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“They could relocate there,” said Sophia.
Zachery Gill took that one. “We have only sixteen hundred members. Over nine hundred live on the rez, nearly all of whom live along the river. Turquoise Ridge is for our miners and loggers. There’s nothing up there but rock and ponderosa pine.”
“But it’s high ground,” she said.
“It’s impossible. We even asked FEMA for temporary housing. I’ll bet you can guess the answer.”
Judging from the pressing of her full lips, Jack felt that she did. FEMA would not provide emergency housing before an emergency and the federal and state officials had indicated that all was safe regarding the reservoir system.
“Did you say you got men past the security?” she asked.
“Men and women. The road across the top of the dam is blocked with one concrete barrier on each side and a state police vehicle on the east side. We were allowed on tours with only our tribal identification cards and saw the inner workings of each dam during public tours. We were allowed to walk up to the top of the dam.”
“Single individuals could not carry enough explosives to destroy a dam. At worst they’d damage the power station.”
“We have a twenty-four-foot police boat, which had been seized from the property of a drug dealer convicted on their rez. We use it for water rescues and search-and-rescue.”
He had her attention.
“We were able to bring it and a flat fifteen-foot Zodiac with a load capacity of 250 pounds simultaneously within ten feet of the base of the dam. We were there nearly forty-five minutes before there was a response.”
Sophia was no longer meeting the director’s gaze. Instead she was staring into space. A moment later she reached for her phone.
“I need to check in.”
“You’re on leave,” reminded the shaman.
“But if what you say is true then I need to report this.”
Zach smiled. “We tell you this for two reasons. One, because we wish you to see that we are vulnerable.”
They waited but Zach said no more. Sophia glanced at Jack, the look of confusion evident. He did nothing but glance back to the executive director. But now there seemed to be a steel band around his ribs squeezing away the air from his lungs and making it hard to draw a full breath. If just looking at her did this to him, he really, really needed to avoid touching her. Yet he could think of nothing else.
Sophia inadvertently rescued him by directing her expressive dark eyes at Gill.
“What is the other reason?”
“You are here and you are listening.”
“Yes, but I can’t help you blow up the canyon. It would be an ecological disaster for the river, not to mention destroying the water supply to both Red Rock and Mesa Salado Dams below this position.”
“We disagree,” said Kenshaw. “Creating a temporary dam of rock and debris would actually save both dams from the flood and debris that would at best test the limits of their infrastructure. All reservoirs are at their limits now after a record rain. We believe this is what BEAR has been waiting for. The rains have come and gone and the water is high.”
“I can’t help you do this.” She folded her arms. The action lifted her breasts.
Jack stared and when he finally tore his gaze away, it was to meet Ray’s knowing glance. Jack wanted to knock the smirk off his face. Ray had settled down since marrying Morgan and taking on the role as father to Lisa. They were now expecting their first child, but there was still devilment in him. Ray leaned toward Dylan Tehauno and whispered something. Dylan’s gaze snapped to Jack, and he stared with wide eyes full of surprise. Jack had a reputation for being very selective when it came to women. Jack shook the thoughts from his head and realized Kenshaw was speaking, his voice as hypnotic as the wavering notes of a flute.
“No need to decide and no action to take. Tonight we will pray and dance and perhaps then know better what direction to go.”
“Folks will be arriving soon,” said Gill to Sophia. “You are welcome to join us. Tomorrow Jack will take you to the reservoir system. You can see if you think the protection is adequate. After that we will talk again.”
Sophia stood. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I think I will turn in. Early start tomorrow.”
Actually they would start late. Jack wanted her to see the day tours, but also night surveillance because Kenshaw was right. It was not that hard to get past one state police car parked at one end of each dam. Closing the bridge spanning the dam was a predictable security measure. But one Humvee followed by a tractor trailer could knock the concrete barrier aside without even slowing down.
There were many things Jack wanted to show Sophia Rivas. But he would stick to the ones relating to the reservoir system. For now.
Jack followed Sophia out of the council lodge. He paused to grab her kerosene lantern. The lantern was unnecessary really, because of the waning moon, now in its quarter. The silvery light reflected back on the placid surface of the Hakathi River.
“You forgot your lantern,” he said and offered her the handle.
She made a sniffing sound. “I don’t like them.”
“Lanterns?”
“Yes, lanterns—they smell,” she said.
“I like it—it smells like—”
“Poverty,” she said, finishing his sentence.
He cocked his head at the odd association. Did she mean that people used kerosene when they had no electricity? For him the association of the lantern brought back memories of camping along the river as a boy, but perhaps she did not have electricity in her home on Black Mountain. His tribe had some homes on propane up in Turquoise Ridge, but most everyone had electricity and septic tanks. Hadn’t she?
“Well, we don’t need it. It’s bright enough.”
She just kept walking until she reached the front porch facing the river. All the cabins faced the river so he understood why she had picked the wrong one. Close, just one off, but this was his cabin for as long as she stayed with them.
“Um,” he said. Should he tell her or let her figure it out on her own?
She rounded on him. “You had no right to take an offhanded comment and present it to everyone as if I had suggested blowing up your reservation as a viable option.”
“Seemed like a plan.”
“It’s a disaster. It will ruin the canyon and it will boomerang back to me. Your little stunt in there could cost me my job.”
She worried about protecting her career while he worried about safeguarding the lives of everyone here.
“It wasn’t a stunt, Sophia. I’m trying to save my people.”
“That’s our job—the FBI’s. And we can do our work more efficiently without a bunch of lunatics performing a ghost dance and then blowing themselves to smithereens.”
The ghost dances had been used in a vain attempt to remove the scourge of white men from the west by the Sioux people, who followed the great spiritual leader the Anglos called Crazy Horse. His real name was
which literally meant “His Horse is Crazy.” But Jack understood the reference. Their shaman called for all the people to come and pray and dance tonight. Like Crazy Horse, Kenshaw Little Falcon believed in the old ways. But he also honored the new. In other words, pray but also act. Her comparing his tribe’s gathering to the ghost dance was both insult and honor.
“How about you wait until tomorrow to see what you think of the job the authorities are doing?”
She stiffened and placed a hand on the latch.
Behind them the string of headlights marked the arrival of the tribe, as they wound along the river road like a great, brilliant snake.
On the great open area between the main lodge and the cabins, the central fire was being lit.
“Are you sure you won’t come?” Jack motioned to the gathering place. “I’d love to watch you dance.”
“I haven’t danced for a long time.” She sounded wistful.
Dancing was a form of prayer for their people, a way to communicate to the great divine while still connecting to the earth.
“You could just sit on your porch and watch. Then come join us if you like,” he said.
“Maybe.” She pulled the latch and the door cracked open. She regarded him now, really looking up at him.
He went still under her inspection, hoping that she liked what she saw. His nostrils flared as he tried to bring enough air to sustain him, but each breath brought her delicate floral scent to him. He breathed it in, making it a part of him. He swallowed but his throat was still dry. He was looking at her mouth now, thinking what it might be like to kiss her slowly at first and then...
“I’d better go,” she said.
“Sophia?”
She stepped closer. Oh, boy. He was about to tell her that she was at the wrong door, but maybe it was no mistake. Maybe she knew exactly which cabin this was. That thought made his wiring short-circuit. His blood rushed and his breathing quickened as the desire drowned the rational part of his mind.
“Yes?” She brushed the tips of her fingers down the center of his chest.
“This isn’t your cabin.”
She stepped back. Damn, he should have kissed her first and then told her. But then he might not have wanted to tell her. Not when his bed was only a few short steps away.
He wanted her in that bed more than he had wanted anything in a long time.
Car doors slammed and headlights swung into the field they used for parking. Voices reached them as the people began to gather.
Sophia looked around her. “Which one is mine?”
Jack pointed and watched her go. He didn’t follow. Not just because he was needed in the drum circle, but because they needed Sophia’s help. Kissing her, sleeping with her, might make it easier to convince her. But it also would lead to the bloody same questions women always asked.
Why don’t you look like your brothers? Why are you so big? Have you ever thought about speaking to your parents?
Jack let his hand trail over his wallet. Inside were the answers. But he just couldn’t bear confirmation that his mother had deceived his father and he was the visible sign of that infidelity. Everyone suspected. No one spoke about it. Except the women he dated. That seemed to make them feel they had some right to turn him inside out. It didn’t. Never had. Never would.
Chapter Five (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
Sophia stood on the porch of the little cabin and listened. The men sat in a circle around a huge drum, each with a leather-tipped drumstick, collectively beating the rhythm for the dance. She could see them all by firelight and recognized many; Ray sat next to Dylan, who was beside Kurt Bear Den. Then came three men she could not see because their backs were toward her. Adjacent to them, Jack Bear Den sat in profile. He was a full head taller than any of the others and that was while he was sitting down. His appearance raised all sorts of obvious questions. The investigator in her wanted answers. But the part of her that kept her own secrets did not.
Much of her childhood had been horrific and blocking it out just made sense. No different than blocking someone on social media. Except those drums. They brought back something she hadn’t remembered, the good part. Belonging to something bigger than herself. Walling herself off, avoiding going home, it was logical but now she felt a longing that made her weep.
So here she stood, leaning against the porch rail and watching the Turquoise Canyon tribe dance in unison around the central fire. Her head bobbed in time and her feet shuffled from side to side. She knew this dance, knew the meaning and the purpose.
There in the light of the fire went Morgan Hooke and beside her was the Anglo Meadow Wrangler. She did not seem to care that she was an outsider, as she matched her steps perfectly to the others. Sophia studied Meadow and how the other women reacted to her. From Sophia’s perspective, it seemed that this tribe accepted the heiress despite her outlandish ocean-blue hair and relations with the known head of BEAR. Sophia longed to join them but something kept her rooted to the porch. If she were similarly welcomed, it would be harder to leave.
She wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and straightened. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to move in slow harmony around the fire or sing the songs to earth and sky. But a prayer might help the outcome of the internal investigation. A song sung with so many voices was a powerful thing. Was it strong enough to give her back what was taken...her badge, her gun, her position?
She needed them. Needed to be away from here and back where she belonged. On the job.
Sophia sang softly to herself. The song was a prayer, her tiny voice mingling with the people. Their languages were different. She hoped it wouldn’t matter as she returned to the language of her youth, her terrible wonderful youth beside the high black-capped mountain. She sang the next song as well and was still there when the logs fell inward and the drums went silent. Still there clinging to the porch rail when the gathering broke and the engines of the cars and trucks started. She watched the vehicles cruise away. Saw Jack Bear Den lift the drum as big as a truck tire and carry it single-handed into the lodge.
She retreated to the shadows as his friends made their way to their cabins. Ray chased his new wife past her door as Morgan giggled like a girl.
Next came Dylan and Meadow, strolling arm in arm, their heads inclined so they touched. They paused at the river and shared a long kiss that was so full of love and desire that Sophia had to look away. She turned toward the lodge and saw Jack Bear Den standing before the steps leading to the cabin beside hers. His eyes were pinned on her. The shroud of darkness wasn’t cover enough to keep him from locating her.
“You didn’t come,” Jack said. His voice was low and only for her. Had he been watching for her? That thought made her tingle all over.
She glanced over at Dylan and Meadow and was surprised when Meadow kissed Dylan good-night and then retreated alone through the doorway. Sophia blinked in confusion as what she knew of Meadow’s wild reputation for men and parties clashed with the chaste kiss. Dylan walked alone to the next lodge and vanished inside.
“They don’t?” Sophia asked.
Jack shook his head. “Nope.”
“But why? They are clearly in love.”
“Because to marry her is to give Meadow federal protection from the local wants and warrants regarding the wildfire. Meadow won’t have the people thinking she married Dylan for that reason. Someday, she will marry him. When the matter is settled.”
“That could be years.” Sophia looked at the dark lodge. Beyond the window Sophia thought that Meadow must be preparing to sleep in her empty bed. “It could be never.”
“Her choice,” said Jack. “And a difficult one. But one that has earned her much respect here.”
Sophia returned her gaze to Jack, taking in the readiness of his stance and the way he was now angled away from his cabin and toward hers.
“I was hoping you would join us,” he said.
“I did not want to intrude.”
“We want you here, Sophia. Everyone. And they want to meet you.”
“I won’t be here that long.”
He nodded. “More reason.”
“You want to sit awhile?” He motioned to the bench beneath the single window on his porch.
Sophia knew with certainty what would happen if she crossed the distance between them. It wouldn’t be sitting.
“Detective Bear Den, I want you to know that I’m not in a relationship at present.”
His brows lifted at this change of direction.
“By choice. I like men, I just don’t like them encroaching, you know, on my space. I need privacy.”
“I wouldn’t think I’d be encroaching for long. Like you said, you’re leaving.”
