Renee Simons Special Edition

by Renee Simons

  "That's Billy Winter heading over here," Katti said. "There's no way to avoid his company. I hope you don't mind."

  "Well, Officer McLaren. Didn't realize you knew our Katti." The deputy slid into a chair. "Mind if I join you ladies?" The waitress came over and Billy looked up at her with a smile. "My usual, Sherri, if you please."

  "Did it ever occur to you that we might have wanted some privacy?"

  Billy looked at Katti and nodded with exaggerated understanding. "Girl talk, huh?"

  "Oh, give us a break, puh-lease."

  "It's all right, Katti," Zan said. She, too, found Billy's condescending tone annoying, but his connection to Kenny intrigued her. "We have room for one more."

  "So how's your vacation going, McLaren?"

  "Fine, thanks."

  "Do much sightseeing?"

  "Some."

  "Gonna go to the powwow this weekend?"

  "You really should attend and see our people at their best," Katti said. "The dancing, the color and the fun are as much a part of us as anything you may have seen so far."

  "Yeah," Billy said. "You gotta watch the rodeo and shop at the craft booths. There'll be plenty of the jewelry and pottery you eastern folks seem to love so much."

  Lord, Zan thought, this guy needs an attitude adjustment.

  "Billy, don't be such a jerk," Katti said. "Easterners aren't the only folks who like native jewelry and pottery. And that's not the only reason people come. They want to see the culture, too."

  "What the hell's eatin' you, Katti? I can't seem to say anything that pleases you."

  "Maybe if you weren't so damned patronizing. . . ."

  The waitress brought Billy's lunch. He glanced at Katti. "What can I do to get back in your good graces?"

  Katti watched him steadily for a moment, then gave him an almost challenging look. "Zan and I've been talking about Michael Stormwalker. You know him pretty well don't you?"

  Billy gave her a jaundiced look. "Yeah, I know him."

  "I mean, didn't you hang out with him when you were kids?"

  "How would you know that? You were just a baby."

  "I've heard stories."

  "Then you also must've heard we stopped 'hanging out' in middle school."

  "I was just telling Zan that's he's something of a hero around here, but you don't like him much do you?"

  "He's something all right, but hero ain't it."

  Eager to hear an opinion that reinforced her own negative view of the major, Zan leaned forward. "Why do you say that?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" He stabbed his spoon into a bowl of chili. "The guy's a traitor. An officer and a traitor. While the rest of us grunts just did our duty the best way we knew how, he was lookin' to make a buck by selling out to the enemy. Nothin' heroic about that. Not in my book."

  "Anything else?"

  Suddenly wary, Winter watched Zan through narrowed eyes. "Why should there be anything else?"

  Zan shrugged. "I don't know. Instinct, I guess."

  "You been talking to that sonofabitch Stormwalker? He set you on my trail?"

  "I had no idea you'd be here. If you remember, we didn't invite you over. You invited yourself."

  "Yeah, well, I just uninvited myself." He pushed away from the table and carried his lunch to the counter.

  Katti stared at Billy's back, then glanced at Zan. "He's almost irrational when it comes to Stormwalker."

  "Why?"

  "The way I heard the story, it started when they were kids. Billy was the leader of the boys until Stormwalker challenged him and beat him. The boys began to look to him instead of Billy, who's hated him ever since."

  "Competition between two kids doesn't seem strong enough motivation for a lifelong hatred, does it?" Zan asked. "I'm curious, though. If you knew all that, why did you set him up?"

  "I wanted to see his reaction." Katti shrugged. "I know that sounds terrible, but I just want him to get over his anger against the man and get on with his life. The way things stand, he's so full of bitterness, there's no room for anything else."

  Katti's dark eyes held an expression of sadness but Zan resisted the temptation to delve. They paid the check and walked back to the sheriff's office.

  They said goodbye at the door. "Next time you're in town let me know," Katti said. "We can have lunch again, if you want." She gave Zan another shy look as if not quite sure how she would receive the invitation.

  "I'd like that. I don't have any friends out here."

  Katti touched her arm lightly. "You do, now." She smiled and went back to work. Zan went to the car and started back to the reservation.

  *****

  She enjoyed the heat and the rush of dry wind around the open cab of the MG. The afternoon sun heated the air, creating shimmering waves that straddled the asphalt roadway like a shiny inland sea. For such days was the low-slung convertible made.

  She remembered Deputy Winter's warning and looked at the speedometer. The flat, open countryside through which the highway ran had deceived her into thinking she drove slower than she actually did. She eased up on the gas pedal. In the distance, a man walked along the side of the road. She steered away from the shoulder and hugged the broken white line dividing the east and westbound lanes.

  As she approached him, she recognized the unusual height, the broad shoulders straining at the confines of a sweat-dampened work shirt, the strong, muscular back that tapered to a narrow waist and the powerful legs encased in worn blue jeans. With a grin, she admired the way his firm buttocks filled those jeans, rolling with masculine grace as he took each long step. When her imagination led her to wonder how they would feel beneath her hands she laughed aloud. She'd begun this mission hating the man, but somehow, he'd brought her back to life.

  She pulled in a yard ahead of Stormwalker and waited for him to come abreast of her car. "Want a lift?" she asked.

  "Thanks." He spoke without any enthusiasm.

  "Would you rather walk?"

  "Not now that you stopped."

  He folded his long frame into the seat beside her, giving the vehicle the dimensions of a kiddie car. For the first time, she realized the MG just might be inadequate.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Walking."

  "Coming from town?"

  "Yup."

  "Please spare me that laconic Indian unkcé, Stormwalker." She glanced at him long enough to see a tiny smile turn up one corner of his mouth.

  "Where'd you learn that nasty word?"

  "Mac. He said I should use it any time I thought you were snowing me. What were you doing in town?"

  "Had to see Kenny Becker."

  "You could have ridden with me. Next time ask."

  "I prefer to handle things on my own."

  "Too macho to ask for help?"

  "Being on my own for a change seemed like too good an idea." He shifted his body to find a fraction more leg room and to consider for a moment that her remark had been a little too close to the truth for his comfort. "I'm trying to enjoy my freedom while I've still got it."

  "Well, I can certainly understand that, but hitching a ride doesn't require a major commitment."

  Stormwalker watched as she stared at the road ahead. The tip of her tongue flicked across her bottom lip, leaving a glistening film that enhanced her mouth's soft fullness. He felt something stir deep within him as he considered how her mouth would feel beneath his. His gaze wandered over her face.

  She wore no makeup, and didn't appear to need any. The sun had left her skin with a gentle tan; her cheeks glowed with good health. She'd tied her hair back from her face with a brightly colored scarf, exposing her graceful neck. Her hands looked strong and capable on the wheel, her arms just muscular enough to evoke an image of power without detracting from her femininity.

  She raised a hand to her cheek. "Is my face dirty?"

  The gesture allowed him to see long, slender fingers tapering to oval nails unadorned by polish. Womanly without frills, he thought.

&n
bsp; He shook his head. "No. I was just thinking you handle this car very capably."

  "I've been driving it for a long time."

  "Belonged to Dar, didn't it?"

  She nodded. "He left no survivors, legal ones, that is. The personnel people gave me the option of keeping it or selling it. I kept it as a reminder of him. Not that I needed one."

  "I certainly can't fault his taste . . . in cars or women."

  "Well, there certainly were enough of them."

  "Cars?"

  "Women," she said without rancor.

  "I meant you specifically." He smiled as a blush betrayed her embarrassment. "The others all predated you and would've fallen short, I'm sure."

  Her hands clutched the wheel as she looked over at him and then back at the road. "How would you know that?"

  "The office grapevine. While I was training at the Agency, your relationship was a hot topic. And the grapevine seemed convinced that you'd settled him down and transformed him into a one-woman man."

  "At least I was there for him for a little while."

  "You're still there for him . . . making sure justice is done. I could've used that kind of loyalty." He glanced at the scenery, remembering his failed marriage, then shrugged off the pain.

  "What happened between you and your wife?"

  That she understood his reference surprised him. Maybe he could bring himself to talk about Sherelle. "The court martial happened. She couldn't hack the embarrassment and the public condemnation so she left."

  "That must have been tough to handle."

  "Apparently. Being married to an up-and-coming officer carried a lot of prestige with it, so she never minded being a Marine wife. But when the unkcé hit the fan, she felt as though fingers pointed at her, too. Fact is, the media attention hurt everyone on the rez. Whatever was said or written about me reflected on the rest of the tribe. In some ways it was worse for them than for me. At least I knew I was innocent."

  "I was thinking about you not her. Just when you needed her support, she cut out. Why aren't you more bitter?"

  "I was, for a long time, but I don't think about her much anymore."

  A small sign with an arrow pointing left came into view. Zan looked at her side view mirror, then made the turn. "Seems like you had a right to expect she'd stand by you."

  "Yeah, well, it's one thing to be pilloried by an unfeeling system that demands loyalty without returning the favor. It's another to be deserted by someone who's supposed to love and care about you." He groaned inwardly. "Does that sound like self-pity?"

  "Not coming from you. Besides, your feelings are your feelings, and no one has the right to belittle them." She gave him a teasing smile that warmed him in a way he hadn't felt in too long. "Not even a big strong Marine like you."

  He found it easy to talk to this woman. Despite their differences, she had the ability to appreciate how he felt, one of the many qualities his ex-wife had lacked. He grinned. And she had a better sense of humor.

  The car bumped along the pitted road that bisected the reservation. Looking for Thunder Butte, he watched table-top formations rise above the prairie. Far in the distance he spotted the faint shape of the place where the Great Spirit had defined his future, promising he would walk at the head of his people and lead them into the next century.

  In preparing him for the vision quest, his Grandfather had cautioned that to run from a prophecy could bring disaster. But Stormwalker didn't believe in divine intervention, either to punish or to bless. He'd chosen a life beyond the reservation and right or wrong, would continue to make his own choices. Any disasters that resulted would be of his making. Another curve obscured the landmark. He would have to go up there again. Soon.

  Zan parked in front of Stormwalker's house and turned to him. "You've lost your father, your marriage, your career and reputation. This situation has cost you just about everything."

  "That's why it's important for you to get at the truth."

  "No matter what it is?"

  Like two long-time friends, they'd trusted each other today. Considering how far apart they'd been only days ago, the conversation had amounted to a huge gamble for both of them but he was pretty certain the results had been worth the risk. "No matter."

  "Haven't we had this conversation before?" Zan asked.

  "Same words, different attitude."

  He uncoiled and levered himself up and out of the car, returning the smile that had brightened the darkest places in his heart. "I do believe we just turned a corner." With a two-fingered salute, he turned and went into the house.

  Chapter 5

  Zan woke early after a restless night and went to the computer with a muffin in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. She picked up where she'd left off, examining the remainder of Dar's file. After several minutes, her phone rang. Without taking her eyes from the screen, she reached over and picked up the receiver.

  "McLaren here," she said.

  "Why aren't you at the festivities?" Mac asked.

  "I'll get over there eventually."

  "I know you're busy with your other work, but I'd like your presence to be the first priority. Your expertise may be helpful should a crisis arise. And we've reason to believe one will."

  This was the first time they'd talked since he'd asked for her help. Although his lapse into pseudo-code annoyed her, she kept her tone light. "Is this on your time or mine?"

  "If you remember," he said with dry emphasis, "there was more than one element in this assignment. So I don't care if you're on the clock or off, as long as you're available when needed. Is that understood?"

  Sheesh, she thought. Big brother's funny bone has been dislocated. "Understood," she echoed docilely and raised her hand in a silent salute.

  "Call me if you run into any problems and remember Dad's old saying, 'forewarned is forearmed'."

  He hung up, leaving her staring at the receiver. To her dismay, he'd just warned her to carry her off-duty firearm.

  *****

  Inside the reservation gate and more than two miles from the newspaper building, a campground had been set up filled with tipis, stripe-roofed tents and temporary booths of all sizes and shapes. Just beyond lay a parking area choked with so many vehicles that she parked at the outer edge, far from where the powwow itself took place.

  Above her, the sun rode high in the sky, like a great, brassy disk. A hot, dry light rained down on the scorched prairie. She closed her eyes and felt herself relax as she soaked in the heat. This climate suited her better than the humid summers in Virginia and New York. Even her injury hurt less out here. She wondered how the winters would be.

  Reluctantly, she heeded Mac's warning, unlocked the glove compartment and removed her revolver. Once, it had represented safety and a necessary tool of her trade. Now, the silver blue object felt heavy and cold, reminding her how quickly such a weapon had ended one life and changed another. With a shudder, she chambered a cartridge, then dropped the revolver into her shoulder bag. She swung her legs outside and crossed the parking area.

  She made her way down the rows of vehicles and drifted through the crowd. How would she locate Stormwalker, if he was here among the thousands of people? As if to emphasize the difficulty, groups of young men chanted and drummed out steady, measured rhythms that intensified the general cacophony of sound. The scene shimmered and vibrated with color wherever dancers practiced in their feathers and beads.

  Crowds of appreciative buyers or curious onlookers made their way from one stall to another admiring the creations. Hordes of children converted mere chaos into total anarchy as they darted between the booths and chased each other around adults who turned their pathways into an obstacle course.

  After a fruitless search of the crowd, she decided to have Mike paged over the P.A. system. Perhaps he could lead her to Stormwalker. About to enter the office, she saw Katti approach. Something obviously disturbed the young woman.

  "I saw Stormwalker with Billy Winter and two of his frien
ds, and from the way they acted, I think there's gonna be trouble," she said.

  "Which way were they headed?"

  "Toward the parking area," Katti replied.

  "Let's find the reservation police and get them on it."

  "They're handling a multi-vehicle accident on one of the service roads."

  "All of them?"

  "There's only two guys. The rez can't support any more."

  "Then I'll have to handle this."

  "I'm going with you."

  "I appreciate your wanting to help, but as a civilian you can't do anything."

  "If Billy sees me, maybe he'll back off."

  "Maybe. Stay here anyway."

  Zan made her way through the streams of people and between rows of parked vehicles. The wind blew in from the prairie and dried the perspiration that ran down her cheek and between her breasts. She strained to hear something that would tell her the men were out here. Finally, she heard what she hoped she wouldn't: a dull thud, followed by a grunt of pain; the two repeated in rhythmic counterpoint to each other with a regularity that sent a chill through her.

  She cleared a new row and leaned into the aisle. To her right she could see that two men held a third pinned against the back of a van, while another pummeled him about the face and midsection.

  Without giving herself time to think she palmed the .38 and moved down the line until she was directly behind the group. "Gentlemen."

  At her quietly commanding tone, the men holding Stormwalker turned. Billy Winter stopped in mid blow and faced her. All bore enough bruises to prove Stormwalker had put up a fight before they subdued him.

  "Stand away from that man, please."

  "You're out of your jurisdiction, Officer McLaren."

  "Maybe so, but I can still report this."

  Winter made no response but his gaze traveled from the weapon at Zan's side to somewhere over her left shoulder. His eyes held a strange expression combining anger and embarrassment.

  "Why are you doing this, Billy?" Katti had followed Zan and now moved to stand beside her.