by Ann Yost
****
Two days later Hallie skipped breakfast at the house and went straight to the office. She was in the midst of making notes on the Meadows’ mare when Baz arrived with hot coffee and Asia’s homemade danish. She was aware of the scent of his after shave,
Woodsy but not too, and the strength and heat in his muscular body. Her hormones jumped when he leaned over to set the food down on her desk.
God, she’d missed him and it had only been one day.
“Thanks.”
“I’d have brought flowers, but nothing’s open yet.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
“I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight. I thought Cerrutto’s might be nice. I know you like Italian food.”
Her heart squeezed. Baz was so literal. He’d probably spent yesterday researching the actions appropriate to a courtship and compiling a list. It was hard not to love a guy like that.
“Cerutto’s would be lovely,” she said, “but I’ll have to take a raincheck. Tonight’s the Tribal Council meeting. I promised Molly Whitecloud I’d attend.”
Baz’s face looked impassive, but Hallie knew that his mind was busy searching for loopholes. He’d set his course and he was not a man to be deflected.
She figured he’d try to talk her out of the meeting or,if that failed, he’d insist on accompanying her. His response surprised her.
“Maybe later in the week.”
Her eyebrows lifted and he gave her that slow smile that never failed to release butterflies in her stomach.
“I can be patient, Halliday. Just watch.”
He was better than patient. He left the office at four and just before the office closed he returned carrying a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches and pickles along with a single red rose in a bud vase.
“What’s all this?”
“You have to eat. I figured we’d have a little impromptu picnic before you left for the Rez.”
It was a brilliant move. Not only was the gesture thoughtful in itself, it reminded her of the indoor picnic they’d had in his condo last year. It especially reminded her of what had happened after they’d eaten and suddenly her face felt hot.
Baz appeared not to notice. “I’d offer to go with you tonight, but I’m going to be busy.”
Busy? “Doing what?”
“I’m planning a courtship, Hallie. And it has to be just right.”
****
The tribal elders met in the meeting room of an all-purpose building that included the general store, the post office and a tiny museum of Indian artifacts.
Cameron and Hallie got a late start and arrived just before the meeting started. Hallie suspected Cam had stalled on purpose. Was it because of Molly? When they entered the room, she searched for her friend.
“I’m going to sit with Molly,” she murmured.
“Fine.” His voice was clipped. She noticed he didn’t look in the midwife’s direction.
The five tribal elders were seated in a semicircle. Mollie and the other spectators occupied plastic molded chairs set haphazardly around the room. She nodded at Hallie, but her face was drawn and tight. Tiny lines radiated from her full lips; there were purple bruises under her eyes. She’d looked like this ever since Cam joined forces with Nate Packer to build the resort and spa.
No one spoke. Hallie, unsure of the protocol, didn’t want to take a chance on offending the elders.
She gazed around the room. Built-in shelves were loaded with books and exercise mats and percussion instruments. There was a whole row of tom-toms.
This was probably where the after-school classes in
Indian culture were held. Reservation children were bused into Eden to attend school, but, Molly had told her, the tribe offered the extra classes to make sure the new generation learned about its heritage.
Cam stood against one wall. Jake was next to him. Hallie gave a start. She hadn’t seen him since New Year’s Eve. She owed him a big apology. He looked different tonight. Was it his uniform—_ or the fact that he was wearing a gun?
Suddenly the silence in the room made sense.
They’d called Jake because they expected trouble.
Just as suddenly, trouble arrived. The door burst open and half a dozen young men exploded into the room. They were dressed in loincloths, headbands, and war paint; they held tomahawks and hunting knives in their fists. A series of war whoops filled the air.
There was something wrong with the picture.
“It’s like the set of a spaghetti western,” she murmured to Molly.
“Exactly.” There was disgust in the midwife’s voice. “We’re woodland Indians. Our ancestors didn’t wear paint or headdresses. They didn’t yell war whoops. These guys are pathetic.”
Hallie suspected they were also drunk. The stench of cheap beer filled the air. Across the room, Jake looked relaxed but ready for anything. He’d never fire that revolver at a bunch of crazy kids, but, still, someone could get hurt. The war dance felt malevolent.
A heavy man in what looked like a pair of pajamas lumbered to his feet and raised his hands to stop the chaos.
“That’s Davey Tall Tree,” Molly said, in a low voice. “He’s our chief of police.”
He looked more like a Buddha than the chief of anything. Good grief. Cam had been right. The man was wearing bedroom slippers.
All of a sudden the protesters formed a tight semi-circle around him surrounding one man so he was, effectively, trapped against the wall. The whoops got louder, and they brushed their weapons against him.
It was Cam. Hallie’s heart was in her throat. Jake tried to intervene, but even his authoritative voice couldn’t be heard over the ruckus. And then Hallie heard a drum beat. It was a plain rhythm, like a heartbeat. The mischief makers quieted immediately. It was almost as if someone had cast a spell on them.
One by one they backed away from Cam. She searched his face and realized the blue eyes were focused beyond her _—at the drummer. Hallie didn’t have to look to know it was Molly.
The beat continued, and everyone remained still.
Finally, Molly stopped. “Go home Andrew, Tyler, Jacob. Your behavior tonight does not reflect well on the tribe. The council has serious business here. You have all been raised to respect your elders. You should know better.”
The would-be warriors looked sullen, but no one talked back. They filed out the door.
Hallie thought the room would erupt in chatter, but that didn’t happen. The meeting was called to order, and the council voted its approval for the Sunrise Resort. Jake nodded at her and slipped out the door when the discussion moved on to the question of needed road repair. She expected Cam to signal her to leave, but it didn’t happen. He remained at his spot against the wall; he seemed to be listening to the council’s agenda.
When the meeting finally ended, Hallie was able to question Molly about the drum.
“The after-school classes are paying off,” the midwife said. “Those kids knew exactly what the steady drumbeat means. It mimics a heartbeat. We are taught from the cradle to respect its message of peace.”
Hallie didn’t hear Cam’s approach. His gruff voice startled her. “Ready to go?”
The smile disappeared from Molly’s face. Molly figured it was just more of the tension she’d seen between the two, but Molly moved toward him.
“You’ve been hurt.”
Hallie realized he was holding his fingers tightly against the opposite arm. There was a growing stain on his charcoal suit jacket. Blood?
“One of them knifed you,” Hallie gasped.
“Can you drive him to my house?” Molly sounded calm.
“Of course.”
“Forget it. I’ll stop by Eden Memorial on the way home.”
“It’s more than twenty-five miles.” Molly kept her voice low. “You’ll pass out before you’re halfway there. Also, you’ll have to explain how you got the wound.”
She left unspoken the fact that the incident would strain r
elations between Cam’s project and the Rez, but Cam obviously understood. He didn’t say another word, and he allowed Hallie to lead him out to the parking lot.
Molly’s home wasn’t far. It was located off the main reservation road on a little spur that backed up to woods. In summer, the small white dwelling looked like an enchanted cottage decorated with vines and climbing roses. In January it looked like what it was, a tiny frame cube.
Inside, the walls were decorated the clear blue of a summer sky. The earth-toned furniture was sleek and streamlined, and the cottage, like Hallie’s apartment, was decorated with local handicrafts including a large, feathered dreamcatcher on one wall.
Molly instructed Hallie to have Cam sit at her postage-stamp sized kitchen table while she located hot water and her bag. She worked quietly, methodically, like the medical professional she was.
She used a soft washcloth to clean out the wound. then she laced it with an antiseptic that must have stung, but Cam never batted an eyelash as he watched the midwife work.
Last, she pulled out a needle and suture thread.
Cam sucked in his breath as she pierced his skin for the first tiny stitch.
“I’m sorry,” Molly murmured.
“No problem.”
As soon as she finished, Cam stood and headed toward the door. Hallie heard him mutter “thank you,” and she heard Molly’s equally low-key response. “No problem.”
Cam insisted on driving. Hallie respected his obvious wish for silence. Occasionally she gazed at his sculpted nose and his square jaw. With that profile, he could have posed for an Indian head nickel. She wondered what had happened between Cam and Molly to have left a footprint of so much pain for so many years. As they turned onto Walnut Street and she thought about the difference between the warm, welcoming lights of the two-story stone house in town and the modest cottages and rusty trailer on the Rez. Had the culture gap been too great?
Cam parked in the three-bay garage.
“Will you be all right?”
He nodded. “She’s the only medical professional on the Rez. She knows her stuff.”
Hallie remembered the timely drum. “She rescued you.”
“She wanted to stop the kids from getting into trouble. She’s Blackbird’s Joan of Arc.” He got out of the car but seemed a little unsteady on his feet. She wondered if he felt faint. After all, he’d lost a lot of blood.
“I’m going to walk you upstairs.”
He didn’t protest. A few minutes later, he sat on the big bed in the room he’d had as a child. There were framed posters of the major European cities.
Cam and his late wife had lived on Beacon Hill in Boston; they’d traveled around the world.
She thought about Molly’s cozy cottage. She and Cameron Outlaw couldn’t have been further apart, but at one time there must have been something important between them. Hallie could think of no other explanation for their hostility now.
And the concern. At least on Molly’s side. Hallie didn’t believe Cam’s cynical explanation. The midwife had taken care of him twice. That wasn’t the behavior of a woman who didn’t care about a man.
It was nearly midnight when Hallie made her way up the steps to her apartment. She had a sudden, intense wish to see Baz. She’d missed him tonight. He was probably asleep now like everybody else in Eden. Anyway, she wasn’t quite sure what “courtship” entailed. She had an unpleasant feeling it did not include sex.
She unlocked her apartment door and crossed to her bedroom without turning on a light.
“Halliday.”
Her heart galloped. “Good grief,” she said, not sure whether she was more startled or happy to see him. “What’re you doing here in the dark?”
He switched on a table lamp. He was sprawled in her easy chair like a resting predator, his hair rumpled and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He reminded her of Red Riding Hood’s wolf masquerading as grandma.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Where the hell have you been?”
She gaped at him. “You’re angry?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
She glanced at her Timex. “Almost midnight.
Were you afraid I’d turn into a pumpkin?”
“Never mind what I was afraid of.”
She heard the worry under the roar. “Baz, I was out on the Rez, with your brother.”
“That’s the only reason I haven’t called in a missing person’s report. That, and the fact that I’d have to talk to Deputy Dawg.”
Hallie laughed at his disgruntled tone. “Jake was at the meeting, too.”
He lunged out of the chair, and his eyes narrowed on her. In the shadowy light they looked almost black. He was no longer the patient courtier.
Hallie explained what had happened in the meeting. He looked at her broodingly. “Is Cam okay?”
Her heart caught. He was bonding with his brother. She couldn’t regret it. Not even if it meant she’d have to leave Eden. “He’s fine. Molly Whitecloud patched him up.”
“I thought she was a midwife.”
Hallie’s expression didn’t change, but the regret in his eyes said he recognized his error. A midwife delivered babies. This baby thing would always be between them. Even if she one day got past it, he’d always be careful, sensitive. It was no way to live.
She couldn’t resist taking this time with him.
She stepped into his arms.
“You shouldn’t have been out there,” he growled
into her hair.
She looked up at him. “What bothers you? The fact that there was a disturbance, or the fact that I was with a couple of attractive men?”
“Both. Everything.” He pulled her tightly against him. “Aw, hell, Hallie. This courtship thing isn’t doing it for me. I need to know you’re mine.”
“I am yours.” She twined her arms around his neck. “All yours.”
For tonight, anyway.
He groaned and slid his fingers through her hair. He held her so she could see the turmoil in his gray eyes. “I love you. It doesn’t change anything between us, but I want you to know. I love you.” She stared at him. “I will never love anyone else.”
Chapter Twelve
She loved him.
He stared at the ceiling over his bed and contemplated that. It was good to hear, but it wasn’t enough. She was still resisting any kind of commitment.
Nothing has changed between us.
She might love him, but she still had no intention of marrying him. The baby business would be between them forever. Even if she could get over that, there was the problem of Nicole. He scowled as he remembered the phone call.
She claimed the boyfriend had sent her a letter threatening to take her to court if she didn’t give up the child. Baz rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to believe. Nicole was a situational liar.
Whenever she was in a situation she didn’t like, she lied to get out of it.
She wanted him to come back to L.A.
Shit. Her call had stirred up a hornet’s nest of feelings. Her neediness annoyed him and her timing was irritating, but her lack of interest in Robert was what concerned him. He felt an emotional pain that was almost physical when he thought about the baby.
Baz made a mental to-do list.
Figure out what to do about Nicole.
Ensure that Robert was safe.
Tell Hallie about his ex-wife and son.
He groaned and turned onto his back. When had his personal life become so complicated? Eighteen months ago he never had to answer to anyone.
Suddenly he was juggling a girlfriend and an ex-wife, a child, his own career, and his father’s practice.
Baz’s jaw tensed.
This was all her fault and, by Jesus, whether she knew it or not she would pay for it by marrying him. Very, very soon.
The next morning Baz invited Hallie to dinner again. This time he told her she could choose the night.
“I choose July 24th,�
�� she teased.
“Anytime,” he said, blandly, “within the next forty-eight hours.”
She grinned at him. “There’s that need to control.”
“This has nothing to do with control. I just like to eat out.”
“Yeah. Sure. Well, okay, I accept your gracious invitation. How about Thursday?”
He hesitated. He obviously wanted to do this tonight, but since Thursday was within his two-day time limit, there was nothing he could say. Or so she thought.
“Any special reason you don’t want to go tonight?”
She flashed him a bright smile. “Yep. I want to buy a new dress for the occasion.”
His eyes flashed in amusement and relief.
Despite gray skies, dirtying, crusted snow and predictions of a winter storm for the weekend, Hallie’s day was practically perfect.
It wasn’t that every client was friendly or that the health problems she encountered were minor. It was because she was happy.
She kept reminding herself that nothing had changed, but in her heart she knew it had. Her resistance to Baz was melting faster than a snowman in Texas. She knew he needed a family, but he had all the Outlaws and he had her. Maybe they could be happy with no children. Maybe they could fill their home with abandoned dogs and cats, nieces and nephews, and children of their friends. Maybe this could work.
Baz went out to check on Blue. By the time the clinic closed he hadn’t returned. Hallie agreed to meet her friends at Little Joe’s. The three of them consumed thick, tomato-topped hamburgers and homemade French fries while Jolene regaled the two relative newcomers with anecdotes about the ball.
After she and Baz had left, Eleanor Oglethorpe had asked Big George to play Chubby Checker’s “Limbo Rock.” Jolene gave a vivid description of the geriatric set trying to see how low they could go.
There was one minor back injury and, apparently, a whole lot of laughter among the aging baby boomers.
Hallie laughed so hard she had to wipe the tears off her face.
“So,” Jo said, when they’d calmed down enough to eat their homemade apple pie, “what’s going on with you?”
Hallie looked at Jo’s inquiring face, and Sharon’s compassionate one. She valued these two friends more than she could say, and suddenly, she wanted to tell them everything.
