Hunter Moon

by Jenna Kernan

  “So you drove away?”

  “He had the gun.”

  “The phone. Was it still on?”

  “And connected. Gabe came after us. Usually the patrolmen ride alone, but Gabe was new on the force. A rookie. I kept watching for them in the rearview, and finally, there they were. Eight months on the job and here he was arresting his brother for armed robbery.”

  Izzie pressed her index finger to her lips and shook her head, as her eyes went wide.

  “Rubin panicked and started screaming. I told Gabe I was going to hit the brakes, but Rubin thought I was talking to him and he braced against the dash.

  Clay remembered that moment of perfect clarity, the moment when he realized two things simultaneously. First, he had only tolerated Martin because he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing Izzie anymore. And second, he would never again put blind trust in another person.

  “I stopped. The cruiser stopped. Martin and Rubin were screaming at me. I thought I was dead. The police opened the patrol car doors, weapons drawn, and took cover. They’re bulletproof, those doors.”

  In the rearview he had seen the driver—Gabe.

  “What happened then?”

  “Rubin started crying. Martin called him a baby. Martin aimed the gun out the passenger window. I hit him in the ribs, but he grabbed the door handle and fell out into the road.”

  Clay couldn’t say the rest. The guilt was too hot, choking him. He’d kept Martin from firing at his brother. But he hadn’t kept Gabe from firing at Martin.

  “One shot discharged by Officer Cosen,” said Izzie. “That’s what the newspaper said.”

  “One shot.” One life lost. He should hate Martin for setting him up, using him. Instead, he felt sad and sorry and full of regrets. Martin had been so smart. He just, he just...

  Izzie’s hand inched closer. He didn’t look at her as her hand came to rest on his shoulder and then moved to sweep his hair back from his face, tucking a strand behind his ear.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and rested her head on his shoulder. She nestled there, hugging his closest arm with both of hers. Not saying a word, but just sitting beside him, her presence giving comfort.

  When he had won the battle over the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes, he drew a ragged breath. Her scent, warm and appealing, rose about him with the familiar aroma of the pines. Izzie’s clothing smelled like the horses she loved, but her hair smelled like sage. He lowered his head until his cheek rested on the top of hers.

  “Should I have known? Should I have said I won’t drive you out to Rubin’s dad’s? Maybe kept driving so Martin wouldn’t have died there in the road.”

  “I don’t think you could stop Martin from doing exactly as he wanted. No one could.” She pressed a hand over his chest. “That’s why I broke up with him. It was his way or no way.”

  “But you went to his funeral.”

  “Out of respect.” She rested a hand over his heart. “Why didn’t the judge believe you?”

  “Maybe he thought no one could be that dumb. But I could. Was.”

  “Then why didn’t you go to federal prison, too?”

  “I wasn’t on the surveillance footage. I didn’t go in the store. I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t resist arrest.”

  “Rubin ran.”

  Clay nodded. “Yup. Like a rabbit. But he didn’t get far. Gabe is a good runner.”

  “Played on the track team, right?”

  “Mile and quarter mile.”

  “Rubin was stupid.”

  “Rubin was scared. We all were. But Rubin was more scared of his father than of prison. He knew his father would beat the hell out of him. His dad didn’t even bail him. Just left him there.”

  “And you had Luke Forrest, FBI agent and decorated US Marine. The papers said he spoke at your hearing.”

  “He did. Asked for leniency, and he offered the program that accepted me. He was the only one who saw me during those twelve months. No contact, that’s one of the rules, but FBI agents don’t count, I guess. He got me the job with the tribal livestock manager. Donner is a classmate of his.”

  Izzie pushed off his arm and straightened. Clay had to fight to not drag her back against him. It had been so long, and he missed her so much.

  “Didn’t Gabe tell them about how you fought Martin?”

  “He didn’t see that. It happened fast. Seat blocked most of it. Just my word, which isn’t worth much.”

  “What happened to the girls?”

  “Oh, they were out there and they got them, INS and federal agencies. The women were detained, deported.”

  “You saved them.”

  “They likely came right back in the next truck.”

  Izzie rubbed her face with her palm and scooted away from him. “Thank you for telling me,” she said.

  “Thank you for listening.”

  They’d gone all formal again. He didn’t like it.

  Her eyes held a wariness that her smile did not mask. The water was now black and the sky clouding over. A cold wind blew, causing a light chop on the water.

  “Best get back. Looks like rain.”

  Izzie stood and waited for him to rise. They walked back to the truck and slipped into their seats. She turned the key, and the truck rumbled to life. Izzie drove them back to town.

  “I was going to sell a few cows to pay the fine, but they tell me I can’t get them out while they are in quarantine,” said Izzie.

  “That’s so.”

  “Do you think they will charge me the detention fee for the days they are in quarantine?”

  “Not sure,” he said.

  “How long do I have to wait for the veterinary report?”

  “I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know how long it takes.”

  “Who takes care of my herd until then?”

  “I guess I do,” said Clay.

  She glanced at him. “You’ll see they get what they need?”

  “Will do.”

  He wished she needed more from him than reading sign and watering cattle. He wished he could be the man in whom Izzie confided. Wished she would hold on to his arm and snuggle up against him again. But there was a mountain of troubles separating them. Talking wouldn’t gain back what was lost. She’d left him and he’d left her. But Izzie had asked for his help to get her cows back. He planned to do so, and he knew exactly where to start. Rubin Fox, his old friend and convicted felon, now a full member of the Wolf Posse. If someone was cooking meth up there, Rubin would know about it.

  Chapter Ten

  It was end of business on Thursday before Clay could find time to go and see Rubin Fox. As he was leaving the office of the livestock manager, Clay noticed Izzie’s neighbor in the parking lot. He was about to go over and say hello, but as he moved closer, he saw that Floyd was talking to Franklin Soto, the tribe’s livestock inspector.

  Soto was in his fifties, short and broad with an athletic physique slowly going soft. He had a ready smile, undeterred by the brown front teeth caused, Clay had heard, by a collision with the thick skull of a cow. Every year, Soto headed up the committee for the annual rodeo, which together with the tribe’s casino supplied the operating budget and prize money for the rodeo events. Soto’s full-time job was the health and vaccination records of the tribes’ cattle, Soto was the go-between with the state officials to be certain the tribe was in compliance with all regulations.

  Something about the way that Patch and Soto leaned in and spoke in hushed tones put Clay on alert, and he slowed his approach. Floyd noticed him first and called a greeting. The two men broke apart. Patch headed in Clay’s direction while Soto walked past Clay without acknowledging his presence. Happened a lot.

  “So, wedding tomorrow?” asked Floyd.
r />   Clay watched Soto pass. What were they up to?

  “What?” Clay asked.

  “Kino. He’s getting married tomorrow.”

  “Oh, on Saturday. He is.”

  “She a nice girl?”

  Clay watched Soto disappear through the door and considered retracing his steps, but he had to go to a family barbecue tonight, his grandmother’s party for Kino before the entire clam headed down to Salt River for the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner on Friday. That meant he had limited time to find Rubin.

  “Very nice.”

  “You got a date?”

  Clay shook his head.

  “Oh, I thought maybe you and Izzie were back together again, with you helping her and all.”

  Clay gave another shake of his head. Patch was a terrible fisherman.

  “Just as well. That girl is in over her head. Best keep clear of her.”

  Now Patch had Clay’s complete attention. He fixed his gaze on Patch, taking in his slippery smile.

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “Oh, well, just that she’s got her mother’s debts and those boys to look after. Hard to see how she’ll make ends meet, unless she finds a man.”

  “She’s doing okay.”

  “If you say so. I know exactly how much it costs to raise cattle. And I don’t see her selling as many as she’d need to in order to pay her debts. What with her lack of sales and that nonsense up in her pasture, kind of makes me wonder where she found the extra money.”

  Clay resisted the urge to push Patch on to his scrawny backside. Instead he touched the brim of his hat and forced a smile.

  “Gotta go. Family party tonight. Kino’s send off.”

  “Oh, sure. Have fun at the wedding. Reckon half the tribe will be there.”

  Clay climbed into his truck, letting the anger loose on the innocent vehicle door that closed with such force it shook the interior. Could Izzie possibly be wrapped up in this? Was that why he was so mad? But she wouldn’t have asked him to nose around if she were involved...unless she was playing him. Clay felt his shoulders slump. That would just kill him.

  Clay turned the key in the ignition. His truck protested and then turned over. Why was he even going to see Rubin? He had no dog in this fight. He should be heading to his place to change for the party. Instead, he turned toward the worst section of the Rez. He hadn’t been there since he was a teenager, but the Fox family remained in the trailer that had tilted badly even back then. Well, his mother and two sisters continued to live there and Rubin slept there sometimes. Rubin’s father was still in federal prison for trafficking, second conviction, because of the illegal girls that Clay had reported. The case was one of the rare instances where the district attorney had been solicited by the tribal council, and she had agreed to try the case. Rubin’s dad was four years into an eight-year sentence, and he and his son had served time in the same prison for a while.

  Clay did not expect a warm welcome from the Fox family.

  After Rubin had returned to Black Mountain from prison, Clay had seen him around. He’d looked different because he was different. Short hair, gaunt cheeks and a chiseled body that left no hint of the boy who had been sent away. Rubin was dressing like just what he had become—a gang member, with overlarge jeans and shirt that were ideal for concealing a weapon and a flat-brimmed ball cap that shielded his eyes. Clay had told Rubin he was sorry about his dad, and Rubin had sworn at him. Since then they had largely ignored each other. Everyone knew Rubin was a dealer, and he had his own place. But on weeknights, Rubin often ate at home, then went to work with the Wolf Posse. Clay knew that from conversation around his grandmother Glendora’s table. Kino wanted to arrest Rubin. Gabe said they didn’t have enough evidence.

  Clay knocked at the front door. A moment later a beautiful girl stood in the door frame.

  “Anna?” he asked, guessing the older of Rubin’s sisters.

  “Beth,” she said and giggled.

  Clay shook his head in disbelief. “Is Rubin here?”

  “He’s at the table. You’re Clay Cosen, right?”

  “Who?” That was Rubin’s mother’s voice, full of fury.

  His mother started shouting, and Rubin came to the door pushing his sister back and ordering her to the kitchen. She gave Clay a seductive look of regret that made Clay’s ears go back.

  “Really?” said Rubin. “You come to my house?”

  “I need to speak to you.” Clay couldn’t quite muster the courage to say he needed a favor.

  “You got nerve, Cosen. Coming here.” Rubin shouted over his shoulder in Apache, telling his mother to hush up. Then he followed Clay out into the night. “Why not come to my crib, coz?”

  They both knew why. That’s where the Wolf Posse met and conducted business. Clay was less welcome there, if that was possible.

  Clay glanced at Rubin, noting that he had added more tattoos to his forearms. Wolves, of course, the symbol of the gang that Clay had come very close to joining before he’d seen that the ones who really had his back had been his family all along. His brothers. His uncle Luke. Where would he be now without them? He looked at Rubin, and a chill slithered up his spine. Rubin, a dark mirror, reflecting what might have been.

  “You and I got no biz-nus, bro. How ’bout you blow?” Rubin placed a hand on the door handle, barring the entrance to his mother’s home.

  “I need to ask a question.”

  Rubin lifted a brow, curious now.

  “Do you know what’s going on up in Izzie’s pasture?”

  Rubin snorted and then gave a cruel smile. “’Course I know.”

  “Can you tell me?”

  “What? You might be wearing a wire. You think I’m loco?”

  “I’m trying to help her.”

  “Oh yeah? Like you helped me after the robbery? You had a lawyer, a fed and a cop in your corner. You helped me all right. Pinned the whole thing right here.” He poked his chest with his thumb.

  Clay was about to remind his friend that he had been innocent of every crime except being a damned fool and believing his friends. Instead Clay remained silent.

  Rubin pursed his lips and then rolled his eyes. When his gaze came back to meet Clay’s the bravado was gone, and his expression was deadly serious.

  “You asking me and I can’t tell you. But I can tell you this, stay away from Isabella Nosie. You hang around her, and you’ll get yourself into trouble worse than the last time.”

  “What does that mean? Is Izzie involved?”

  “Get off my porch, bro. And stay away from Izzie.” Rubin stepped back into the house and slammed the door in his face.

  Clay stood in the cool night air, feeling a different kind of cold seep into his blood. Stay away from her. Was Izzie involved or in trouble? Clay returned to his truck, wishing he could follow Rubin’s advice and knowing that he could not.

  He didn’t really remember the drive to his grandmother’s because his mind was elsewhere. All Rubin had done was warn him off. But it was more than Rubin had done the last time.

  Clay completely forgot that he was expected for the party at his grandmother’s until he drove past her house and saw the gathering of people in the yard. Tomorrow afternoon the family would head down to Salt River Reservation to meet the bride’s family. Tonight, their grandmother wanted all her boys together for one last meal. Clay hung a U-turn and pulled into the overcrowded drive. Clyne’s large SUV sat before him, Gabe’s unmarked unit and Kino’s patrol cruiser. Off on the lawn was his grandmother’s late-model blue Ford sedan with the crumpled back fender where she’d backed into a concrete pole.

  There were two fires in the side yard, one for cooking and one for gathering. In the firelight, Clay could make out several of Kino’s friends and a few of Clyne’s and Gabe’s. None
of his, of course, because he had forgotten to invite any of the guys from work.

  From the looks of things, the party was already started. He glanced at the clock on his dashboard and winced. He was an hour late.

  Glendora spotted him first and left the cooking pit. She met Clay as he exited his truck.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “I had to see a friend.”

  She looked at his empty cab. “But you didn’t bring him. You have the drinks?”

  Clay’s heart sank. He’d forgotten his one job, to pick up the pop from the beverage center. His grandmother read the truth on his face. Man, would he ever stop being the family screw-up?

  “Clay?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go get it.”

  She clasped his wrist in a hold stronger than he would have expected from a woman her age. But then she had raised four boys after his parents had died. Clay didn’t know anyone as mentally strong as Glendora, and that was including his four brothers.

  “No. They’ll drink water and beer. You’re not leaving now.”

  They walked toward the makeshift banquet table, which was a large piece of plywood on sawhorses that had been covered with a blue flowered bedsheet. There was so much food he feared the table might collapse, but on further inspection, he saw that his brothers had braced the plywood with two-by-fours because they had been here early to set up.

  Clay heaved a sigh as his grandmother tugged him toward the gathering.

  It was fitting that they come together here, of course, in the yard where every important event of their lives had been celebrated.

  His grandmother clung to Clay’s arm as they moved toward the yard. There were Clyne and Gabe, tending the ribs, basting and turning. The ribs would likely be dry as they had been cooking much longer than expected. Beside them, in a circle of friends, stood Kino, laughing.

  “Doesn’t Kino look happy?” said his grandmother.

  “Very.”

  “Who would have guessed that my youngest boy would marry first?” She slapped Clay. “What’s wrong with the rest of you? Clyne is thirty-two and so busy with tribal business he hasn’t dated in a year, and Gabe, always running from one emergency to the next. When does he have time to see a woman? You all have good jobs. Why don’t you find a girl?” She sighed and looped her arm through his, leaning on his shoulder. “Kino and Lea are a good match. Do you know her Apache name?”