He turned his attention back to the visit itself. Why would Lenkov give a rat’s ass if he planted a few shrubs and trees, he wondered? Was it a warning to him? Did Lenkov somehow think that scaring him off would intimidate Rose? What was it McCoy said?
Lenkov did not want him snooping around the property.
Was there something on the property Lenkov did not want him to see?
Red Feather decided to scrutinize the grounds immediately around the ranch house. He looked through Old Eli’s shed, walked through the beautiful flower garden, inspected the integrity of the windows and doors. In over an hour of inspection, he found nothing.
______________________
CHAPTER EIGHT
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Rose Summer noticed Red Feather’s truck as she pulled up to the house, but she didn’t see him. She looked at her watch; it was nearly six o’clock. She expected he would be long gone by now. She got out of the car and immediately noticed that the Cheyenne had accomplished a great deal of the landscaping work he’d set out to do, but where was he now, she wondered?
“You’re back,” she heard a voice say. She jumped, not expecting the voice to be so close. She saw Red Feather sitting up from the back of his truck. He looked as though he’d been asleep.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he continued.
“Red! What are you still doing here?” she asked. “I thought you needed to be someplace and would be gone.”
“That’s right,” he acknowledged, leaping out of the truck to the ground. He was shirtless again. His chest and pants were covered in dirt. She saw that his fingernails were caked in dirt and his boots were nearly consumed by it. “Something more important came up. I need to talk to you.”
“Why didn’t you just call me?” she asked.
He held his open palms out, “No cell phone. Can’t afford one.”
“How do people reach you?”
“Old school,” he replied. “Answering machine at home.”
“Well, fortunately for you, I bought enough dinner for two,” she said. “Come on inside.”
He waved her off, “Naw, that’s ok. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m filthy from head to toe.”
“Believe me, I noticed,” she said, smiling for the first time all day. She took in his magnificent features, lean and muscular. Even covered in dirt, his chest, shoulders, arms and waist looked splendid.
“It looks like you got a lot done,” she continued. “Take off those boots and come inside. You can use the shower. Some of Eli’s clothes may be a bit loose on you, but it’ll work.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Look, if you were going to knock me in the head and rob me, you could have done it last night,” she said. “Just come on in and use the shower. You smell like a bear. I’ll put dinner on. When you get out we can eat and you can tell me what came up.”
“Well . . . ok then,” he said, smiling. “What’s for dinner?”
“I hope you like salmon,” she said.
“I am Cheyenne,” he said. “I’ll eat pretty much anything that comes out of the water.”
“Good. Now help me get the groceries out of the car.”
Red Feather helped her unload six bags of groceries from her car.
“I’ll get you some extra towels from the linen closet,” she said. “The bathroom is the first door down the hall. There’s soap in the tray.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Shampoo?”
“I just got some,” she replied. “Give me a couple of minutes to unpack and I’ll bring it to you. I’ll also bring you some of Eli’s clothes.”
“I appreciate it,” he said. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“No problem,” she said, smiling again. “I could use the company.”
“Great, then,” he replied. Red Feather disappeared into the bathroom.
Rose pulled towels from the closet and pecked on the door, “I’m leaving the towels on the floor,” she said, through the door. “I’ll be back with the shampoo in a minute or two.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I won’t be long.” She could hear the shower running.
Rose walked into the kitchen and found the bag containing the shampoo. She pulled it and started back for the bathroom when the phone rang. She looked at the display—it was Michael. She answered.
“So, when were you going to tell me you poached the Harden case from me, Michael?” she snipped.
“I love you too, babe,” he replied.
Rose despised being called, ‘babe.’ She had told him that many times.
“Don’t get coy, Michael,” she fired back. “You know what this case meant to me.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he interrupted. “I didn’t ask for this. Matt came to me . . .”
“I know that,” she huffed, “but you are supposed to have my back.”
“I did have your back, babe,” he responded.
“It doesn’t sound like it,” she challenged. “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you that you could have offered to simply join the case and hold things together until I got back.”
“Hey, let’s get real,” Michael said. “I’m the number one associate in the firm. I don’t play second fiddle to anyone, not even you.”
Rose was seething. She let out a heavy sigh, “Not even for someone you are supposed to love?”
“Don’t go pulling the love card, babe,” he said. “I’ll put in a good word for you, don’t worry. You and me, we are still a team. People like you and me have to stick together. You know that.”
“And don’t pull the ‘black’ card on me,” she spouted. “I did all the heavy lifting on the case. Now you’re going to sweep in for all the glory. You are in this for yourself, Michael.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he replied. “How is it going down there, anyway?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she said. “I am so disappointed right now . . . You know what, I don’t even want to talk to you right now.”
“Hey now, don’t be that way, babe. We’re still a team, right? I mean, when you get back . . .”
“Don’t call me babe,” she interrupted.
“Look, I need some information from you on this case,” he said.
“I can’t talk to you anymore,” she replied.
“Call me tomorrow then, Rose. I need the information from your files—it’s important.”
Rose hit ‘end’ on her cell, ending the call.
She took a moment to collect herself, breathing deeply. That’s when she noticed the shampoo. She picked up the bottle and headed to the bathroom, stopping just long enough to pick up a pair of Eli’s gym shorts and a white cotton button-down shirt from Eli’s closet. The towels had been taken from the floor. She heard the water running. The door was pushed to, but not fully closed. A sliver of light filtered from the bathroom into the hallway. She pecked on the door.
“Red? I have your shampoo,” she said. She heard no answer. She pecked again, this time a little harder.
“Red?”
Again, no answer. The water streaming from the shower head and the glass shower stall had deadened the sound. She pecked one more time, still harder yet. The force of the knock pushed open the door four or five inches. She saw Red Feather’s reflection in the oversized mirror. He was in the shower, her back to him, naked, lathered in soap. His eyes were closed, his face covered in soapy foam.
Holy shit, she thought to herself. The young Cheyenne looked magnificent when she saw him shirtless. He was positively stunning when fully naked. She blushed, feeling guilty staring at Red’s incredible physique. She looked away for a moment, feeling like a voyeur, but looked back at him, as if she had no control over the act.
She watched him continuing to soap himself up, rubbing soft lather on his arms, chest, down his stomach and over his . . .
A chill raced down her spine. She slid her hand through the door and placed the shampoo bottle on the counter and hung the clothes on t
he doorknob. She pulled the door shut and headed back to the kitchen, as quickly as her feet would allow.
______________________
CHAPTER NINE
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Red Feather squeezed the excess water from his hair, allowing it to hang over his shoulders in a loose, wet mop. He had found the shampoo and used it, wondering if Rose had seen him in the shower or not. The thought of her possibly seeing him naked made him smile to himself. He opened the door a crack and noticed the shorts and shirt hanging on the door knob. There were no socks or underwear and he wasn’t about to put the filthy ones he had back on.
He slipped on the gym shorts, sized extra-large, several inches too big in the waist. He used the waist strings to cinch them tight around his stomach. He was going to look a little funny, he thought, looking at the baggy shorts. Beggars could not be choosers, however. The shirt hung loosely on him as well. Better too big than too small, he thought. He left the shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest. He grabbed his dirty clothes and walked into the kitchen. He carried the clothes in one hand and held up his shorts with the other.
The smell of broiled salmon wafted down the hall got his attention. He also smelled green vegetables cooking. Broccoli? Asparagus? Whatever it was, it smelled delightful.
He caught sight of Rose standing by the stove, her back to him. She had changed clothes. She wore tight red cotton shorts and a sheer white, tight-fitting top. Her light-chocolate skin looked smooth and creamy. She looked a little leaner than when he had seen her before.
“Rose,” he called out.
Rose jumped again, turning toward him.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I seem to be scaring you a lot.”
She looked at him in her grandfather’s oversized shorts and shirt and began to laugh.
“What is so funny?” he asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“You look a little hobo-ish in Eli’s clothes,” she said.
“Not much different from how I feel,” he said. “You’ve been so generous already, but I was wondering if I could use your washing machine to clean my clothes while we eat?
“Good idea,” she said, still chuckling. “Have a seat. Dinner is almost ready. I’m anxious to hear what you wanted to tell me.”
She handed him a corkscrew and a bottle of red wine and took the clothes from him, “Here make yourself useful. I’ll throw these in the wash and will be right back.”
He took the bottle from her, “More wine? I haven’t had wine two nights in a row in a very long time.”
“What, you don’t like wine?” she asked.
“I do, but I’m Cheyenne,” he said, grinning. “We’re noted for drinking firewater.”
“I’ve heard the term but I must confess, I really don’t know what firewater is. Can you tell me?”
He shook his head, “I have no idea.”
She smiled and left to retrieve another bottle.
Ten minutes later, Rose and Red Feather were eating broiled salmon, fried asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes and Caesar salad. The former SEAL took her carefully through the entire altercation between himself and McCoy. The light mood Rose had experienced when she first saw Red Feather had completely disappeared. Her face took on a look of deep concern. She poked at her plate.
“I’m sorry,” Red Feather said. “It looks like I ruined your appetite. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No, that’s ok,” she said. “You had to tell me, and I needed to hear it.”
“I am still troubled by his comments about me snooping around the property,” Red Feather said. “Can you think of anything that your grandfather may have had, or may have been hiding, perhaps, that a man like Lenkov would not want me to see?”
Rose thought for a moment, and shook her head, “I can’t think of anything. I’m embarrassed to say this. I loved my grandfather deeply. He was the only family I had left. Both my parents are gone and I had no brothers or sisters. Once I moved to Chicago though, and began my law career, I didn’t see him very often. I’ve been feeling guilty about it.”
“It’s understandable,” Red Feather insisted. “I know how it is with new careers. You were probably working seventy hours a week . . .”
“Sometimes more,” she interrupted. “You’re sure he was trying to prevent you from finding something?”
“I spent twelve years as a Navy SEAL, in Special Ops,” he replied. “I’ve dealt with a lot of bad people. You learn to catch nuances in language. I’m pretty certain he wanted me gone because he was afraid I’d stumble onto something.”
“But you checked, right?” she replied. “Everything looked fine.”
“I did,” the Cheyenne replied, “but it’s a big place and I wasn’t sure where to look. It would help if I had some idea what he was looking for.”
Rose sighed, “I can’t think of anything.”
“Did he have an email account?” Red asked.
“Yes, I got emails from him,” she said, “but I don’t know his password.”
“Did you save all the old emails he sent to you?”
“Sure. You can read them if you think that would help.”
“I’d like to try, yes,” he said.
“As soon as we’re done eating, I’ll grab my laptop,” she said. She jabbed a piece of her salmon onto her fork, looking at Red Feather as he ate. A hint of a smile reappeared on her face.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked, sipping her wine.
“I’m sorry. Am I overstepping my boundaries?” he asked.
“No, of course not. I appreciate it . . . but why?”
Red Feather paused and put down his fork, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “Two reasons I can think of. Old Eli treated me well and his memory deserves to be protected. He paid over the market rate for me to work for him and even had me do work he didn’t really need, all because he himself, was a veteran, and he knew how tough some of us had it on the res.”
“And two?” she asked.
“I’m a trained Navy SEAL,” he said. “We took care of people who needed help. I spent my military career fighting against forces who took advantage of people who were weaker and vulnerable.”
“Is that how you see me, weak and vulnerable?” she asked.
“No. I think you are strong. I saw you standing up to Lenkov. But you are alone in this fight as far as I can tell, and I don’t think you’ve fully grasped the power of the organization you face. I owe it to Eli to help, if you’ll allow it.”
“Consider it allowed,” she replied. “I’ll get my laptop.”
Rose brought her laptop to the table, pulled her seat next to Red Feather’s and fired it up. She was now sitting so close, their thighs nearly touched. Once again, he smelled the faint aroma of honeysuckle from her fragrance. She opened her email account and found the most recent emails from her grandfather. There had been three this year so far.
Red Feather scanned the content from Eli to Rose, which to him, seemed very benign: How is work? I miss you. When are you coming to see me? Have you met anyone from the show, Chicago Med? Do you ever get to see the Bears play?
“Anything?” Rose asked.
“No,” Red Feather replied. “I see he calls you ‘Rosedoll.’ Is that your real name?”
She smiled, “No. My full first name is Rosemary. Rosedoll is a nickname he gave me as a little girl. It always stuck.”
“Do you like it?”
She chuckled, “Hell no, but it’s all he ever called me. Don’t get any ideas. He was the only one who was allowed to call me that.”
He raised his hands in the air, feigning fear, “Don’t worry. I heard you loud and clear.”
She chuckled, balling her tiny fist, pretending to strike.
Red Feather went back to scanning the emails. Rose looked at him curiously, “So, Red, tell me . . . is there a Mrs. Red Feather?”
He paused, “No. I’m not doing a very good job at supporting myself, much less a wife.”
“W
as there ever a Mrs. Red Feather?” she asked.
“I was very serious once,” he said. “A girl I met in high school. She reminded me of you.”
“You mean she was black?”
He chuckled, “No, she was Cheyenne, but she was very smart, very driven . . . and very beautiful.”
Rose smiled, blushing at the comparison, “What happened?”
“She knew I planned to join the Navy after school. I had dreamed of being a Navy SEAL all my life. She didn’t like the plan. She went on to college and found someone new,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Rose replied.
“If it was meant to be, the relationship would have survived my service,” he added.
“Do you have other aspirations, now?”
“I have a couple of ideas,” he said. “I’d love to run my own ranch someday, you know, raise a few horses, maybe some chickens. Working here at Summer Breeze has given me the taste for ranch life.”
“I love that,” Rose said. “What’s your other idea?”
“Well, I have no money for a ranch, so I’m thinking about a job I could do well, too. I’d love to go to college, someday.”
“College? That’s great,” she said. “What do you plan to study?”
“The University of Massachusetts offers a Bachelors of Science degree in Criminal Justice with a concentration in homeland security. The degree offers courses in weapons of mass destruction and technology security.”
“That’s fantastic, Red,” Rose said. “With your practical experience, you’ll be a natural. The degree will open a lot of doors.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” he said. “I’m still young. Who knows, maybe the CIA or FBI will have an interest in me.”
“I can’t imagine them not having an interest,” she replied.
Rose shifted in her chair and her thigh brushed against his, bare leg against bare leg. Red Feather felt a sensation in his loins. He looked at Rose, whose expression turned serious. The direct contact made her pause as well.
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