by Nina Bruhns
The corners of Joseph’s mouth curled up. “Then you won’t mind if I ask her to sit with me at the meal?”
Philip pursed his lips in an effort to appear indifferent, when in reality he suddenly wanted to flatten the guy.
“I thought so,” Joseph said neutrally, seeing right through his mask. He put a comradely hand on his shoulder. “Ah, well. She wouldn’t say yes, anyway.”
Philip was careful to keep his tone light and pleasant. “How do you know that? You can see the future?”
But suddenly he knew he would flatten the guy if he dared ask her to sit with him.
Luce was his.
And Philip had no intention of sharing.
“The future? I’m no medicine man,” Joseph said, slapping him on the back. “But I don’t need any magic to see she’s your woman.”
Joseph beckoned him to follow, heading for the backyard.
“Oh?” Philip said skeptically, trailing after. “And how’s that?”
“Simple. I saw the way she looked at you.”
Chapter 3
The man was obviously nuts. Or needed glasses.
“Right,” Philip mumbled. Time to change the subject back to what he was there for. “So, I was—”
“Make yourself at home,” Joseph interrupted as they approached a group of men lounging under a large oak tree drinking coffee and pop. Philip was introduced and a chair produced for him. Someone handed him an icy can of soda.
Correction: time to relax and blend in. In this world, he reminded himself, things came to those who waited. Impatience got you nowhere fast. He’d sown the seeds with the old man, now he just had to sit back and watch them grow. Eventually they’d bear fruit.
The men tentatively accepted him into their conversation, keeping the topics neutral while subtly testing him. He’d been around enough Indian humor to know when he was being teased, so he good-naturedly played straight man, and was even able to surprise them into laughter by resurrecting some old Paiute jokes he knew and giving them the Irish slant of his own ancestry. By the time their host rang the cook’s triangle an hour or two later signaling the blessing of the meal, Philip felt he was among friends.
He rose with the other men and strolled over to the tables where Luce was standing with the women. He’d kept an eye on her the whole time, in case she’d been ill at ease or looked as if she needed help. Naturally she hadn’t. What she had done was a lot of listening. She’d helped the young women cook, and with a smile endured the children’s curiosity and constant touching of her yellow hair, all the while doing very little talking of her own. She’d even sat on a blanket in a circle of old women for nearly an hour, listening to their stories.
Philip should have known she’d be fine. It was no wonder she was so good at her job. Her ability to fit in and adapt was obvious.
He was also dying to know if she’d come up with anything on Clyde Tafota. He hoped she’d had better luck than he had.
He’d shied away from the subject of Clyde with the men until Joseph had brought it up for him. It turned out none of them had seen Clyde since Thursday, nor had his sister, according to Joseph. By that time in the conversation Philip believed they were all being on the level. He’d handed around his card with both office and cell phone numbers listed so they or Clyde could get in touch if he showed up.
Which left the Soffit and Dickson robbery investigation just about the same place it had been this morning. Nowhere.
He went up to Luce and stood shoulder to shoulder with her. Barely touching. Just reaffirming their connection.
A hint of her perfume drifted in the air around him, and he couldn’t resist turning his head to get his nose closer. His body already recognized Luce’s own feminine scent underlying the perfume. She looked up.
“How’s it going?” he asked, taking in the sight of her in the top she’d changed into earlier. It wasn’t a T-shirt, but a more feminine style with a lower neckline and shorter sleeves. And it hugged her curves a whole lot better.
“Great. You?”
Damn, she looked good. “Real good.”
“Find out anything interesting?” she asked quietly, pulling him back to business.
He shook his head. “Not really. You?”
“Maybe.”
“Like what?”
“Later. Have you talked to Donna Tafota?”
“No. You?”
“Didn’t get the chance.” She lifted her chin at a woman standing on the other side of the table. “That’s her.”
The blessing started, so they bowed their heads with the others, after which they clapped for a seemingly endless litany of welcome-home-Marine speeches for the prodigal Munoz son, until the kid finally burst out, “Hey, enough already! I’m starving!” and they all sat down at the long tables to eat.
Philip was careful to position himself and Luce right across from Donna Tafota.
“I understand you are looking for my brother,” the fiftyish woman said after everyone had filled their plates. She had a square face with kind brown eyes, and a long black braid that hung to her waist.
“I just want to talk to him, Miz Tafota,” he told her, digging into the delicious meal. “But Clyde’s gotten himself into a heap of trouble up in St. Louis.”
She sighed, toying with her food. “I told him not to visit our cousin Bennie. He’s always been bad, that Indian. As boys they were wild, those two, drinkin’ and stealin’ cars and carryin’ on. But when Clyde got his repair business he changed. Turned over a brand-new leaf. Not Bennie.” She shook her head. “Now it’s drugs and murder he’s into.”
“Is there anywhere else Clyde could go? Other family somewhere?”
“No. Everyone he has is here.” She looked sad. “Clyde would never do these things he’s accused of. He’s a good man now. I know this.”
“So do the police, Miz Tafota. The evidence shows he was innocent of those drug shootings. That’s why I don’t understand why he ran. He needs to turn himself in and clear this up.”
“But if he’s innocent, why do they still look for him?”
“Innocent or not, he jumped bail. You know how it works, a bail bondsman put up a lot of money as a guarantee that Clyde would show up for his hearings and trial. He didn’t, so the bail was kept by the courts and the bondsman is out all his money until Clyde is returned to custody. Even if the criminal charges are dismissed, Clyde still has to appear.”
“Or they come after him for the money.”
“That’s right. And you don’t want him being hauled in by a bounty hunter. That could get ugly.”
Under the table Luce kicked him sharply in the shin.
Silently he swore. Maybe she didn’t feel guilty about hiding why she was there from Joseph, Donna Tafota and the others. But he definitely did. Even though Philip was in no way involved in Luce’s bail retrieval job, he was implicated by association since he’d brought her to the rez. And it bothered him.
Nevertheless he dropped the subject of bounty hunting and simply urged Donna Tafota to call him if Clyde contacted her. They’d deal with who’d take him where, if and when they found him. Hopefully he’d haul his ass back to St. Louis all on his own, and it wouldn’t be an issue.
But apparently Luce didn’t agree. She put up a good front during the leisurely meal, smiling and chatting cheerfully, but he could tell she was ticked at him. When his body brushed up against hers on the bench, she’d scoot away. When he spoke to her, she’d glance down at her plate instead of at him.
All in all, things had gone well at the reservation. But it was never a good thing to overstay one’s welcome. He casually put his arm across her shoulders and said, “We have a long drive ahead. We should probably get going.” Her spine stiffened.
“Okay,” she said. He figured he was in for a lecture.
They gave their thanks to their hosts and said their goodbyes.
“Stay in touch about Clyde,” Joseph urged as he closed the Jeep door for Philip and leaned a hand on the windo
w frame. “If he’s been involved in all these doin’s and hasn’t come home, to be honest, I’m starting to get a little worried about him.”
“I will,” Philip assured him, and clasped right arms with him solidarity style. “I don’t want to see Clyde in trouble any more than you do. His salvage yard and engine-repair business bring in a lot of trade to Piñon Lake. He’s a valued citizen.”
After they’d gotten back on the highway and were speeding toward home, Luce let loose on him. “What were you thinking? Warning them about bounty hunters while I was sitting right there!”
“They didn’t know you’re a bounty hunter,” he said calmly.
“Listen, you might not care about the income from your job,” she fumed, “but I do. I’m counting on this paycheck to—” She broke off.
“To what?” He turned to her, curious.
She crossed her arms over her abdomen and slunk down in the seat. “I want to open my own P.I. business. I need this retrieval fee. But even if I didn’t, this is my job. My livelihood. My reputation. You have no right to interfere with how I do it.”
For some reason he was glad she was getting out of the bounty-hunting business. But that didn’t change what was right.
“These people gave us their trust. We owe it to them to treat Clyde fairly.”
“He should have thought about that when he jumped bail.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he agreed. “But there are other ways to go about it.”
“Such as?”
“New Mexico state law requires bail enforcers to turn in detainees to the sheriff of the county in question. Instead of taking Tafota to St. Louis, you could turn him in to my friend at the Taos County Sheriff’s office.”
She exhaled hard, but he could see her consider. “And have him extradited?”
“You still get your paycheck that way, and Clyde stays in New Mexico.”
“All that takes time, O’Donnaugh. I’m on a deadline here. Bail is forfeit in less than a week.”
“They were nice people, Luce.”
“I know, I know!” she said exasperatedly. “Don’t lay on the guilt trip, okay? If I let myself be swayed by every nice person who cares about the jumpers, I’d never get paid. This is what I do. I have to be objective.”
“I understand,” he said.
And he did. He’d faced similar difficult situations in law enforcement. But in this case, Luce wouldn’t be around for the fallout. Philip had to live and work here. His reputation mattered, too.
He dropped the subject and drove in silence until they reached Dulce, to give her some space. He didn’t want to push her too far and risk losing her cooperation.
“I need a Starbucks,” she said as they drove through town. “Can we stop?”
He couldn’t prevent the chortle that escaped at the thought of one of the pricey, trendy gourmet cafés in a place like Dulce.
She scowled at him. “What?”
“Sweetheart, the closest Starbucks is probably in Taos. Maybe even Santa Fe. Is a substitute okay?”
Her face fell. “I suppose, if I have no choice.”
“Trust me,” he said, and pulled into the Apache Oil gas station. “You don’t.” He took a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Get me one, too. Black.”
She looked in horror from the twenty to the gas station. “You’re kidding, right?”
He just smiled.
With a long groan, she snatched the bill and got out of the Jeep. “I hate this state,” she muttered.
“It grows on you,” he called after her with a grin. City girl. Maybe she was a little prissy, after all.
Upon her return, she wordlessly handed him a tall styrene cup.
“Find what you wanted?”
“No decaf. No half and half, either.”
He clicked the edge of his cup against hers. “Good stuff. It’ll grow hair on your chest.”
She shot him a withering glare. “Just what I need.”
Steering the Jeep back onto the highway, he ventured, “I have a cappuccino maker at home.”
She blinked. “Yeah?”
“You could come over tonight. I’d make you some.”
“Philip, I’m mad at you,” she said patiently. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to your house tonight.”
“No need to get testy. It was just an offer. But we really should discuss our strategy for tomorrow.”
“What strategy?”
“You mentioned you’d learned something today that may be relevant to the case.”
Her expression turned incredulous. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to share information with you after this?”
“Sure I do.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“You called me Philip. First time ever. You must still like me.”
She covered her eyes with a hand. “I am not hearing this.”
“You need me. You want me. You can’t live without me. You also know I’m right about Clyde.”
“I can’t even imagine how to begin to respond to that.”
“You could start by sharing what you found out. Or…” He flicked the handcuffs hanging from his rearview mirror and waggled his eyebrows at her. “I could arrest you for deliberately impeding an ongoing investigation.”
He could practically hear her mentally count to ten. But he also spotted the beginnings of a reluctant smile. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a real pain in the neck, O’Donnaugh?” she mumbled.
“Neck?” He pretended to consider. “Nah.”
There. That was definitely a smile. “God, you’re obnoxious.”
He grinned over at her. “That’s why you like me so much. Now, go on. Tell me what you found out.”
She took a long sip from her cup, then grimaced in distaste. “All right. But I’m not going to your house.”
“Fine. Spill.”
“I heard about a place he might be hiding out.”
“No kidding? From one of the women?”
“Yep.”
“So why didn’t the lieutenant know about it?”
“He does.”
The guilt Philip had been feeling earlier ebbed a bit. “You mean he lied to me?”
“No. He just doesn’t realize he knows. And he’s not really looking for Tafota, so it probably never occurred to him.”
“Explain.”
“Some of the old women were telling stories today. About the tribe.”
“Yes, I saw you sitting with them.”
“One was telling about the old days, back when the children of the tribe had to go to the Indian boarding school down in Santa Fe. About how they were often mistreated and how they didn’t like being away from their Apache families, forced to live with Navajo and Pueblo children. The Navajo and Pueblo were considered the enemy back then.”
“Along with the U.S. Government, I expect,” he said wryly.
“Anyway, she told this story about a Jicarilla boy and girl who escaped from the school on foot. They walked for a couple of months trying to get back to their people. Up along the Rio Chama around Abiquiu they discovered a secret hidden box canyon with some old ruins, and they decided to stay for the winter. They ended up living there for almost a year before they were caught by authorities stealing chickens at a local ranch and sent back to the school.”
He could tell by her intonation there was more. “So what’s the punch line?” he asked.
“The girl was Clyde Tafota’s grandmother.”
Philip digested that. “Okay. That’s good. She still alive?”
“Unfortunately not. And no one else seems to know exactly where the canyon was.”
“Or they aren’t telling.”
“A definite possibility. But the school might have records. Or the police who found them.”
“Hopefully we can come up with an exact location with a few phone calls.”
They talked about the possibilities most of the way back to Piñon Lake, about how they could go about
getting the information they needed, and who would take care of what. By the time they were approaching the village, Philip felt fairly confident that Luce had completely forgotten she was mad at him. So he decided to take a chance.
Just before town, he swung the Jeep onto a well-used track that took them up the mountain.
Luce looked around. “Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
The sun was just setting. Because they were on the western slope of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, there was a wide, unimpeded view of the vivid streaks of color being painted in bold strokes across the sky, as if by a giant with a huge paintbrush.
“Oh, my Lord,” she said in a hushed tone as he steered onto a cleared area at the edge of a shallow drop. “That is amazing.”
He shut off the engine. “Just wait. It gets better.”
The sun went down quickly in the desert, so they sat there for ten or fifteen minutes soaking in the incredible cosmic show as it spun its magic upon the earth. First the sky turned bright yellow and lilac, then lavender and orange, melting into deep reds and violets, and finally fading to a stark black with slivers of purplish yellow.
“Incredible,” she murmured. “I have never seen a sunset like that before.”
“Welcome to the wilderness, city girl.”
She rolled her head on the neck rest and looked at him with a smile. “Okay, I guess it does have a few good points.”
“One or two.”
She glanced around. “Where are we?” she asked.
He got out of the Jeep and grabbed their things from the back bench. Then he came around and opened her door.
“My place.” He gave a little bow and gestured for her to hop out. “Welcome to my humble abode, Miz Montgomery.”
“What?” Luce balked. “Your place? This?”
She squinted into the darkness that had settled all around them, and was just able to make out a stone path leading away from the parking area to a low, silhouetted structure that nestled a hundred yards or so from the edge of the panoramic cliff drop.
“House, barn and fifteen acres,” Philip said.