Holdin' On for a Hero

by Ciana Stone

  She fell back on the couch and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t play dumb! You did this to me once already, remember?”

  She looked at him in bewilderment. “What? What did I do?”

  His eyes narrowed as he sat down across from her. “What did you do? Come off it, Chance! Surely you remember graduation?”

  She felt a flush rise on her face but would not look away. She had spent the better part of the night remembering what had happened between them. “Yes, you’re right, I do remember. I remember something I thought was the most beautiful moment of my life suddenly turning into the most humiliating and painful. I remember you telling me that I didn’t have a place in your life. I knew what you meant, Wyatt. I’m not a complete idiot. I know you didn’t feel the same way I did and I’ve done my damnedest to honor your feelings. You were the one who turned away, so where do you get off acting like I did something to you?”

  He stared at her for a long time. She started to think he was not going to speak at all. Finally he stood and ran his hands through his hair. “Do you remember what happened that summer before you entered college?”

  She looked at him in complete confusion and shook her head slowly. “Well, you left and married Cheryl and I spent the summer feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Oh?” He arched his eyebrows. “Aren’t you leaving out something?”

  “What?”

  Wyatt blew out his breath and gave her a hard look. “Let’s cut the crap and just be honest. You do remember what happened.”

  She shook her head, looking at him in bewilderment. “I don’t know what you want me to say. If something else important happened then I don’t know what it was.”

  “How about your abortion?”

  Chance looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Abortion? Are you insane? I never had an abortion!”

  Again, Wyatt fell silent. After staring at her for a moment he left the room and went into the bathroom. Chance heard the water start in the shower and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Abortion?” she whispered to herself. “Where did he get a crazy idea like that?”

  In the shower, Wyatt was lost in his own thoughts. Chance had honestly seemed surprised when he mentioned the abortion. Is it possible that she really doesn’t remember? he asked himself.

  Memory of the dream he had in the mountains rushed into his mind. If the dream told the truth of what had happened then maybe she didn’t remember. Chance had never remembered anything about what happened that day on Clingman’s Dome. In fact, as far as he knew she had never remembered the entire trip. Maybe the abortion was like that. Maybe she had somehow blocked it out of her mind.

  But how do I find out the truth? he wondered as he finished showering. An idea occurred to him as he turned off the water and reached for a towel. After drying off he combed out his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. Chance was still sitting on the couch when he walked out of the bathroom. She turned to look at him as he started for the stairs and he could see her skin tint as she took in his state of undress.

  “Why would you think I had an abortion?” she asked after a moment.

  “Your stepmother told me.”

  “Patricia told you? But why would she tell you something like that?”

  Wyatt turned from the stairs and walked to the couch. “She called my dad around the end of August. You had just left for college. He got in touch with me and told me that she wanted to talk to me. I called and she told me. Dad confirmed it with Maurice. That conversation put an end to their friendship.”

  “And you believed what they said? You actually believed Patricia and Maurice?”

  He sat down beside her, considered his idea then nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  Her eyes suddenly widened as realization dawned. “And you think…” she hesitated. “Oh, god! You think you were the father?”

  He nodded again and she looked away as tears started to gather in her eyes. Swiping at them, she looked at him once more. “Please believe me, I would never have killed a child that belonged to you. I don’t know anything about an abortion. God as my witness, I don’t.”

  “What do you remember?” he asked as he studied her face.

  “I remember you leaving,” she said in almost a whisper. “And how miserable I felt. After that I went to the beach for a couple of weeks and then I came home and we went on a cruise to the islands. We got back around the middle of July and then—”

  She stopped and looked at him anxiously. “Then…I don’t know. I remember riding the new stallion one day after we got back and…and I don’t remember anything else until the week I left for school. Isn’t that odd? I lost all those weeks. Do you think—”

  Wyatt was silent for a few moments, staring across the room. When he turned to her his expression had softened somewhat but there was still a good deal of suspicion apparent. “Chance, do you remember anything about the trip we took up here when you were eight?”

  She looked at him with an odd expression. “What’re you talking about? We never came up here when I was eight.”

  He stood up. “I want you to do something.”

  “What?”

  “Just tell me. Will you do what I ask?”

  She hesitated a moment then nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He started for the stairs. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want you to go with me to see someone.”

  “Who?” she called up to him.

  “You’ll see,” his reply came back to her. “Trust me, it’s important.”

  Chance turned around and put her head in her hands. Trust you? she thought. Damn, Wyatt, I don’t even know who you are anymore.

  * * * * *

  Winston Holling puffed on his cigar as he adjusted his position in the big leather chair behind his massive desk. “I agree completely,” he said into the phone. “And I can assure you things will be taken care of… Don’t worry. My boy can handle that lot… Sure thing, old buddy. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Lacing his fingers together over his broad belly, he sighed and looked out of the picture window at the green landscape that stretched as far as he could see.

  The door of his study opened and his son Greg entered. “Hey, Pop, what’s happening?”

  “I just spoke with an associate,” Winston spoke around the cigar in his mouth. “I think it’s time to turn up the heat on these red-skin bastards, son.”

  Greg grinned as he took a seat in the leather wingchair positioned in front of the desk. “So what’d you have in mind?”

  Winston puffed a couple of times then leaned forward, placing his fat elbows on the desk in front of him. “I think we better move to phase two. Picking fights and breaking barstools doesn’t seem to be having much effect. I think we need to be a little sterner.”

  Greg laughed and propped his feet on Winston’s desk. “That’d be my pleasure. You want me to blow up the whole fucking mess?”

  Winston chuckled but shook his head. “No, I think we can be a tad more inventive than that. Besides, we’re going to take it one step at a time, just like we discussed. But we’re definitely ready for the next step. You think you can handle it?”

  “No problem.” Greg smiled smugly.

  “Then call the boys and tell them to get over here,” Winston said, leaning back again in his chair. “We’ll lay it all out.”

  Greg smiled and rose from his seat. “This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to plant that Wolfe bastard six feet under.”

  Winston removed his cigar and straightened up suddenly. “Wyatt doesn’t get taken out until he’s seen everyone else suffer. And no one touches him but me, you got it? He’s mine.”

  “Sure, Pop.” Greg shrugged. “Whatever you say. But I’d still like to know why you have it in for him.”

  “Let’s just say we go way back. You just do like I say.”

  Greg shrugg
ed. “Sure, just remember this. I want to be there when you do him.”

  Winston grinned and shoved his cigar back in his mouth as Greg left the room. For a moment he reveled in the thought of how much his son was like him. Then the grin disappeared as thoughts of Wyatt entered. Viciously stubbing the cigar in an ashtray on his desk, Winston got up and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp then refilled the glass.

  He supposed that one day he would tell Greg just why he hated John Wolfe and his son so much. But not until he was sure Greg would understand. If it hadn’t been for John Wolfe, his life would have been much different. Instead of sharing his bed all these years with that cold bitch Clara, his wife, he could have been warming himself in beautiful, sweet Sarah. But Wolfe had ruined his plans, stealing Sarah from him and siring that whelp, Wyatt.

  “That’s okay, you redskin bastard,” he whispered to himself. “Your day’s coming and this time my father won’t be around to stop me. I’ll make you pay, you and that goddamn son of yours. Oh, yeah, I’ll make you pay in spades. All of you.”

  * * * * *

  Chance climbed into the Jeep beside Wyatt. “Where’re we going?”

  “To see someone,” he replied without further explanation.

  She didn’t speak for a few minutes but watched his profile as he drove. “Wyatt, do you think we can just talk? I mean, without getting mad and yelling at each other?”

  “About what?”

  “A lot of things. Like for instance, what happened between you and Ashley. I thought you and she were happy together.”

  He shook his head. “Ashley and I got married for all the wrong reasons. It couldn’t have worked.”

  “What wrong reasons? You loved each other, didn’t you?”

  Wyatt looked at her for a moment then turned away. “Ashley was a spoiled woman who thought it was very romantic and rebellious to marry a Native American. Her ideas didn’t match up with reality and she wasn’t prepared for life as a military wife.”

  “But you loved her.”

  Again he shook his head. “Not really. She was fun for a while but the newness wore off fast and then she was just demanding and spoiled.”

  Chance didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “So what about the others, Cheryl and Joan? Adeola told me that Joan charged you with abuse and even claimed that you raped her.”

  Wyatt jerked around and gave her a hard look. “Adeola told you that?”

  She nodded and he blew out his breath. “Yeah, Joan said all that stuff. And maybe it was even true in a weird kind of way. But it was what she was into, you know? At least at first. It was like foreplay. But after a while the play turned serious. She came at me one night with a knife and I hit her. She had me locked up and said a bunch of shit, but she recanted and dropped the charges.”

  Chance studied his face for a long time. “Then why did you marry them if you didn’t really love them?”

  “People do lots of funny things when they’re running from themselves,” he said in a low tone then looked at her. “Haven’t you ever gotten into something then realized it was all wrong?”

  “Kind of, I guess. I almost got married once.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “You did? When?”

  “The year after I got out of grad school. Dad introduced me to some guy—an attorney who had political aspirations. Everyone thought he was just perfect for me. We dated a couple of months and he wanted to get married. For a while I put him off but he kept pushing and finally I agreed. I still don’t know why I said yes, but I did.”

  “What happened?”

  She shook her head and laughed. “It was a scene right out of a movie. Maurice walked me down the aisle in my long white dress—the church was filled to overflowing and everyone was watching me. Maurice put my hand in Jim’s and the minister asked if I took Jim to be my husband. I looked over at him, standing there all arrogant and pompous, brimming with pretentiousness and I knew there was no way I could marry him. So I said no and turned around and walked out. I made the limo driver take me to the airport and I got a flight to Atlanta. You should have seen the looks I got, all alone in a wedding gown. Anyway, when I got to Atlanta, I bought a change of clothes at the airport, stuffed the wedding gown into a trash can and started a new life. I got a job, found a condo and moved all my things out of Maurice’s townhouse.”

  Wyatt looked surprised. “You just walked out? In the middle of the ceremony?”

  She nodded and he shook his head. “You ever regret it?”

  “Never. It would’ve been an awful mistake. I didn’t love Jim. Hell, I’d never even had an—”

  “Even had a what?” he asked when her voice trailed off.

  Chance blushed and looked away. “I never enjoyed sex with him,” she said almost too softly to be heard. “We tried a couple of times and it was awful.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widened for a moment. “Why?”

  Chance wouldn’t face him. “I couldn’t. I—something was missing.” She turned and looked at him. “He thought I was frigid. Most men do. Maybe I am.”

  Wyatt’s brows drew together in a frown and he didn’t comment. Chance was embarrassed by her confession and turned away to look out the window. As they turned onto the highway leading into the reservation, Wyatt broke the silence. “Maybe you were just with the wrong men.”

  Chance turned and looked at him. “I guess so,” she whispered.

  Wyatt gave her a quick look then turned his attention to the road. After a few miles he pulled over in front of a small, weathered wooden house.

  “Wait here,” he said as he got out.

  She waited until he returned. “We’ve got somewhere else to go and we’ll be there overnight. You want to shower and change?”

  “Yeah. I’m checked into a motel near Bryson. Could you take me there?”

  “I need to get some things taken care of before we go. You take the Jeep and meet me back here.”

  “Okay,” she agreed and slid over into the driver’s seat. “See you in a little while.”

  She backed up and turned around, headed in the direction they had come. Making note of landmarks so she wouldn’t get lost on the way back, she turned onto the highway and headed for Bryson.

  The first thing she did when she got to her motel room was call her office. Her assistant told her to hold on and put Steve on the phone.

  “Got some news for you,” he said as he picked up.

  “Hold on!” She put the phone down and rumbled through her suitcase. Finding a miniature recorder, she picked up the phone. “I want to tape this, go ahead.”

  She set up the machine so she could record and listen. It took Steve a few minutes to relay everything he had found. When he finished she turned off the recorder. “And you have documentation to back all this up?”

  “Not yet. But we will. Should have it in forty-eight hours, tops. You ready to move on this?”

  “Not quite. I need to speak with some people here, get their cooperation, and that might take a while. Sit on everything ‘til I get back to you.”

  “Will do. Later.”

  Chance hung up the phone and stripped off her clothes. While she was showering she thought about the things Steve had found out. If what he said was true then there was a very good chance the casino the reservation was planning on would never be a reality. And that would mean a lot more people out of work and unable to take care of their families.

  “But why would anyone spend so much time and money just to torment the Indians?” she asked aloud. “It doesn’t make sense. There has to be something else. They can’t take the Indian lands so what is it they want?”

  She dried off, combed her hair and dressed. Cramming a couple of things into a duffel bag, she stuck the recorder inside the waterproof pouch on the side and threw it over her shoulder. She grabbed the keys and headed back to where she had left Wyatt.

  He was waiting in the front yard. She parked the Jeep and slid over into the passenger seat as he loaded two old slee
ping bags and an old worn canvas duffel bag into the back. He climbed in behind the wheel and pulled off.

  “Can you tell me where we’re going?”

  “In the Deep Creek area. We’re meeting someone there.”

  “Who?”

  “Tsa’li.”

  “Tsa’li?”

  “Charley, if you prefer,” he clarified without elaborating and she sat back, watching the passing scenery. After a few miles they saw several trucks parked alongside the road. Men with guns stood clustered around one vehicle.

  One of the men looked up and pointed toward them. All the men turned to look. Chance cut a look at Wyatt and saw his face set in a hard mask, his jaw clenched tight.

  As they drew near the group of men, two of them heaved something at the Jeep. Another waved something furry at them. Chance gasped as an animal’s body hit the front windshield. Blood splattered the glass as the wolf’s body tumbled off the hood.

  Chance shuddered at the sight. “God, why would someone do something like that? Isn’t it against the law to hunt on the reservation? And what was that man waving at us?”

  “A wolf tail.” Wyatt’s voice was almost a growl.

  “The tail?” Chance’s revulsion had her choking on the words. “Why did they cut off its tail?”

  “As a trophy.”

  “Someone should do something about people like that,” she murmured then screamed. “Wyatt, look out!”

  He slammed on the brakes and the Jeep slid off the shoulder of the road. Chance was out by the time it came to a stop, running toward a small creature that was cowering in the road. Wyatt jumped out and followed her.

  “It’s just a baby!” she exclaimed as she reached for the wolf pup.

  “Chance, they don’t like to be—” He stopped as she scooped the pup up and cradled it against her face, cooing to it.

  “Huh?” she asked as she walked up to him. “Look, it’s so tiny. Why do you think it’s out here all alone?”

  “Probably because those men killed its mother,” he replied then looked around, talking to himself. “This is odd.”

  “What?” she asked, still rubbing her face against the soft fur and letting the wolf lick her.