The Ties That Bind

by Andi Marquette

  "I'm so sorry about Sage's father. How's she doing?"

  "Okay, I guess. She wasn't close to him and hadn't talked to him in ten years. But even so, stuff like this brings things up you thought you'd left behind."

  "That's true. How are you with it?"

  I shrugged. "Trying not to fall into old patterns," I said, a veiled reference to how I'd handled the downward spiral of our own relationship before it ended five years ago.

  "I know some good therapists," she said, gentle.

  "I might take you up on that. But right now, I just want to get through this."

  She made a sympathetic noise. "I have experience with estate law. And also Indian jurisdiction." She put that out there, to do what I wanted with it. Melissa's paternal grandmother was Nez Perce, so it didn't surprise me that she might know a few things about Indian law. It just hadn't occurred to me to contact her.

  "I really appreciate that," I said.

  "And I'll work with Sage on the estate end of things, if she wants."

  "That's so nice of you. If it's not too much trouble."

  "No, it's not. I offered, remember?" She smiled. "Because I know you wouldn't have asked."

  I grinned. "I'm working on that, too." I slid my hands into the front pockets of my shorts.

  She nodded, a teasing "sure you are" gesture. Then she became serious again. "I'd be glad to help Sage and River with the will, if Sage is comfortable with that."

  "I can't--"

  "Kase, hello. I'm offering. Just let me know."

  "Okay," I relented. "I will. Thanks."

  "And keep in touch anyway. I'd like to see you more than once every few months."

  "I know. I'm sorry. You know I can be bad about that. Just call or drop me an e-mail to remind me to pull my head out. Please?"

  She laughed and gave me another hug. "I will. Hi to Chris and Sage." She released me and I watched her cross the street. I sometimes forgot how much I liked her as a person. I'd see if we could set up a barbecue in the future and invite her. And her girlfriend, if she had one. I wasn't even sure she was seeing anyone at the moment. I got into my car and headed home, five minutes away.

  Barbecue preparations were in full swing when I arrived. Kara divested me of the grocery bags and I heard River laughing in the kitchen, a good thing. I worried about him, spending too much time alone with his demons. But Sage told me that he had always been that way, ever since he was a boy. He preferred the company of mountains to people, though he still managed to find girlfriends now and again. Or rather, they found him. Maybe he'd get serious about someone if he found her. Then again, maybe he just wasn't ready to share his life that way.

  I entered the kitchen, where River was busy working on the steaks while Kara was preparing to cut vegetables for a salad. She threw a carrot top at River when he made a comment about women and knives. Sage had gone outside where she stood talking with Jeff while he fired up the grill, something he enjoyed doing.

  "Damn, that smells good. I'd eat that raw. Hand it over," I said to River as I watched him baste the meat.

  "Go camping with me. You'll eat a hell of a lot more than that raw."

  "Sounds like fun. Guys' weekend out?"

  He laughed again. "Cool."

  "Kase," Kara said, interrupting my male bonding with River. "I called Shoshana's uncle, though she'd already told him to expect it."

  "And?" My, how helpful Shoshana is. I kicked myself. Why was I having issues with her dating my sister? Maybe Sage was right. I was acting like a dad with Kara.

  "He'd be glad to talk with us. He did say, however, that he's not going on record with anything."

  "That's reasonable. But it also makes me think that maybe Bill really did have something to worry about, if this guy is afraid to talk though he's not working anymore for Ridge Star." I leaned over and picked up a piece of carrot and popped it into my mouth.

  "My thoughts, too. River, you okay talking to this guy?"

  He glanced over at us, considering. "I think so. Sage wants to."

  He wasn't okay with it, I saw. But he wanted to make sure he was there for Sage. River just wanted to leave well enough alone. His father was dead, taking a huge chunk of an uneasy past with him and River didn't want to mess with it. My dad told me once that though the past might be dead, the demons aren't. I wondered what would help River put some of his to rest. I returned my attention to Kara, who was watching River work on the meat. She caught my eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly, like she knew what I was thinking.

  "So I have this other idea," she continued.

  I opened the fridge and took out a beer. I used the bottle opener on my keychain to open it and tossed the cap onto the counter. "And that would be?"

  "I think we should contact Ridge Star and see if we can get a look around at the site where Bill was working."

  I flicked another glance at River, saw his back stiffen a bit but he didn't say anything.

  "And how do you propose we do that? Call up and say we're just passing through, all touristy, and can we stop by and can we see this one particular site and oh, by the way, did you know a Bill Crandall?" I was being sarcastic and she knew it. A little bit of sibling pissiness flashed through her eyes. "What's your plan?" I said, heading off our impending button-pushing session.

  She directed her attention to the cutting board again, where she was working on slicing tomatoes. "I have my ways. If I can get us an audience, are you in?"

  I took a sip of beer, debating. Chris's admonishments came to mind. But then again, we were just doing research, right? And I couldn't let my younger sister do this alone. "Yeah." And then I did something I had never done with her. I relinquished control. "It'll be your show. Just tell me what to do."

  She stopped slicing and stared at me, shocked. "Oh, my God. Where's K.C. and what have you done with her?"

  River chuckled and shot an appreciative "can't older sisters be totally lame?" glance at her.

  I was about to respond when Sage came in. She headed for me and kissed me hello. Kara threw a piece of lettuce at us. "Get a room," she shot.

  River grinned and flipped a steak over. "You should have seen them after they just hooked up. I was kinda jealous, though. Sage always gets more action than I do," he added, with a heavy sigh at the end.

  "Aww. Pobrecito, Rio." I put the back of my hand to my forehead.

  "It's true," he continued, playing up the pity card, though his eyes sparkled like Sage's did when she was pulling my leg.

  "Well, come down off your damn mountain some time and go get yourself some." Sage poked him in the arm.

  "I like my damn mountain," he grumbled, though he was still smiling.

  "Honey," I addressed Sage. "River wants to take me camping and show me how to eat raw meat. Can I go?"

  She shook her head, pretending to be disgusted. "Megan called while you were shopping. I told her you'd call her when you got back."

  "Do I have time before dinner?" I caught River's eye and he nodded. "Cool. Kara, good work on that salad. Keep it up." I pulled Sage out of the kitchen as Kara threw another piece of lettuce at me. Sage followed me out of the kitchen to the bedroom, where I'd left my cell phone.

  "What's going on?" She watched me.

  "I ran into Melissa outside the Co-op. I told her a little bit about what was going on and she said that if you and River felt you needed a lawyer to help with the will, she'd lend a hand, since she's done estate law."

  "That's nice of her."

  "She told me to run it by you, to make sure you'd be comfortable with her doing that, if you decide you want to."

  Sage smiled. "I appreciate that, but she doesn't need to worry about walking on the present because you and she have a past."

  I stood gazing down into Sage's eyes, and I forgot everything I was supposed to be doing and instead just hung in the moment.

  "I'll give her a call if it looks like we'll need her," she continued.

  I nodded, still caught in her beauty and the w
ay she moved me. "I am so in love with you," I said, caressing her face.

  She reached up and cupped the back of my neck, pulling me into

  a long kiss that made me think of sex under the dining room table and sweat between our sheets. She lightly bit my lower lip as she pulled away. "Call Megan before I end up showing you how you make me feel."

  I pouted.

  "River won't forgive us if we miss dinner," she scolded, grinning. She left, on her way back to the kitchen.

  "True that," I muttered, watching the way her ass moved in her shorts. Shaking my head, I speed-dialed Megan. Twenty minutes later we hung up and I turned just as Kara appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. "Steaks are on," she said. "Your girlfriend told me that if you don't join them at the grill, she won't put out for a week." She grinned wickedly. "Who knew my sister was such a freak?"

  I flushed. "Yeah, well, you're one to talk. Bagging the valedictorian and all."

  She flashed me a sarcastic "whatever" glare that dissolved into giggles and I followed her outside.

  Chapter Eleven

  ON MONDAY MORNING, we convoyed up to Farmington, a decent-sized city in the northwestern corner of the state. Some thirty-eight thousand people call it home. It's positioned in such a way that it's a crossroads between cultures--Indian and white primarily, though Hispanos figure prominently in the mix along with a very few Asians and African Americans. The main source of historic tension lies between Indian and white here, and Farmington's proximity to the sprawling Navajo Reservation serves both to increase tension in some quarters and to promote understanding in others.

  Almost four hours' drive from Albuquerque along State Highway 550, a car trip between the two cities provides a stunning cross-section of New Mexico's diverse landscape. From the rugged Sandias and swaths of sage-and cactus-ridden desert hillocks and arroyos, 550 skirts the Nacimiento Mountains on the western edge of the Jemez Wilderness and then pulls drivers into a desert moonscape with rock and soil formations not unlike South Dakota's Badlands, layers of sediment and stone colored white, tan, slate, and rust. Fifty miles southeast of Farmington the first real evidence of the gas industry presents itself, with the so-called "Christmas trees" of visible pipe jutting from the earth like curving urban bike racks, dotting cornfields and desert alike, New Mexico's version of the seemingly ubiquitous horse head pumps in parts of Texas.

  Hundreds, I knew. Thousands, maybe. Thousands of gas wells in this part of the state fueling the surrounding communities, once economically depressed and barely maintaining populations. But industries like this came with a whole new set of problems, both environmental and social. When we drove into Farmington from the east on Highway 64, I had gaped at the changes on the outskirts. Slick new stores, myriad offices for various drilling companies, lots where people could buy gas drilling equipment like they might buy a used car, and a lot more traffic than what I was used to seeing in a town this size. I had passed several large trucks on our way in hauling what looked like pipe and a couple others with stuff I guessed might be hoisting equipment and fittings and collars for the big drill bits that bored into the hard desert soil.

  Because it hunkers in a valley watered by the San Juan River, Farmington harbors an agricultural and ranching base, but since World War II, natural gas and oil exploration and drilling has helped transform the town into a hub for natural gas extraction. Since the 1960s and 1970s, the area has been transformed into a boomtown, where roughnecks mix with ranchers and Native peoples are often attempting to bridge the huge gulfs between both.

  Money from the natural gas industry seemed to have beefed up an economic infrastructure in Farmington, which in turn lured people unaffiliated with agriculture or extraction to the area and they, in turn, drove the push for big-box stores and better educational facilities, like the spiffy San Juan Community College. But poverty still marred the largely rural region in surrounding communities, Indian reservations included. And some of these communities were bitterly divided about selling their land or mineral rights for extractive industries. An ongoing western battle, with no punches pulled.

  We parked at 2.45 in front of the small brick office building that housed Lindstrom, Smith, and Bails, Attorneys-at-Law. The wide streets and grid layout of downtown Farmington reminded me of Lubbock. That, plus the 1960s-era square structures that indicated businesses, banks, and an occasional store gave it a broad, Midwestern feel. I shut the engine off and Kara looked out the passenger side at Lindstrom's office.

  "Bails. Now there's a good name for a lawyer," she commented.

  "I was just thinking that." I took my sunglasses off and put them in their case, which I left in the glove compartment.

  Kara got out and stood on the sidewalk, stretching her arms and shoulders. I waited for a couple of cars to pass before I opened my door to join her. We stood in front under the faded awning just as Sage pulled into a parking space along the curb three cars down in her vehicle, River in the front passenger seat.

  "Excuse me," a feminine voice said to my right.

  I turned. A plump white woman wearing tight faded jeans, sneakers, and a yellow tank stood appraising me. She wore her dark blond hair feathered back from her face in the style Farrah Fawcett immortalized in Charlie's Angels.

  "Are either of you Sage Crandall?"

  This must be Tonya. "No, but she's right over there," I said, indicating Sage as she got out of her car. "And the gentleman with her is her brother."

  "Oh, thanks. I'm Tonya Daniels." She stuck out her right hand, which I took. A firm, brisk handshake.

  "K.C. Fontero." I released her hand. "My sister Kara," I added, gesturing with my head toward her. "I'm Sage's partner." I watched her to see what she'd say to that, but my statement got no reaction. She instead looked past us at Sage, who was walking toward us.

  "Hi. Tonya Daniels." She offered her hand to Sage, who shook it as I had.

  "Sage Crandall." She let go of Tonya's hand so River could take his turn.

  "River," he said in his quiet, deep voice. "Good to meet you in person. Sorry about my reaction on the phone when you called." He offered a smile that could melt a skating rink, and it worked on Tonya, because she smiled back in that way straight women do to polite, handsome men.

  "That's okay. I know Bill didn't talk much to you and it probably didn't look very good, me calling like that."

  He shrugged. "No problem."

  "Everybody ready?" Sage interrupted. She took her sunglasses off and propped them on top of her head. She had opted to wear her hair loose today and it fell around her shoulders in a way that often caused me to forget to breathe. I held the glass door open and everyone but Sage filed in. She paused at the threshold. I reached with my free hand and gave hers a little squeeze. She smiled, relieved, and entered.

  I expected a cheesy paneled interior with maybe dark green carpet and mismatched furniture but what I got was a pleasant waiting area with big, comfortable chairs in deep plush blue. The interior walls had been stuccoed white and two large paintings of desert landscapes hung on two of them. The floor was tiled, though a large Navajo-style rug lay underneath a heavy wooden coffee table on which someone had stacked a variety of magazines and local interest pamphlets.

  "May I help you?" The trim, perky receptionist inquired from her desk, which sat behind a low wall that served as a boundary between lobby and offices.

  "Yes. I'm Sage Crandall and this is my brother River. We and Tonya Daniels--" she motioned toward Tonya--"are here to see Ward Lindstrom about my father's will."

  "Of course. He's expecting you. One moment." She picked up her phone and pressed a couple of numbers. I continued to check out Lindstrom's digs. Classy, but not pretentious. "He'll be right up. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? We have water and soft drinks in the refrigerator." She pointed at an apartment-sized fridge in the waiting area.

  Kara opened it and took out a Diet Coke. "Thanks," she said.

  "They got regular in there?" River moved over toward Kara and
she handed him a bottle of the requested substance.

  "You want to split one?" I looked at Sage, who had crossed her arms in a gesture I knew meant she was stressed.

  "Sure," she said.

  "Tonya?" I looked at her.

  "Diet."

  Kara extracted two more bottles of Diet Coke and carried them in one hand, holding on to their necks. She brought them over. I took one and Tonya the other.

  "Hi," said a male voice with a soft Texas drawl.

  We all looked at the newcomer, who stood in front of the receptionist's desk. White guy, about five-ten, maybe in his forties. He looked like he took care of himself, given the fit of his black pleated trousers and the off-white shirt tucked into them. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows though he still wore a tie. Mostly muted maroon, it featured abstract designs in blues, creams, and black. He wore his sandy hair trimmed above his ears and though he was balding on top, he didn't affect any kind of comb-over. He regarded us with frank blue eyes.

  "I'm Ward. Thanks for coming. I've got us set up in the conference room, which has a little more room. Come on back." He motioned for us to follow him and I noticed he wore plain black dress shoes rather than wingtips, which seemed a lawyer stereotype that often proved true. He led us down a tiled hall to a room on the right. A big rectangular table occupied the center. At the end farthest from the door a couple of manila folders sat on the table and bookshelves lined the wall behind it. Several basic no-nonsense conferencing chairs were positioned around the table. Sage, River, and Tonya introduced themselves to Ward while Kara and I hung back. Once those names were established I stepped forward.

  "K.C. Fontero."

  He shook my hand. "Oh, yes. I spoke with you last week. Ms. Crandall's partner. Welcome." He smiled. I gave him big props for that reaction.

  "Kara Fontero." She shook his hand as well.

  "Ah. I see a family resemblance," he said in a droll tone, looking from her to me. "Glad you could come. Please, have a seat."

  We all did so, setting our beverages in front of us. Ward took the head of the table, where the manila folders lay while Tonya sat to his immediate right and Sage to his immediate left. River sat on Sage's left, then me, then Kara. Which left Tonya all alone on her side, but she didn't seem to mind. She sat with her hands in her lap, watching Ward.