Stealing Thunder

by Patricia Rosemoor

  About to go back to the movie set, Ella hesitated. Something didn’t feel right.

  “Marisala!” she called, slamming her hand against the door. “Open up, please!”

  She banged again for a minute straight and was about to give up when she heard light footsteps. Then suddenly the door swung open. Marisala stood there, her expression slack, her gaze unfocused. Her hair was matted around her pale face, and her clothes were wrinkled as if she’d slept in them. She didn’t seem fully aware.

  “Did I wake you?”

  Marisala blinked. “Ella?” she whispered, looking puzzled, as if she was confused.

  “Who were you expecting?” Ella asked. “That man you told me about?”

  Marisala shuddered but didn’t answer.

  Ella’s unsettled feeling deepened. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?” the young woman echoed, seeming confused, almost as if she were asleep now.

  Ella took her hands. They were as cold as ice. “Are you all right?”

  Finally, Marisala focused. “What day is this?”

  “Saturday. You were expected to be on the set hours ago.”

  “Oh.”

  Like a pale ghost of herself, Marisala floated to the kitchen. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if she were on automatic pilot.

  So what in the hell was she on? Ella wondered. Or was it simply a hangover?

  Following, Ella said, “You realize you’re late for work, right? You’re holding up production. If you don’t get cleaned up and on set fast, they may replace you.”

  No matter that Ella put urgency into her tone, Marisala looked as if nothing was getting through to her, as if she’d had some bizarre break with reality.

  In the end, Ella realized it didn’t matter what she said. The young woman didn’t need to go to work, she needed help. She bullied Marisala into making herself barely presentable and getting into the SUV.

  It was then she saw something she’d missed going inside—a raven’s track cut into the earth just outside the gate.

  Furious, Ella marched over to the sign and stepped on it, obliterating it, just as she would like to see happen to whomever had left the horrid sign there.

  What in the world had that person done to Marisala? Ella wondered, remembering the day Father had died, and the accusations that he’d taken Nelson Bird’s mind.

  Was there really a connection?

  She’d always thought Nelson had mental problems, but perhaps that wasn’t the case. Perhaps the real sorcerer had for some reason taken the man’s mind.

  And Marisala’s?

  A very scary thought.

  One that haunted her as she drove.

  First the horses…now Marisala…both echoing things that had happened fifteen years ago.

  Wanting to believe in coincidence, Ella kept her racing imagination in check and quickly got Marisala to the health clinic located in the government building. When they entered, Jimmy Iron Horse was standing in the hallway, talking to another officer.

  Jimmy took one look at Marisala and said, “What the hell did you do to her, Ella?”

  “Me? Nothing. I found her like this and decided to bring her to the clinic to get her help.”

  Ami Badeau was just leaving the clinic with her mother Hannah, who was coughing up a storm. When she spotted Ella with Marisala, she turned to Jimmy and said, “Arrest that woman! She’s making people ill! Mother saw her the other day, and she’s been coughing ever since!”

  “Stop blaming Ella,” Hannah said. “I’m old. Old people get sick.”

  “A lot of people have been getting sick since Ella Thunder returned.”

  Ella didn’t miss the emphasis.

  Jimmy asked, “Are you accusing Ella of putting some kind of a curse on your mother?”

  “Well, look to Marisala,” Ami said, indicating the woman who stood there, a silent shadow of herself. “Marisala saw Ella the other day to ask her for a potion.”

  “How do you know that?” Ella demanded. As far as she was aware, no one had been privy to their conversation.

  “Just so you know, Marisala told me.” Ami turned back to Jimmy. “She was her usual beautiful, outgoing self before she met with Ella. But not now, is she? Look at her! Something bad happened to the poor girl,” Ami said knowingly. “You should arrest Ella, Jimmy.”

  “I need evidence—”

  “Then get it!”

  “Ami, stop such nonsense,” Hannah said, between coughs. “You’ll have everyone thinking Ella is—”

  “A sorceress?” Ami finished for her. “Like father, like daughter.”

  Heat shot through Ella and she said, “Father was not a sorcerer! He was a shaman, devoted to his People, doing only good. He committed no crime, but what happened to him was a crime.”

  One that had gone unpunished.

  Ami helped her mother to the door. “Well, you heed my words, Jimmy,” she said, lingering a moment and then shifting her vicious gaze to Ella. “The responsible members of the rez take care of their own.”

  Jimmy didn’t respond, simply stared at Ella with those gray eyes that spooked her. Was he holding back a smile of satisfaction? Or was that simply a grimace in response to the violence of the past?

  Ami said people who’d been in contact with her had fallen ill. How many people? What kind of illness?

  The responsible members of the rez take care of their own.

  Had that been a threat? Was Ami suggesting The People might do to her what they did to her father?

  Realizing that Marisala was making soft noises and swaying on her feet, Ella took hold of her and pushed her toward the clinic door without so much as giving him another glance.

  She only wished she could dispel her growing sense of horror so easily.

  BY THE TIME Ella returned to the set, the word was somehow out—Marisala had some bizarre break with reality. She ignored the questions from a couple of crew members and went in search of the producer.

  Ella spotted Jane in conference with the director near the makeup tent. She hadn’t gotten to the producer and director before crew and cast members gathered to bombard her with more questions, Tiernan included.

  “What is going on?” he asked.

  Before she could explain, an actor in full Native American dress demanded, “Did someone put some kind of evil spell on Marisala?”

  A member of the crew added, “I heard someone is trying to drive the movie company away because this is sacred land.” Directing this at Ella, he added, “And someone pointed a finger at you!”

  Ella gasped and Tiernan placed an arm around her shoulders and came to her immediate defense. “Ella hasn’t done anything, so cool down.”

  The voice of reason, Bear Heart spoke up. “Marisala has always been a wild girl. Perhaps she went too far this time.”

  Another Lakota said, “If you’re wrong and the movie and all our jobs are at risk, then it’s Ella Thunder’s fault.”

  “Whatever happened to her, I had nothing to do with it,” Ella said. “The clinic doctor is keeping her for observation.”

  She didn’t add that he was testing her blood for unusual substances. Whatever Marisala had been into—or not into if some kind of magic was at work here—she deserved her privacy.

  “We can’t wait for her,” Max said. “We’ll have to recast.” The director then suddenly gave Ella an intense once-over. “You! You can do it—you can be the new Little Fawn.”

  Horrified at the thought of getting in front of a camera, Ella protested, “I’m not an actress.”

  “There’s not a lot of acting to the part. Besides, you have the looks for a romantic lead, and you’re at least part Native American, so you’ll do.”

  Tiernan tightened his grip on her shoulder, bolstering her decision.

  “I’m sorry,” Ella said, as pleasantly as she could, “but I won’t be available.”

  “Then make yourself available.”

  Not liking the way the director was speaking to her, she hel
d herself back from telling him so. “I’m simply here for a couple weeks as a consultant.” Her pulse raced through her and she had a difficult time catching her breath. “That’s all I’m willing to do.”

  A disgruntled Max seared her with a look, and Ella felt his anger like a tangible thing, but to her relief, he didn’t continue to insist. What he did insist on was the crowd breaking up and getting back to work. Obviously not wanting to be the object of the director’s anger, actors and crew members alike scattered.

  “Gather the young Lakota women together,” Max told Jane.

  “We could shoot around Little Fawn,” Jane suggested. “Marisala might be okay in the morning.”

  “We need a new Little Fawn. Now!” Max gave her his back and walked off.

  Jane’s spine went straight but she didn’t say another thing as she followed him toward the set.

  Ella found herself alone with Tiernan. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, as well?”

  “In a minute. When you are calm.”

  “I’m just fine.”

  “I can feel otherwise,” Tiernan countered. “You are worried about the rumors.”

  A cold knot settled in the pit of Ella’s stomach, but she argued, “It’s not the first time I’ve faced them today, and it won’t be the last.”

  She told him about the incident with Ami Badeau in front of the clinic, and about how Jimmy Iron Horse had spooked her once again. Then she told him about finding the raven’s track outside Marisala’s home.

  “Perhaps you should stay away from the reservation,” Tiernan suggested. “At least for now.”

  “How can I? We need to get to the bottom of this, Tiernan, before things get out of hand.”

  “The trouble seems to be spiraling already.”

  He was correct, of course. “All the more reason to get to the truth.”

  Tiernan didn’t say anything at first. He stared at her, though, pinned her with his gaze. “Are you ready, then? Will you do what you must, even if it means using your powers?”

  “I’ve told you before—”

  “Aye, you have no powers. So you say. But I read you, Ella Thunder. I can taste your fear. I have offered this before, and I will do so again. Together, we can—”

  “No! I can’t! I tried and I couldn’t do it.”

  Tiernan nodded and his concerned expression softened into something more neutral. “That is it, then, is it not? Ella, did you ever think about leaving? Going back to Sioux Falls?”

  She started. “You mean now?”

  “Perhaps ’twould be for the best.”

  Ella’s breath caught in her throat. What was going on with him? He’d been distant with her since they’d shared that kiss at the ranch. And now he wanted her to leave? For a while she’d thought she didn’t have to be alone in this, but obviously she’d been mistaken.

  “I’m not ready to go anywhere,” she said stiffly. “Not until I get some answers.”

  “What if you never get them? How will you feel then?”

  She couldn’t believe Tiernan was changing his tune, not when he’d been so positive about the need to investigate in the first place. Not when he had his own ghosts to dispel. She’d thought they were on the same page. Was he really concerned that she couldn’t do anything unless she used her nonexistent powers? Perhaps he hadn’t told her everything about his.

  The very idea sent a chill through her—a chill dispelled by the memory of flames….

  Still, she couldn’t help asking, “What about justice for Harold Walks Tall?” And for her father.

  “Perhaps ’tis not for you to do.”

  Nodding, she backed off. “You regret getting involved in something that doesn’t concern you.”

  Perhaps he’d rethought his position on getting himself involved, at least not without her admitting to the powers he insisted she had.

  “Ella, you misunderstand.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” These deaths didn’t concern him personally, wouldn’t drive away the guilt he held over Megan McKenna’s unresolved murder. She turned away from him, saying, “I do understand.”

  “No, you do not. Wait!”

  Ella was already heading for the parking lot, hoping to get away before her emotions got the best of her. She’d thought that she and Tiernan had a true connection, that they were on the same page.

  Instead, he wanted her to leave it alone.

  He wanted her to leave.

  Now she had to face facts: if she wanted the truth, she was going to have to find it for herself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ella had totally misunderstood him, Tiernan thought as he watched her drive off. Her emotions had nearly spilled from her—hurt, betrayal, determination.

  All he’d wanted was to see her safe. With her gone, he would find some way to learn the truth without putting her in danger. But apparently the only thing she was leaving was his presence.

  Realizing that Bear Heart was still there and watching him, he nodded to the old man. “Would you have a moment to talk?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Do you know Ella Thunder?”

  Bear Heart nodded. “Her grandfather, Samuel, and I are friends. I knew her father, as well. Sad thing, what happened to Joseph.”

  Tiernan indicated the canopied canteen area, now virtually empty. “Let us go get something to wet our whistles and talk a bit.”

  A few minutes later, they were seated at a table away from the food area that afforded them some privacy. Bear Heart stirred cream and sugar into his mug, and Tiernan sipped at his black coffee while he waited.

  When the old man put down his spoon, Tiernan said, “I fear for Ella’s life. She will not leave the area, which would be the best thing for her considering what has happened since she arrived.”

  “She is stubborn like Joseph.” The old man shook his head. “He wanted to face The People, to prove his innocence.”

  “You believed in him, then?”

  Bear Heart nodded. “He was my shaman.”

  “Was he not everyone’s shaman? What made the others think he was evil?”

  “Fear. Superstition. Bad things happening on the rez. Things no one could explain. Then the rumors started. People whispering. Watching. Believing black magic tainted the land. Who else did they have to blame but the shaman?” Bear Heart took a sip of his coffee, then said, “Joseph Thunder did have apprentices.” His dark eyes fathomless, he held Tiernan’s gaze. “All three live on the rez now…. ”

  “And bad things are happening again,” Tiernan finished for him. “Do you think ’tis to drive Ella away? Or does someone want her gone for good?” He explained, “Whoever it is tried running us off the road the other night. Would Nathan Lantero or Leonard Hawkins or Jimmy Iron Horse have reason to want her dead?”

  “You would know better than I.”

  “I have just met them. I do not know them.”

  “But you are the one with the power.”

  Tiernan started. He’d said the same to Ella. And like Ella had, he said, “I am no shaman—”

  “Call yourself what you will.” Bear Heart raised his mug in salute before taking a drink. “You might have power that whispers now, but it is simply waiting for the chance to shout.”

  Stunned into silence, Tiernan wondered if the old man could really feel or see some kind of weird vibrations around him. He did not think he wore his psychic nature like a second skin. While he was not ashamed of what he knew and what he could feel, and while he used his abilities as he could, he never thought of himself as having power.

  “Do not deny it,” Bear Heart said. “I am too old to be fooled.”

  “Fair enough. Then perhaps you will believe me when I tell you Harold Walks Tall was murdered.”

  Bear Heart appeared thoughtful, as if Tiernan’s statement was no shock. “You know this to be true despite what your authorities say?”

  Tiernan nodded. “We found the track of the raven where he fell. Ella and I did. The same
sign that made your people think her da was evil.”

  “I have not heard this.”

  Even if the sheriff’s men had noticed the sign, they probably wouldn’t have thought it had any significance, Tiernan thought. Signs weren’t part of their culture.

  He said, “So the deaths seem to be connected…Joseph Thunder and Harold Walks Tall. But they were fifteen years apart. What did they have in common?”

  Bear Heart shrugged. “Maybe nothing.”

  “I think there is, but ’tis something not apparent. Something they both had or wanted or knew,” Tiernan said. “What can you tell me about Harold Walks Tall? What did he do for a living? Who did he do it with? Who were his friends? If we knew more about him, maybe we could surmise why he died, then track the reason back to Joseph Thunder.”

  Bear Heart thought for a moment, then said, “Harold did not work, not at any regular job that I know of. He had no family—they all left the rez. Or died young. As to friends, he did not seem to have any…though I did see him with Marisala Saldana more than once.”

  The unexpected connection hit Tiernan hard. “Harold and Marisala—”

  “Were together.” Bear Heart put his two forefingers together to illustrate. “At least it seemed so to me.”

  Tiernan’s mind whirled. The raven’s track had marked the place where Harold Walks Tall fell to his death…and Ella had found another outside Marisala Saldana’s home.

  “There must be a connection, then,” Tiernan mused. “If you think of anything else that might be of interest, will you let me know?”

  “I will be sure to send up smoke signals,” the old Lakota said, then laughed to himself. From his pocket, he pulled a cell. “What is your number?”

  HER COTTON SKIRT pulled up above her knees to cool herself down, Ella sat on a fence rail overlooking the refuge pasture closest to headquarters when Tiernan caught up to her.

  “Filming is a wash for the day,” he said. “We start again in the morning with a new Little Fawn.” As if just realizing where she was headed, he asked, “You intend to ride?”

  “That was my plan.”

  “Even if I have a new lead?”

  Her pulse buzzed as she asked, “What?”