by Dianne Drake
Within seconds Chay was outside, organizing the lines, giving instructions, apparently in his native language because she didn’t understand a word. But the people there must have, because they split into two lines and shortly the flu inoculations were underway. The process took less than two hours, and as Joanna and Chay were cleaning up the room afterward, sealing all the disposable syringes into the proper red container, Chay picked up the list. “My father’s name isn’t checked off,” he commented, his voice as dry as the hard, cracked, dry ground outside.
“I was going to stop by his office on the way out, see if he still wants his vaccination.” She’d seen Leonard in the line when they’d arrived, and had watched him leave the line when Chay stepped out of the Jeep.
“I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? He might refuse you.”
“He probably will.” No more words. Chay picked up the medicine vial, alcohol swabs and a syringe and headed down the hall.
From the doorway, Joanna watched him approach his father’s office, watched him reach out to take hold of the doorknob. He hesitated for a moment before he opened the door and entered, and her heart ached a little for him. She’d lived through the ultimate separation from her parents in their deaths, but to be so greatly separated when that parent was only a few feet away? She’d lived through that, too. So, yes, her heart did ache a little.
“I’m here to see Leonard Ducheneaux,” Chay said to the secretary. He didn’t recognize her. The last time he’d been into this office Rose Yellow Cloud had been his father’s secretary, and she’d retired and moved to Florida more than a dozen years ago.
“Do you have an appointment?” the secretary asked. The nameplate on her desk read MARILYN DUBONET. He didn’t recognize her, didn’t recognize her name, except that he’d gone to school with Gary Gray Hawk Dubonet. His wife perhaps? Chay thought about asking, but didn’t. Gary had ridiculed him for leaving Hawk.
“No. I’m the doctor.” He held up the vial and syringe. “Mr Ducheneaux was on the list for a vaccination, but he didn’t show up. This will take only a minute.”
“Sure. Go on in. Leonard’s going over the books right now, and I think he’d probably welcome the break, even if it is a shot.” She lowered her voice. “He needs new glasses, I think. Lots of headaches lately. And eye strain. But he’s too stubborn to get checked. So, as you’re a doctor, maybe you could suggest something while you’re in there.”
His dad was too stubborn? Sounded familiar. “Thanks,” he said, finding suddenly that his feet felt like lead weights. He was faced with a simple task really. Go in, get rejected, leave. Ten seconds tops. Twelve if he mentioned getting his eyes checked. But Chay’s feet didn’t want to move. “Um, did you get your vaccination?” he asked Marilyn. Stalling for time, you big coward?
“Sure did, from DocJo.”
He nodded, not so much listening to her as trying to find another way to stall.
“You can go in now,” she said again.
“Thanks.”
“And I think Leonard has a check for DocJo. He subsidized the shots for the ranch this year.”
Chayton nodded as he walked toward the door. It was simple pine, a flat panel, nothing immense or oppressive. So why did it feel so immense and oppressive to him? “Thank you,” he said as he twisted the brass knob.
Pushing the door open, Chayton saw his father sitting at the desk straight ahead. Same desk that had always been there. Same shelves behind it, same blinds at the window. Apart from the computer on the desk, nothing had changed. Except his father. “I’ve come to give you your flu vaccination.”
Leonard looked up at Chay, but there was no sign of recognition on his face. And as before, at the Red Elks’, he said nothing.
“I didn’t find your name crossed off on the list.”
Leonard’s reply was to stand and roll up the sleeve of his blue and white striped cotton shirt. Once his upper arm was revealed sufficiently, he stepped away from his desk and turned his arm toward Chay. But there was no greeting, not even a glance in his direction. No emotion whatsoever from the man who used to bring him to this office and let him play boss.
“You’re going to feel a little prick,” Chay said just before he administered the shot. Funny, he remembered his father’s arms being larger, more muscular. They were slight now. Not too thin, but too slight for a man who should have been robust, even at his age. “There, that’s it.” He placed the obligatory bandage over the shot site even though his father didn’t bleed. Then he watched his father roll down his sleeve and return to his chair behind the desk. Once there, Leonard pushed a check across the desk to Chay without uttering a word, then swivelled to the computer screen, put on his glasses, and returned to work.
“Macawi’s worried about you,” Chay said after he pocketed the check made out to the Rising Sun Medical Clinic. He didn’t expect a response, so he wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t get one. “She thinks you’re not feeling well and she’d like you to see a doctor. And your secretary is concerned about your headaches.”
No response.
“Have you been ill lately? Experienced any unusual symptoms?”
No response again, but, of course, Chay didn’t expect one.
“Maybe you should schedule an appointment with Joanna. Just a routine physical to make sure everything’s OK.”
Nothing. Not even a passing glance to acknowledge Chay’s presence there.
“Look, I know it’s none of my business. But Macawi’s worried about you and, if for no other reason than to make her feel better, you need to get yourself checked by someone. You don’t look good—” He’d almost called him Dad, but had stopped short of it. “My mother and Macawi both depend on you, and you have an obligation to them to take care of yourself. Plus there’s your obligation to the ranch and the people who work and live here. I’m going with Joanna for a couple of days to some of the outlying areas, then I’ll be back. If you’d like me to check you then, I’d be glad to. If you’d prefer Joanna do it, that’s fine, too. Or even make an appointment up at Fort Peck. Whatever suits you, as long as you do it.” This time he didn’t wait for a response. He simply turned and walked out of the office and straight into Joanna, who was waiting in the hallway for him.
“Want me to try and give it to him?” she asked. “The shot? He might be more receptive to me.”
“He took the shot.”
“And?”
“And he gave me a check for services.”
“That’s it? You two didn’t…”
“No. We didn’t. And we won’t.” He’d been fine with that for eighteen years. But now, seeing his father looking the way he did, he wasn’t sure any more. Unfortunately, his father was still sure, and everything Chay had said in there had fallen on deaf ears.
CHAPTER SIX
INITIALLY, somewhere in the first twenty-five miles on the road to Fishback Creek, Joanna had thought about attempting a little conversation with Chay, but there was absolutely nothing about him that suggested he would respond to her in any way. His body language said it all—rigid, unyielding, belligerent. And that scowl on his face…If ever there was a black cloud on the horizon, Chay’s scowl was it. He was a savage summer storm ready to rip open into a torrential downpour, and she didn’t want to be the one to start the ugly deluge. So she kept quiet as he drove. And she kept her eyes focused squarely on the flat, grassy badlands off to the side of the road. It was a great big vast emptiness out there—mile after relentless mile of boring scenery, but infinitely safer than the scenery sitting right next to her.
He was a man possessed, she thought. Or tormented. Of course she knew why. Another blow from his father. Sure, he’d been expecting it, but she suspected that deep down Chay had been hoping for a different outcome. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been the one to go into Leonard’s office in the first place. It was a little hope springing eternal before being dashed to pieces. So she was allowing Chay his solitude right now, even though she was wedged in pre
tty close to him. Close enough to catch a trace of aftershave every now and then. Something with lime. Her favorite flavor. And he was so nice in lime.
After an hour, Chay still hadn’t said a word. They’d been setting a bat-out-of-hell pace for so long her legs were beginning to ache from all the bumps they were hitting. It was like Chay was aiming for them, trying to do some kind of cathartic maneuver in the form of pothole therapy. And she was feeling every last pothole in her bladder. “Can you stop? Comfort break,” she finally said.
He didn’t respond.
“I said, stop, I’ve got to…”
He slammed on the brakes so hard that, seat belt or not, Joanna lurched forward. “One more time like that and I won’t have to go any more,” she grumbled, climbing out.
“So go,” he snapped.
Go. That was easy for him to say. Not so easy for her to do, though, considering that everything she could see was wide open and without a speck of privacy. Not a tree, not a rock, not a little valley or even a ditch. Absolutely no privacy to be had, except maybe that little scrub bush sitting about a hundred yards off the road. Not much, but a little seclusion was better than none at all.
“Where the hell are you going?” he yelled when she was about halfway to the bush.
“Somewhere you won’t see me,” she yelled back.
“I’ve already seen you. Remember?”
Yep, she remembered.
Doubling her speed to the bush, she was almost there when Chay started sounding the horn at her. Long, impatient blasts, one after another. She’d tried to respect his mood for the last hour, she’d endured his terrible driving, but this was too much.
By the time Joanna was back at the Jeep, she had a good case of anger blistering at her. “Get out,” she snapped. “I’m driving.”
His hat was tipped over his face now, his arms folded across his chest, and he didn’t budge.
“Did you hear me? I said I’m driving. It’s my car, so scoot over and ride, or get out and walk.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered from under his hat.
“For what?”
“For everything up until now. You know, blanket apology for all my offenses.”
“For being a jerk.”
“Sure. That’s included.”
“And you’re not just saying that so you won’t have to walk?”
He tilted his hat up to look at her. “I’m saying it because I mean it. You don’t deserve the way I’ve been acting.” A lazy grin crossed his mouth. “When a girl needs some privacy, she shouldn’t be subjected to roadside harassment. So I’m sorry. Really.”
Damn, he was hard to stay angry at. That smile captured her, those eyes held her, and she believed he meant what he’d said. For all his moods, Chay Ducheneaux was sincere. “Apology accepted, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still want to drive.”
“My mother never learned. My father wouldn’t allow it. He always said he would take her wherever she needed to go and I guess she never felt the need for independence of any sort. Damned shame.”
“Independence comes in a lot of forms, Chay. Maybe your mother simply never wanted to drive, and it has nothing to do with her independence, and everything to do with her choice.”
“Some choices are hard,” he said.
“And some are easy. Just depends on what you want, I suppose. And I want to drive.”
Chay grinned at her. “Are you a good driver, Joanna?”
“Better than you are. I actually try avoiding the holes.”
“Far be it for me to stand in the way of the lady’s choice.” Scooting over into the passenger’s seat, Chay slumped down and pulled his hat back over his eyes. “By the way, those are great binoculars you’ve got. I found them under the seat. Amazing what they can pick up at a distance. Great zoom capacity. Nice detail when you want to look at something like a scrub bush a hundred yards away. Real nice detail.”
In spite of herself, Joanna laughed, knowing he was teasing. “I suppose if you’re that desperate for a peek, you’re welcome.”
“Not desperate. Just trying to stir up some fond memories.”
“Isn’t that the way with guys? They see you naked just one time and they get all silly and sentimental over it.”
“Apparently you haven’t seen the side of you that I have because it’s definitely worth silly and sentimental.”
“And that’s a compliment?”
“Of the highest order. Believe me. It’s not one that I’ve paid very often.”
“Have you ever been married, Chay?” she asked. Not that it mattered. But she was curious.
“Hell, no!”
“Spoken like a man with true conviction.” Not that it mattered again, but she felt a little disappointment sweep through her. It was silly to think she could have any feelings for him other than casual, but there was no denying the fact that she’d felt a little jab in her belly over his quick, almost cutting response. Rebound. That was what had caused it. The ink on her divorce papers was barely dry, and Chay was the first man in her life, in any capacity, since then. And such a gorgeous one at that. Definitely rebound.
Still, a fond little sigh for something that would never be touched her lips.
“Actually, spoken like a man with a true aversion,” he said.
True aversion? “Are you gay?” That thought had never crossed her mind before. “Do you prefer men, and your fascination with my butt is your cover-up?”
He chuckled. “Believe me. I prefer women. I just don’t have a burning need for permanence.”
“Well, I can’t fault you there because I sure didn’t have a need for permanence in my first marriage. I was ready to get out after a couple of months.” And she had. In and out in less than a year.
“Did he fight to keep you?”
“Nope. He was as happy to get out as I was.”
“Then he apparently didn’t have a proper appreciation for the finer things in life.”
“Meaning my butt?”
Chay tipped his hat back up again and looked over at her, and for a moment what she saw in his eyes was profoundly serious. “Meaning his loss, Joanna. And he’ll probably never know how much he’s lost.” Then he lightened up and winked. “And your butt, too.”
He pulled his hat back down over his eyes at the same time goose-bumps rose on her arms. That look in his eyes…the serious one. She wanted to buy into that sincerity. She truly did, but she wouldn’t allow it. Still, brushing her hand over the chill bumps frolicking up and down her arm, she was more acutely aware of him sitting next to her than ever before. His loss, Joanna. And he’ll probably never know how much.
A completely new outbreak of bumps rose on her arms as she remembered the words.
Finally, after a very tense hour and a half, they rolled into Fishback Creek. Normally it took a good two hours to get there from the ranch, so Chay’s personal thundercloud, translating to a heavy foot on the gas pedal, had worked to their advantage, because Joanna hated that part of the job—the interminable hours of driving through nowhere. Granted, Fishback Creek was barely a notch above nowhere. Just a couple hundred people, mostly women and children as the men worked at the ranch and stayed there in the bunkhouse during the week. But it was civilization all the same, and after all that time on the road with Chay she was glad for the relief of the friendly faces she knew she’d be greeting within the next few minutes.
“We have that little building down there at the end of town.” Fishback Creek consisted of one short street with four buildings including the school, a gas station-grocery store combination, a deserted mechanic’s garage, which was where Joanna set up, and the town building which served to hold meetings, church services, and assorted social functions. There was also a dotting of woodframe houses along the street. Neat, plain, small. “We’re giving immunizations here today, and I have a few follow-up appointments. I’ll also see anyone who thinks they need to be seen and a couple of people I think need to be seen.”
�
��My God, this is awful,” he muttered. “I don’t remember it being so small.”
“Population’s on the decline. Declining throughout all the towns on the reservation, actually. Nothing here to keep them, I suppose.” Nothing but their heritage, but that wasn’t enough to hold them to their land any more. These people wanted more, needed more. And she couldn’t blame them for going after it. “Did you know that Duchesne is completely gone now? Ghost town. No one lives there any more.” The last of its residents had packed up and moved out about the time she’d come to Hawk. “And Claremont is about to do the same. There are only about a hundred people left there, although some of the old-timers are holding tough, trying to stay.”
“And my father snubs me for leaving all this.” He laughed bitterly. “I really can’t blame them. There’s no reason to stay.”
“Except heritage and tradition,” Joanna said. “Pride in who they are, where they come from.”
“So are you like everybody else around here who thinks I’m some kind of bad person for leaving?”
“I think you’re a good doctor, Chay. A great doctor, after what I saw you do for Michael. The rest is for you to decide. We’re going to be spending the night here, by the way.”
He looked around, frowning. “Where?”
“In the garage where I set up clinic. It’s clean, it makes a good little medical office, and normally when I’m here someone takes pity and fixes me a nice meal or two.”
“I’m betting there’s not a bed associated with this God-forsaken overnighter, is there?” He grinned. “Or a Jacuzzi. After that ride, I could go for a nice Jacuzzi right about now.”
His mood was lightening. She was glad, because the people here were nice and they didn’t deserve his bad mood. “Guess that all depends on your definition of bed. But the good news is, we do have indoor plumbing, electricity and running water.” No way she would tell him it was cold running water.
“So where do we start?”
“With lunch. I’m starving.” Joanna waved at Phyllis Whirlwind who was scurrying in their direction with a wicker hamper full of goodies. Cakes, cookies, the best deep-fried pies Joanna had ever eaten. Actually, they were the only deep-fried pies she’d ever eaten, and after her first, a yummy black raspberry, she’d become a true addict. So many good things to eat, and Phyllis was a marvelous cook. She was also diabetic, as was her thirteen-year-old daughter, Collette. The condition wasn’t a good combination for Phyllis’s cooking and eating habits, but so far neither Phyllis nor Collette had taken their disease seriously.
