by Ann Yost
“I’ll take you to Canada, Davey,” she said, forcing back the fear. It was terrifying to look down the barrel of a pistol. “But if you hold that gun on me I’ll roll the Jeep. I can do it, too.”
Davey knew she was telling the truth. Everyone on the rez knew it. She’d flipped the Jeep once on ice—not on purpose—but how hard could it be? Fortunately the chief’s brain was too nauseated to remember that she was supposedly pregnant and unlikely to risk the baby. He rested the pistol on his thigh and Molly pulled onto the road. She watched Daisy’s bright blonde head disappear in her rearview mirror.
Chapter Fifteen
“There it is,” Jake said, as they pulled out of a blind spot and back onto the highway.
Cam’s heart jerked as he glimpsed the red Porsche. An instant it turned over when he recognized the head of blonde curls just visible over the sides of the convertible. Daisy was alone in the car. As soon as Jake skidded to a stop, Cam hit the ground running. He lifted his daughter out of the sports car and crushed her against him.
”Easy,” Jake said. “Don’t want to scare her.”
The sheriff, father of twins a year older than Daisy, probably knew what he was talking about. Cam loosened his grip, fractionally.
“You comed to get me!”
“Of course, baby.” He inhaled her fresh, powdery scent and sent up a prayer of infinite thanks. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
She frowned. “I’m not sick. The bad man’s sick. He frowed up all over the place. Look.” She pointed to the puddles of vomit on the car’s hood and on the road.
Cam and Jake exchanged a look.
“Where’d he go, sweetie,” the sheriff asked.
“Went off in the Jeep with that Indian lady with the mean eyes.”
“Sandra Tall Tree,” Cam muttered to Jake. “They must’ve been in it together. Fooled the hell out of me.”
Jake’s focus was on the child. “What car,” he asked.
“Molly’s car,” Daisy said. “The bad man was really sick but he had a gun.”
“Molly’s car?” Cam’s whipped around. He stared at Jake. “What’s Molly got to do with this?”
“She’s the one who called. She spotted them at the railroad crossing and tailed them. Tall Tree must have blown out his tires. She probably stopped and he commandeered her Jeep.”
The explanation made too much sense. Cam looked at his daughter.
“Where’s Molly now?” His voice sounded remote, as if he were speaking in an echo chamber.
“She went ‘stead of me,” Daisy reported. “And he maked her drive so’s he could frow up.”
“You stay here with Daisy,” Jake said.
“Not on your life.” Cam buckled the little girl into the backseat of the Blazer and slid into the passenger seat. “Okay, sheriff, let’s ride.”
“Tall Tree needs a hostage to keep us at a distance,” Jake said, as he drove. “Molly must have gotten him to take her in exchange for Daisy.”
Cam could barely hear over the pounding of his heart and he could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. She’d put herself at risk for his daughter.
Jake glanced at him.
“It’ll be all right. He has no reason to hurt her.”
“He’s got a gun. And they’re in a high speed chase.”
“I know. If it relieves your mind at all, I happen to know Molly’s a damn good driver. She told me once she’d flipped the Jeep on ice.”
“Did you ask her whether it was on purpose?”
Jake looked startled. “No. But she knows how to do it.”
“So she flips the Jeep and he shoots her.”
“It’s a light vehicle and Molly’s got a good head,” Jake said, reassuringly. “She’ll wear her seatbelt and there’s an air bag.”
“You don’t understand.” Cam could barely form the words. Fear had turned into a boulder in his gut. “She’s pregnant.”
Jake grimaced. “Damn.”
****
Several miles from the border between Maine and the Province of Quebec, another state road fed into Route Two. As Molly zoomed past she glimpsed a cop car paused at a Stop sign. A moment later she heard a siren, checked her rearview mirror and found herself staring into a pair of baby blue eyes in a pleasant, pudgy face. An instant later a siren’s bleat filled the air and Davey snapped to attention. He turned the gun on his wife.
“If you so much as slow down, I’ll kill her.”
Molly kept the pressure on the accelerator and replied in a calm tone.
“I won’t slow down but don’t expect me to believe you’d kill either one of us. She’s your wife and I’m your friend.”
“Believe it, Molly.” His pudgy face shone with sweat. “I’ve gone too far. Done too much. None of the pretty girls on the rez ever paid me any attention, including you. I figured if I got myself elected sagama I’d get more action and it worked. I met Sandra. When I found out she’d cheated I just went bat shit.” He used his free hand to wipe the sweat off his face. “You don’t know. Betrayal wrecks a guy.”
Sympathy flooded her even as she fought to keep the speeding Jeep under control, to ignore the cop behind her and to think about how to save herself and Sandra.
“I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. “But, Davey, if you killed Dwight Winston because you thought he’d brainwashed Sandra, you’d have a real case. A good defense lawyer could get you a plea bargain.”
“And when I told him I killed the fat man for the money in his safe?”
Molly was silent.
“That’s what I thought. Like I said, I’ve done too much.” He groaned and clutched at his stomach.
“That might be an ulcer,” Molly said.
“Jesus, Molly. Who the hell cares? That’s the least of my problems right now.”
”You’d get that taken care of if you turned yourself in. And it would look better.”
“Look better? I can’t go to jail. I’m the sagama. Don’t you care about the rez?”
The accusation seemed exceedingly unfair considering that, ever since she’d come to Blackbird, she’d chosen the rez above anything else. She didn’t say that. Neither did she point out that it would not exactly be a public relations coup to have the world find out that The Penobscot chief had killed two men in cold blood.
The countryside flew past the windows in a volley of brilliant colors. The young cop on her tail stayed a safe distance behind. She could almost sense his indecision. People were supposed to stop when they heard sirens but if they didn’t, there wasn’t much an officer could do about it.
Molly wrenched her mind away from the chase and tried to focus on her options. The highway had been built up on a trestle like a railroad track so there were ditches on either side of her. If she turned the wheel sharply, she’d plummet into a gulley. The problem was she was driving over eighty miles an hour and such a maneuver would create a deathly impact.
Another plan was to wait another mile until the terrain evened out and just drive off the pavement. Unfortunately, the row of trees was no more than thirty feet away. The chance of hitting one of the white pines that stood along the highway like well-disciplined sentinels was somewhere around one hundred percent.
They were fast approaching the border. She knew she couldn’t make herself plow through the guard station. It was much too likely she’d kill a guard. And she couldn’t just stop. Davey had promised he’d shoot Sandra and her and she believed him.
He’d probably shoot the downy-faced cop, too.
There was only one viable possibility. She had to jerk the car hard and hope that, when Davey’s treacherous stomach turned on him, he’d drop the gun.
The ditches disappeared and the landscape evened out and Molly thought she heard a second siren. Jake. But it was too late. The sheriff couldn’t help her now. She was on her own and she had to act quickly. This would be her best—and only—chance to avoid a horrendous crash and almost certainly more deaths. She prayed Sandra was buckled in, su
cked in a quick breath then she switched her foot to the brake. The vehicle shuddered and jerked and Davey screamed, trembled and retched like Mount St. Helens. Molly glanced at the gun. Damn. It was still in his hand.
She narrowed her eyes, jumped on the brake then quickly stamped on the accelerator and whipped the steering wheel hard to the right. The Jeep fishtailed wildly just before it left the pavement. The whole thing seemed to be happening in slow-motion. Molly had time to brace herself against the steering wheel. She had time to think of Daisy back at the disabled Porsche. She had time to think of Cam and to regret the trick she’d played on him one more time. Betrayal wrecks a guy.
She heard the pistol discharge and felt the little car lift into the air. She heard the shriek of metal against pavement and felt the explosion of pain as she slammed her forehead against the steering wheel.
In the midst of the carnage she felt an odd sense of peace.
Daisy was safe.
****
The presence of a searing white light convinced her she was either dead or in the hospital. Molly cracked one eyelid and winced. “Light,” she whimpered.
She heard a sharp snap and the blinding glare disappeared. She felt like one big bruise. She tried to sit up and a million knife points attacked her. Jeez.
Someone placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t move, honey.”
She wanted to tell whoever it was she had no intention of trying to move again. And she was not his honey. She opened her eyes and peered into pieces of the summer sky.
“Cam.”
“I’m here.”
But it didn’t sound like Cam’s confident baritone. This voice was higher, thready. She closed one eye and squinted. The man with the blue eyes had lost his tan. He was a pale as a corpse.
Molly’s heart constricted. Had something happened to his little girl?
“Daisy?”
“She’s fine,” he said. His face twisted and she wasn’t sure she believed him. “She’s home with Hallie and Baz getting a hero’s welcome.”
That sounded reassuring but Molly wasn’t allowed to enjoy the feeling very long. Something gripped her right hand in a bone-crushing vise and pain shot through her fingers and up her arm. She moaned.
“What is it? What hurts?”
“My hand.”
Instantly the grip was loosened.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Another voice cut in. This one sounded more normal.
“You’re back with us.” Stan Schmidt grinned at her. She peered into friendly light brown eyes magnified by strong lenses. Eden Memorial was a small hospital. As a midwife with privileges, she’d met most of the staff including Stan, a middle-aged surgeon who had, apparently, drawn E.R. duty today. He repeated Cam’s question. “Anything hurt?”
Molly shifted and winced. “My shoulder,” she said. “And my hip. My head. My eyelashes. Take your pick.”
The doctor smiled at her. “I wanted to wait until you’d regained consciousness before I gave you something for the pain. You’ll be sore for a couple of days but I can’t find any breaks. You had a lucky escape, lady. There’s a lot of bruising but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage.”
“Sandra? Davey?”
It was too much effort to form a sentence but her listener seemed to understand the question.
“Tall Tree’s got a busted sternum and contusions. His wife suffered a concussion and broken leg.”
Molly thought about that. “I think he has an ulcer.”
Dr. Schmidt chuckled. “I’ll check for it. In any case, they’ll both live.”
“For the moment,” Cam said, softly.
Molly’s eyes riveted on his. She knew he’d go after them with single-minded intent. With his determination, to say nothing of his wealth and influence, he’d win, too. For once Molly couldn’t fault him for lowering the boom on members of the tribe. They’d kidnapped his daughter. She remembered the tyke’s stoic expression when Molly left her in the Porsche. She was a chip off the old block.
“Don’t smile,” Cam ordered. “Just lie still.”
An instant later Dr. Schmidt slid the cold stethoscope under Molly’s hospital gown and pressed it against her heart. A shiver ran through her and she heard Cam’s voice again. It was curiously thick.
“Go easy, doc.”
Molly’s heart constricted. Cam felt responsible for her because she’d gone after the child. She wanted to point out that, if not for her, Daisy would never have been at risk. It would take too many words. Instead, she said, “I’m fine. You should go on home.”
“I’ll go when you’re ready to come with me.”
Sir Galahad. For some reason his determination to rescue her made her sad. Even her sperm heist had not made him abandon her. Not yet.
“Daniel can pick me up.”
Even before the words were out of her mouth she remembered that Daniel had other interests now. For a moment Molly felt like Superman in his fortress of solitude—completely alone.
“Feel up to talking a little business?”
Stan wrapped the black compression band around her upper arm to take her blood pressure.
She winced. “Sure.”
“We admitted one of your patients a few hours ago.” He handed her a couple of tablets. She put them in her mouth and reached for the paper cup of water. Cam snatched it and held it to her lips.
“Lenaya Dove.”
Good grief. She’d forgotten all about the girl.
“Was it a miscarriage? Is she all right?”
“Yes to both questions. Doc Watson did a D&C and sent her home.”
A dilation and curettage was a common procedure after a miscarriage. It was an operation, though, and something Molly wasn’t qualified to perform. Just one more reason the rez needed a clinic with an M.D. on duty.
So Lenaya had lost the baby. Molly felt another wave of sadness. And then she felt warmth…someone—Cam—was stroking her fingers. Her heart filled with gratitude for his understanding. She wished she hadn’t betrayed him at the Spotswood Clinic. She wished she could deserve his comfort and she wished she didn’t hurt.
“I want to go home,” she said.
“Give it a few more hours,” the doctor said. “We’ll see how you feel. You were unconscious briefly after the accident, then the medics put you out during the drive to the hospital. Believe me, you would’ve felt every bump in the road from the border back to Eden. If you still want to leave, I’ll dope you up for the ride home. And then I’d like someone to stay with you.”
“My mother will come.” She remembered the Jeep. “My car?”
“It did a three-sixty,” Cam said. His voice sounded strained. “The airbags deployed and your seatbelt held. The other two weren’t wearing belts. Jeep’s banged up but drivable. I took it to Charlie Styles’ garage in Eden.”
“Thanks. Are the Tall Trees in the hospital?”
“At the moment. We’re sending them both to Portland. They’ve got better recuperative facilities there. After that, my guess is they’ll go to jail.”
She felt a flash of sympathy for Davey, the insecure tribal cop and Sandra, the misfit, who had tried to straddle two worlds. It hadn’t worked for Sandra. It wouldn’t work for Molly, either. She had made the right decision thirteen years ago and she’d made the wrong one earlier this month. She looked at Cam Outlaw’s lean face and the unreadable blue eyes under the dark brows and she said a last, silent goodbye.
“All right, Miss Molly,” Dr. Schmidt said. “You get some rest. I’ll check in on you in a few hours. With any luck you’ll be back home by tonight. Got any questions?”
“No.” She gave him a smile and noticed her face didn’t hurt as much as it had a few minutes earlier. Thank God for pain meds.
“I’ve got a question,” Cam startled her by saying. “What about the baby?”
Molly’s eyes widened and the doctor stared at Cam then at Molly.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” Cam sai
d.
“No,” said Molly, and for some reason, tears formed in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
“How ‘bout it, Molly? This is no time to be coy. Which is it?”
“I’m not.” She kept her gaze on the doctor and kept her tone bright. “It was a possibility but I took a home test last night. All clear.”
The doctor patted her arm. “It’s just as well. A battering like you took today could have caused some damage. Give your body a chance to heal before you try again.”
It was a kind and generous comment considering he knew perfectly well she wasn’t married.
She waited until the doctor had left the room then she forced herself to meet Cam’s intense gaze.
“I’m so sorry. About the clinic and, well, how you had to find out about it.” She was so tired every word was an effort but she needed to let him know he was off the hook. “I told him the truth. There’s no baby.” For some reason the tears kept coming. Cam squeezed her hand, gently.
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”
She didn’t want to talk about it later. She wanted to apologize and be done.
“I just want you to know I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” he said, quietly. “I’m sorry, too, Tiger Lily.”
Much later in the day Cam used a wheelchair to transport her to curb in front of Eden Memorial and then he scooped her into his arms and deposited her in the backseat of his Mercedes so she could stretch out on the way home. The irony of exiting the hospital in the new-mom mode wasn’t lost on Molly. She felt an ache inside that rivaled every outer wound. She promised herself that this would be the last time she’d indulge in self pity. In a day or two, when she felt better, she’d go back to her father’s reservation. She’d find out what she could about John Wind and about the woman who was Molly’s mother. After that, she’d come back to Blackbird, to James and Muriel, and to everyone else who belonged to the rez, including the mollies who had always served as her strength. She’d redouble her efforts to get a clinic and, perhaps, a school.