Storming Whitehorn

by Christine Scott

  He pulled into a space and parked the car. Tossing his suit coat into the back seat, he headed inside the café. A country tune by Garth Brooks greeted him at the door. A handful of patrons were scattered around the café, some at the counter, others in booths. Heads turned at his entrance. Curious glances followed him as he made his way to a booth in the back. Whether they were staring at him because he was a Native American or because he was over-dressed for the lunch time crowd, he wasn’t sure.

  Since arriving in Whitehorn, he hadn’t felt an open hostility from any of its residents. Though he couldn’t say he felt welcomed, either. Bigotry was alive and well across the country. Whitehorn was no worse or no better than any other town. No matter how much he’d like for it to be different, he would never be able to convert everyone to a world of complete acceptance.

  A waitress with a bright smile and long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, joined him at his booth. She plunked a menu down onto the Formica-topped table and set a coffee mug next to it. Without asking, she filled his cup to the brim with the steaming brew. “If you’re looking for break fast, you’re half an hour too late. We’ve already got the grill set up for lunch.”

  Storm shook his head. “That’s okay. Coffee’s fine for now.”

  “Sure thing,” she said with a nod. “My name’s Janie. If you need anything else, just holler.”

  Storm watched as Janie made her way to the front counter. His mind drifted back to the haunting scene he’d witnessed at the cemetery. Other than Alice Brooks’s histrionics, he had to admit the Kincaid family had seemed normal. They weren’t the monsters he’d remembered them to be as a child.

  For years he’d clung to his hatred of the Kincaid family like a lifeline, finding solace and strength in bitterness. He’d blamed them for Raven’s unexplained disappearance, not wanting to believe that his brother would have abandoned him unless he’d felt he’d had no other choice. While Raven had talked little of his affair with Blanche Kincaid, Storm knew he’d been disturbed by Blanche’s older brother, Jeremiah. Jeremiah had been the devil incarnate. He’d belittled Raven in public and had threatened him in private. There was little doubt in Storm’s mind that Jeremiah Kincaid had played a role in Raven’s death.

  If only he could get the police to agree.

  Storm picked up his mug, blew the steam off the top and took a sip of the hot coffee. Once the mystery behind his brother’s death had been officially solved, he intended to be on the first plane back to Albuquerque. There was nothing here to keep him in Whitehorn.

  Nothing but a family he’d turned his back on.

  And a niece he did not know.

  Storm set the mug back on the table. He stared at the clouds swirling across its cooling surface, as though searching for a way to soothe his guilt. In the days since he’d returned to Whitehorn, he’d seen Summer a handful of times. Always from a distance, never face-to-face.

  He’d told himself he was waiting for the right moment to approach her. Only that moment had yet to come. Today he’d been just a few feet from finally meeting her. But as was too often the case, when it came to facing up to his personal responsibilities, he’d chosen the easy way out. He’d run.

  Storm closed his eyes and took in a painful breath. For thirty years he’d lived with the thought that his brother had abandoned him. Wounded and betrayed, he’d purposefully distanced himself from the town and the people that had reminded him of his loss.

  But now he knew the truth. Raven had died all those years ago.

  Storm had run out of excuses to hide. His brother was gone for good. But Raven’s daughter was still alive and well. And she was his last link to the only person he’d ever loved.

  With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes. Glancing around the café, he caught the eye of the blond-haired waitress.

  Smiling, she strolled over to his booth. “Did you change your mind about lunch?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d just like to pay the bill.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said, tearing a page from her receipt book and placing it on the table in front of him. “Fried chicken’s the special today. The cook fixes a mean bird.”

  Storm gave a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. Maybe you could help me with something, though. I’m looking for someone. Summer Kincaid. Do you know her? Or where I might find her?”

  “Summer? Sure, I know her. She’s a doctor. Your best bet at finding her would be at the Whitehorn Memorial Hospital, or the clinic she runs at the Laughing Horse Reservation. If you can’t find her at either of those two places, she’s probably at home taking care of her baby step daughter, Alyssa. Her number’s in the phone book. Only look under the name Night hawk.” The waitress winked as she turned to leave. “She’s a married lady now.”

  Night hawk. So Summer had married a Cheyenne. Despite being raised by the Kincaids, she’d chosen to live her life with a Native American. He felt vindicated by the thought.

  He knew her name and how to reach her. Now all he needed was the courage to call her.

  Slowly, Jasmine replaced the receiver in its cradle. Frowning, she stared at the phone. Summer had just called. Shortly after Lyle Brooks’s funeral, she’d received an unexpected call from her uncle, Storm Hunter.

  He’d asked to meet with her. Summer had agreed.

  Only, Gavin was busy and unable to be with her. Summer felt the need for family support at this initial meeting with her long lost uncle and had asked Jasmine to join her.

  Jasmine bit her lip. She’d do anything for her cousin, and she’d felt honored that Summer had turned to her in her time of need. As the baby of the family, Jasmine had spent most of her life being taken care of, not caring for others. She’d longed for the chance to prove herself to be mature and responsible in her family’s eyes. Finally she’d been given that chance.

  If only Storm Hunter wasn’t a part of the picture.

  She dreaded the thought of seeing him again. She didn’t know how much more humiliation she could take in one day. Even if he was Summer’s uncle, the man was unforgivably rude.

  “Jasmine, who was on the phone?”

  She looked up to see her mother approaching the front desk. This afternoon Celeste looked more like her old self. A healthy flush colored her cheeks and dressed in a tea-colored tunic and loose-fitting pants, she looked relaxed and at ease for the first time in days. Jasmine hated the idea of disrupting her fleeting moment of peace. “It was Summer,” she admitted.

  “Summer? Is everything all right? The baby isn’t sick, is she?”

  “No, nothing like that…it’s just—” She stopped, struggling to find the right words. Knowing there was no easy way to break the news, she said, “Storm Hunter called. He wants to meet with her.”

  The healthy color drained from Celeste’s face. She sat heavily on a tapestry-covered chair. “Oh, my. I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d seek her out. I suppose there’s no avoiding it.”

  “He is her uncle,” she reminded her mother.

  “I know. Believe me, I know.” Her hands shook as she brushed a strand of russet hair from her face. She took in a deep, cleansing breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “I only wish Summer didn’t have to face him alone.”

  “She’s not,” Jasmine said carefully. “I’m going over to her house now. She’s asked me to be with her when he arrives.”

  Her mother surged to her feet. “Absolutely not. I don’t want you anywhere near that man.”

  Jasmine blinked, stunned by the outburst. “Mother, you can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious. The man’s a Hunter. He belongs to a family that has brought us nothing but heart ache. I forbid you to see him.”

  “You forbid me?” Jasmine’s voice rose in self-righteous indignation. Since she had returned to the B and B and had taken over all of the kitchen duties, her mother had been treating her as an adult, with respect and admiration. Having Celeste now treat her like a strong-wi
lled teenager was devastating to her ego. “Mother, I’m not a child. I’m twenty-three years old. You can’t send me to my room if I don’t want to do what you tell me.”

  “Believe me, if I thought it would do any good, I’d try,” her mother said, releasing an exasperated breath. “When it comes to men, you haven’t paid attention to me in years. Not since you filled out your first training bra.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Mother, really, would you listen to yourself? Since when have you been distrustful? Storm may be a Hunter, but so is Summer. Are we supposed to abandon her, just because you don’t approve of the other half of her family?”

  Celeste took in a sharp breath, seemingly shocked by the question. “You know I’d never abandon Summer. I’ve raised her since she was just a baby. I love her as much as I love you and Cleo.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “If Summer needs our support, then we will give it to her.”

  Jasmine felt the tension ease from her muscles. Finally, she told herself, they were making progress.

  The thought had no more than surfaced when her mother threw another curve at her self-esteem. With her brow furrowed into a tight frown, Celeste said, “But that doesn’t mean it has to be you, Jasmine. Surely David or Cleo could be with Summer.”

  “Mother,” she said, her tone a warning note. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t suggest that.”

  Jasmine was confused and hurt by her mother’s sudden lack of confidence. She didn’t understand what was wrong. Normally a very liberal, open-minded person, Celeste had raised her daughters to be free-spirited and independent. It wasn’t like her to be so overly protective. But then again, Celeste hadn’t been acting normal since the Hunter family had resurfaced in their lives. Jasmine truly doubted that, if she were to meet anyone but Storm Hunter, her mother would care.

  “Mother, I love you,” she said, struggling to remain calm, “and I will always respect your concern and advice. But this time you’re wrong. Summer needs me. And I’m going to help her, whether you approve or not.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she gave her mother a quick hug goodbye and hurried out the door. Midway to her Jeep Wrangler, her heart was still pounding and the muscles in her legs felt like jelly. She’d never felt so awful. This was the first major disagreement she’d ever had with her mother. A disagreement over a man, of all things.

  But not just any man, she told herself as she rested her hand on the door of her Jeep. A man whose mutual history had had such a devastating affect upon their family. Storm Hunter.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Jasmine asked. She studied the delicate lines of her cousin’s pensive face as she rocked her step daughter, Alyssa, in her arms.

  Summer didn’t answer right away. Instead she glanced down at the sleeping child, her gaze softening. Jasmine envied the look of maternal pride shimmering in her dark brown eyes. Quietly Summer said, “Storm is the last of my father’s family. It’s time we finally met.”

  “Right,” Jasmine said, not bothering to hide the doubtfulness from her tone. She glanced at her wristwatch for the second time in as many minutes. “If and when he shows up, that is.”

  Storm was late. He should have arrived thirty minutes ago. Jasmine wished she didn’t have to voice the concern she knew Summer shared. That Storm had changed his mind. That he wasn’t going to come, after all.

  “He’ll be here,” Summer said, her voice firm with conviction.

  Jasmine sighed. “I wish I could be as certain of this meeting as you are. I’m not sure I’d be quite as for giving of an uncle who’d ignored my existence for twenty-nine years.”

  “I’m sure he had his reasons, Jasmine. What matters is that he’s making the effort now,” Summer murmured. She stood, gathering Alyssa close. “I need to put Alyssa in bed for her nap. I won’t be long.”

  Jasmine nodded, resisting the urge to sigh again. Instead she rose to her feet and began pacing the floor. Her protective instincts billowed inside her. She swore, if Storm Hunter didn’t show up after putting her cousin through all this turmoil, the man would have to answer to her.

  She stopped, frowning as she reconsidered the threat. For some reason she didn’t picture Storm as a man who answered to anyone, let alone an irate woman who barely stood higher than his chin.

  The doorbell rang, jarring her out of her skeptical thoughts. Jasmine jumped at the sound, her stomach knotting with unwanted tension. She took in a quick breath and released it with a whoosh, trying to relieve some of her pent-up anxiety. She was being ridiculous, she chided herself. Summer was the one who should be nervous, not her.

  Speaking of whom…where was Summer? Jasmine glanced down the hall and saw no sign of her cousin. Swallowing hard at the lump of trepidation that had stuck in her throat, she forced herself to move. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. Pasting a polite smile on her face, she opened the door to greet the newcomer.

  Storm’s brooding scowl stopped her. With a quick glance that grazed her from head to toe, he demanded, “Where’s Summer? I was expecting your cousin, not you.”

  Jasmine’s smile faded to a grimace. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Hello to you, too, Mr. Hunter. Your presence is as pleasant as usual.”

  The sarcasm was lost on this stony-faced man. He half turned from the door, looking ready to escape. Given the choice, Jasmine had no doubt that he wouldn’t want to find himself alone with her. If he were, he just might have to explain his own imprudent behavior. As in, why he had kissed her, then run the day before.

  Swinging his gaze back to her, he said impatiently, “Is Summer here or not?”

  “Yes, she’s here. She’s putting the baby down for a nap.” Jasmine stepped away from the door, motioning for him to enter. “Won’t you come in, Mr. Hunter? I’m feeling a bit of a chill in the air.”

  He ignored the jab. Instead he strode past her, without a second glance, leaving behind a familiar whiff of musky cologne. The scent triggered a sensory overload in Jasmine’s fickle mind, setting her nerve endings on instant alert, reminding her just how good it had felt to be held close in his arms. Oblivious to her wavering thoughts, he let his gaze travel around the living room, taking in the carpet, the painted stucco walls, and the framed photos of family scattered around. Wryly, she noted that he looked everywhere, but at her.

  The silence lengthened between them, the tension in the room growing thicker by the second.

  Jasmine crossed her arms at her waist, sent him an impudent glance and did nothing to lessen his unease. Admittedly she took an undeniably wicked pleasure in his discomfort. Considering his own rude behavior, she told herself, Storm was one man who deserved to squirm under pressure.

  Summer breezed into the room. “Jasmine, I thought I heard the doorbell. Who was—” She stopped to stare at Storm, the look in her eye one of surprised uncertainty.

  Jasmine felt a new surge of protectiveness at Summer’s presence. No matter how angry she might be at Storm, she refused to let her own feelings cause her cousin any awkwardness. She stumbled over an attempt to ease the situation. “Summer, this is your uncle…Storm Hunter. Storm, this is Summer.”

  For a long moment neither Storm nor Summer spoke. They simply looked at each other, their gazes frank and assessing. There was no denying a resemblance. They shared the same high cheek bones, the large, dark brown eyes and the sculpted features. Summer had definitely inherited her dark beauty from the Hunter side of the family.

  Summer was the first to find her voice. She gave her uncle a heart warming smile. “Welcome to my home, Storm.”

  He gave a genuine smile in return. The transformation was remarkable, surprising Jasmine. The grim set of his face was softened by a tenderness she had no idea he was capable of showing. Grudgingly she acknowledged that perhaps there was reason to hope a caring man lived beneath that gruff exterior, after all.

  “Won’t you sit down?” Summer asked, motioning in the direction of the couch.

  “Yes, thank you,
” Storm said. He took a seat. Then, frowning, he glanced meaningfully from his niece to Jasmine.

  Taking the obvious hint, sensing that it was time for the two of them to be alone, Jasmine searched her mind for an excuse. “Why don’t I make us some tea?”

  Summer turned a startled look her way.

  Reaching out and squeezing her cousin’s arm, she murmured a brief reassurance before leaving the room. “I won’t be long. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  Summer nodded, still looking uncertain.

  Jasmine lingered in the doorway. She waited long enough to see Summer take her seat next to her uncle on the couch. The smiles on both of their faces and the soft murmur of their voices eased her qualms. She had no reason to fear leaving Summer alone with Storm. He appeared as anxious as her cousin to make this initial meeting as comfortable as possible.

  In the kitchen, she put the teakettle on a low heat, giving it ample time to boil. Gathering cups and saucers, she arranged a tray that would have made her mother proud. For good measure, she even threw in a plate of cookies that she’d found in the cupboard.

  After several long minutes had passed, she returned to the living room to rejoin her cousin. From the expression on Summer’s face, the meeting was a success. She wore a look of utter joy, and her dark eyes glimmered with unshed tears of emotion.

  Even Storm appeared moved by the encounter. His intense gaze never left Summer’s face. He seemed fascinated by everything she had to say. At the moment she was talking fondly of her husband, Gavin Night hawk.

  “Gavin was so disappointed that he was unable to be here today. He’s anxious to meet you.”

  Jasmine set the tray on the coffee table and began to fill the cups with tea.