Montana Mavericks, Books 1-4

by Diana Palmer

  “That is correct, Mr. Chairman. The proof of my charges is contained in these documents.”

  Sitting off to the left, where he could see the side of Maggie’s face, Jackson watched her pass a thick stack of papers to a congressional page, who then delivered them to Congressman Ralph McPhearson of Minnesota, chairman of the House Subcommittee on Native American Affairs. She looked so small, sitting there by herself in this big, ornate hearing room, but she faced the fifteen members of the subcommittee with a quiet dignity that lent credence to her every word.

  Three weeks had passed since he’d last seen her. Twenty-one endless days and nights to miss her and regret his hasty accusations. In those same twenty-one days, she had been fighting for the tribe with astonishing ferocity. The woman obviously had plenty of her own connections in Washington, particularly with the press corps; from the size of the stink she’d raised, Jackson figured she’d used them all.

  Baldwin had pulled every trick in the book to discredit her, claiming her membership in the tribe created a conflict of interest, hinting she was only acting out of vengeance because he’d spurned her sexual advances, suggesting he’d been about to fire her for shoddy work. Too many of his fellow committee members had seen Maggie’s previous work to believe that last charge, however. As a result, they hadn’t believed his other charges, either.

  Maggie had been interviewed on the morning news programs of all three major networks, as well as the prime-time magazine programs. In fact, the press had been having such a field day with the scandal, the Whitehorn Ranchers’ Association had dropped their lawsuit over the grazing leases, and several embarrassed members had agreed to testify against Baldwin. Baldwin, who hadn’t had the nerve to show up for this hearing, had already announced he would not seek reelection.

  The publicity had brought about some other positive changes for the tribe. A group of Hollywood stars who owned homes in Montana had hosted a benefit for the tribe to pay the expenses of fighting the legislation and buy stock for the land that had been returned to the tribe’s control.

  Outraged at being portrayed as a bunch of rednecked racists, white citizens from every part of the state were contacting all of Montana’s Indian tribes, opening up the kind of communication Maggie had hoped to facilitate.

  They still had a long way to go, but the people of the Laughing Horse Reservation were slowly starting to find hope again. Forty percent of the tribe’s high school seniors had graduated in caps and gowns. Ten new people had enrolled themselves at the alcohol and drug rehab center. Participation in all the programs at the Indian school had increased.

  All because of one stubborn, feisty, compassionate little woman who wasn’t afraid to stand up for her principles. A woman he had woefully misjudged. Thank God she didn’t believe in “blaming a whole group of innocent people because of the actions of one rude jerk,” as she had put it the first day he met her.

  The committee members finished flipping through the papers the chairman had passed on to them. Congressman McPhearson gaveled the room back to order and invited the other committee members to question the witness.

  Frank nudged Jackson in the ribs, then leaned over and whispered, “You watch. The Little Fed’s gonna take care of everything. We won’t even have to testify.”

  Jackson nodded in agreement. After watching Maggie’s performances on television, he would be amazed if she didn’t have the entire committee eating out of her dainty little hand in damn short order. Sure enough, though the members fired question after question at her, she answered them clearly and directly, without resorting to rhetoric or defensiveness.

  By the time the chairman invited her to make a closing statement, Jackson felt like he’d been dragged through ten miles of brush by a runaway horse. Maggie looked as chipper as if she’d simply had a friendly chat with a group of close friends. She sipped from her water glass, set aside the stack of papers in front of her, then began to speak.

  “Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I would also like to thank the other members of the committee for your time and attention this afternoon. And, lastly, I would like to thank Congressman Baldwin.”

  She smiled at the surprised looks she received from the committee members.

  “Whatever his motives for giving me this assignment, my life has been tremendously enriched by the opportunity to become acquainted with the people of the Laughing Horse Reservation.”

  Maggie talked from her heart then, telling the committee, and the rest of the nation through the television cameras broadcasting the hearing live, about her background. She spoke of her feelings of alienation from her own people and the difficulties she’d encountered on the res because she was an apple. She told of her initial reactions to the poverty and despair she had witnessed. She informed them about the discrimination the high school kids had faced, and the involuntary sterilization of Indian women.

  Then she really cut loose. “Ladies and gentleman, since the arrival of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock, our two cultures have shared this continent. Our history together has often been marred by hatred and violence. We all need to know the truth of our mutual history and understand it. However, I would submit to you, to the Northern Cheyenne, and to all the other citizens of this country, that it is time to look to the future.

  “Yes, I found terrible problems at Laughing Horse. But I also found an incredible amount of untapped potential. Instead of deploring the plight of these poor, conquered people, I suggest it’s time for both sides to get to work.

  “Let’s stop blaming and finger-pointing and fearing each other. Native Americans have much to learn from the white society. They also have much to teach.

  “Honor the treaties this government has made with them. As conquered nations, grant them as much compassion and economic development assistance as this government gave to the Germans and the Japanese after World War II. Give them a fighting chance to achieve their potential and contribute their unique talents and perspectives to this society, as the Irish, the Poles, the Italians and every other ethnic group has done.

  “Passing the legislation I drafted in my original report is only the first step in this process. But, ladies and gentleman, the time to take that first step is now, and only you can take it. Please, give it your consideration and support. Thank you.”

  Applause thundered through the chamber. Congressman McPhearson banged his gavel again, repeatedly calling for order.

  “Thank you, Ms. Schaeffer.” He leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the desk in front of him. After glancing at his colleagues, he directed a charming smile at Maggie. “By the way, if you’re ever interested in a position on my staff, I’d be delighted to hear from you.”

  Two other committee members grabbed their microphones.

  “Same goes for me, Ms. Schaeffer.”

  “Talk to me before you make any decisions.”

  Maggie chuckled and shook her head. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  McPhearson’s gaze searched the room until he located Frank. “Mr. Many Horses, are you prepared to testify now?”

  Frank stood and waited for quiet. Then he spoke in a loud voice that needed no help from a microphone. “I would be happy to do that, Congressman, but I think Maggie’s already said it all, except for one thing.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Many Horses?”

  “Maggie doesn’t need a job on any of your staffs. She belongs with her people, and we want her to come home very much. If you folks need help here, though, we can find you plenty of other talented Northern Cheyenne young people who do need jobs.”

  Maggie looked over at him with a warm smile that never reached as far as the chair Jackson occupied. He stared at her, willing her to look at him, but the effort proved futile. His heart sank. A jagged lump formed in his throat, but he told himself her refusal to acknowledge him was only what he deserved.

  Frank sat down. McPhearson adjourned the hearing, and journalists swarmed around Maggie.

  “Are you going back to the reservation,
Maggie?”

  “Is it true you’ve been offered a million-dollar advance to write a book about your experiences on the reservation?”

  “Will you run for Baldwin’s seat in the House, Ms. Schaeffer?”

  Smiling, Maggie shook her head. “I haven’t made any decisions about the future. Thank you all so much for the help you’ve given us. We really appreciate it.”

  Frank elbowed Jackson in the ribs again. “See? It’s not hopeless. If you’ll make peace with her, she’ll come home.”

  “She hates me, Uncle Frank,” Jackson replied. “And I don’t blame her.”

  “Nonsense. She’s a forgiving soul, but you must ask for that forgiveness. What have you got to lose by trying?”

  What indeed? Jackson wondered. His uncle was right, of course. Without Maggie, the rest of his life stretched before him like a thousand miles of bad road.

  Fear clawing at his vitals, he left the hearing room. He felt like an idiot, waiting in the hallway in the three-piece suit and wing tips he’d dug from the back of his closet for the occasion. He’d even thought about cutting his hair, but had decided the suit was enough of a gesture to gain acceptance.

  Suddenly, she was there in the doorway, reporters still swarming, shouting questions at her like a pack of yapping dogs. Her eyes widened when she spotted him, and she came to an abrupt halt, forcing the journalists to crash into each other or run her down. Luckily, they chose the former option.

  Jackson’s voice deserted him. His muscles locked up. All it seemed he could do was stand there and gaze into her big, dark eyes—and hurt. A wary expression passed over her face, followed a second later by one that was utterly blank.

  Then she turned, and would have walked off without so much as a greeting. Seeing what was probably his last chance to make amends slipping away spurred him to action.

  “Maggie, wait. Please.”

  She froze. Looked over her shoulder at him. Raised her eyebrows at him as if to say, “What could you possibly want from me now, you slimeball?”

  “I, uh, really need to talk to you, if you can spare a minute,” he said, hating the desperation he could hear in his voice, but feeling helpless to erase it.

  The reporters pivoted toward him as a group, their noses practically twitching with the scent of a new story. Jackson ignored them.

  “Please, Maggie. It’s important.”

  “Hey, Chief,” one of the reporters called. “What’s your name, and whaddaya want with Maggie?”

  “No comment.” Jackson shot the man a mind-your-own-damn-business glance, then returned his attention to Maggie. “You want me to beg in front of these people?”

  Shaking her head, she stepped away from the crowd. When she reached Jackson’s side, she turned to the journalists. “Come on, folks, I’ve been answering your questions for weeks. Give me a little break, okay? If there’s any real news, I’ll be sure to let you all know.”

  They grumbled a little, but gradually moved off down the hallway. She waited until the last straggler rounded the corner, then turned back to Jackson. Standing this close, he could see exhaustion in her face and feel tension quivering inside her like a guitar string pulled so tight it would snap at the slightest touch. He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and offer her his strength and comfort. She’d probably kick him in the nuts. Just to play it safe, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

  “All right, Jackson,” she said. “What is it?”

  “You did a magnificent job for the tribe, Maggie. Thank you.”

  “I don’t want thanks, from you or anyone else. They’re my people, too.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for what I said. I should have trusted you.”

  He saw her work down a hard swallow, and felt the lump in her throat as if it were his own.

  “Yes, you should have,” she said.

  “Will you forgive me?”

  “I did that a long time ago.” She smiled at him, but it was a smile tinged with sadness and resignation. “Hating you was taking more energy than I could spare.”

  “God, if you only knew how much I’ve regretted losing my temper like that. It was a stupid, knee-jerk reaction. When Bennie used the word, termination, I went nuts. I knew I was wrong an hour later, but when I got to the house, you were already gone.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jackson.”

  How could four little words, so quietly spoken, strike such terror into a grown man’s heart? Jackson wondered, staring at her in dismay.

  “Doesn’t matter?” He yanked his hands out of his pockets and reached for her shoulders, ignoring the inner voice that warned him to stop and think. He was long past the ability to think rationally, anyhow. “Of course it matters.”

  When she tried to pull out of his grasp, he gave her a little shake. “No. I love you, Maggie. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “I believe you loved me as much as you could,” she said slowly. “And I honestly don’t blame you for the way you reacted.”

  “Then come back. If you’ll give me another chance, I promise I’ll never doubt you again.”

  She glared at him until he let go of her. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “But I can keep it,” he insisted. “I’ve learned so much in the last month…Hell, Maggie, you’d be amazed.”

  She shook her head and stepped back, holding up one hand as if she feared she would have to fend him off. “No. Jackson, I’m really sorry. I wish I could believe you, but I couldn’t handle it if you ever turned on me like that again. It’s too late.”

  Though he’d expected as much, hearing her say those words with such finality hit him like a kidney punch. He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, let it out, then shoved his hands back into his pockets. “All right. But what about the tribe? They still need you.”

  “No, they don’t. According to what I’ve heard, the prospects at Laughing Horse look much better now. You and Frank will lead the people just fine.”

  “You’re wrong. If it’s too uncomfortable for you to come back with me there, I’ll leave Laughing Horse.”

  She gaped at him as if he’d just offered to commit suicide in front of her. “That’s ridiculous, Jackson. You’re their lawyer. You’re a vital part of the leadership there. You can’t just leave.”

  “The people see you as their champion, and it’s been too many years since they’ve had one. There are other Indian lawyers around. There’s only one Maggie Schaeffer.”

  “Well, it’s out of the question, so don’t even think about it.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I’ll have to stay here until the legislation passes. After that, I don’t know. I need some time to rest and figure it out.”

  “You’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do to help? With the legislation, I mean.”

  “Of course. By the way, I hope you’ve noticed how many white people have stepped forward to help our cause. I never would have gotten this far without them.”

  Jackson grinned slightly. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. And it’s already different when we go into Whitehorn now. I figure, if some of those knotheads can change their attitudes, so can I.”

  “Good. Take care of yourself, Jackson.”

  “You too, Maggie. If you ever change your mind about trying again, you know where to find me.”

  A stiff nod was her only response before she turned and left. Letting her walk away was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Frozen in torment, he stood there long after she disappeared around the corner. He started when a big hand descended onto his shoulder.

  Looking up, he found himself gazing into his uncle’s sympathetic eyes. “It was a good effort, nephew,” Frank said.

  Jackson laughed, without much humor. “I suppose you listened to the whole thing.”

  Frank nodded. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. C’mon, I’m tired of this big-city stuff. Let’s go home.”

  Grateful for his uncle’s understanding, Jackson accom
panied him out of the building. By the time they boarded their flight at National Airport, dusk had fallen. Jackson took the window seat, strapped himself in, then sat back and closed his eyes.

  He didn’t open them again until the plane took off. Hunching forward, he looked out the small window at the lights flashing on all over the city. Maggie was down there somewhere. He didn’t want to believe she really intended to end their relationship for good. He couldn’t approach her again himself, but he’d be damned if he’d give her up, either. Not just yet.

  So what the hell was he gonna do? Wait and pray for Maggie to change her mind? Hah! Well, he wouldn’t count that out entirely, but as stubborn as she was, a man could get too old to enjoy sex before she budged a centimeter. Talk about a criminal waste of resources.

  Tapping his fingers on the armrest, he struggled to come up with some other options. If he could just find a way to get her back out on the res, so that she could see all the things that were happening…Yeah, that was what he needed to do, all right.

  But how? She wouldn’t come to see him. Hell, she probably wouldn’t want to get within a hundred miles of him. But what about her grandmother? Would Annie Little Deer help him? Well, there was only one way to find out.

  Four weeks later, Maggie sat at the dinette table in her apartment, flipping through the stack of job offers she had received. Though some of them were extremely interesting, she was tired of looking at them, and even more tired of being holed up in her apartment. But for the life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to make a decision.

  She’d managed just fine while the legislation she had proposed was working its way through Congress. Congressman McPhearson and his subcommittee had really gotten behind it. One of Montana’s senators had sponsored identical bills in the Senate at the same time, and since no politician wanted to risk being labeled anti-Indian after all the recent publicity, the legislation had been enacted with record speed. The president of the United States had signed the bills last week, and had personally thanked her for her efforts at the ceremony.