Eagle Warrior

by Jenna Kernan

  Ray shook his head.

  “Sanchez was paid, too?”

  “No evidence of that. But he was tied up with some fanatical extremists. Survivalists and...” Ray did not want her to know more than she had to. “Crazy folks with crazy notions. Ones willing to use violence to make a point or get what they want.”

  “But that mine. It was a giant hole in the ground. Just a horrible scar on the earth. That mining company should be ashamed, but what did that shooting do besides take human lives?”

  Ray knew from Jack that it had also eliminated the man who had been stealing an unknown quantity of explosives from the mine and who had been delivering them to the extremists in an outfit called BEAR. This was from Jack’s brother, Carter, whose wife, Amber, had noticed the thefts and nearly died in the mass shooting as a result.

  “That mass shooting wasn’t random,” Ray said. “There were a lot of explosives stolen.”

  “I didn’t hear that.”

  “You wouldn’t. But that was why Sanchez killed those folks. To shut them up. Your father stopped the FBI from interrogating Sanchez.”

  Morgan shook her head. “No. He didn’t do that.”

  But Ray saw by the horror in her expression that, despite her denial, she believed him.

  Her hands covered her face and she wept. Ray rubbed her back and stared down at her father, dying in his hospital bed.

  Morgan reined herself in and Ray thought it might be better if she had cried herself out. She now sat still and quiet with her thoughts. Ray left to buy them some sandwiches. Morgan didn’t eat much. The doctor came in and gave her a dismal report on details that boiled down to the fact that the cancer was systemic. He did not offer an opinion of how long Karl had left.

  Later, Morgan called her daughter to check on her and to report that “Pop-Pop” wasn’t doing well. Lisa wanted to see him and Morgan said they’d try to arrange it.

  Kenshaw Little Falcon arrived in the evening and he sat with her father so Ray could take Morgan down to the cafeteria for dinner. When they returned, her father was speaking to their shaman but Karl was only semiconscious and seemed to think he was back in Vietnam.

  Ray watched his shaman with Karl and wondered if this was the man who had enlisted Morgan’s dad for his deadly mission.

  Kenshaw left at around ten and Morgan sat a vigil while Ray stretched out on the couch in the lounge. He checked on her in the night, seeing her still in the chair with her head on the bedding. She woke when the nurse came in to check on her dad. His heart rate was slow and his breathing even worse.

  The doctor arrived around six to make rounds. He asked Morgan to step out for a few minutes and said he would come find her in the lounge. He met them shortly thereafter and said he was uncertain if her father would wake again. His organs were shutting down.

  There was a commotion in the hall and the doctor left them. Ray and Morgan discovered the staff rushing into and out of her father’s room.

  Ray knew before Morgan. They kept them out of the room but were unable to revive Karl. He had chosen the one moment he was alone to leave them, taking with him the answers that his daughter needed so desperately.

  Chapter Nine

  Ray took care of contacting Karl’s pastor at the gospel church where he was a member. He spoke to the tribal council chairman who would send the necessary paperwork to get assistance for Karl’s burial. He drove Morgan to the Phoenix detention center to pick up Karl’s personal belongings from the deputy warden at the prison. They didn’t amount to much. Just his wallet, an old phone, a few dollars, his medicine bundle and the turquoise ring and bracelet he always wore.

  During the following four days, Morgan’s house became a magnet for families bearing casseroles and friends of her father but far too many of them wanted to ask Morgan the same questions. Ray only had to physically toss out one persistent guy who did not have the manners his parents taught him.

  He helped Morgan work with the funeral parlor to make arrangements for the viewing and funeral, which was scheduled for Friday afternoon.

  Thursday night Morgan stopped him in the hall before he could escape to Karl’s room. He was finding Morgan more and more distracting from his job here.

  “I want to thank you for all you’ve done,” she said, her delicate hand resting on his bare forearm. The contact made him twitch in all the wrong places.

  “Well, that’s why Kenshaw sent me.”

  “He sent you to protect me. But you’ve done so much more. The flowers, the casket, the funding through the tribe. I’m very grateful.”

  How grateful? he wanted to ask as his gaze fixed on her pink mouth. Instead he said, “It’s nothing personal. I’m doing a job. When it’s over, I’ll be leaving.” He met her gaze and held it. “You know that, right?”

  Some of the gratitude left her and now he read worry or perhaps indecision there. Be wise, he wanted to say. But another part of him wanted to kiss her. She’d had Lisa with no husband. He’d learned that much from Jack. So she was not always wise and she was not always shy.

  “I understand.”

  She didn’t move away.

  “Do you? Morgan, I’m a mistake. You know it and I know it.”

  Her fingers splayed over his bicep, lifting the tiny hairs on his forearm as she moved to stroke his bare skin. She lifted the sleeve of his gray T-shirt, pushing the fabric up and away to expose the tattoo there. The symbols had been chosen for him by his medicine man. Eagle Warrior, his shaman had called him. It was a spirit totem that could not have been further from Ray’s personality. Perhaps that was why Kenshaw had chosen the eagle.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Kenshaw told me to get this when I joined the Turquoise Guardians.”

  “Your medicine society,” she said. Her father had been a member. He wondered what she knew. “My father has something similar only his animal totem is the puma. I did not know it was related to the Turquoise Guardians.”

  His brows lifted. A lion was a powerful totem, a clever dangerous hunter. Karl had been all that.

  She traced the outline of the medicine shield branded in colorful ink upon his upper arm, pausing at the turquoise and the cross that appeared tied to the outer hoop.

  “He doesn’t have this.”

  Morgan’s fingers grazed over the five feathers hanging from the hoop and reaching nearly to the junction of his elbow.

  “Five,” she said as she stroked the final feather.

  Ray winced at the pain that cramped his insides.

  They had added, one for each of them, the inductees, the best friends, but only four had returned from Iraq. Hatch had come home later in a box draped in an American flag.

  “Why an eagle?” she asked, referring to the image in the center, the crying head of a bald eagle in profile, it’s yellow eye and yellow beak both bright and sharp.

  “Eagles have good sight. They can see things a long way off,” said Ray. And Kenshaw said that Ray needed help with that, needed to see things before they happened. Needed to have better judgment. Like now, for instance, when the heat of her body clouded his thoughts.

  He told her then about the feathers, one for Jack and Carter and Dylan and him and Hatch. He watched her brows crease at the mention of Hatch Yeager. This reservation was too small for her not to know that Hatch had been reported MIA and then, four years later, his body had come home to be buried in the tribe’s cemetery. Did she know he had been held captive for years before they killed him and dumped him in the desert?

  He wasn’t sure. But he knew Morgan understood loss. Her mother, now her father and before that a brother. Ray heard about that, of course, even in Iraq—such news traveled fast.

  “I remember Hatch,” she said. “You two were best friends.”

  “Yes.”

  She tr
aced the final feather again. It was the only one turned backward. “You must miss him terribly.”

  He didn’t talk about Hatch. Not even with the men who were there that night. Especially not with them, though they all carried the visible tribute to his memory drawn in ink upon their bodies. But he found himself talking again. Morgan did not interrupt. She just stood there in her skimpy tank top and the flannel shorts she slept in with one hand pressed over his heart while Ray spoke in words that came slowly at first. He explained about how the perimeter needed to keep insurgents from attacking their convoys. The two Humvees and how he had tricked his way in by adding his name to their commanding officer’s orders before he finished. He never expected SFC Mullins to actually let him ride in that first Humvee. Everyone knew that Mullins preferred Hatch because he was easygoing and followed orders. But Ray had gotten away with it, sending Hatch into the second vehicle with Tromgartner, who had an annoying a habit of clicking his tongue incessantly on the roof of his mouth. Hatch had grinned at him, knowing what Ray had pulled, as he climbed into the second Humvee with Tromgartner, Carter Bear Den and their translator.

  “It drove Hatch crazy,” said Ray. The memory made him feel physically sick. If not for that joke, it would have been his body flying through space, landing on the hill too far away to reach before the insurgents got him.

  “And so he was in the truck that got ambushed?” asked Morgan.

  “It was an insurgent attack. The second Humvee was closer to the enemy position. They threw explosives. Two of our men were captured. One was killed.”

  “The lucky one,” she said.

  How did she understand that?

  “Yes.”

  “Have people told you this wasn’t your fault?” she asked.

  He gritted his teeth and nodded.

  “It doesn’t help, though, does it?”

  He met her gaze and couldn’t believe what she had said. No one ever said that.

  “Not at all.”

  “Everyone said things to me after my brother’s suicide. Instead of helping, it made me so angry.”

  That was exactly how he felt, too.

  Ray looked away before replying. “They mostly said things about the nature of war, like they had been through one or about fate. But that’s not true. I’m here and Hatch is dead because my sergeant clicked his tongue and because I let Hatch endure it rather than suffer myself.”

  She didn’t say the next most obvious thing—that he hadn’t known. Couldn’t have known what that one small action would reap. Because that didn’t help either. It just made him angry all over again. He lifted his gaze and waited for her to speak. When she did, she surprised him again.

  “That must be a heavy load to bear.” She slid her hand away.

  She understood him because she’d had to deal with the aftermath of her brother’s suicide. But her younger brother had been four years behind Morgan and five behind him, so Ray had been in the service when he had jumped. Ray didn’t know him. Now he never would.

  How many nights had she lain awake wondering if she could have stopped him? Now she had lost her dad, too.

  “How do you bear it?” he asked.

  “Some days are worse than others. I spend a lot of time thinking how old Mateo would be now and what he might be doing.”

  Ray now found himself in the uncomfortable position of wanting to express his sympathy but not say something predictable.

  “I wish I had known him.”

  That made her smile. “Me, too. Come on. I have beer in the refrigerator.”

  They sat at the kitchen counter and drank the one can of beer in two small glasses sitting side by side.

  Morgan picked up the conversation. “My biggest mistake was trusting Lisa’s father, which is a lot easier to bear than yours. And as it turned out, it was the luckiest bad luck I ever had. Like you, I never talk about it.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said.

  “I know that.”

  Ray studied his nearly empty glass and swirled the foam that clung to the bottom. She had listened to him. He should do the same. But he found he wanted to slip out the back door instead. Morgan’s secrets were none of his business.

  “Is it the secret you are wary of or the intimacy?” she asked.

  He sipped his beer. “Both,” he admitted.

  “I was seventeen when I met Lisa’s father. He was handsome, employed and madly in love with me. I was young, foolish and mistook infatuation for love. He was very good to me and made promises. He even gave me a ring.” She held out her bare left hand as if to show him the ring that had once circled her slim finger.

  Had he broken it off or had she?

  “When I told him I was pregnant, things changed. He grew restless and preoccupied. Then he disappeared. I was worried. It was so unlike him and it reminded me of the time before they found Mateo.

  “But he wasn’t missing.” Her laugh was harsh and her flush showed embarrassment. “I even reported it to the police.” She shifted to face him. “Do you know what they told me?”

  He didn’t.

  “No such person. He didn’t exist. So whose child was this?” She laid a hand on her flat stomach. “I found him in one of the places we used to meet. He was with another young woman, dark like me. Mexican, I think.”

  “Did you bust his nose?” ask Ray.

  “No, I followed him home. He lives in Darabee, works for the city sanitation department and has a wife and three young children.”

  Ray slapped an open hand on the counter so hard the glasses jumped. Then he used some language he’d learned in the sandbox. Morgan smiled.

  “Yeah, exactly. I came back home to my parents and told them everything. They helped me raise Lisa. She’s turned out to be the best thing in my life. So I’m not sorry. Just ashamed at how naive I was back then.”

  “You could have him arrested.”

  “No. It’s too long ago. Statute of limitation is up. And I’d rather raise her alone than have her anywhere near him.”

  “Child support?”

  “Not worth the risk.”

  Ray nodded. “Would you like me to...”

  She shook her head.

  “I can be discreet. He wouldn’t know.”

  “Ray, you are my protector. Not my avenger.”

  He looked down at the swallow of beer at the bottom of the juice glass, really wanting to punch that guy.

  “You know eagles don’t just look down to see what others cannot,” said Morgan. “They also fly higher than any other living thing. They carry our messages to the creator and they are holy. Deeply sacred. Perhaps your shaman wanted you to remember that you are also blessed.”

  “Or to carry his messages for him,” said Ray.

  “I don’t think so. He wants you to see yourself as other see you.”

  “As a badass? Screw-up? Poster boy for regret?”

  “Look around, Ray. Not backward. That’s not where we live. We live here now. In this time and place.”

  Live in the moment. See what was all around him. Ray settled back on the kitchen stool and pushed away his glass.

  “You better get to bed. Funeral tomorrow.”

  He rose. She touched his cheek and he let his eyes slide closed for a moment as he considered pursuing what she seemed to be offering. Then he flicked his gaze to hers. She was not looking for a one-nighter, and she sure didn’t deserve a guy dragging an entire boatload of baggage. She was making a connection and instead of welcoming it, he was shutting it down because he already liked her too much to be her next mistake.

  “We do live in this moment,” he said. “And you are right. I spend too much time in the past. But you have a daughter, Morgan. That means you must look forward to a future that won’t include me.”

  H
er hand dropped and she let him go. It was hard to walk away because he knew she was the best woman he’d ever known. But she was a mother, not a plaything. And he had no idea how to be a husband or father. You didn’t need eagle vision to see that.

  * * *

  THE FUNERAL WAS better attended than it should have been, considering Karl’s recent actions. But there were friends and members of his clan, his tribe and the VFW—Veterans of Foreign Wars—not to mention an unfortunate number of curiosity seekers from Darabee and the surrounding area. It was hard to know how to celebrate Karl’s life. He had been a basket man. In the long-ago time, weaving baskets was a man’s work while the women typically made the pottery. There were few left—male or female—who wove baskets like Karl. He was a veteran of the Vietnam War, a father and grandfather, a brother and son. He was also a paid assassin.

  Ray wondered how many attendees sought clues to finding the missing two hundred thousand. That kind of money had a long tail. Ray had organized the funeral, his first, with the help of the family’s pastor and Kenshaw Little Falcon. No one wanted to speak or sing, so Ray asked the other two remaining members of Tribal Thunder to make a drum circle and sing some of the old songs as they had done before joining the US Marines. He missed Carter Bear Den but not half as much as Jack did. Dylan Tehauno was in fine voice and offered his help to watch over Morgan in the days to come.

  That was the kind of friendship money couldn’t buy.

  After the funeral, neighbors and family gathered at Morgan’s house. They ate much of the food they had brought and stayed too long. Guy Heron had arrived with his wife and two girls. Lisa and Ami had disappeared into the bedroom with the cat. Guy remained on the opposite side of the room from Ray and no matter where Ray moved, Guy moved in opposition. Morgan sat in a dining room chair now in the living room with her uncle Agustin Tsosie as Agustin’s second wife, Melouise, wrapped up leftovers and put them away.

  Lisa returned from the bedrooms with Ami trailing behind. Lisa was carrying the bag that had come from the deputy warden and held it out to her mother.

  “What’s this, Mama?”

  Morgan turned to Lisa and looked at the bracelet she held. The sterling silver had a nice patina and the large center piece of turquoise was made more stunning by the black spider web pattern and bright sky blue color.