by Lois Greiman
“I was ridin’.” She breathed the words like a prayer.
“I know you were,” Vura said, raising her gaze to Tonk’s. “And you did great.”
“Tonka says the trot’s rough as a corncob but I can sit it. And the lope …” Her expression was awestruck, a sober happiness that transcended smiles. “It’s like flying without wings.”
“You were amazing, honey, but how about you run up to the house now?”
“But I wanna ride more.”
“Not right now.”
“I wanna.”
“Some other time.”
“No! Not some other time. Now! I gotta ride now.”
“Sihu.” Tonk’s tone brooked no argument. Vura glanced toward him, surprised by the sternness. His back, she noticed, was as straight as a reed, his expression, no-nonsense. “What did we learn about Native children?”
Lily scowled for a moment, then ducked her head. “They respect their elders.”
“And?”
Her mouth twisted sourly. “They apologize when they’re wrong.”
He raised one brow.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said, and turned with a huff to make certain they understood her displeasure, then slumped off toward the house.
The barnyard went silent. Arrow dropped his head to graze.
“I understand why you’re angry,” Tonk began, soothing preemptively. “It seems too fast to you. Too dangerous, but Lily is not like other children, Bravura. You know this in your heart. Lily is—” He shook his head, searching.
Vura waited.
Seconds ticked away.
“Exhausting?” she guessed.
He scowled as if grossly offended, then let his shoulders slump and sighed.
“I have no idea how you do it every day.”
She managed to keep a straight face.
“Even my ears are tired.”
She did laugh now. “Tell me about the wraps,” she said.
“Wraps?”
“Yeah.” She motioned toward her legs. Lily’s shins and calves had been entirely bound, knees to feet, in four-inch-wide cotton.
“Ahh …” He nodded. “Track bandages. They are used to protect the legs of working horses.”
She nodded, waiting. He didn’t continue.
“But she’s not a horse,” she reminded him finally. “Working or otherwise.”
He nodded, apparently aware. “She wished to learn the proper way to wrap a cannon bone.”
“That’s why you swathed her up like a mummy.”
“Ai,” he agreed and nodded slowly. “That … and the fact that she was injured.”
“Injured!” A thousand garbled worries, momentarily stemmed, rushed in.
“All body parts are still attached,” he hurried to add. “She said that was what’s important.” For a guy who’d ridden a relay race while passing a kidney stone, he sounded oddly panicked, and somehow that soothed her.
“What happened?”
“A scratch. Half an inch, maybe. I cleaned it and called the clinic to make sure she’d had a tetanus shot.”
A scratch. She breathed a mental sigh of relief and shuffled toward Arrow. Despite her uncertainty around the behemoth beasts, they drew her, too. “So you wrapped her entire lower legs?”
He shrugged, watching her carefully, like a prairie dog might eye a rattler. “I am fond of my skin.”
She raised a brow.
“Which I thought might be flayed from my body if she was injured again.”
She laughed a little. “Am I that bad?”
A flash of humor sparked in his river-agate eyes. “Perhaps you are that good.”
She knew his words shouldn’t make her feel weepy. And it wasn’t as if she was going to cry, going to bawl like a baby. But she turned away … just in case.
Silence again, long and deep, before he spoke.
“I will leave you to tend your young one.”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Okay.”
“And I thank you for this day, Bravura. She is …” He breathed a thoughtful sigh. “All things good.”
She heard him turn away, heard the gelding follow in his footsteps, and pivoted, breath held.
“Tonk?”
He glanced over his shoulder, just a glimpse of his proud profile juxtaposed against the narrow braid nestled in his loose midnight hair.
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
There was a pause, long and thoughtful. “Ai.”
“Oh …” She nodded, understanding. “Okay.”
“But I would appreciate the help of a small flower, if she is not otherwise engaged.”
Vura nodded. “Yeah, I think …” Her eyes stung. Why would this man see the wonder in Lily? Why? When others who should, did not? “I think I can clear her calendar.”
Their gazes met, sparked, held, and for a moment she thought he would return to her. Would touch her and make the world right. But he only nodded once and turned away.
Chapter 33
The front door was nearly silent when Dane pulled it open. But Vura heard it. His footsteps were ghostly quiet against the carpet as he stepped into the darkened living room. But she heard those, too.
And her hand was almost steady as she pulled the lamp’s chain.
“Vey!” He jerked as if he’d been shot.
She smiled, amused, despite a thousand nagging worries. It was four o’clock in the morning. She hadn’t slept for twenty-two hours and she was about to do the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.
“Hi.”
“Holy—!” He laughed at his jittering nerves. “You scared the living crap out of me.”
Living crap … that … actually … might be what he was … and yet she felt oddly civil. Strangely content.
“Where have you been?”
He scowled. “Working. I told you this morning I got a job with Neut.”
She felt old suddenly. Letting her grandfather’s afghan pool onto the couch, she rose to her feet. “You used to try harder, Dane.”
He turned as she moved past him, his scowl still in place. “What are you talking about? It’s …” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I just put in a long, hard day.”
She stepped into the kitchen, turned on the light, illuminating a thousand ugly chickens. “You used to be able to make your lies believable. You used to do that much.”
“You’re calling me a liar? Is that what you’re doing? I’m working my tail off and you—”
“Mitsouko, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “Geez, Vey, you’re not even making sense.”
“Just because I don’t douse myself in perfume, doesn’t mean I can’t recognize a fragrance.”
Something skittered through his eyes. Fear, maybe. But in a second it was gone. “Well, I wasn’t at the work site this whole time. We had a couple of beers after.”
She dumped her coffee in the sink, wondered if she’d ever learn to make a decent cup, and turned. “We?”
“The boys and I.”
“Which of them prefers a peachy scent?”
He stared at her a second, then laughed. “Tracy was there, too. She musta been wearing something.”
“Tracy?”
“Teresa Coldwell. Andy’s kid. She’s doing some finishing work. Not too bad at it.”
She made no comment, just watched him. How, she wondered, had she been so blind for so long?
“You remember her,” he said. “She used to hang around the construction sites with her old man.” He grinned, took a step toward her. “Kinda like you, but not so pretty.”
“I called Neut.”
“What?” His brows dipped.
“I called Neut Irving.” She took an apple from a bowl on the counter, a knife from its wooden block. “He said he hasn’t seen you in months.”
“Well …” Anger jumped in his eyes, but he calmed it. “I wasn’t working directly under him. It was just one of his crews. He’s got about a hundred of them. I’d almo
st forgotten how backbreaking that—”
“Your girlfriend called today.” She cut out a slice of apple.
“Vey …” He breathed a laugh. “You’re going nuts. I don’t—”
“Minnie Mouse voice? Not too bright?” Removing the core, she took a bite. Pink Lady apples were her favorite, but Galas were good too. And Granny Smiths, if they weren’t too tart.
“What the devil—”
“I tried to call her back, but she didn’t pick up, so maybe she’s not entirely brain-dead.” She rested her hips against the sink, incised another slice.
He didn’t bother to hide the anger now, but he infused it with a strong dose of indignation; he was a master.
“So you were checking up on me? Is that what you were doing? Tracking me like a dog while I’m out there busting my hump trying to make a living for—”
“I saw you had time to come back for your phone while I was gone.”
His left eye twitched. “I was hoping to get a call from Emerson. Thought you’d be happy if I got a job with them, but I guess there’s no way I’m ever going to be good enough for you.”
She stared at him a second, and then she laughed. She couldn’t help it, but in a moment she was back in control. “Tell me the truth, Dane. Was it just the thought of my inheritance that brought you back? Or was it something else?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t know the old man was going to kick it.”
“Even though I told you he was ill?”
He shrugged. “I guess I forgot.”
She could almost believe that. He had forgotten so much, including the fact that she wasn’t an idiot. But maybe that was her fault. “Were you fired?” she asked. “Is that why you came back?”
His lips moved. That’s how she knew he was about to lie, but she was too tired to listen, to pretend she might care.
“I need you out of my house.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“Just because I had a couple of beers after work?”
A dozen rancid lies and a hundred broken promises raced through her memory, but it wasn’t worth the effort. “Yes,” she said. “Just because of those beers.”
He snorted and sidled toward her. “Okay, listen, baby, yeah, you’re right. Penn Oil let me go. But I was planning to come home anyway.”
He was exhausting, an emotional marathon. But he didn’t give up the lies. You had to admire that. “Was Sherri fired, too?”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Who?”
“The blond woman … you remember her,” she said, and took another slice of apple. “Met her at the rodeo. Big hair. Big boobs. Wasn’t her name Sherri?”
“Oh, Sherri.” He nodded, eyes shifting restlessly for a moment as if trying to remember how they could have met. “She’s a friend. I am still allowed to have friends, aren’t I?”
She smiled. Even her face felt tired. “You can do anything you want, Dane,” she said and, setting the apple aside, tightened her grip on the knife. “If you leave right now, we’ll let bygones be bygones.”
His jaw dropped. Years later, if she chose to remember his expression, she might find it amusing … if she’d had a few drinks … and a really good day. “Are you threatening me?”
“I was hoping you’d understand.”
“Geez, you’re getting butch. Think you can take me in a tussle now, do you, Vey?”
“I’m willing to give it a try.” She held his gaze, steady as a laser. “How ’bout you?”
He stared, broke eye contact, caught her gaze again. “Geez.” He huffed a laugh, half-turned away. “Vey, are you listening to yourself?”
“I am,” she said. “I’m listening to both of us. Finally.”
He jittered, then stopped the restless movement suddenly. “It’s your old man, isn’t it?”
She raised her brows, interested.
“He put you up to it. Told you I didn’t deserve no loan, so you—”
“He said yes.”
He shook his head, bewildered.
“To the loan,” she explained. “He left a voice mail on my cell. Said he’d give you the money.”
“For real?” He grinned. “Well, let’s celebrate, Vey. We’ll—”
“I’m the one saying no.”
His body stilled again. “You’re kidding.”
She tilted the knife a little. “I’m not.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. Was his hand shaking? “What are you trying to do to me?”
“Set you free. I’m trying to set you free, Dane. Like you always wanted to be.”
He shook his head. His eyes were wild. “That’s crazy. I married you, didn’t I? For better or worse. For richer or poorer. I thought we’d be together forever. I thought—”
“You could have it all,” she said, and nodded. “You thought you could have a wife waiting at home and a big-boobed bimbo on the side.”
“If you’re talking about Sherri, we’re just friends.”
She gritted her teeth, but resentment took too much energy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called her that. She’s probably a very intelligent person.”
“Sherri?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I need you to leave now, Dane.”
He shook his head, stepped toward her. “Listen … baby …” he pleaded, but she shook her head.
“I’m done, Dane. Done listening, done hoping.” She shrugged. “Done.”
“It’s because of that Indian, isn’t it?”
She prepared to deny it, but maybe he was right. Maybe in some convoluted way, Tonk did have something to do with her decision. Maybe seeing him with Lily had made her turn a corner of sorts.
“You’re screwing him, aren’t you?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not. But I’m not screwing you, either. Ever again.”
“We’ll see about that,” he snarled and took a step toward her, but she raised the knife.
“Don’t do it, Dane.”
He stopped, thinking.
“I’ll use it if I have to.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“You know me better than that,” she said, and because he did, he raised his hands in a parody of surrender and disappeared.
Chapter 34
“Nice job,” Quinton said, and ran his fingers over the unvarnished wood that framed her kitchen’s new doorway.
Six days had passed. Six days, during which she had needed, quite desperately, to keep busy. Six days, which Lily had spent in Tonkiaishawien’s doting care.
“The walls in this place are as crooked as a barrel of fishhooks,” she complained.
“Why do you think I didn’t offer to help?”
“And here I thought you were faking the flu so you could spend more time with Miss Tuesday.”
He raised a quizzical brow.
She raised her mug. “Or whoever’s hunting you these days.”
He snorted. “Is that coffee as bad as usual?”
“I think it’s actually worse,” she said, and sighed.
Shaking his head, he dumped the horrible brew down the drain and prepared to start a fresh pot.
Vura relaxed against the counter and watched him. There was a comfort to his movements, a warm easiness to having him around.
“I asked Dane to leave.”
The pot clattered into the sink. His gaze struck hers.
She laughed at his expression, shrugged, and strangely, felt tears fill her eyes.
“What? When?”
“Too late, I think. Almost a week ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me till now?”
“You were sick. I was … embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed!” He faced her, leaving the coffeepot forgotten in the sink. “About what?”
“About …” She shrugged again, feeling old and young and foolish and wise all at once. “Messing up.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve never messed up in your—”
/> “I made so many mistakes.”
“Listen to me!” His expression was fierce, his voice low so as not to wake the child he was pretty sure could walk on water. “Lily’s the best thing that ever happened to us. To anyone. Ever!”
She smiled. “I didn’t mean Lily. I meant”—she shook her head—“you were right. Gamps was right. I shouldn’t have married him.”
Worry troubled his brow. “You didn’t kick him out because of me, did you?”
“What?”
“It wasn’t my disapproval that made you get rid of him, was it? I mean …” His expression was tortured. “He’s not good enough for you. Never was. Never is going to be. But maybe—”
She laughed, oddly relieved. “So you like him, Dad? You really like him?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and gritted his teeth. “Listen, if you want him back, I can learn to like the little—” He cut off his words. “I can learn to love him if you do.”
She was tempted to laugh again, but he looked so tormented, she couldn’t allow it.
“It’s not your fault. In fact, it’s anybody’s fault but yours.”
“What, then?”
“He didn’t want to be here.”
“That can’t be true. He’s not brain-dead. Is he?”
Good God, she loved him. “I’m not completely sure. But I know he wasn’t ready for this. For us.”
“Then he’s an even bigger moron than I—” he began and stopped himself. “Sorry. I mean … I’m sure you’re wrong.”
She gave him a smile for the effort. “You know I’m not.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but exhaled instead, then turned away and ran frustrated fingers through steel-dust hair. “I thought once he was back, once he got a chance to spend time with you and Lily, he’d realize …”
“How amazing she is?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m afraid all he learned was to tell more lies.”
“What?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “He was seeing someone else.”
He winced. “Are you sure?”
“I think I’ve always been sure.”
For a moment she thought he would finally curse, would find those choice words he had eschewed since Lily’s birth, but he just shook his head. “I’m sorry.”