Legacy of Evil

by Sharon Buchbinder

  He reached over, and grasped the rod—and disappeared.

  Bronco could scarcely believe his eyes. He scanned the room looking for a trap door or other exit. As he moved next to the spot where Lucius had disappeared, the stick fell to the counter and he and the other man stood nose to nose.

  “Well?” Lucius’s mustache quirked with his grin. “Whadya think?”

  “Holy crap. Do it again.”

  Lucius picked the rod up and disappeared instantly. Like a light switch, he flicked in and out. Touching. Not touching. Pick it up, disappear. Hand off, reappear. On. Off. On. Off.

  After the tenth time, Bronco said, “Stop. Please. You’re making me dizzy.”

  “I have that effect,” Lucius smirked.

  “Tell me about this. How…”

  “When Beautiful reversed the curse, we think she felt pretty bad about what she’d done. I’m guessing this was her way of trying to make it up to me. Gave me a piece of her medicine which allows me to become invisible.”

  “Amazing.” Bronco shook his head. “So what did you find out about those bores in your bar? That Mark has a drinking problem and that Lisa has a terrible stylist and an eating disorder?”

  “Hold your horses. Now I’m going to ask you a couple questions. What is the one big thing that makes this hotel unique?”

  “Is that a trick question? Location, location, location. Real estate one-oh-one.”

  “Exactly. We are right on the Yellowstone River, home to the best trout fishing in the world. And these guys are all about fishing, tell me they want to go trout fishing.” He pointed at the calendar. “They asked when the season was, and I told them it was year round, they just needed a non-resident fishing license.”

  “Okay.”

  “I told them it was illegal to dump game fish, that they had a choice to catch and release or eat it. Like tonight.” He shook his head. “Like talking to aliens. No idea what I meant. So I hooked them up with a terrific local guide and they said, no, they had their own. When I asked for a name, they were cagey.”

  “Just sounds like just a bunch of obnoxious tourists to me.”

  “Well, I thought so at first, too. You get these greenhorns out here, they’ve seen a movie about trout fishing, so they think it’s easy.” He shook his head. “But these guys? Pardon the pun, but there’s something fishy about them.”

  “I didn’t like them, but that’s not enough.” Bronco closed his eyes and groaned. “Tell me you have something more substantial.”

  “They paid with cash. No credit cards, which is unusual these days.”

  “Unusual, but not illegal,” Bronco pointed out.

  Lucius nodded and stroked his mustache. “I asked for ID, so everyone pulled out shiny new drivers’ licenses for the State of New York, all saying they’re from Albany. When I commented about how new they were, Mark gave me a story about how they’d been robbed at gunpoint in New York City.”

  “I don’t suppose you got copies of their IDs?”

  “Tallulah made sure I did. She wasn’t buying their buffalo chips, either.”

  “Seems like they have answers for everything.” Bronco tapped the counter with his index finger.

  “There’s more.” Lucius pulled out his phone. “While they went out fishing, I pulled out my trusty medicine stick and did a little snooping. Look here.” He extended the cell to Bronco. “What’s that look like to you? A little light reading?”

  Bronco read the titles out loud. “ICD-10, The Complete Official Code Book, CPT Current Procedural Terminology, Special Ops, 1939-1945: A Manual of Covert Warfare and Training, Operation OSS: Simple Sabotage Field Manual/Provisional Basic Field Manual/Maritime Unit Field Manual and The Official CIA Manual of Trickery and Deception.” He looked up at Lucius.

  “I don’t know what the first two are for. The last three? Maybe one of them is writing a book, doing research?”

  “I looked the first two books up. Those are for medical billing.” Lucius snorted. “When I asked them what they did for a living, they all said ‘business’ and got busy talking about other things. My gut is telling me these people aren’t what they seem.”

  “I can run their names and IDs through my databases tomorrow, see what I find,” Bronco offered.

  “I make a living on tourism and that river out there is a big draw.” Lucius pointed toward the back door. “I’ve been attending Montana Fish and Wildlife seminars and learning about aquatic invasive species and why we don’t want things like Zebra mussels and silver carp in our waters. If someone were to poison the well, biologically or chemically, they could ruin half the economy—maybe more.”

  “If they’re not who they say they are, they were very convincing. They conned a con artist. They just seemed like a bunch of uptight accountants to me.” Bronco rubbed his neck and yawned. “If something’s off when I run their IDs, I can dig a little deeper.”

  “How about you try using your remote viewing to see where these people came from? They say they’re from upstate New York, but their accents tell me otherwise.”

  “Let’s see what the usual sources tell me before I jump into that mode. I’m beat. I don’t do my best work when I’m exhausted. I promise I’ll do it in the morning.”

  “Probably a good idea. They’ll be out driving around, seeing the sights, or so they said. I suggested the Pictograph Caves and the Little Bighorn Battlefield. They said they’d think about it.” He shook his head. “Why come all this way and not go to one of the most important historic sites in the area, if not the country?”

  “Some people aren’t interested in history. Doesn’t make them security threats.” He put his palms up. “I hear you. I’ll work on it tomorrow. Promise. If they played me, you’ll hear me kicking my butt all over my room.”

  A thought occurred to him. “Do your toilets ever flush on their own?”

  “Didn’t you say your cat uses the toilet?”

  “Yes, but he was asleep at the time.” He paused. “I could have sworn I saw someone staring at me in the bathroom mirror.”

  Lucius gave him a slow smile. “Well, it is a looking glass, supposed to reflect your face.”

  “Brown eyes. Mine are blue. Is this place haunted?”

  “Aww, we don’t like to talk about our relatives that way. We call them Beings without Bodies. Not supposed to use their names, according to the Crow.”

  “Relatives? So you know who it is?”

  “Of course I do.” He began to wrap up the medicine stick up. “Same person who gave me this gift. Beautiful Blackfeather. She returned to reverse my curse and decided to stick around. I thought only Tallulah had visions. Have you always seen spirits?”

  Bronco shook his head. “No, never. First time in my life.”

  “Welcome to Big Sky Country, home of sacred spaces. Looks like you’ve been adopted by one of the strongest Medicine Women, alive or dead. Welcome to the tribe.”

  ****

  As the moon rose, Emma parked her pick-up truck next to the hotel shuttle van and killed the engine. Feeling like she did when she was a teenager with a crush on the captain of the varsity basketball team in high school, she took a deep breath and tried to lower the rate of her hammering heart. Hadn’t she learned long ago only a foolish girl followed her heart instead of her head? Her mind went back to that terrible night during her senior year, the night Jessica lost her leg and nearly her life. It was all her fault. She’d been a foolish girl who followed her heart and not her head.

  That year, Johnny Blackwolf, tall, dark, impossibly handsome and popular had finally asked her out on a date—but not to the movies or a dance. No, he wanted to take his new pick-up truck and go camping at Cooney State Park. The thought of being with him alone under the night sky, doing who knew what, made her dizzy. She had practiced kissing her arms just for this moment. She’d let him get to second base, for sure. But not third and certainly not a home run. Johnny wouldn’t respect her if she went all the way on the first date. No, the first time she went
all the way, it was going to be special. Maybe prom night. Not before then.

  Of course there was no way her grandmother would allow her to go camping overnight with a guy. If Grandma were in charge of the world, there would still be menstrual teepees where the women went to live at that time of the month, separate from the men so they wouldn’t contaminate their food. In June, after the prom, everyone would graduate and either stay on the rez or go away to the military or, if they were lucky, college. Johnny had a full ride to Bakersfield on a basketball scholarship. One night could lead to another and another and then prom and then he’d leave her to pursue his dreams. After that, she’d never see him again.

  While complaining to her best friend about how unfair it was that she couldn’t spend time alone with the love of her life, Emma had a brain storm. She’d tell her grandmother she was going camping with Jessica. Nothing unusual. They did it all the time. Emma would pack food, bedding, and a teepee, put the horses in the trailer, and take her grandmother’s pick-up truck and head to the state park. The girls would meet Johnny there, along with the love of Jessica’s life, Noah Littlebear. The plan had worked like a charm. Grandma bought the story. Why wouldn’t she? Emma had never lied to her in her life. Until that night. And it was truly a lie of omission about the guys.

  The boys showed up with two six-packs of beer, a bottle of whiskey, and a box of condoms. Too late, Emma realized her terrible mistake. She should have never concocted this scheme, never allowed Johnny to charm her. His name should have been Johnny Coyote, the Trickster, not Blackwolf. While the girls wrestled separately with their respective drunken suitors, a grizzly bear intrigued by their food, which they had not put into a bear safe away from the campfire, ambled into their party. And all hell broke loose.

  The boys jumped into Johnny’s cherry red truck and took off. The horses bolted, racing for home, and the girls faced the bear alone. Jessica screamed—and the rest was a blur of blood and pain. To this day, Emma could not recall how she’d gotten the two of them home. Emma was sliced open by the bear in so many places, her back looked like a road map. But, Jessica. Oh, dear God. Her best friend, who loved to dance, lost her leg. Although Jessica forgave Emma, she couldn’t forgive herself. The boys—the cowards—never spoke of that night. If anyone had found out, Johnny would have lost his scholarship. His chances of getting off the rez and making a life in sports would have evaporated in the mountain air. Indian boys so rarely made it to Division One schools, much less on a full ride, that even a hint of impropriety would tank his chances. Drinking and leaving two girls to fend for themselves were not positive character traits when it came to resume building.

  From May to June, Emma spent every moment she wasn’t in school at Jessica’s side. Immediately after graduation, Emma drove to the Marine Corps recruiting station and enlisted. That same day Noah Littlebear proposed to Jessica and she accepted. Shortly after, Noah took a job in Pryor, and Jessica went on to have five boys—her own basketball team. Johnny, the teenage heartthrob and Mr. Popularity, left town in a blaze of glory, a shooting star that burned out in the big city in a car crash some said involved alcohol.

  As for Emma, if it hadn’t been for the Marine Corps, she might not be alive today, sitting in the pick-up truck she inherited from her grandmother. The woman had gone to her deathbed never knowing her granddaughter had lied. Despite the passage of time, Emma felt ill every time she recalled the event. She read somewhere that we are only as sick as our secrets. If she could go back in time and undo the harm, she would. Instead, every day of her life she woke up with scars that throbbed with the pain of guilt to remind her. No matter how much arnica compound she rubbed on her back, she could never erase the shame. Each day she rose, burned cedar to drive away evil spirits, and prayed for the strength to make the world a better place and to prove she was good enough to make up for that awful night.

  Thanks to her days in Camp Pendleton, she was no longer a virgin, however she hadn’t connected with anyone on the same level of passion as she felt with Bronco. The intensity of her desire for him was so electric, so primal, and so visceral, she wasn’t sure she could trust herself alone with him. If she had half a brain, she would listen to her brother, sit this dance out, and watch from the sidelines while Bronco and whoever else her brother sent solved the case. But if she did that, she would dishonor Indigo’s sacrifice and her promise to herself to seek justice and do the right thing, no matter how hard.

  As she climbed out of the truck and ascended the hotel stairs, she reminded herself that he was just like Johnny—hot as hell and a coyote trickster. No way, no how was she falling in love again.

  Chapter Eight

  Bronco awoke the next morning to a not-so-gentle tap on the head. He opened one eye, expecting to see Gaucho parked next to him, paw poised mid-air for the next jab. The cat, however, was not to be seen. Odd. He yawned, stretched, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and glanced at the open bathroom door. Gaucho sat on the sink, lapping at the water Bronco had left dripping.

  Shrugging, he ambled into the bathroom, grabbed a quick shower, and applied more of the yarrow tea. True to Emma’s word, the solution had soothed his inflamed derriere, and the bright red color was now rosy pink, almost back to normal.

  He snapped the leash on the cat’s harness. A brisk walk outside, then breakfast. Coffee, pancakes, and eggs would hit the spot right now. Nearly eight-thirty. He hoped the kitchen was open. Maybe he could grab a mug on his way out. As he hit the bottom step, he heard Emma’s voice, and his heart stuttered. When had she arrived?

  “So, I told him he could send a car around if he wanted, but I was sure everything would be fine.” She chuckled. “Little twerp.”

  “You talking trash about me?” Bronco grinned and strode into the sunny kitchen. “Coffee? Please, pretty, please? Is the coast clear?”

  “We can talk amongst ourselves.” Lucius poured a piping hot cup and handed it to him. “The tourists are out for the day, said they’d get dinner in town.”

  “My ever so protective buddy, Tommy Otterlegs, stopped back by yesterday after you left.” Emma continued, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “Said you have a long rap sheet, and he’s going to Lock. You. Up.”

  “He’s on to me.” Bronco raised the mug. “To good police work.”

  “Speaking of which…” Lucius said with a meaningful look.

  “Gaucho and I need a quick walk first, then you need to feed us. We can’t work on an empty stomach.”

  “Gotcha covered. What’s your pleasure? I can have it ready in twenty.”

  Emma broke in. “Let me guess. Pancakes and lots of syrup.”

  Bronco stared at her. “How’d you know?”

  “Your phone, remember? Try to keep it away from your plate this time, okay?”

  “Ya want sausage or bacon with that?” Lucius asked.

  Cup in hand, he headed for the back door. “Whatever’s easy.”

  “Okay if I join you?” Emma asked.

  “Sure.” He reached for the doorknob, and the mug wobbled. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand. “Shoot.”

  Emma opened the door and motioned for him to go ahead of her. “You still have that yarrow tea? It’s good for burns, too.”

  “Yup. I got a reminder to use it last night.”

  “A reminder?” She frowned. “Who did that?”

  “Lucius tells me it was Beautiful Blackfeather.” He set his cup on the porch railing and unsnapped Gaucho’s leash. “Go on, have a nice run.” The cat leaped down the stairs and into the grasses. Bronco walked down the steps and headed for the path along the river.

  “I don’t understand. What does she have to do with this?”

  “Well, according to Lucius, she’s hanging around the hotel.” He described the flushing toilet, the re-positioning of the washcloth into the jar, and the brown eyes in the mirror. “I got a good rap on the noggin this morning, which I’m beginning to think was her, too, telling me to get up and get to work.”

  “T
hat’s so odd.” Emma strode next to Bronco, keeping up with his pace with ease. “I used to feel rooms that were cold when I was cleaning the hotel, but never saw or felt anything else. On the other hand, I’m sort of not surprised, because I’m Crow. We’re raised to believe that when our loved one is gone, she’s gone, and to call out a Being without Body’s name is to invite trouble.”

  “I’m not sure about the trouble part. If it’s Beautiful, she’s seems to want to be helpful. But then again, I’m no expert on spirits. Unlike Tallulah, I’ve never had any experiences like this before.” He chuckled. “Lucius seems to think your ancestor has adopted me.”

  “Hmmm.” She placed her fingertips on his arm. “Look over there.”

  Across the river, half a dozen mule deer stared at them and chewed, their long ears twitching.

  Their ears weren’t the only thing trembling. His cup shook, and she glanced at his face.

  “Good thing that mug’s almost empty. Why so jumpy, Jittery Jones?”

  “What’s with these cartoon nicknames? First it’s Rooster McFusspot, now Jittery Jones.” He forced a laugh. “What’s next? Wiley Wolf?”

  Truth be told, her proximity unnerved him. Her voice alone put his body on high alert. Her touch escalated his heart rate and breathing from normal to near fight or flight levels. The kiss yesterday had left him in a daze and every inch of his skin tingling. He wanted more, a whole lot more. At the moment, he fought the urge to throw Emma over his shoulder and drag her into his king-sized bed. He longed to bury his head between her quivering legs and lap at her until she shuddered screaming his name—just for starters. Visions of stroking her breasts and sucking at her nipples until they became rock hard and tender with his lavish devotions clouded his view of the river and demanded his attention. After that he planned to introduce her to his not-so-little friend Bronco, Jr. and take her for a long, hard ride. He looked forward to being her personal mustang, bucking in bed, out of bed, in the shower, up against the wall, over the desk, on the balcony, on his bike, alongside the river, and under the stars. And when they were done, exhausted by lovemaking, he’d kiss her scars and drive away the memories of the bear mauling and any other thoughts she had beyond wanting to start all over again. He shook his head to clear the testosterone haze and prayed his body’s reactions to his lust filled fantasies weren’t too obvious.