Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Summer Breeze (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Jesse Jacobson

  “Rose, are you alright?”

  She heard the voice again, this time sounding closer. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She jerked as if she had been shocked by a taser.

  “Whoa,” the voice said. “It’s okay. No one is here to hurt you.”

  Rose looked up and saw Red Feather, frowning with concern. After Lenkov and his thug had left, the intimidation factor set in. It had put her partially into a trance. She never even heard or saw Red Feather approaching her.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” he continued.

  She glanced at him. His shirt was still off. Despite the fears still lingering deep within her, she noticed his naked chest, shoulders and arms. They were perfectly formed, looking as if they had been chiseled out of marble, like a statue of a Greek god.

  “Rose?”

  “What?”

  “Would you like to sit down?”

  She nodded. He guided her to the bench slider. The feel of his arm on her arm and back sent a sensation down her spine. The smell of his hair was . . . delightful. And whatever deodorant he was using was nothing less than sensational.

  She sat. Red Feather reached for her tea and offered it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. She took the cup but her hands began to quake, causing the tea to spill over the edges.

  “Here, let me help,” he said. He put his hands over hers and steadied them, allowing her to take a sip.

  “Thank you,” she repeated.

  “What did that bastard, Lenkov, say to you?” Red asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “He was just . . . just . . .”

  “Intimidating you?” Red asked.

  She nodded.

  “That’s what the man does,” Red continued.

  “You know him?”

  “I do. Well, I know of him,” he replied, “I’ve seen him out here a few times. Old Eli hated the man.”

  Rose looked at the Cheyenne’s eyes. They were dark and dreamy, “He hated Lenkov? How do you know?”

  “He told me . . . more than once,” Red said. “Lenkov wanted to buy the Summer Breeze Ranch.”

  “That’s what he told me,” Rose agreed.

  “And Old Eli didn’t want to sell.”

  Rose knew that her grandfather loved the ranch and would have hated to lose it, but from her first glance at his books earlier in the day, was probably going to lose the ranch anyway. The debts were large and his assets were dwindling. If a deep pockets coal company wanted to buy the place, then why . . .?

  “Do you know why he didn’t want to sell?” Rose asked.

  “Yes,” Red Feather replied. “The south end of Summer Breeze borders the Northern Cheyenne Reservation. Mission Mining has been wanting to mine on reservation land for years. The Cheyenne Nation has been fighting the coal companies for over forty years to keep them off the res. To date, they have been successful.”

  “To date?” Rose repeated, “meaning that it is ongoing?”

  “Yes. There is a growing population on the res that wants the coal companies to be allowed to mine on the res.”

  “Why?” Rose wanted to know.

  “Money, jobs, plain and simple,” Red replied. “Over eighty percent of the reservation population lives below the nation’s poverty line. The unemployment rate is nearly seventy percent.”

  “You mean seventeen percent?” Rose responded.

  “No, you heard right the first time,” he replied.

  “Seventy percent unemployment?” Rose repeated, incredulously. “That’s unheard of.”

  “I can tell you haven’t spent much time on an Indian reservation,” Red said. “It’s as bad as it sounds and it’s been going on for a while. Jobs brought in by the coal company are quite an incentive for many people.”

  “My grandfather’s property is not actually on reservation land, though,” Rose replied. “Why does Mission Mining want this property so badly?”

  “There’s a rub,” Red replied. “For many years there was a dispute over sixty-six acres of land bordering Summer Breeze Ranch and the res. Old Eli thought it was his and the tribal elders claimed it belonged to the res. They went to court. Your grandfather lost the court battle ten years ago and the res claimed the land.”

  “So, how does that factor into what is going on today?”

  “Because two years ago, the land was resurveyed and compared to the original purchase documents,” Red said. “The documents clearly showed the land does indeed belong to your grandfather. All Old Eli had to do was get a lawyer and go through a simple legal process to reobtain it.”

  “I never heard anything about that,” Rose said.

  “That’s because your grandfather never pursued it,” he replied. “He told me he was getting on in years and had been living without those acres for this long. He had no intention of pursuing it. He still had over four thousand acres remaining and was no longer running a working ranch.”

  “But the Mission Mining company would if they owned it,” Rose noted.

  Red nodded, “Yes, and everyone knows it. The whole thing has been in the newspapers down here. If the Mission Mining company buys Summer Breeze Ranch they will begin mining for coal immediately. They will also seek to overturn the original court decision and reclaim the sixty-six acres of reservation for the ranch.”

  Rose nodded, knowingly, “And then they can claim they have been mining on reservation land already, or land that recently belonged to the reservation.”

  “Yes, that, but also, the reason the Cheyenne Nation has been so adamant about keeping the coal mining out is for environmental reasons. The Cheyenne Nation wants to keep the air and water quality pure.”

  “Go on,” Rose said.

  “If Mission Mining starts digging for coal on the reservation border, the coal ash and slurry waste will start to poison Rosebud Creek and Cottonwood Creek, both of which flows through Summer Breeze Ranch and south.”

  “Into the reservation,” Rose continued.

  “Yes. Those creeks dump into Lame Creek, which travels through the entire res.”

  “That would be a big problem.”

  “That’s correct, and the greenhouse gas emissions will affect air quality on the res, too,” Red added. “If the water and air were already polluted, it then makes no sense to keep the coal company out.”

  “Because the res would be suffering the consequences but not gaining from creating new jobs,” Rose finished. “One thing I don’t understand is, if Mission Mining bought Summer Breeze, couldn’t members of the res just come to work for them here?”

  Red shook his head, “This is not the first time the coal companies have used this ploy. The operation here would be small, just large enough to pollute the air and water. They would work with a smaller crew, and intentionally not hire people from the res.”

  “That’s illegal,” Rose said.

  “They have many lawyers who get paid very well to bury matters such as this or string them out for extended periods. Virtually no one on the res could afford a lawyer to fight it.”

  “I get it now.”

  “Old Eli was adamantly against it,” Red said. “He didn’t want to have the coal company on his land and he didn’t want his land to be used to ruin the res.”

  “That sounds like my grandfather,” Rose replied. She looked up at the Cheyenne and smiled. “Thanks for checking on me.”

  He returned the smile, “Of course. Old Eli told me a lot about you. He thought the world of you. I can see why. Well, you look like you’re ok now and I’m finished. I best be headed home.”

  He paused for a moment and turned away.

  “Red,” she called out.

  He turned to face her again, “Do you need something?” he asked.

  What a loaded question, she thought, “I haven’t had dinner yet. I bought salad and a frozen lasagna. Would you like to join me?”

  ______________________

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ______________________

  From the mom
ent that Old Eli had shown him a picture of Rose Summer, Red Feather had been fantasizing about her. When he first saw her standing on the porch, he realized that the photo he’d been shown of her didn’t do her justice.

  Rose was medium height with a light-chocolate complexion. Her shoulder length hair was thick, professionally styled, beautifully framing her face. Her brown eyes were hypnotic, her lips luscious, her smile radiant and her body long and lean, adequately curved in all the right places.

  He felt like a young boy trying to speak to the most popular girl in school when he first met her, and now here he was, standing with her in Old Eli’s kitchen, pouring two glasses of red wine.

  He had put his shirt back on before entering the house, buttoning it half way up, and pulled his hair back into a ponytail.

  He watched her as she glided from spot to spot in the kitchen, tossing salad, pulling plates from the cabinet, checking the oven. Her skinny jeans and tight white top accentuating a gorgeous natural bustline and curvy bottom. She was a vision. He felt guilty being there. It was as if he had parlayed her concerns into a dinner invitation, something he did not intentionally mean to do.

  Or had he?

  No. Not consciously anyway, but on a deeper level, perhaps. At any rate, he was here now. As he poured the wine, he tried to recall all the things Eli had told him about Rose. She used the name Rosemary professionally but hated to be called by it in casual settings. Call her Rosemary while you’re having a beer in a bar and be prepared to fight, Eli had once told him. He knew she worked in a hoity-toity law firm in Chicago, a high-pressure job that made her lots of money but caused her to work seventy hours a week, often even more.

  He knew she had a boyfriend, the top lawyer in the same firm, a man named Bennett who Eli didn’t care for. Eli had told Red that Bennett was way too focused on money and career and would only care for Rose as long as it never interfered with his meteoric rise to partnership.

  Eli had also told him that Rose was driven, independent, strong and brave, and he could well imagine it was all true, given the way he had just seen her stand up to Lenkov and his goon.

  Although he was smitten at first sight, he promised himself he would be respectful. This was the granddaughter of a man who he had great respect for. She already had a boyfriend and was certainly in a vulnerable space right now. He needed to cool his jets.

  Still, he had caught her checking him out when his shirt was off. He felt his eyes on her. He knew what she was doing. He was no stranger to women checking him out. He knew women considered him handsome. During his stint in the Navy, women literally threw themselves at him. At first, it was fun, but after a while, he realized he was simply a target for some of these women who wanted to put a notch in their belts by sleeping with a Navy SEAL.

  Rose was not that kind of person, though, he knew. She was the kind of woman he’d always been attracted to for more than just a one-night stand. But what would a woman like her, brilliant and educated, rich . . . or soon-to-be-rich, want with a poor, often unemployed ex-Navy man with no future to speak of?

  “Would you mind setting the table?” she asked. “The plates and silverware are on the counter.”

  “Of course,” he replied. He handed her a glass of wine on his way past her. He felt her fingers gliding across his as she took the glass from his hand. He saw her react when their fingers made contact.

  By the time Red Feather had the table set, Rose was bringing the lasagna and salad to the table. He noticed she had nearly killed off her glass of wine. He refilled the glass without asking.

  “So, Red, tell me,” Rose asked, slicing the lasagna into good-sized portions, “have you been working for my grandfather long?”

  “I have done landscaping, gardening and handyman work for Old Eli off and on for three years now, ever since I got out of the service,” he replied, portioning out salad onto both their plates.

  This beautiful man had been here for three years, and she’d never met him. Damn, Rose thought. She hadn’t been to Summer Breeze in a long time.

  “Oh, you were in the military?” she asked.

  “Yep, eight years,” he responded.

  “What branch?”

  “Navy.”

  “That’s sounds neat,” she said. “Were you on a battleship or a carrier? Get to see the world?”

  “I got to see the world, alright, the really bad parts of it, but not on a ship,” he replied. “I was a member of a SEAL team, out of San Diego.”

  “Wow!” Rose replied, taking a bite of lasagna. “That sounds impressive. And you did that for eight years?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn,” she said.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I forgot to put the bread in the oven. I’ll be right back.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t do it on my account,” he said, thinking to himself this was more food than he usually ate in a week.

  “Oh, ok,” she replied. “I’m trying to stay away from extra carbs anyway.”

  “Why?” he asked. “You look amazing.”

  He paused mid-bite, realizing what he had said just spilled out of his mouth. He did not know her well enough to comment on her appearance.

  “Well, thank you, that’s sweet,” was all she said. Red Feather looked at her for a reaction wondering if he had just offended her. He saw no expression on her face that gave him that indication.

  “You were the one who found my grandfather after he . . .”

  Red Feather nodded, “I was. Heart attack I was told. I hope he didn’t suffer.”

  “It’s hard to say,” Rose said. “There will be no autopsy.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “No. Grandfather was eighty-one with a history of heart problems,” Rose said. “He was on several medications. It was only a matter of time. Unfortunately, he had a genetic defect that runs in our family.”

  “Are you saying . . .?

  “Yes, I have a heart condition, too, but with medication, it is properly managed,” Rose said.

  “Good. Well, I am very sorry for your loss,” Red said. “I grew to like the man very much.”

  She nodded and smiled softly.

  “So, when you got out of the service, you started your own landscaping business?” she continued.

  “You might say that,” he replied. “I couldn’t find a regular job, so I started doing odd jobs to pay the bills. On any given week, I am a landscaper, a house painter, a roofer, delivery driver, a driveway paver . . . you name it.”

  “Do you stay busy?” she asked.

  “Not as busy as I’d like,” he said. The truth of the matter was, Red Feather’s bank account was close to rock bottom. For the independent odd-job-handyman, a typical business or homeowner had nearly unlimited choices. Many of the men working those jobs were so desperate for work, they’d charge bare minimum to get the job. The only reason he was really doing landscaping for her grandfather was that Old Eli had found out he was nearly broke and hired him to do a job that he wasn’t even considering two weeks earlier. Red Feather refused to apply for food stamps, but times were getting tough.

  “If things are so tough on the res, why come back here?” she asked.

  He shrugged, “I was born and raised on the res. It’s home. Besides, where else would I go?”

  “Did you ever consider staying in the Navy?” she asked.

  He patted his knee twice gently, “My last assignment was tough. It put me in the hospital. I have two pins in this knee, two more in my hip. I could no longer pass the physical.”

  “So, they just let you go?”

  “I understood,” he said. “I could no longer pull my weight in Special Ops. I would never want to put my Navy brothers in danger. As it turns out, pushing paper or performing other tasks was not my forte.”

  “That’s so sad,” Rose said, touching his arm. She looked into his eyes. Red found himself getting lost in her gaze.

  “What about you?” Red asked, taking a sip of wine. “What’s you
r story? I know you live in Chicago. Do you like it?”

  “Yes and no,” she responded, after taking a long sip of wine. “I have a tough job.”

  “You’re a lawyer, right?” he asked.

  “Yes, with one of the bigger law firms in Chicago,” she replied.

  “Your grandfather was very proud,” he said.

  She smiled, “I know. He told me so many times. Still, I’m not sure how long I can last, there.”

  “From what Old Eli told me, I was under the impression you were doing great.”

  She sighed, “I can do the job really well. It’s just there are problems . . .”

  “Like what?”

  “Like my law degree is from Santa Clara Law School, not Harvard or Yale or even Duke or Stanford. I’m pretty sure that, despite my abilities, they only hired me because I’m black and a woman.”

  “So, they treat you like a second-class citizen there, right?” Red said.

  “Exactly. You understand, right?”

  He nodded, “I do and I don’t. In the Navy, as a SEAL you prove your worth by kicking ass and taking names. You work hard to earn the respect of your superiors and your SEAL brothers. I did that. But when I left the Navy, I came back into the real world. Here, in the real world, it is different. A Cheyenne is often treated as a second-class citizen as well.”

  She nodded, “I can imagine.”

  She sighed softly, looking at him with eyes beginning to glaze, “You should lose the ponytail.”

  He smiled but looked a little confused nonetheless, “What?”

  “That hair should be on full display,” she continued.

  Red Feather smiled again and removed the rubber band holding his hair back. It fell past his shoulders several inches down his back.

  “Your hair is so beautiful,” she said, raising her hand. “May I?”

  He nodded.

  She reached over and took a handful of his hair in her hand. He saw the cleavage of her beautiful breasts pushing their way upward. She was close enough for Red to smell her fragrance. It was heavenly. It reminded him of faint honeysuckle.

  “Oh . . . my . . . god,” she said. “What I wouldn’t give to have hair like this.”