Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance)

by Simons, Renee

  At almost three in the morning they pulled up to the Lightfoot home, and as they approached the front door a light went on overhead. Before they’d reached the top step the door flew open and Adam rushed out to take charge of his son. Richie’s mother, Dena, waited just inside the doorway with a worried expression on her face. Richie went directly to her and was quickly enveloped in her embrace. After a moment or two she pulled away to look at him and to assess the damage that had been done.

  “What did they do to your beautiful face? You look terrible.” She touched his cheek. “How do you feel inside?”

  “I hurt all over, and I’m mad as hell, but I’ll be okay. How’d you guys know? Did someone call you?”

  “Yes,” Adam answered. “We got a call from the sheriff’s office about an hour ago. They told us a little of what happened. Tomorrow you can tell us the rest. Now you boys need a good night’s sleep.”

  Dena had one arm around each of the boys and was ushering them deeper into the house when Adam turned to Abby and Cat. “You folks want some coffee before you go?”

  They shook their heads no. “I’d like to give you some instructions about Richie, though,” Cat said. “Danger signs and symptoms to look for tonight and tomorrow.”

  When that chore was completed he and Abby walked back to the truck. They were silent as Cat pulled out and headed toward Abby’s house, neither one knowing what to say. Abby found herself trembling from the aftermath of the evening’s events, and from a longing for the comfort of his arms... a comfort she would never again know. Cat was in turmoil over her nearness and cursed his weakness during this first test of his decision to avoid her.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asked. “It’s been quite a night.” He could feel that she was upset, although she sat wedged against the opposite side of the cab and more than a foot of space separated them.

  “I’m all right,” she answered, her voice heavy with weariness. “You did a good job back there with those animals,” she offered. “You showed a lot of self-control. I imagine it wasn’t easy for you.”

  “No. It wasn’t. I wanted to waste them all. I don’t really know why I didn’t. I sure was angry enough.” For a moment he forgot their problems and, smiling at her, said, “Maybe your being there helped.”

  Abby felt her pulse leap, but remained impassive. He didn’t mean anything, and she couldn’t let herself respond. “I doubt it,” she replied coldly, cutting off further talk.

  The unbearable ordeal was over soon after that. The moment the truck halted at her house, Abby jumped out and fled without a word. Cat toyed with the idea of going after her, but didn’t. It would only make things more difficult than they already were. And what could he say or do to give her comfort? He was the cause of her misery. She was better off this way.

  * * *

  For Abby, seven a.m. came much too soon, bringing with it another school day. Fortunately, the news of the previous night’s events hadn’t circulated through the community yet, freeing her from the necessity of having to make any explanations. Thank heavens, she thought. I don’t know what I could say that would make any sense. When she left the school at the end of the day she was surprised to find Cat waiting out front in his jeep.

  “Waiting for me?” she asked with a coolness she didn’t feel.

  “Look,” he said, his embarrassment showing, “I wouldn’t have come, but Richie’s parents want us to have dinner there tonight, and I didn’t know how to get out of it without having to make awkward explanations.”

  “Don’t you think spending an entire evening together will be even more awkward? It’s simple enough. Just say no.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” she countered.

  “Because I was so embarrassed I already said yes.”

  She stared at him in amazement, saw the look of chagrin on his face and began to laugh. Her anger dissipated for the moment, she teased, “You dummy!”

  He grinned back at her and waited. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll bail you out. This time.”

  They grew serious again, realizing how difficult the evening would be.

  “I’m sorry, Abby. I’ve handled this whole mess pretty badly, I know. And this only makes it worse.”

  “Well... I guess I can survive, if you can.” Suddenly she felt tears begin to form and turned to walk home.

  He let her go, saying only, “I’ll be by at five.”

  Dinner was as difficult as Abby had predicted; she struggled to get through it and was grateful when it was over. Dena shooed them all outside while she worked in the kitchen, but Abby found it nearly impossible to be near Cat. She excused herself finally and went back inside to help her hostess, taking comfort in the routine of cleaning up.

  She could hear Cat’s voice, a deep counterpoint to Richie’s as they discussed his vision and its interpretation by Drum, the Twin Buttes holy man. His quiet tones crept under her skin, worrying at her like a thorn, giving her no peace.

  Seth left with them, and Cat wanted to take the boy back to town first, but Abby pleaded exhaustion. When they reached her house she jumped out after saying only a brief good-night.

  Cat sat behind the wheel, watching her walk up the steps, wishing they’d had a chance to talk. When the light came on inside he shifted into gear, gunned the engine and sped off into the night.

  Chapter 12

  The morning of the hearing dawned cool and clear, a perfect late-autumn day. Richie sat between his parents in the back seat of Cat’s ’57 Chevy. Behind the wheel, Cat tried to forget that Abby was so close he could smell the freshness of her skin, remembering instead his own experiences with the law and wondering about the hearing. They were entering hostile territory, and he doubted that Richie would gain much satisfaction today.

  For her part, Abby squeezed against the door to put as much distance between them as possible, but his profile was still just within her vision. She was miserably aware of him, and couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

  Finally they entered the federal courthouse, where the sound of their footsteps on the marble floors echoed through the hallway. They passed through the heavy double doors leading to the courtroom, and Abby stopped just inside the entrance, awed by the setting.

  The walls were paneled in a warm, deep brown, but rather than being dark and gloomy, the room was bathed in sunlight pouring through banks of twelve-foot-high arched windows. The many panes of hand-blown glass fractured the light into rainbow shafts, giving the room a shimmering, dreamlike quality. She looked over at Richie and hoped that whatever happened here would be a good thing.

  Seth arrived with his parents, and shortly afterward three men entered. Abby recognized two of them: one was the deputy who had been on duty the night of the attack; the other was the prosecutor, Bill Shelton, who had come to the house the previous day to take her statement. They joined the group, and the third man was introduced to them all as the prosecutor’s assistant, Grady Fuller.

  The defendants and their lawyers entered and moved quickly to seats on the opposite side of the center aisle. One of them stopped, however, and looked directly at Richie’s group, with apparent concern showing on his face. He was young, maybe seventeen or eighteen at the most. He seemed about to approach them when his lawyer took him by the arm and shepherded him to a seat.

  Abby sat back and let her mind wander. She had a headache and felt woozy. The courtroom seemed warm and stuffy, and beads of sweat dotted her upper lip. I hope I’m not coming down with something, she thought.

  She stood with the others when the judge entered, and heard him introduce himself as David Kendrick. But once they all sat down again she felt disoriented and strangely detached. She found that she could barely listen to Richie’s testimony and wondered at her lack of attention. She managed to give a clear statement when called to the stand, but only by an effort of will, and she knew that she was going to be ill if she didn’t get some fresh air and something to eat.

  To her relief the judge called fo
r a lunch recess, and they ate in a diner across from the courthouse. After tea and a grilled cheese sandwich Abby felt much better.

  As they were heading back for the afternoon session Cat stopped her. “Are you okay?”

  She looked at him coldly. “Why do you ask?”

  “You seemed a little shaky up on the stand, and your face is pale.”

  Damn him for noticing! She gave him what she hoped would pass for a haughty stare. “Being around you does that to me,” she said, then walked across the street and into the building.

  Cat watched her go and noticed that her usually fluid walk was stiff and a bit unsteady. Something was definitely wrong.

  Abby spent twenty minutes inside before the same feelings that had plagued her all morning returned. Through the headache and dizziness she was able to understand that Danny, the boy who had wanted to approach Richie, had testified against his father and the other men. She was trying to make some sense out of the proceedings when she felt a presence beside her. She turned to find Cat sitting next to her, his arms folded negligently across his chest.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered. “Go back to where you were.”

  “Don’t give me orders, lady,” he said in a low tone. “I’ll sit where I please.” That silenced her, and he relaxed in his seat. He’d been watching her shifting restlessly in her seat and rubbing her forehead, as if to erase an ache. He stole a glance at her; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glassy. There’s something brewing, he thought, and turned his attention to the judge.

  Cat leaned forward; the man on the bench was saying something about “nolo contendere” and reconvening the next day for judgment and sentencing. Damn, he thought. What did I miss?

  When the judge had left, Cat leaned over and tapped Shelton on the shoulder. “What happened?” he asked urgently when the man turned around.

  “Nolo contendere is no contest, the same as pleading guilty. They won’t fight a guilty verdict. We have to come back tomorrow to hear the sentence.”

  Cat turned back to Abby, who was sitting in a daze, with her hands folded in her lap. “Abby? Are you with us?”

  She looked at him with eyes that were confused and a little fearful. Cat felt his heart lurch in his chest and cursed himself for caring. “I don’t feel well,” she said finally. “Get me out of here.”

  Shelton looked at them. “I’ll have a car take the others home. You see to her.”

  “Can you walk?” Cat asked solicitously.

  Despite her obvious discomfort she looked at him in amusement, and Cat found himself smiling, too. “Lord,” he said, shaking his head. “What could I have been thinking?”

  But she stumbled against him as they left the courtroom, and he cupped a hand beneath her elbow to steady her. Once they got outside she leaned against a pillar, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths of the cool air.

  “That’s better,” she sighed. “It was so stuffy in there.” They rode most of the way home in silence. Abby’s head rested on the back of the seat, and she kept her eyes closed. Her face, though flushed, was drawn, and shadows smudged the skin beneath her eyes. Cat wondered if she’d been eating properly, but had no intention of asking. She would probably tell him it was none of his business, and she would be right.

  “I’m sorry I took you away from the others,” he heard her say.

  “No problem,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ll see them tomorrow. We can talk then.”

  “I wonder what made that boy speak up against the others,” she said. “Especially since one of the men was his father.”

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  “I couldn’t concentrate. I had this awful headache.”

  He looked at her sharply; that wasn’t like her at all. “He said that what they’d done was wrong, and he couldn’t keep it to himself.”

  “Then why didn’t he try to stop it?” she asked.

  “Would he have had a chance against the others?”

  She shook her head. “I guess not.”

  “Of course, he did let Seth go.”

  She looked over at him. “Did he?”

  “Yeah. He saw Seth making a break, but he didn’t stop him, hoping he’d bring help.”

  She closed her eyes again, but smiled. “Not bad for a white kid.”

  Abby met Cat at his house the next morning for the return trip to the courthouse. She’d had a good night’s sleep and she told him she felt fine.

  She looks fine, too, he said silently. Fine and then some. Damn.

  The group reassembled in the courtroom shortly before eleven. There was a heavy feeling of tension pervading the room; everyone there felt it, because everyone contributed to it. The judge entered promptly at eleven, much to the relief of those present, and without any preamble began to speak, directing his words to Richie’s attackers.

  “I’ll be brief and to the point. What you did was inexcusable, unpardonable and, at the very least, illegal, by trespassing on federally protected land. Even more important, you acted in an unmanly and irresponsible manner toward another human being. The fact that you did not do him irreparable physical harm was due more to his brave self-defense and that of an unexpected ally than to your sense of decency. You showed none, and conceivably might not ever have done so if not for the courage of one of your number, whose conscience would not allow him to remain silent. The only redeeming aspects of this whole sorry affair are his decision to speak out and yours to admit to your dastardly act, saving us all the time and expense of a trial.

  “Under any other circumstances I would sentence all of you, except young Daniel Bridges, to six months in the county jail, plus a stiff fine. And that would be no less than you deserve. However, there is another factor to be considered here. You are all family men, and to incarcerate you would be to leave your wives and children with little or no support, throwing them onto the county welfare rolls.

  “Therefore I am placing each of you on probation for one year, during which time you will be required to report weekly to a probation officer who will monitor your activities and behavior. In addition, because you have inflicted grievous bodily harm to Richard Lightfoot in an unprovoked attack upon his person, I am levying a fine of one thousand dollars upon each of you, except for Daniel. This money will be paid in installments, the amounts of which will be agreed upon at a meeting next week, and which will be placed in a trust account in Richard’s name.”

  Kendrick turned his head slightly to look down at Danny’s upturned face. “Now, Daniel. Although you have admitted your guilt in this matter, I am inclined to be more lenient with you because of your age and the fears of reprisal that influenced you. In addition, were it not for you we would probably be wallowing in this mess for days to come. You came forth and took responsibility. Therefore I am releasing you into the custody of your mother for a period of six months. During that time I will expect you to contact the tribal council at Twin Buttes and volunteer your services in any way that may be helpful to them.”

  Looking at Cat with a stem expression, he continued, “I see the head of the council here with us again today, and although I’m sure that it is unnecessary to do so, nevertheless I charge him with the responsibility of seeing that you are treated fairly.”

  He looked over the group and continued softly, “I want to apologize to the family and friends, and especially to you, Richard, for everything that’s happened. If there is any way at all to prevent such a thing from happening again, you can be sure I’ll find it.” He banged the gavel. “This hearing is concluded. Court is dismissed.”

  In the general commotion that followed Abby was able to keep herself in the background, and she hardly had to speak to Cat at all before being dropped off at home. When everything was over, and she was alone, she didn’t know whether to be relieved, or sorry.

  Weeks passed, weeks in which she and Cat steered conspicuously clear of each other. Then, one afternoon when the term was well under way, Nellie and two of
the older women visited Abby after classes were over. She welcomed them and showed them to seats, then perched on the edge of her desk.

  “I’m very pleased to see you here. How may I help you?” Nellie nodded in the direction of a gray-haired woman with a deceptively young face and bright, mischievous eyes. “Mary Red Elk here says she’s tired of being cheated when she goes shopping in town. She wants to be able to read the white man’s words and know his numbers so she’ll know when he overcharges her. And Mrs. Billings wants to read the street signs and the labels in the supermarket. Do you think you would have time to teach them and a few others? They could meet you anywhere you say, here, or at your place, whenever you want. It would mean so much to them.”

  Abby walked to a window and looked out. This was something she had never anticipated, an added dimension to what she’d always hoped to accomplish with the children. Here was a way to bridge the barriers of language and culture that kept so many of the older people prisoners on the reservation. Without any further thought she agreed.

  There were six women in all, and they met in the schoolroom three evenings a week to brush up on the “American” alphabet, as they called it, which they had learned during their early years in government boarding schools and left behind when they returned to the reservation. The arithmetic, though basic, was more difficult, so Abby proposed that they shop in groups, and she provided pocket calculators and instructed them in their use.

  The day that Mary Red Elk foiled a shopkeeper’s “accidental” attempt to overcharge her by ten dollars was a day of mutual satisfaction, a kind of graduation celebrated with a special dinner at Abby’s house.

  At seven p.m. the following Monday evening she went to the school as usual and found the room filled with people. Startled, she cleared her throat.

  “Well,” she said, “our group seems to have grown. Are you planning an invasion of the Crossroads business district?”