Winter Hawk's Legend

by Aimée Thurlo

  “I was getting to it,” Gene said, stomping snow off his boots. “My truck’s warmed up now so I’m taking off. I have to meet the tribal attorney who’s helping me get our foster father’s papers in order. I’ll give you a call on my way back to town and let you know about the road conditions.”

  Holly looked out the window. “We’re practically snowed in,” she said. “You’re not going to make it to the road.”

  “It’s not that bad, only about four-inches deep. Besides, I’ve got snow tires, and chains if I need them. That pickup of mine sees worse when I head out to feed livestock in the winter. Of course I’m sure my brother will want to stay here awhile longer before heading out. He’s sensitive to the cold and more…delicate.”

  “That’ll cost you later,” Daniel growled.

  Gene laughed, then good to his word, said goodbye and left. Holly heard him slowly drive away a few minutes later, his truck in low gear.

  “We’ve got some five-minute oatmeal in the kitchen,” Daniel said, motioning toward the other room. “I’ve also got a fire going in the stove. We can boil water for that and get some coffee brewing, too.”

  “Sounds good. Let me help,” she said.

  Ten minutes later the oatmeal was done, and she spooned it into two bowls. Gene had brought a quart of milk, which made the oatmeal more palatable than with the powdered stuff she’d found in the cabinet.

  “If I haven’t heard from Preston by the time we finish breakfast, I’ll call him,” Daniel said, and poured the coffee into two mugs.

  As Holly walked over to the small table, she heard the scuttle of the badger in the next room. “The cold temperatures should keep him quiet. They don’t hibernate, but they slow down considerably,” she said. “Do you ever feed him?”

  “We did while he was injured, and we left water out for him, but now that he’s well he takes care of himself.”

  She nodded, thinking how much like the badger Daniel was. He had his own streak of wildness. As her gaze strayed over his shoulders, she remembered how hard and muscular his body was, and how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked, adding a teaspoon of sugar to his oatmeal.

  Realizing that she’d been staring, she looked down at her cereal, then gave it a stir. “Just waiting for the sugar and thinking of the badger,” she mumbled.

  “No you weren’t,” he answered with a ghost of a smile.

  “Aw, be quiet,” she snapped.

  He laughed.

  Several minutes later, finished with breakfast, Daniel reached for his cell phone. He glanced at the display, then stood. “I’m going to have to go outside and walk around. The storm system is interfering with the signal. Will you be okay here?”

  “Of course. I’ll clean up while you talk to Preston.”

  She watched him go, glad that he slipped through the outside door quickly. The Arctic breeze made her shudder and there was an air leak around the pet door that granted the badger’s access.

  Despite the roaring fire and the warmth of the stove, it was still in the low fifties inside the cabin. She missed her home and all her comforting rituals, like brewing a pot of her peppermint tea.

  Determined not to get emotional, she finished clearing up, washing everything in a big basin of hot water, then went to stoke the fire. Minutes ticked by, and when Daniel failed to return, she went to the window and looked outside. He was standing in the clearing to the left of the house, still talking on his cell phone.

  Seeing he was safe, she breathed a sigh of relief and went to sit by the fire.

  Seconds later he came in and joined her. “Preston is sure we’re dealing with someone with police training—or maybe a fireman. Have you had problems with anyone who fits that profile?”

  “No, in fact the only people I know with that type of background work security at the natural gas plant.”

  “Are you friends or at least on friendly terms with any of them?”

  “Besides you, there’s Bruce, who’s usually at the gate when I pass through, but that’s it.”

  “I’ll have someone speak to him,” Daniel said.

  “You haven’t told me exactly why Preston thinks my stalker is in those professions.”

  “The absence of evidence all the way down the line,” he said.

  “This last time, the fire did the job for him.”

  “Maybe so, but trace evidence is nearly impossible to eradicate completely and that’s what they’re concentrating on now. The fire marshal and the police may find a clue at the doors and windows, depending on how he rigged those so we couldn’t get out.”

  “We know one thing,” she said, then seeing he was waiting for her to clarify, added, “He wants me dead by any means possible and is willing to take you along with me.”

  “I’m protecting you, so I’m a problem for him,” Daniel said.

  “There’s no reason for both of us to stay in his line of fire.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, so don’t bother bringing up that possibility with Martin. Like it or not, we’re in this together. To him, I’m a loose end because he doesn’t know how much you’ve told me.”

  “Why can’t I reason this out?” she said, pacing. “I must have done something to get in this man’s sights.”

  “Keep thinking about it until the answer comes to you,” he said.

  “All my life I’ve had to deal with the unexpected. As a kid I never knew what was going to happen next, so I was always going over possibilities, thinking about what-ifs. Talk about déjà vu. I’ve got to do the same thing now.”

  “After your mother passed away, things got really tough for you, didn’t they?”

  She nodded. “Whenever Dad was on a winning streak we always had plenty of everything, but that never lasted long. Sometimes there wasn’t enough money to even buy food because he’d use all the cash we had to get back into a game. That’s when I learned to fend for myself.”

  “How?”

  “I started all kinds of little businesses—whatever I could do after school. I walked dogs, babysat, offered to wash people’s cars or mow their lawns—whatever I could get that would earn me a few bucks,” she said. “Dad had a gazillion enemies, but I had the ability to make friends at the drop of a hat. Maybe people just felt sorry for me back then.”

  “Did you ever feel sorry for yourself?”

  “Sometimes, I guess, but I couldn’t dwell on it. I had to be the strong one because I was the one without the addiction,” she said. “I spent most of my time trying to make things better.”

  “You still do that. That might be part of the reason you love restoring old furniture.”

  She nodded. “I think TechTalk Inc. reflects some of that, too. I want to help people make the most from the world around them. That takes understanding new technologies so they can choose between the good and the bad.”

  “There are people who’ll always object to change.”

  “If I were working to build a nuclear power plant in the Four Corners, I can see how I might make enemies who’d want me dead,” she said. “The thing is, I’m just a spokesperson. I don’t make decisions, I just explain what’s being planned or is already in place.”

  “That’s what has finally convinced me these attacks are personal. It’s not what you do, it’s who you are that’s making him come after you.”

  “So we’re back to where we started—nowhere.” She took a deep breath, then let it out again. “Hiding out isn’t going to solve the problem, though. Sooner or later I’ll have to surface, and when I do, he’s going to be there waiting for me.”

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, they set out, having learned from Gene that the storm had produced only rain at the lower elevations. Holly checked the rearview mirror every few minutes even though the dirt road they were on only had one set of tracks in the snow—from Gene’s pickup.

  “Relax. He’s not there,” Daniel said quietly.

  “He always comes at me out of nowhere,” sh
e whispered.

  “I’m watching for him,” he said, his jaw set. “Do you want to go directly to Martin’s office?”

  “No. I’d like to drive by my house first. Before I can go on, I need to face what’s already happened. It’ll be my way of finding closure, of making myself understand that although my things went up in smoke, I’m still here. He didn’t destroy me.”

  “Your place is probably still a crime scene. If it hasn’t been released yet, you won’t be able to cross the yellow tape line. Why don’t you call Preston and ask him what the status there is?” Daniel handed her his cell. “Press two.”

  Holly made the call, and when Bowman answered she pressed the button that put him on speaker. “Detective, I’d like to come in and take a look around my home,” Holly said, surprised by how steady and calm she sounded. Inside, she was neither. “I’d like to know what, if anything, is left.”

  “It’s still a crime scene, Ms. Gates,” he said. “I’ve been working with the arson investigator, and so far we know that the fire had multiple origins—the front and rear entrances, the roof in the rear and the east wall. The arsonist used an accelerant, probably white gas, one of the fuels used in camping stoves and lanterns.”

  “Four separate places…. He’s really going all out now.” Her voice shook but she cleared her throat to cover for it.

  “Unfortunately for him, I’m very good at what I do. I’ll catch him—guaranteed.”

  “Are you on-site now?” Daniel asked.

  “Yeah—hang on,” Preston said, then spoke to someone else.

  Holly glanced at Daniel and felt a tug deep inside her. He’d made her battle his own. No one had ever stood by her like this. An ingrained caution warned her to fight her growing feelings for him, even as another part of her longed to surrender, to be swept away by the magic she’d found in his arms. Surrender…could it be so bad when it felt so right?

  Bowman came back on the line. “The fire marshal found that the locking mechanism on the kitchen door was jammed from the outside with soft, lead wire. That’s why it wouldn’t open.”

  “I won’t interfere with your investigation, but please let me come by and see what’s there for myself,” she said.

  “All right, and while you’re here I’d like you to look around and see if you can spot anything that doesn’t belong. It’s unlikely that this man left something behind that would lead us to him, but you never know.”

  As the call ended, Holly took a deep breath, fighting a deep-seated panic. “I’ve been attacked, chased, basically I’m homeless—”

  “But you’re still alive,” he said, interrupting, “and we’re going to keep you that way.” He glanced over at her. “You’ve been through a lot, Holly, but it hasn’t all been bad. You’ve made some great friends along the way—Gene, Preston, me and let’s not forget Mr. Badger.”

  She smiled. “You’re right. I won’t focus on what’s not right. It’s what’s working now that matters most.”

  The roads were clear once they reached lower elevations, as Gene had reported, so they made good time.

  At her insistence, once they reached Hartley, Daniel stopped at a drive-through for some coffee. She wasn’t desperate for the eye-opening brew, it was more of a delaying tactic. She wanted to make sure she’d be ready to face the scene at her house.

  “You’re scared,” Daniel said as they waited in the car for their drinks, “but you don’t need to be. The worst is over.”

  “It may not be,” she said, then after sipping her coffee, continued, “The hardest thing about facing an enemy like this is I can’t get away from him mentally.”

  “We all need to recharge from time to time. Hosteen Silver used to do that by going into his hogan,” he said, driving down the highway again.

  “And you and Gene?”

  “Gene thrives on his ranch. It’s back-breaking work, but he loves that place because it gives him a sense of continuity. Land is something that will always provide for you if you take care of it—those are his words, not mine.”

  “And you?”

  He considered it before replying. “Everything I need is within me. It isn’t based on where I am. My strength comes from knowing I’ve got the skills and instincts to handle myself no matter what comes my way.”

  “I envy you,” she said softly.

  She remained quiet as they drove into Hartley. She’d tried to prepare herself mentally as the miles had stretched past her window, yet the second her house came into view, her breath caught in her throat. What remained was a shell comprised of walls surrounded by scorched wood and rubble. The kitchen was recognizable only because of the blackened refrigerator that still stood in place, leaning slightly.

  Daniel reached for her hand and she clung to it almost in desperation. She didn’t want to be strong anymore. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, let his strength envelope her, and keep the hurt at bay.

  He squeezed her hand and, with effort, she pushed back the darkness. “Okay, let’s go take a look.” Her words sounded brave, but inside all she felt was a hollowness that matched the empty shell her home had become.

  Almost as if sensing that she needed him, he remained close by her as they walked toward the house.

  As they approached, Holly saw three department vehicles parked along the curb and a crime scene van in the driveway. People, some uniformed officers and firemen, were gathered in clusters, or working alone inside the yellow tape line. A film crew from the local cable station was interviewing some official in a suit, and a fireman was taking photos.

  Preston broke away from his work and walked up to meet them as they stepped onto the scorched yellow lawn, now damp from last night’s rain. At least her yard would recover, she reminded herself, trying to find something positive to focus on.

  “The places where the oak floor appears intact aren’t necessarily safe to walk on. They’ve lost their support underneath, so watch your step,” he warned. “Also be careful not to touch or lean on anything that may give way.”

  She nodded, staring at the house. Portions of the roof remained, although her porch and the area around the front door were completely destroyed.

  “Where’s the best access route?” Daniel asked.

  “The fire department cut a hole through the west wall. Go through there. The floor around both exits is completely gone.”

  Holly swallowed hard, then followed Daniel. A gaping hole, crudely cut by a powerful saw judging from the piles of damp sawdust, led into the den. Grasping at anything she could to bolster her spirits, she took comfort in the fact that the room beyond seemed fairly intact. Maybe her photos had survived.

  She pressed her purse to her side, reminding herself that no matter what, at least one memento remained untouched. She still had her mother’s gift. Of all her possessions, nothing meant more to her than that.

  As she picked her way through what was left of the rooms, she saw that what the flames hadn’t destroyed smoke and water had. The shelves where her photos had been were now nothing more than blackened, charred wood soaked in water. “My photos….”

  “Are still there inside you—images no one can ever take away,” Daniel said.

  His soft words seemed in sharp contrast to the stony look on his face. Yet she’d learned that was just his way. He never showed the world what was in his heart. His actions spoke for him and told her how much he cared.

  They went down the hall and Holly discovered that her bedroom had sustained the least amount of damage. Although her bed and clothing were ruined, everything on the north wall remained untouched. Both her college diploma and her award certificate from the tribe in honor of her special services were intact.

  “If only a few things were meant to survive, I’m glad these made it,” she said, taking them off the wall and tucking them under one arm.

  Minutes later, they stepped off the foundation and Preston came over to join them. “Anything?”

  Holly shook her head. “What’s in there….” He
r voice suddenly broke despite her efforts, and she looked away.

  “I better get back to work,” Preston said. Giving her time to gather herself, he focused on Daniel. “Can I talk to you for a minute, bro?”

  As they stepped away, Holly was glad for that moment alone. Seeing her home like this had been harder than she’d ever imagined. Yet it was time to move on. All her life she’d found the strength to create something new from the ashes of what could have been. She could do it again.

  Though she’d been looking off into the distance, a prickle of warmth spread through her. Obeying that instinctive knowing, she turned and met Daniel’s gaze.

  In the midst of chaos he stood tall, offering strength. In his eyes she saw honor and determination. Life would eventually place them along different paths. Yet, for now, he stood between her and danger, an ally that would not be moved.

  Leaving Preston by his squad car, Daniel joined her a moment later as his brother drove away. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I don’t know if I’ve said this enough, or even at all lately, but thanks…for everything.”

  “No thanks are needed,” he said gruffly.

  She knew instantly that she’d made him uncomfortable and let it pass. “Once the guy after me watches the local news tonight and sees all the people here, maybe he’ll back off. He won’t need to keep coming after me just to prove what a bad guy he is. He’s already shown our entire community.” Holly raised her voice, trying to be heard over the roar of an accelerating motorcycle.

  Before Daniel could answer, the motorcycle raced up onto the sidewalk. As it bore down on them, the helmeted cyclist raised his right arm and pointed a gun right at them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daniel tackled Holly to the ground as two shots rang out. One bullet whined past his ear like an angry bee, the second thumped into the ground so close the turf kicked up into his face.

  Daniel rolled Holly in the opposite direction, hoping to throw off the man’s next shot, but no third round came. Turning his head, he watched the motorcycle cut back into the street at the next driveway and roar off, leaving an acrid cloud of blue, oily smoke in its wake.