but instead it sat on the workbench, its icing drooping in the heat. No doubt Talltree wondered why they didn’t eat it, but Hendrick still hoped Mariah would return.

  With a groan of frustration, he resumed piecing together the fire pump motor. Motors were simple. They either worked or they didn’t. Unfortunately, this one didn’t.

  He reached for the three-eighths wrench. It was gone.

  “Joshua?” Hendrick still felt uncomfortable calling the Indian by his first name.

  Not hearing a reply, he looked around and spied a black Willys in front of the building. He’d seen that car yesterday, next to Gillard’s Packard across from the telegraph office. Hendrick wondered who owned it and what business its owner had with Frank Gillard.

  He stood and spotted Talltree and four other Indians carrying a heavy wooden pallet covered in oilskin. They strained under the weight, so he rushed to open the doors before they got there. The hot midday sun streamed in as the Indians hefted the pallet inside, supervised by a stocky white man in a suit and waistcoat. Though the man’s clothing was dusty and his hat well used, he carried himself with the assurance that only money and power brought.

  “You must be Hendrick Simmons,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Judge Weiss, Judge Oscar T. Weiss.”

  Hendrick grabbed a rag and managed to wipe off most of the grease before shaking the judge’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  A judge. Gillard had met with a judge. Why? Was he pursuing legal action to get Luke? Hendrick gulped. Or was Gillard pressing charges against Mariah and him for trespassing in his office? The judge already knew his name.

  Judge Weiss got straight to business. “Talltree here told me you’re putting together a pumper motor and needed something with more oomph. Will this work?”

  Hendrick’s concerns melted away as the men removed the oilskin tarp. Judge Weiss had brought him a straight-six. Hendrick examined the motor. From what he could see, it was in excellent condition. Of course, the cylinders might be scored or the valves frozen. “I’ll have to check it over thoroughly, but it looks good. Much better than anything we have here.”

  “Can you make it work, son?”

  Hendrick nodded. “If we can get even eighty percent of this engine’s horsepower, we should be able to pump a few hundred gallons per minute.”

  Satisfied, the judge peeled two fifty-dollar bills from his money clip. “The first fifty’s for parts, and the second’s for your time. How soon can you have her running? This place is tinder dry. Haven’t had a gully-washer in months. All it’ll take is one stroke of lightning, and this town’ll go up in a blaze.”

  Hendrick could see that. The field grass was the color and texture of straw, even at Gillard’s house. Gillard. Just thinking of the man made him angry. “Do you know Frank Gillard?”

  “Ain’t a soul in Brunley outside my acquaintance. ’Course I know Frank Gillard, though I can’t say
I’m glad I do. Why do you ask?”

  Hendrick breathed a sigh of relief. The two men weren’t friends. Gillard couldn’t have gone to him to try some legal shenanigans. He cast a sideways glance at Talltree and hoped he wasn’t betraying a confidence. “Some people don’t like him.”

  The judge grunted. “Most people don’t like him.”

  “But he seems pleasant.”

  “So does a wolf, son, until he bites your hand off.” Judge Weiss patted his pockets until he found his pipe. “If you’re the type to take advice, steer clear of him.”

  “Why?” Hendrick’s pulse hammered. That director at the Indian school had said the same thing. “What do you know about him? My, uh, friend is with him.”

  The judge looked him square in the eye. “Tell your friend to watch his back. Gillard’s your best friend as long as you’re doing things his way. Challenge him?” Weiss clucked his tongue and shook his head. “It ain’t purty, son.”

  Hendrick’s blood ran cold. As soon as Gillard figured out that Mariah wanted to keep him from his son, he’d turn against her. Men who hated to lose would stop at nothing to win. Even murder. Or compromising her.

  Hendrick clenched his fists. “I need to find her.”

  “Her?” Weiss peered at him in surprise. “Your friend’s a woman?”

  “What woman?” said the familiar voice of the very woman in question.

  Mariah stood in the open doorway, as calm and collected as always. Perhaps her cheeks were a bit flushed, but she certainly hadn’t been harmed.

  Judge Weiss tipped his hat and begged his leave. Talltree vanished into the station office. That left Hendrick alone with her.

  “What woman?” she asked again.

  “Uh, no one,” he hedged. “I wondered where Anna disappeared to.”

  “She’s helping Miss Meade at Beson Creek School. We both had a fulfilling morning.”

  Hendrick did not want to know what Gillard had done to fulfill Mariah’s morning, especially since they’d apparently been alone together on the tour.

  “Me, too,” he said sullenly.

  “So I see.” She glanced at the jumble of disassembled motors.

  “I’m making a pump motor,” he started to explain before noticing she’d braced her hands on her hips. She didn’t care what he was doing. She’d come here because she needed something. “What happened?”

  “I need your help.” Her wide hazel eyes glistened in the afternoon light.

  When she looked at him like that, he couldn’t resist. “With what?”

  “I need you to ask your friend here at the filling station—Mr. Talltree, is it?—about the tribal business council meeting yesterday afternoon.”

  “The tribal council? Why?”

  “I need to find out what they said about Frank Gillard at that meeting.”

  The buzzing sensation started in his fingers and moved through the rest of his body. Talltree was a private man, especially wary when it came to talking about his fellow Indians. Hendrick couldn’t ask the man to reveal tribal business. “That’s prying where we don’t belong.”

  “Just ask. He can always refuse to answer.”

  Some things he couldn’t do—even for her. They were interlopers in Talltree’s world. They did not belong here. He certainly wasn’t going to pry, especially to find out something about Frank Gillard. “Did Gillard ask you to do this?”

  Her hopeful expression collapsed into shock. “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Because you two are so close now.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Is that what you think? All this time together, all we’ve gone through, and you think I’m falling for him? Honestly, I don’t know you anymore, Hendrick Simmons.” She trembled, fists clenched, mouth working.

  Hendrick’s gut double-clutched. He’d made a stupid mistake. He’d let jealousy get the best of him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t going to help,” she cried, “and apparently you aren’t going to, either.” With that, she stormed out.

  In her wake came painful silence. Hendrick stood alone in the garage, his hands stained with engine grease. On the worktable, the last of the icing dripped off the cake.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mariah stormed across the street to the hotel. The nerve of that man. One little thing. That’s all she wanted. She’d gone to him looking for help, and he’d refused. Refused. Hendrick had never refused her before. What would she do? She had to find out what had happened at that meeting.

  By the time she reached the empty hotel lobby, her irritation had eased, but not her restlessness. She couldn’t just sit around. Anna wouldn’t be back from the school for a couple more hours, and she hadn’t spotted Gillard’s car in town.

  Mrs. Pollard peered at her over her reading spectacles. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Um, no.” Mariah scanned the list of tours posted at the desk. All cost money, which she didn’t have, but she had to do something, anything. “Is there a library in town?”

  “I’m sorry, there isn’t.”

  “Anything else?”

  “We got a hiking tour leaving at one,” Mrs. Pollard offered.

  “No, thank you.” Even if she could afford the fee, she didn’t need a bunch of chattering tourists with Brownie cameras. She needed…answers.

  What had come over Hendrick Simmons? He’d always helped her before. He wasn’t acting like himself. First, the jealousy. Second, saying she had no right to know what had happened at the meeting. Why, business council meetings must be public events, reported in the newspapers.

  Her eyes widened. The newspaper. That was it.

  “Do you have today’s paper?” she asked Mrs. Pollard.

  The woman pointed to a single copy at the end of the registration desk before turning her attention to the leader of the tour. The group thundered down the stairs in their hard-soled boots and pith helmets, clutching binoculars and cameras.

  Mariah scanned the headline, but quickly saw that the paper was two days old and from Great Falls. That wouldn’t tell her about yesterday’s meeting. She needed the local paper. Alas, Mrs. Pollard was surrounded by tourists asking about box lunches and canteens.

  She surveyed the lobby, hoping someone had discarded a copy of the local newspaper. By the time she’d finished, empty-handed, the tour had left, so she approached Mrs. Pollard again.

  “Do you happen to have the local newspaper?”

  Mrs. Pollard didn’t look up from her ledger. “Next one comes out Friday. It’s a weekly.”

  Mariah’s hopes flagged. Even if she could find a copy of last week’s paper, it wouldn’t cover yesterday’s meeting. She needed another plan. Judge Weiss had been there. If she couldn’t get any information from the tribal council or the newspaper, perhaps he could help.

  She headed down the dusty street, working off her irritation at one Hendrick Simmons with every determined stride. If he’d asked his friend, she wouldn’t have to do this herself.

  “Imagine the nerve,” she huffed when she reached the building where Gillard had entered with the judge.

  No one seemed to be there. She tested the door, which was unlocked, and poked her head inside. The dark room contained rows of chairs and a large table at the front, clearly a meeting room. This must have been where the tribal business council meeting had been held. She let the door slip shut. It could tell her nothing today.

  She headed back toward the hotel, hot and sticky but with Sowich’s words still ringing in her head. If she could just learn what had happened at that meeting, all her worries would be erased.

  “Imagine seeing you here,” drawled none other than Frank Gillard, who fell in step with her.

  “Not as unusual as seeing you.” She tried to hide her displeasure. “Your house, after all, is seventeen miles from town, whereas I’m staying at the Mountain View.”

  He doffed his hat. “Right you are. I had business in town and happened to see you. I had to say hello.”

  “Business?�
� His words made her wonder if she dare ask him about that vital meeting. If she took care to hide her emotions, maybe she could pull it off. “Do you have an office in town?”

  If he guessed the reason behind the question, he didn’t let it stop him from answering. “My office is at the ranch. I come to town to send telegrams, collect the post and place telephone calls. When I get wire laid to my ranch, even that won’t be necessary. But surely you don’t want to hear the boring details of my business.”

  “Actually, I’d love to learn more about your business. I know nothing about ranching other than what I’ve read in novels. Cattle drives and cowboys and riding the fences.”

  He laughed. “As you’ve seen, there aren’t any fences on the reservation. The cattle range free, and we round them up before we take them to slaughter.”

  “Just as in the novels?”

  He nodded. “But times are changing for the better.”

  “Oh? Is that what your meeting yesterday was about?”

  He didn’t even flinch. “Exactly. If my bid goes through, things will change around here.” He leaned closer. “We’ll have schools and hospitals and libraries. Every convenience of modern society. Progress is coming to Brunley.” He smiled with satisfaction. “It’ll be the perfect place for Luke to grow up.”

  “But you live so far from town,” she pointed out, unwilling to accept that she’d lost.

  “Is that what’s holding up your decision? If it is, I’ll build a house in town. I’ll do whatever you require to bring Luke home.”

  She couldn’t look at him, lest he see how disappointed she was. The meeting had been nothing. It wouldn’t help her keep Luke in Pearlman, and she had no other options.

  “Forgive me.” She hurried her step. Heartache threatened to overflow into tears. “I need to return to the hotel.”

  He caught her hand and pulled her to a stop. “You love Luke, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t look at him. “I need to go.” She tugged away and stumbled backward into the dusty street.

  “Watch your step.” He caught and steadied her, but his touch didn’t send that electric feeling zinging through her as Hendrick’s did. “You do love Luke. It all makes sense now. The time you spent with my son made you feel like his mother.” He ran a finger down her chin. “What a fine mother you’d make.”