Navajo's Woman

by Beverly Barton

  "That's what J.T. thinks."

  "What about the guy we killed in the old mine?" Joe asked. "Did the police ID him yet?"

  Andi nodded. "His name was Charlie Kirk. He's a quarter Navajo, but he's never lived on the reservation. He's been in and out of trouble with the law since he was a teenager."

  Joe could tell by the expression on Andi's face that there was more. "What aren't you telling me? Do you know who hired him?"

  She shook her head. "No, not yet. But. . .well, J.T.'s been doing some checking and it seems Charlie Kirk had quite a reputation throughout the area, in this state, Ari­zona and Colorado as a. . .a hired gun."

  "You mean he's a professional killer."

  "Yes."

  "You know what that means, don't you?"

  "J.T. explained," she said. "Whoever hired this guy will simply replace him with someone else."

  "I need to get out of here and find those boys."

  When he started to sit up again, Andi quickly lowered the rail on his bed and sat down beside him. She grabbed his shoulders and looked him square in the eye.

  “J.T. has put out feelers throughout the reservation. If anyone catches a glimpse of Russ and Eddie, they'll notify us immediately." Andi loosened her grip on Joe, but didn't release him. "You'll be of more help to your nephew and my brother by getting well as quickly as pos­sible. And that means following orders."

  "Whose orders?"

  "Mine!"

  Russ lifted a bottle of water to Eddie's lips and held it there until his friend had drunk his fill, then he wiped Eddie's mouth with his shirttail. This was all his fault. He'd gotten them in this mess in the first place. Why hadn't he listened to Eddie? If he'd just listened, then Eddie would be home right now, instead of hiding away in this damn cave, running a fever and bleeding from a gunshot wound. Of course, if they had gone to the police, Russ didn't doubt for a minute that he'd be behind bars now, accused of Bobby Yazzi's murder.

  He had to get some help for Eddie and he had to some­how get Jewel to talk to him. If she would just corroborate his story and tell the police the truth about what happened that night, he might have a chance. But without Jewel to back him up, he'd wind up spending the rest of his life in prison. He couldn't run the risk.

  "Look, Eddie, I'm going to leave you here, and when I get to a phone, I'll call and tell the police where to find you."

  Eddie grabbed Russ's arm. "No, don't leave me. Don't run off by yourself. If we can just get this bullet out of me, I'll be okay."

  “And how are we going to do that, without a doctor?''

  "You could get it out." Eddie laid his hand over his wounded shoulder. “I don't think it's too deep. You could take your knife and—"

  "I can't!" Russ sprang to his feet. "I could kill you if I try."

  "I could die before help gets here." Eddie ripped open his shirt sleeve. “Just take a look, will you, and see what you think."

  Russ poured some water from a glass jar Clara Gilbert had given them over Eddie's shoulder, erasing some of the blood. Fresh blood oozed from the wound. Nausea swelled inside Russ's stomach. Damn it, don't puke right here in front of Eddie! Already Eddie's arm had turned blue and was swollen. Did that mean infection? Russ won­dered. Or was that normal for a bullet wound? The only other time he'd seen someone shot was when he had found his father's body. But it hadn't been quite the same. His father had put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Russ shuddered as he recalled the horrific sight.

  "You have to help me," Eddie said. "There's no one else."

  How could he do it? How could he gouge around in Eddie's wound and try to remove a bullet embedded in his shoulder? "All I've got is my pocketknife, and we don't have any way to sterilize it."

  "Build a fire and do it that way," Eddie suggested.

  “We don't have anything for you to take for the pain— not even some aspirin."

  "Yeah, I know." Eddie tried to grin. "I hear that if the pain gets bad enough, you just pass out."

  Russ rubbed his hand over his mouth, removing the perspiration from his upper lip. "I'm sorry I got you into this. You didn't want to run. Now look what's happened to you."

  "You have to do it," Eddie said. "If you don't get the bullet out, I'm going to die."

  "Yeah, I know. I know."

  Chapter 9

  Crash! The decorative metal tray hit the floor, spilling the contents across the glossy wood. Black coffee splashed into the air and spread out over the handwoven rug beside the bed. The cup splintered into fragments. The dinner plate cracked in two. A grilled chicken breast slid under the dresser. The baked potato, butter oozing out all around it, landed with a dull splat. And green beans scat­tered everywhere, like leaves in the wind. "Woman, leave me alone!"

  Andi jumped away from the bed, then planted her hands on her hips and glowered at Joe Ornelas. Confined to bed since he'd left the clinic yesterday, he was driving her crazy by refusing to take care of himself. She had never dealt with a more cantankerous man in her life. He had to be the worst patient in the world. Recovering from a gunshot wound might have given any other man a reason to take it easy, but the opposite seemed true of Joe. It was as if getting shot had only fueled his determination to find Russ and Eddie. J.T. had told Joe that not only were the police diligently searching for the boys, but that family and friends were staying on top of things by sharing in­formation. They were all waiting for word, hoping some­one would spot the boys and new evidence of Russ and Eddie's whereabouts would surface to give them a fresh lead to follow. J.T. not only had his entire ranch staff on "ready," but he had also put in a call to the Dundee agency and arranged for a squad of agents to be sent to New Mexico at a moment's notice.

  Andi had pointed out to Joe that if she had any idea where to search, she would be hot on the boys' trail her­self. In the meantime, the only thing that reassured her was the certain knowledge that everything possible that could be done was being done to find Russ and Eddie.

  J.T. and Joanna rushed into the guest bedroom. Each surveyed the scene. J.T. covered his mouth and coughed in an obvious effort not to laugh. Joanna smiled as she glanced back and forth from Andi to Joe.

  "I'll get Rita to clean up the mess," Joanna said.

  "No, I'll clean it up." Andi focused her gaze on Joe, glowering at him. "However, I'm tempted to just leave it and let Joe clean it up himself when he gets well."

  "The damn tray wouldn't be on the floor if you had just left me alone and stopped trying to feed me," Joe snapped.

  "All I did was offer to cut the chicken breast into pieces for you. Is that such a crime?"

  "I can feed myself." Joe refused to look her way. He kept his gaze fixed on the foot of the bed. “And if every­one would stop treating me like an invalid, I could get up and come to the table."

  "The doctor said—"

  "Don't you think I'm a better judge of how I feel than the doctor is?''

  "I think you're an infuriating grouch and an A-number-one pain in the ass. You were nearly killed less than forty-eight hours ago and you're trying to act all macho, as if that wound in your side isn't anything more than a mos­quito bite."

  "And you're—issuing orders, telling me what I can and can't do, fussing and fuming and treating me as if I were addle-brained just because I got shot."

  Andi marched over to the bed, grabbed Joe's chin be­tween her thumb and forefinger and forced him to look at her. "If you dislike my taking care of you, then why didn't you go home with Kate and let her be your nurse­maid? She wanted you to go straight from the clinic to her house."

  "You know as well as I do that Kate has enough to deal with right now." Joe jerked free of Andi's hold, but didn't break eye contact. "I thought that staying here was a good idea. I wanted to be on hand when new informa­tion came in, and I mistakenly believed that J.T. would protect me from any female hovering.''

  "Sorry to have disappointed you." J.T. shrugged. "But in this case, I'm on Andi's side. You need to stay in bed and let us take car
e of you until—''

  "The bullet is out. No major damage was done. There's no infection. I should be fine in a couple of days," Joe said. "And in the meantime, I'd feel better if I could keep busy in some way instead of lying in bed doing nothing."

  J.T. eyed the stack of magazines on the nightstand. "Not into reading, I see."

  "I'd prefer a telephone," Joe said. "That way I could keep involved in the search for Eddie and Russ."

  "Don't you dare plug in a telephone by his bed," Andi warned.

  "Stay out of my business." Joe lifted his right hand, manacled Andi's wrist and tugged her down until she was leaning over him, nose-to-nose. Then he whispered so qui­etly that only she could hear, "If you don't leave me the hell alone, I might start thinking you still love me."

  Andi trembled from the shock of his accusation. "Go ahead and kill yourself. See if I care." She pulled loose from his grip, then glanced hastily at J.T. and at Joanna before rushing out of the room and down the hall. Tears filled her eyes. She swatted them away with her fingertips.

  J.T. shook his head. Joanna took a deep breath and then approached Joe, who waited for the tongue-lashing he knew he deserved.

  "I don't know what you said to her, but I'm sure you owe her an apology," Joanna told him. "Andi has been 'hovering' around you since she and J.T. brought you here from the clinic yesterday. She's done everything possible to make things easier for you. Do you realize that she actually slept in that chair last night—" Joanna pointed to the overstuffed striped chair in the corner of the room ''—just in case you needed something? Who do you think woke you to give you your medicine at two this morn­ing—the tooth fairy?"

  Joe aimed his gaze at J.T. “Is that true? Did Andi sleep in here last night?"

  "Of course, it's true. She's been reluctant to leave your side, even to eat or take a bath," J.T. explained. "I've had to insist that I sit with you whenever we thought she needed a five- or ten-minute break."

  "But why? Why would she—"

  "Men!" Joanna threw up her hands in frustration. "I'll send Rita to clean up the mess and then I'll check on Andi and find out if she's all right." Joanna gave Joe a disapproving glare before she left the bedroom.

  "Looks like I've got two women angry with me," Joe said.

  "What's really bothering you?" J.T. asked. "And don't give me any crap about not liking the way Andi is waiting on you hand and foot."

  "I don't need to be wasting time recuperating. I need to be out there finding those boys."

  "And where would you look?" J.T. asked. "They seem to have disappeared quite effectively. Once they set those horses free, they could have headed in any direction."

  Joe picked up on something in J.T.'s voice. Just a hint that something wasn't quite right. "What aren't you tell­ing me?"

  "I've told you everything you need to know. Now set­tle down and get some rest."

  "I'll rest better if I know."

  "I haven't told Andi yet, so—"

  "What is it?"

  "When we tracked the horses, we found drops of blood along the trail. But once the boys were on foot, the blood stopped and they started covering their tracks. I figure, they spotted the blood dropping on the ground once they were on foot and made sure they didn't leave any more signs for us." J.T. paused, as if he couldn't bare to think about the obvious conclusion. “We took a sample of the blood and sent it off to Albuquerque, but the police haven't gotten the results back yet."

  "Either Eddie or Russ is wounded. That's what you think, isn't it."

  "Yeah. I figure Kirk shot one of them."

  "Damn. Whoever's hurt needs to see a doctor. Without proper treatment, he could die."

  "We'll have to tell Andi, eventually," J.T. said. "But she's been so worried about you that I didn't have the heart to tell her that one of the boys was probably injured, too."

  Andi found a sanctuary in the sunroom that faced north. This section of the house was on the opposite side from the wing containing the bedrooms and far enough away from the children's playroom that it possessed a quiet se­renity absent throughout the rest of the busy household. She might have shed a few tears, but she was determined not to cry her heart out. Not over Joe Ornelas's brusque, inconsiderate treatment. She had allowed his past actions to hurt her more than enough. Hadn't she learned her les­son five years ago? All she had wanted was to help him, to take care of him and make sure he recovered fully. But was he grateful? No. Did he appreciate anything she'd done for him? No.

  "Andi, are you all right?" Joanna Blackwood asked as she entered the secluded room.

  "I'm fine. Sorry about that little show Joe and I put on for y'all. Has he calmed down any?"

  "I left J.T. with him." Joanna smiled warmly. "If I'd stayed another minute, I might have given Mr. Joe Or­nelas a piece of my mind."

  Andi grinned. "Why does he have to be so stubborn and aggravating?"

  "You rub him the wrong way," Joanna said. "Don't you know that?"

  “Well, the feeling is mutual. He certainly rubs me the wrong way."

  "And why do you suppose that is?"

  "If you're implying that Joe and I are still. . .that there's something between us, then you're wrong. Whatever we had together has been over a long time. The only reason we can even tolerate each other's presence is because we have a common goal—to rescue Russ and Eddie."

  "I'll bet that Joe is telling J.T. exactly what you just told me. And I imagine J.T. doesn't believe him any more than I believe you."

  "I love you dearly, Joanna," Andi said. "You're my best friend. But if you think you're going to finagle some sort of confession out of me, then you're wrong."

  "I'm not asking you to confess anything to me, but I am asking you to be honest with yourself. What went through your mind when you realized Joe had been shot? How did you feel when you thought he might die?''

  No fair! Andi wanted to shout. What I thought and how I felt at those moments have nothing to do with reality. I do not love Joe. He does not love me. And we have no future together.

  "All right," Andi said. "I do still care about Joe. But it doesn't mean anything. It can't."

  "Why can't it? If the two of you could forgive each other for past mistakes and—''

  "That's not possible." Andi slumped down on the an­tique green wicker settee that faced the rock garden. "It's too late for us. And even if it wasn't. . .I realized some­thing after Joe left the reservation. Even back then, it would have been impossible for us to have come together as one. Even before my father. . .before he died, Joe and I were at odds over the differences in our lifestyles. Don't you see, with the two of us, there would always be some­thing keeping us apart."

  "Only if you and Joe let it be that way." Joanna sat beside Andi. "If the two of you truly love each other, y'all will find a way to make it work."

  "But we don't love—"

  "Tell that to someone who'll believe you." Joanna pat­ted Andi's shoulder. "Remember, I've been watching the two of you together. If ever two people desperately needed to be together—as one—you and Joe do."

  "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  A wide, all-knowing smile spread across Joanna's preg­nancy-plump face. "I'm saying that what you and Joe need to work off some of that sexual tension is to have a lot of hot, sweaty sex."

  "Joanna Blackwood!" Andi couldn't stop herself from giggling. "You're awful."

  “If after you and Joe make love, you can still honestly tell yourself that you don't love him and don't want to spend the rest of your life with him, then fine. At least, you won't go to your grave wondering what it would have been like."

  "What makes you think. . .okay, so there's this sexual chemistry between us. That doesn't mean we could have anything more than a physical relationship."

  "You'll never know unless you try."

  LeCroy Lanza traced the sweat lines down the frosted glass of beer sitting in front of him. He did not like it when his employees let him down. Charlie Kirk had proved to be a gr
eat disappointment. LeCroy had been so sure that the man was a competent killer, able to do the job for which he'd been hired. The idiot might have been able to outsmart the law, but this time he'd had to deal with more than the local Tribal Police. Joe Ornelas and J. T. Blackwood weren't ordinary Navajos. They'd both had experience as professional security agents. And to make matters worse, they were both related to Eddie Whitehorn, so they had a personal interest in finding and protecting the boys. Kirk had no doubt underestimated these men. But LeCroy wouldn't make the same mistake.

  He supposed he could hire another hit man, but what good would that do when no one knew where the boys were right now? No, he'd just bide his time and let Or­nelas and Blackwood find the boys. What he needed was a tracker, someone to keep tabs on the people searching for the boys. Once their whereabouts was discovered, he could move in for the kill. And even if he couldn't get to the boys before they told the police what they knew, he still had plenty of time to eliminate them before they ac­tually testified against him. Hell, he'd bring in a damn army of assassins, if that was what it took to protect him­self.

  One thing LeCroy knew for sure—he wasn't going to let a couple of punk Navajo kids take him down. And if that meant destroying Ornelas and Blackwood and even Lapahie's gorgeous half-sister, then so be it.

  The following day, only two days after Joe had been released from the Castle Springs Clinic, he was out of bed, dressed and ready for action, albeit with his left side still heavily bandaged. And although he would never ad­mit it, Andi knew he was still in pain. Her greatest worry was that he would reopen his wound by physically over­exerting himself. But who could tell that mule-headed man anything? He certainly wouldn't listen to her. She'd given up on him yesterday when he had all but tossed his dinner tray at her.

  She had focused her attention on working tirelessly with J.T. to garner all the information they could on Char­lie Kirk. And by keeping busy, she'd been able to avoid thinking about her feelings for Joe. About why she was so concerned with his well-being. And she was concerned. Deeply concerned. More than she would be for anyone else. Did that mean she still loved him? No, of course not. Despite what Joanna thought, she did not love Joe. But Andi had to admit that she was still emotionally involved with him and he was with her, even though neither of them wanted or needed that kind of extra baggage weigh­ing them down.