by Aimée Thurlo
“Women always ask me that. Makes me wonder what they’re thinking,” he said, laughing. “But to answer your question, Hunter’s my fraternal twin. There’s a family resemblance, I suppose, but I don’t think we look that much alike, nor do we act and think alike. But despite all that, we’re close. I’ll introduce you someday.”
“I’d like that.” Aware of how cold it was in the cabin, she rubbed her hands together for warmth and wished she’d brought a warmer jacket.
“I’ve got a better way of staying warm,” he said, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around her. “I guarantee results.”
The promise swept over her like a slow, hot wind and her heart began thumping wildly. Taking a steadying breath, she forced her tone to stay cool and detached. “Of course you’re talking about putting logs in the fireplace.”
“Not really. That’ll do the trick, too, I suppose, but it’s not nearly as much fun,” he added in her ear, then stepped away. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go bring in some wood.”
As he went through the small kitchen and out the back door, Dana breathed a sigh. The sparks between them practically made the air sizzle. The big difference was that, to her, those sparks were simply first steps down the path to something deeper. Yet, from what she’d learned about him, Ranger loved the sparks for their own sake.
She pushed back the thought. It was useless speculation. They had no future together. Soon, she’d be leaving him behind and setting out on her own to go find Hastiin Dííl. She’d already come up with a plan. All she needed now was the chance to put it into motion.
Chapter Twelve
Dana sat alone on the hearth in front of a roaring fire. Nights in New Mexico could get very cold and tonight was no exception.
Ranger took a seat on the futon after placing more firewood on a cast-iron rack that looked homemade.
“I can’t get that last evening with my friend out of my mind,” she said quietly, staring into the fire. “If only I’d have seen what was going down sooner, or if I’d just reacted faster…”
“Stop. That’s exactly what you should not do. Second-guessing yourself is only going to make you crazy. Believe me.”
It was the way his voice dropped when he’d spoken those last two words that instantly captured her attention. “You have your own nightmares to deal with, don’t you?” she asked in a whisper, her heart going out to him. No matter what else was in play, they’d both lost someone who mattered to them.
He nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I chose to come here. This cabin, to me, is a place of healing,” he said, then added, “grab your jacket. There’s something I’d like you to see.”
Once outside, it took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but the moonlight was bright. He led her to the side of the fence that bordered the back and pointed to a small climbing vine.
“In the sunlight the leaves of that plant are a bright blue-green,” he began in a quiet voice. “It was my mother’s favorite plant. The vine isn’t supposed to grow at this altitude, but my mother kept bringing seeds and cuttings and wouldn’t give up. Then one day the vine began to grow. It’s been there for the last twenty or so years. It dies back after the first frost of the season then returns every spring covered with small orange flowers,” he said, then in a thoughtful voice added, “that vine is my mother’s way of reminding us that time, and love, can work miracles, and love endures, no matter how difficult its beginning.”
Ranger pulled her into his arms and for a moment held her gaze. His dark eyes gleamed with desire…and something more. Knowledge? For that one instant she was almost sure that he’d guessed she was planning to escape. But that was impossible…wasn’t it?
When his lips covered hers, all her thoughts faded away. The pounding of his heart against hers, the roughness and possessiveness of his kiss, bathed her in exquisite sensations.
By the time he eased his hold, her knees were ready to buckle. She shivered, holding onto him out of necessity as well as desire.
“Let’s go back inside,” he said.
She nodded. If only they’d met under different circumstances. Ranger’s courage and his determination to restore harmony and balance said more about him than words ever could. Now, to complete what she had to do, she’d have to find the same qualities in herself. She’d given her word to Hastiin Sani, and it was time to honor that commitment.
She pulled her hand away from his as they reached the hearth. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought,” she said. “I’m going to call it a night.”
As she went down the hall, she palmed the car keys from the table then stepped into the bedroom. Pulling the door half-shut, she blew out the kerosene lamp. Then she waited, sitting in the dark and listening. She wouldn’t try the window until she was sure he’d gone to sleep.
She already had a plan. She’d let the car roll downhill as far as possible before starting it up. That promised to be the tricky part-hoping the noise wouldn’t wake him. If she was lucky, she’d be able to get a good head start and he’d never catch up.
Minutes slipped by with agonizing slowness. She could hear him moving around in the living room. Finally, when it was close to four in the morning, she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Dana crept to the double hung window, unfastened the lever at the top and pulled the bottom half up slowly. On closer inspection, it was even narrower than she’d thought. No matter how much she pushed and maneuvered trying to get her shoulders through, there wasn’t enough clearance. She then tried feet first, and got as far as her ribs, but no farther.
Bruised but unhurt, Dana closed the window, fastened the latch, then returned to the bed, frustrated. She’d never make it out either door, not with him in the living room. Of that she was certain.
Moments after she’d returned to the bed, he knocked softly at the door. “You all right?”
“What?” she managed in a muffled voice.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to make sure everything’s all right. Thought I heard something, then I felt a draft.” He came into the room and checked the window.
She watched him, glad now that she’d shut and latched it. “Could you open it a crack? I know it’s cold, but I really like a little fresh air at night.”
He smiled and pushed it up about four inches. “Too much?”
“No, just right. You can close the door completely if you think I’m going to freeze you to death.”
“I’ve got plenty of blankets, and the warmth of the fireplace.” He lingered at her door for a second.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Sleep well.”
As soon as he left, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was time for a new plan. She’d wait till morning and see what kind of situation presented itself then. The first chance she got, she’d be gone.
SHORTLY AFTER SUNRISE, Ranger left the cabin, then facing east, took a pinch of pollen from his jish and made an offering to the Holy Ones, asking for protection and blessings.
Once his morning ritual ended, he walked back into the cabin. Last night he’d heard Dana open the window, then shut it. He had a feeling that she’d planned to make a run for it, but discovered that the windows were just too small to climb through. He already knew she’d taken the keys from the table. Everything was going according to plan.
He’d give her a chance to escape today and see what she did. The last time he’d spoken to his brother, he’d told Hunter that he believed Dana could be trusted. But Hunter had required proof, and had come up with a plan to test her. Ranger had been ordered to give Dana a chance to slip away, then follow her. If she went to Trujillo or one of his henchmen to report, they’d have their answer.
Ranger had brought her here to where there’d be an extra set of wheels waiting. Regardless of which vehicle Dana stole, he’d be able to pursue. He kept an extra key to both vehicles with him at all times, and the truck and the sedan had hidden GPS devices so they could be tra
cked.
As he stepped into the kitchen, Dana turned her head and smiled at him. “Good morning. Is there anything to eat here?” she asked, rummaging through the cupboards.
“There’s cereal and powdered milk in the top shelf,” he said, pointing.
She turned to look, and he took a quick glance at the hall table. The keys were there.
“Found it,” she said. “Do you want some, too?”
He shook his head. “I’ll eat later. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be outside for about twenty minutes. I’m going to reconnoiter the area.”
“You’re going to do what?”
“I need to make sure no one’s picked up our trail, so I’m hiking farther up the mountain to a good observation spot. By the time you finish breakfast, I should be back. If you need me, just come up the trail beyond the woodpile.”
Ranger went out the back door, wearing his shoulder holster and.45 pistol beneath his jacket. Now it began.
He continued past the woodpile, then climbed about fifty yards farther into the forest. From this spot, surrounded by vegetation and hidden in the shade, he had a good view of both vehicles. All he had to do now was wait.
After several minutes Dana came out and headed for the truck, keys in hand. For a moment he thought that she hadn’t realized that the keys were for the car. Then he saw her bend down by the truck tire.
Dana reached down, but then shook her head, and walked quickly to the sedan. Apparently, she’d thought about flattening the tire, then changed her mind, not wanting to leave him stranded. In a backward sort of way, his respect for her went up a notch. Her actions meant she believed in doing the right thing-which also meant she couldn’t be associated with Trujillo.
Ranger watched as Dana climbed into the sedan, released the brake, then steered as it rolled down the lane, making almost no noise at all except for the tires crunching on the gravel. The car was already out of sight around the first curve when she finally started the engine.
He dialed his brother on the cell phone while jogging back down the trail to the truck. “She took the car,” Ranger said. “For the record, she thought about disabling the truck, but changed her mind.”
“If you need backup, call in. I’ll have a few men I can trust close by.”
“You’re wrong about her, brother,” Ranger said. “I think I know where she’s going. It took me awhile to put things together, but there’s only one answer that makes sense. The medicine man knew about her photographic memory and found a way to make use of it. If I’m right, she’s going to try to find Hastiin Dííl to give him names. She hasn’t said anything about her plans because she was undoubtedly sworn to secrecy.”
“Do you think she has any idea where to go find him?” Hunter asked.
“Maybe. I suspected that she’d used the computer at the safe house so I searched its memory. I know she did an Internet search on medicine men and medicine hogans. It’s possible she also read a news article lifted from the tribal newspaper and has figured out the location of Hastiin Dííl’s medicine hogan. That’s no secret, because our new leader is also a well-known healer.”
“You’re making a dangerous assumption-that she’s innocent, and had nothing to do with the death of the Singer. But based on what?”
“I trust my instincts,” Ranger said, climbing into the truck and starting the engine.
“You said you believed she has the names of the Brotherhood of Warriors. If so, then she must know that you’re part of us.”
“The way I see it, she didn’t get all the names because I don’t think she knows quite what to make of me. I would have seen some kind of indication if she knew I was in the brotherhood. But it’s also possible she’s guarding the secret she was given.”
“So we’ll play this out and see what we get,” Hunter said. “ Trujillo ’s place-or more to the point, one of his places-is southeast of Farmington, near the Bolack Ranch. There’s only one road leading from the highway, so if she goes in that direction, you’ll have your answer. But what if she decides to make a phone call instead? There are pay phones at every convenience store between Shiprock and that location.”
“Then she only has to go as far as Shiprock, doesn’t she?” Ranger answered. “I’ll stay close in case she makes a stop, and keep in touch.” As Ranger ended the call, he took out the small unit with the GPS screen and turned it on. It would show, on a simple display, where Dana was headed.
He’d been certain that she wouldn’t go to Trujillo ’s, and was satisfied to see that his guess had been right. Currently she was taking the road that led to a small community called Rattlesnake. It was a mixed area, but traditionalists outnumbered modern Navajos four to one.
Ranger dialed his brother as he hurried on, taking a shortcut down a fire road that would get him out of the foothills. “Are there any medicine hogans close to Rattlesnake? She’s driving south in that direction.”
Hunter didn’t respond right away. “Not that I recall, but there’s the Bilagáana Trading Post. It’s farther south down the same road, maybe ten miles from Rattlesnake.”
Ranger had heard of it. Bilagáana meant white man, and the trading post had been aptly named by the white man who ran it. Jonas Sullivan was in his eighties, and had lived among the Diné almost all of his adult life. Jonas was one of the few white men who truly understood the concept of the Hohzo- maintaining beauty, order, harmony and stability in one’s life. Though it was a concept the Anglo world-the white world-found unattainable for the most part, Jonas Sullivan walked in beauty.
Twenty-five minutes later, after having just topped the hill leading into Rattlesnake, he saw the sedan passing the last house of the old settlement. Hanging back, he followed the dust trail down the graveled road.
Dana reached the trading post, a low, white cinder block structure with a nearly flat metal roof and one of those old-west-style fronts. She parked and walked right past the pay phone, disappearing into the store.
Ranger parked just down the road beside a small grove of stunted trees and waited. She was on a hunt of her own, but it wasn’t for a phone, obviously, or Trujillo, unless she was meeting him there. But that seemed unlikely. Trujillo, like Dana, would be remembered by everyone who saw him.
Ranger leaned back and prepared to wait and see how things played out.
DANA WENT INSIDE the trading post, stepping around the familiar potbelly stove, well-stoked at the moment to take the chill out of the interior. A cast-iron kettle on the top was steaming, adding humidity to the dry desert air.
Although it was barely 9:00 a.m., the general store was already crowded. Most of the patrons were Navajos, but there were two or three adventurous Anglo tourists who’d taken the back roads early today.
The sights and scents were all familiar to her-canned and packaged food, saddles, leather goods, garden implements and motor oil. Space in establishments like these was always at a premium, and every counter, corner and section of wall was lined with merchandise.
Soon Dana spotted Jonas Sullivan, the owner, speaking to a Navajo woman holding a child. Although he’d glanced her way, he hadn’t recognized her. She hadn’t seen him in over a decade but, to her, he hadn’t changed much. As far back as she could remember, Mr. Sullivan had always appeared old to her.
She waited, looking at some finely woven Navajo rugs. Most had the natural blacks, whites and browns of undyed wools. Woven from handspun wool, these were exquisite, and expensive as well. Mr. Sullivan had always carried the best of the best-including her mother’s paintings of the Navajo Nation. Dana waited her turn patiently, and eventually he came over.
“May I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
Dana beamed him her best smile. “Mr. Sullivan, don’t you remember me?”
His eyes narrowed and suddenly he smiled. “Dana! Of course! I haven’t seen you in ages. You know, I still have one of your mother’s paintings of Window Rock hanging in my living room.”
He lowered his voice, looking around cautiously. “
I heard on the news that you had been the victim of a crime, and were now a protected witness.”
“I am,” she answered softly. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”
“Follow me.” He took her behind the counter, nodding to the young Navajo clerk as they passed by.
Jonas had always lived in the back of his trading post, and as they stepped into his living room, she noticed that the interior was even more crowded than she’d remembered.
“What brings you all the way out here? Do you need my help?” he asked, waving her to the faded green couch.
“I need some information,” she said, sitting down. The cushions were so worn, she practically sank into them. “I came to you because you’ve lived in this area since before I was born. You must know just about everyone.”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that, but tell me what you need.”
“I have to find a medicine man-at least I think he’s a medicine man. But whatever it is he does, I’m betting he’s well-respected by the tribe. He goes by the name of Hastiin Dííl,” she said, careful not to reveal anything more than was absolutely necessary.
Jonas nodded. “I know who you’re talking about, but finding him won’t be easy. He lives northwest of here, almost to Beclabito. But you have to go in from the south because of the road. It’s not much more than a dirt track.”
“If he’s close to Beclabito, he might have electricity and a phone,” she said, thinking out loud.
“I don’t think so. And I should warn you-no one seems to know where he is at the moment. I’ve had several people stop by and ask me about him.”
“Patients?”
“Yes, and friends, too. The most recent was an Anglo man. He was the one in the T-shirt and baggy pants who was at the magazine rack when you came in. The guy in the baseball cap,” he added.
Remembering what Jenny had told her about a man wearing a cap, she followed up instantly. “I noticed him, but I thought he was just another tourist. A man in his thirties, right? Do you remember what the writing on the front of his shirt said, maybe the name of a company or school?”