Native Silver

by Helen Conrad

  Shawnee opened her mouth to protest, but Lisa sailed on by without giving her a chance.

  “You’re young and pretty and you’ll find a man soon. You won’t want to stay here, no matter what you think now.” She shrugged, “That’s just the way things are, Shawnee.”

  It wasn’t the way things were at all, but she could see that Lisa had her mind made up. “And where does that leave Granpa Jim?” she fumed. “Where is he supposed to go?”

  “He can come stay with us.” Lisa closed her eyes for a moment, as though that had been hard to say. But now it was said, and she was going to stick by it. “Brad can put an addition on the house. He’ll have a room of his own. We can hire a caretaker to come in for a few hours a day. It’s the only answer.”

  “He’ll never agree to go.” Shawnee knew what she was saying was true. “Leaving here would mean the end to him. He’ll never do it.”

  Lisa sighed, throwing out her hands. “Then what do you suggest? Shall we get him some ammunition so he can hold the sheriffs at bay with his rifle like those old people you always read about? I mean, let’s look at alternatives here. There really aren’t any.”

  Shawnee stared at her. “We have to get the Santiagos to leave him alone.”

  Brave words, but she knew she had absolutely no plan to back them up. And Lisa knew it, too. They parted, still disagreeing, and Shawnee knew she was going to have to think of something fast.

  But it was hard to think clearly when there were so many emotions seething inside her. Reid had called a couple of times, but he hadn’t found anything to give them reason for hope. He’d been to talk to David and he’d gotten nowhere. The chain of ownership seemed to be exactly what David had said it was and he had the law on his side. A black cloud of hopelessness had taken root in her soul and she had a hard time pushing it out of the way. It got worse every day.

  “Reid, what do you think about seeing if we can buy the land from him,” she said hesitantly. “We don’t have anything right now, but I could get a job and…and maybe Lisa and Brad could loan us some money and… .”

  Reid’s voice was sympathetic, but unyielding. “It’s not a matter of money, Shawnee. The Santiagos don’t need money. David seems to think he has to do this to complete his father’s vision. Putting that road through is mentioned in his father’s will.”

  Tears stung her eyes and she nodded. She’d known it was hopeless anyway. Lisa and Brad were heavily in debt over updating the equipment at the dairy as it was. Besides, she wasn’t sure they would even want to help if they could swing it. She knew she’d been grasping at straws even thinking about it. She was going to have to think of something else.

  The one interesting item Reid had for her was the fact that he’d found information about the history of the Santiagos in the early days.

  “There’s a whole book written about them,” he told her. “I found it in the archives at the Genealogy Society.”

  “Seriously?” The thought was intriguing. “Is there any way I can see it?”

  “Sure. If you’re interested, I’ll have them make you a copy. And I’ll copy some of the loose papers I found from those days, too. Old deeds and wills and bills of sale for Nineteenth Century items.”

  “That would be really fascinating.” Her natural love of history was aroused, and the fact that it all had bearing on the case at hand only made it more interesting. She’d seen the little building that housed the Genealogy Society downtown but she’d never been inside. Maybe it would be worth a visit.

  That afternoon she turned Miki away from the twenty-acre tract and into the hills. She knew he needed a variation on the usual course so he wouldn’t get bored with their routine. He needed some higher hills, some wider streams. That meant riding on Santiago land, but she couldn’t help that. All she could do was hope that she would get away with it without being seen.

  The sun was high and hot, and she found herself riding along with a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt for days. It was glorious to gallop this way, wild and free. Maybe if she rode long enough, and hard enough, she could ride David right out of her system.

  It was a beautiful day. Nature seemed to be in as good a mood as Shawnee was, lighting the countryside with sheets of golden California poppies, sprays of purple lupine, bright displays of scarlet larkspur, all nestled against the hills which were still green from the winter rains. She let Miki walk and threw her head back, feeling the wind toss her hair, enjoying the peace and solitude.

  And then she saw the three men on the hill to her right. They were working on a fence, and since they were on Santiago land, she had to assume they were hands from Rancho Verde. Her path was going to take her right by them, but as she scanned the party, she didn’t see anyone she knew. She decided to tough it out. All they could do was tell her to leave.

  They all stopped what they were doing to watch her approach, grinning and waving as she came near. When they realized she was going to pass them by without a word, there were a few whoops and some hat-waving, and even a wolf whistle or two, and she couldn’t help but turn in the saddle and look back, smiling at the good-natured remarks they were shouting.

  Then she faced forwards again, and there was David, riding towards her on a sturdy-looking thoroughbred. Her heart leaped in her throat, and without stopping to think, she jerked her knees into Miki’s sides, urging him into a gallop that would take her in the opposite direction.

  “Shawnee!”

  She didn’t acknowledge his call. Pressing Miki on, she leaned down low against his neck, everything concentrated on getting away. The hills and trees were a blur as they raced along.

  She couldn’t hear anything from behind. Maybe David hadn’t even bothered to follow her. She glanced back, hoping, but there he was. The thoroughbred wasn’t gaining on Miki, but they weren’t losing any ground either, and she knew instinctively that he would hold on for the whole ride.

  It finally dawned on her what she was risking just to run away from David. Miki might stumble, might even break his leg. Here she was running pell-mell across the countryside for no reason other than her own panic. What a fool she was acting!

  She let up the pressure and immediately Miki began to slow his pace. By the time she had him stopped, David had drawn up alongside.

  “My God, Shawnee,” was the first thing he said, “you two ride together like a piece of the wind.”

  Her breath was coming hard and sharp as a knife-thrust and she knew it wasn’t only because she’d been riding hard. She couldn’t answer him, but she couldn’t look away from his dark eyes, either. Her hair was a mess, strands of jet black slashing across her flushed face, and she tried to smooth it.

  “If you were a little smaller,” he went on, looking at Miki as much as he was looking at her, “I’d hire you on as a jockey for our stables.”

  “It isn’t me,” she managed to rasp out. “It’s the horse.”

  “Native Silver? Wasn’t that what you said his name was?”

  She nodded. “But I call him Miki.”

  “Miki?” He was looking at the horse as though seeing him for the first time and Shawnee nervously pulled at the reins, wishing she could ride away and out of his scrutiny.

  She watched the way he sat in the saddle himself, so loose, so easy. He was dressed very differently today, in dirt-stained jeans and a faded plaid shirt, with heavy gloves on his hands and a Western hat on his head. He’d probably been working on fence repair himself.

  “You don’t look much like a Spanish caballero today,” she said suddenly and was rewarded when he stopped studying Miki and looked up into her eyes again. “You look more like . . . a cowboy.”

  It was amazing how quickly his smile could take over, how quickly it warmed her. “Cowboys like Indian maidens, too,” he answered softly, his eyes glinting with teasing humor.

  She stiffened, wondering how she always managed to fall into his traps, no matter what she said. “Oh no,” she answered in kind. “Indian maidens don’t mess around. Onc
e they fall for a Spanish caballero, you won’t find them eyeing any cowboys.”

  “Good.” His grin was wide and confident. “The caballero will be happy to hear that. He’s got a real special feeling for the Indian maiden.”

  “Sure he has.” Scathing sarcasm dripped from her voice. “That’s why he’s always hanging around her.”

  She could have bitten her tongue when she realized what she was saying. He was going to think she’d been waiting by the phone, pining away for a word from him. Her cheeks blazed even brighter and she gritted her teeth, steeling herself for the inevitable that was to come.

  “So you missed me, did you?” His eyes were sparkling at her discomfort. “I thought you never wanted me to darken your door again.”

  “Of course I didn’t miss you,” she snapped. “What’s to miss?” She nudged Miki into a slow walk and started across the valley. David followed as she’d known he would.

  “I’ll tell you what I miss,” he offered. “On a hot day like this, I miss the cool water of the stream up in the hills.”

  He came close alongside and reached out to take hold of her reins, forcing her to halt beside him.

  “I miss seeing that lovely body flash through the water like a river mermaid,” he continued, his eyes dark, haunted.

  She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. His gaze was deep and beguiling, and she saw things in his eyes she couldn’t identify, things that intrigued her, drew her in.

  It was hot. He was right about that. And when he reached out and stopped a tiny drop of moisture that was beginning a long slide down from her temple, she closed her eyes, hungering for more of his touch.

  “What do you miss, Shawnee?” he asked with husky urgency. “What do you want?”

  She dug deep for strength, drew a shuddering breath, and answered, “My grandfather’s land.”

  His hand withdrew and he pulled his horse back away. “That’s a closed subject,” he said, his voice suddenly icy. “It’s not up for negotiation.”

  She pulled Miki away. “Neither am I,” she managed to blurt out. “You’ll have to take your swim alone.” She gathered her reins and nudged Miki, preparing to take off again, hoping he would let her go without a fight.

  “You know what?” he called after her as she began to ride away. “You ought to enter that horse in the Californio Days horse-show.”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “I have,” she answered. Then she turned her attention to her horse, blocking David from her mind, and all the way down the valley, she pretended she was in the midst of competition with no time to worry about anything else.

  A piece of the wind, David had called them. Shawnee smiled as they flew over the landscape a few days later. That was what she felt like. At times like this, when it was right, it seemed she and Miki were one, a flying horse, an enchanted rider. And when she felt that way, the hope would grow. If only—if only everything would go right on the day of the show and they would win the Cup. If only she would have that trophy to present to her grandfather to soften the blow . . .

  But she wouldn’t think about what was coming, about losing the last bit of land he had. There had to be some way to stop it. Reid hadn’t been able to find anything legal. So maybe she had to think outside the box. The Santiagos didn’t need her grandfather’s measly twenty acres. Somehow she would find a way to convince them of that.

  She’d driven into Santa Barbara with Reid so he could show her first hand. They’d visited the County Government offices to check on the truth of ownership on the land. Sure enough, there it was in the tax records. The Santiagos had been paying taxes on the acres for the last forty years. What she couldn’t understand was why no one had ever talked about it before, why everyone had acted as though the land belonged to Granpa Jim.

  “I’m sure your parents knew,” Brad told her when she brought it up to him. “You remember the way your father was—always just on the verge of making a fortune. He probably thought he’d have enough money to buy the place for your grandfather before the forty years were up. I’m sure that must have been it. So he felt no need to worry anyone else about it.”

  She did indeed remember. Her father had been a hard worker, but he’d also been a dreamer. He’d entered every contest he ran across, invested in every sure-fire, crackpot scheme. Nothing ever came of it all. But the dreams made him happy and gave him hope.

  Hope was something she could use a little dose of right now. But where was it going to come from? Reid was making a real effort, but he hadn’t uncovered anything really useful. When you came right down to it, there was only one place salvation was likely to come from.

  David Santiago. He held the power and he was the key.

  She saw him often when she took Miki out for exercise, always in the distance, always on his own horse and looking like something out of a classic tale—the mythic caballero he’d always been to her. Her heart always leaped when she saw him. She tried to tell herself it was just because of the surprise, but she knew it was so much more.

  Was there anything she could do to soften his heart toward her grandfather? Was there anything she could use to turn his hardness into generosity? If there was, she couldn’t think what it might be. And she was too wary of getting close to him to try anything anyway.

  But Reid wasn’t giving up as yet. He had her meet him at the Kit Kat again and this time he invited another cousin, Joe Carrington, a local rancher, to stop by and see if he could think of anything.

  Shawnee had always liked Joe. She remembered him from family picnics in the old days. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the true walk and stance of a rancher. He also had the typical Carrington good looks, with blue eyes that sparkled with humor.

  “His wife left him awhile ago,” Reid warned her as they watched him drive up into the parking lot. “He’s got two little kids, a boy and a girl.”

  “She dumped the kids on him?”

  He nodded. “From what I hear, he’s been struggling. The little boy is special needs in some way. And his mother lives with them. Phyllis Carrington. Do you remember her?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “No. She’s something of a recluse. And a problem. But Joe manages.”

  And then he arrived and they were shaking hands and laughing and she felt like she’d known him all her life—and then she realized that was exactly the case.

  But Joe didn’t have any special insights into Grandpa Jim’s case.

  “Seems a shame the Santiagos can’t let him have that one little strip of land,” he agreed. “I can try talking to David, but we’ve never been friends, really. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d consider it meddling. We’ve had our differences in the past.”

  Shawnee shook her head. “No,” she said softly, looking out the large plate glass window at the hills beyond the edge of town. “This is my problem. I’m going to have to find a way. It’s up to me.”

  Reid and Joe exchanged a sympathetic glance, but neither could think of anything of substance to offer her as advice at this point.

  Shawnee drove home, gloom following her like a dark cloud. She couldn’t think of any remedy for her troubles. All she knew how to do was get back to work.

  The next morning, after their workout, she rubbed Miki down and fed him some oats, jotted down his times on the trail in the ledger she was keeping, and then left him while she planned her assault on the decrepit condition of the house. Smartening the place up had very little to do with keeping it, but somehow it made her feel better.

  She’d planted some flowers in the garden and thrown out some seed, hoping to restore the lawn. And then she’d almost exhausted her meager bank account buying gallons and gallons of paint, rollers, paintbrushes, and everything else she needed to begin renovations. And now it was time to get the show on the road.

  The color had been her first problem. Off-white, she’d decided, with tan trim. That would put a new face on the old building. She’d spent most of the afternoon before with a scra
per and an electric sander, going over the roughest spots in the old paint. Finally she put on her working uniform of a pair of cut-off shorts and an old tank top, set up her ladder, climbed high, and began to slap on the new coat.

  She’d covered half of the front of the house when Granpa Jim appeared on the porch. “What are you doing there?” he called up, craning his neck to get a look. “This old place was always green before.”

  She threw him a hopeful smile. “I thought white would be cheerier. What do you think?”

  He walked out into the yard and looked back at it, hand to his chin. “We used to whitewash those old adobe walls on the house at Rancho Verde every spring,” he said plaintively. “Soon’s the winter rains cleared.”

  For the first time that she could remember, a pang of annoyance at all these old memories pulsed through Shawnee’s system. She had to turn away so he wouldn’t read it in her face.

  “I’ll bet that looked real pretty,” she managed to reply. She flashed him a bright smile. “White paint with a tan trim will have to do here. Do you approve?”

  “Whatever you think.” Evidently he wasn’t much interested. Shrugging, he began to wander off towards the stables. “I’ll leave it to you.”

  She watched him go, a forlorn figure struggling with his own ghosts, and felt ashamed of her moment of impatience. She was here to help him, after all, not join his critics. She got back to work, humming as she wiped the paint on to the old wooden boards, singing snatches of songs.

  When she first heard the sound of a car engine approaching, she was sure it must be Lisa or Brad coming out for a visit. She shaded her eyes, watching the plume of dust from the road come closer and closer, and then she realized, with a sinking heart, that it was David’s silver Mercedes.

  She looked quickly towards the stables, hoping Granpa Jim hadn’t heard the car. She didn’t want him to see David. It could only bring unhappiness, and she didn’t want that to happen.