Books by Linda Conrad

by Conrad, Linda

  Reagan jumped when a deep male voice came from beside her. She turned to find that the strange guy with the leather jacket and long braid was standing a few feet away and seemed to be studying her instead of the shoes. How did he get that close without her hearing him?

  She nearly bit her tongue to keep from screaming. “These?” she asked in a shaky voice as she pointed to a pair of dark brown, midcalf suede boots.

  He nodded, but his fierce gaze never wavered from her face. The rim of his hat threw a shadow across his eyes, but Reagan got a good look at them anyway. They were so flat and black it made her wonder if the pupils were dilated.

  “Ya’at’eeh.” Kody’s voice came from behind her.

  Sneaking a peek in the FBI agent’s direction, she discovered his attention was focused not on her but on the stranger. Reagan decided to keep her eyes on the boots and to stay quiet.

  “Ya’at’eeh,” the stranger replied casually.

  Kody asked the man something in Navajo that Reagan didn’t understand. The man answered in the same way and she felt a chill crawl up her spine at the sound of his voice.

  She’d already noticed that Navajo was a guttural, earthy language, mostly spoken in soft tones. But the sound of the odd guy’s voice was just plain creepy.

  As Kody spoke to him, he straightened and his eyes narrowed. Despite the soft tones, something confrontational was going on between the two men.

  Kody suddenly put a hand on her shoulder. “This woman has come seeking her relative,” he told the stranger in English. “The Law and Order have agreed to help her search. The man she looks for is Anglo and is known by the name of Robert Wilson. Have you heard of such a man?”

  Reagan was having a hard time thinking with Kody’s hand on her body. There were so many things she didn’t know about the FBI agent who had agreed to help her. But one thing was for sure. His touch was magic.

  And it turned her brain to butter.

  “Why would the law ask me?” the other man said in English. “I don’t know him.”

  “Bahe Douglas tells me you sometimes give canyon tours for the tourists. The man we seek would have been interested in such a tour.”

  The stranger folded his arms across his chest. “The trading post man has his facts wrong. I have no tribal license for tours.”

  Reagan felt Kody’s grip tighten on her shoulder.

  “Perhaps you must travel in that country for other reasons. If you see such a man, you could tell him to contact his relative or the tribal police.”

  The stranger looked thoughtful. “What did you say he looked like?”

  Kody turned his head to Reagan and asked, “Can you describe him?”

  “Uh…” It had been so long, Reagan wasn’t sure if she could remember what her father looked like. “Well, he’s about five foot nine, with thinning, dark red hair and brown eyes. But there’s nothing particularly outstanding about his appearance.”

  Kody faced the stranger again. “He is a white man, about the same height as this woman, and he might be found in areas that are not allowed for Anglos. It would be helpful for you to ask any white man you see over that way to give the law a call.”

  “There are rumors of witches on the slopes,” the Navajo said with a grin. “It’s only old-woman talk, but the People will not approach strangers in that area of Dinetah.”

  Reagan caught Kody’s quick glance in her direction before his attention returned to the other man. “You don’t believe in superstitious gossip.”

  The man still looked amused but he remained silent.

  “We ask that you notify the law if you see a white man who is not in the right place.”

  Listening carefully, Reagan got the subtle change in Kody’s voice and in his message. She kept quiet.

  “It would be better if this woman’s relative contacted her on his own,” the stranger announced.

  Kody nodded but said nothing more.

  The strange Navajo threw a last furtive glance in Reagan’s direction, then silently walked away.

  Reagan released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “That really creeped me out. He’s not going to help us, is he?”

  “We will discuss it later,” Kody told her in a whisper.

  “Yeah, but what was that about the witch—”

  “Later.”

  “Yeah, okay. But…”

  At that moment, Mr. Douglas came up the aisle toward them. “Are you ready now to try on a pair of boots?”

  Rubbing the sleeves of her jacket, she tried to bring warmth to her chilled arms. Then she swallowed hard, but still couldn’t get a word out.

  “Take your time,” Kody said to fill the silence. “I have a little more shopping to do.”

  He was going to walk away? Well, she supposed that was a sort of compliment. Kody must think she could handle things by herself.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine.” To cover her nervousness, she turned back to Mr. Douglas. “I might want to buy a few pairs. What kind of plastic do you take?”

  “Plastic? That is not one of the normal pawns we take in trade. Can you explain?”

  Uh-oh. She was going to have to watch what she said. These people were apparently living in a time warp.

  About half an hour later, Reagan finished paying for two pairs of boots, put her credit card away and then looked around to find Kody. But she couldn’t see him.

  She strode down the two long side aisles, but there weren’t any other customers in the store. Returning to the cash register, Reagan was dismayed to find that even the owner was suddenly nowhere to be found. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up.

  Not normally a big fan of fresh air, she reached the open front door in two giant strides and took a big gulp of the stuff. Reagan could see that Kody’s truck had been moved. She supposed he’d parked it next to the gas pumps for a fill-up, but she still couldn’t see if he was with the truck or not.

  On the far side of the pumps, an old van was parked, and another man Reagan didn’t recognize was filling his gas tank. It only took her two seconds to decide that she should stay with Kody’s truck. No matter where he’d gone, he couldn’t go far without his transportation.

  Reagan made it across the parking lot in record time, but when she realized she would have to inch past the stranger filling his tank in order to climb into the passenger seat, her feet slowed to a crawl. She came to a dead stop right behind the truck.

  Looking around, Reagan had never felt so alone. It was just her and this other stranger, all by themselves in the wide open spaces. The highway was free of any traffic. The parking lot was suddenly empty. No one else was in sight.

  She glanced up at a pine-covered ridge that towered above the trading post and wished she could enjoy the view, but she was too damn scared to do much of anything except breathe in the cedar-filled air.

  “Smoke?” the stranger said all of sudden.

  A gasp escaped her mouth as she stared at him.

  “I frightened you?” he asked in a heavy accent.

  The man was a short, wiry guy who didn’t look Native American. Reagan thought he must be Mexican. His face was full of pockmarks and creases, so he might have been younger than he appeared. His jeans were filthy and full of holes and his long-sleeved shirt was the color of red mud. Holding one thumb on the gas pump, he offered her a cigarette out of his crumbled pack with the other hand.

  “No,” she said, meaning no to both. But he looked confused, so she clarified. “Thank you, but I don’t smoke.”

  He shrugged, put the pack to his lips and withdrew a cigarette. After he crammed the pack into his pants pocket, he took out a cheap, throwaway lighter and lit up.

  Reagan didn’t know whether to lecture him for smoking next to the flammable gas tanks or to run like hell.

  But without Kody, she wouldn’t know where to go. She stood transfixed and stared as the old guy drew smoke into his lungs.

  “Your man go?” he ask
ed with a leer. The smoke curled back out of his mouth in lazy circles. “You should travel with me. I won’t leave you alone.”

  She wasn’t positive, but that sure sounded like a proposition to her. Damn. Where was the FBI when you really needed them?

  “No,” she told him for the second time in sixty seconds. “I’m fine.”

  “I like red hair. It’s good luck.” The man was staring at her hair as if he wanted to steal it.

  He fumbled with the pump handle and propped it so the gas went in without him holding down the release. Taking a step in her direction, he let his gaze roam over her frame.

  Reagan knew she towered over him by a good five or six inches, but he didn’t seem to care about the difference in height.

  He took one more drag on his cigarette and smiled a big toothless grin. The teeth that weren’t missing had been stained dark brown. Reagan’s stomach rolled.

  “I hear you’re looking for a man in a uniform,” he said as he inched closer.

  “What?” Her brain wasn’t keeping up. Had she mentioned her father was in the navy?

  “I saw a guy like that a couple days ago—over toward Backwash Monument country. I’ll show you. Get in, we’ll go.” Before she could blink, his hand snaked out and encircled her wrist. “We’ll have a party in my van.”

  His grip was vicelike and Reagan panicked. “No,” she screamed, louder this time. She tried jerking her arm free.

  Suddenly, a bloodcurdling cry came from above their heads. Reagan looked up to see what had made the loud sound. The scrawny man twisted his head to look up, too.

  A large bird, either a big hawk or an eagle, flew straight for their heads. Sharp talons were all she saw.

  She ducked at the exact moment the strange little man released her arm.

  Seeking cover on the far side of Kody’s truck, she couldn’t see what was going on. The next time she raised her head, the man and his van were gone. But her nose was assaulted by the strong smell of gasoline. Looking over, she saw a steady stream of it pouring out of the pump and running across the parking lot.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Kody’s voice reached her ears. And then he was beside her. He took her by the shoulders and shoved her into his truck.

  “Shouldn’t we do something about the gasoline?” she asked as he started up the engine. “Wait. I’ve heard a spark can start a fire around gas. Don’t.”

  Kody grimaced and put the truck in gear. “Too late to worry about that. Douglas is shutting down the pump from inside, anyway.”

  Her FBI savior slowly drove his old truck out onto the highway. “The Navajo Nation Tribal Fire Department will have to come clean up the mess,” he said. “It’s an environmental hazard. They have a special squad for such things.”

  Reagan’s heart was pounding in her chest as they drove down the blacktop highway for a few miles. Eventually she noticed that her body and heart were not settling down at all. If anything, her blood was racing, fast enough to boil in her veins.

  “Are you all right?” Kody asked.

  She didn’t know how to answer him. It wasn’t fear or any kind of flight or fight reaction she was having now.

  Turning her head to look at him, she caught herself suddenly picturing him naked. What on earth was the matter with her?

  Reagan clamped her thighs together and clenched her teeth, fighting the odd sensations. Her body seemed to be in a terrible rebellion against her mind.

  “I’m okay,” she managed to answer through tight lips. “What on earth happened back there? Did you see that weird guy?”

  Kody nodded. “I have to make a call. We’ll stop and get some lunch and then we’ll talk.”

  Talk. Right. Reagan wasn’t positive that she could force herself to sit still long enough. Another bumpy mile or two, and she would not be responsible for her actions.

  She wanted nothing more than to jump this man, who had saved her more than once. An FBI agent. Was she nuts? Had the fresh air somehow turned her into a sex maniac?

  Opening her window, Reagan closed her eyes and fought for control. Please, she scolded herself. This is such incredibly bad timing. Don’t let me embarrass myself by being that much of a needy freak.

  6

  K ody found a booth set off by itself in the back of the Junction Restaurant in Chinle. It was midafternoon and the lunch crowd had come and gone. Two Navajos sat at a front booth drinking coffee, but the rest of the place was empty.

  “Are you starved?” he asked as he waved to get a waitress’s attention.

  “Uh, no,” Reagan told him as she shrugged out of her coat. “At least not for food.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Before she could answer, the waitress appeared and they ordered their lunch. Afterward, while they sat quietly waiting to be served, her answer came back into his mind. He almost asked what she had meant by the cryptic words, but stopped himself.

  What she’d said had sounded like it had a sexual connotation. If that’s what she’d meant, he would rather not force the issue.

  He was having enough trouble keeping his hands to himself when she looked at him with those big hazel eyes. Their attraction to each other was obvious, but it was not something he wanted to discuss. Nor act upon.

  In the first place, he’d made that vow to the Brotherhood to remain single. Though he figured his vow had nothing to do with actual celibacy and wouldn’t stop him from taking physical pleasure if he thought he could do so safely. Still, it was something to be considered.

  His ex-wife was an Anglo from Los Angeles, and their relationship had been a complete disaster. Reagan was an Anglo from the big city, too. That put her off-limits as far as Kody was concerned. He just wished his body would agree.

  “I’ve got tons of questions,” she whispered. “Can we talk here?”

  Slanting a glance at the two people sitting on counter stools, Kody said, “Maybe after we eat.” He stood up. “I’ve got to make a quick cell phone call to the FBI office in Farmington to check in. Will you be all right for a few minutes alone? I’ll just be outside.”

  Reagan sat up straight and frowned. “Certainly. I’m perfectly capable of getting by in a strange place. I’m bound to be safe in a public restaurant. Take however long you need.”

  Her disappointed expression made him sorry he had used the wrong words. It would’ve been much better if he’d let her know he believed she was a competent and intelligent adult who could be expected to act like one. That’s how he should’ve handled things.

  Under normal circumstances, he was sure she would have no trouble being accepted and helped by the Dine community. But since the war had begun, bystanders and outsiders were just as likely to be dragged into the conflict as the People. He had no idea how any member of the Dine would act at any given time. No one could be trusted. The terror was changing the mood of everyone on the reservation.

  But he couldn’t discuss any of that with her. So he just nodded once and strode out into the sunshine.

  The first call he placed was to the Brotherhood. He learned that the man in the van at the trading post had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. Not surprised in the least, Kody already believed that whole scene had been rigged by Skinwalkers.

  Kody was glad to know, though, that not much gasoline had been spilled into the forest surrounding the trading post. The tribal fire department had saved the area from an environmental disaster. He was positive the gas leak had just been a diversion conjured up by the Skinwalkers.

  Calling his FBI office next to check in, Kody got the latest advisory on the rumors of Middle Easterners. One had reportedly been seen driving an SUV off-road near Backwash Monument Overlook.

  His breath hitched as he thought back to overhearing the guy at the gas pumps mentioning Backwash Monument to Reagan. Clicking off his cell phone, Kody took a moment to let the chill of the seeming coincidence roll over him.

  Thank goodness for whatever invisible hand had sent the red-tailed hawk to the rescue. It had
come out of nowhere and intervened on Reagan’s behalf.

  “You are welcome, cousin,” said a deep voice from behind him. “Our comrades, the Bird People, were happy to assist. They have also agreed to search the rest of the day for the evil one and his van if that will help.”

  Kody spun around to find Lucas Tso, one of the Brotherhood and a cousin on his mother’s side. “The red-tailed hawk intervened at the trading post by your urging?” he asked, while clipping the phone back on his belt.

  It was still tough for him to get past the fact that Lucas could visualize trouble long before anyone else. His cousin also seemed able to read thoughts, which was a little unnerving for Kody’s comfort. And now birds, too?

  “Yes. The Bird People have come to believe that a number of their ranks are being infiltrated by the evil ones in the same manner as are the Dine. No longer is it simply the People against the evil versions of the wolf, the dog and the bear, as in the ancient legends. All living things in Dinetah will be involved.

  “The Bird People intend to fight the blight crossing the sacred land,” Lucas continued. “They have come to us for direction in restoring balance to the home we share.”

  “Do the birds hear the vibes the evil ones give off the same as we do?” Kody was fascinated to think that his cousin actually believed he could communicate with the birds. But Kody had learned long ago not to question strange things. Skinwalkers were the ultimate in unbelievable concepts for any modern man to grasp, and they were all too real.

  But Lucas was much more of a traditionalist than Kody. He was the sole member of the Brotherhood who had never once left the reservation. He’d never invited the bad things in, like Navajos who went away from their homeland. Lucas had never contaminated his soul or his clan.

  An artist, Lucas saw the beauty in everything and kept the Brotherhood rooted in their myths and legends—even though the rest of the group had managed to modernize most of them. “The Bird People receive the negativity,” he told Kody. “But I’m fairly certain they feel it rather than hear it.

  “I have said a prayer of thanksgiving that none of the Dine or Bird People were injured in this morning’s skirmish,” Lucas finished.