He joined the men at the base of the brush, no longer focused on the heat or the fatigue of his muscles. He ignored the studying gaze of MT and sat on the dry grass with his knees drawn up.
Ryland’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. Without opening his eyes, he rolled to the side and pulled the phone from his pocket. He answered it and grunted a few times. Then his eyelids snapped open and he sat up like someone had shot him. “I understand. I’m sorry for your loss. We will get right over.”
He ended the call and turned towards Damon, tears bright in his eyes. “We have a problem. Emma’s... gone. Nate needs us to get over there and help him.” He turned to MT and offered an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry to leave like this. But family...”
MT looked around at the tools and the job waiting to be finished. He considered Ryland’s words and then sighed. “When can you be back? I need to get this done.”
Ryland glanced at the job and then at Damon. “Give us a couple days to deal with this, then we’ll be back, okay?”
Even though MT didn’t like white people or the Montana Trails, he’d been raised with the same respect for family everyone else in Montana had been. Most people knew not to mess with family affairs.
He nodded shortly. “Fine. I’ll pick this up. I want ten hour days when you’re back so we can finish this. I’ll expect you back by Monday. I have plenty of posts that need to be put in.” He radioed for one of his men to come help pack up.
After a drawn out moment, he turned back to Damon and Ryland, pity on his face. “I’m sorry for your family’s loss. What I knew of Emma Rourke, she was a fine woman.”
When the shock faded, Damon would be able to appreciate MT’s words for what they were. Until that time though, he was going to have a hard time adjusting to anything.
Emma held Nate together. Nate held the Montana Trails together. What would happen to them all now that their glue was gone?
Chapter 5
Rachiah
Cyan’s text had been short and to the point. Emma was sick and then Emma was dead. Her next text had been no holds barred. She demanded Rachiah get back. She stated Sherri and Cyan needed her.
Rachiah didn’t need to be told. She knew her job was to be there for her friends, her real family.
Somehow Cyan wired Rachiah some money, making it possible for her to return home.
Her paycheck wouldn’t come for another day or two, so Rachiah considered it a loan even though Cyan would never allow her to pay her back. She came from a very rich family and considered money a perk, not a necessity. She’d never really known what it meant to “want”.
Even with the money Cyan gave her to help with gas to get up and back, Rachiah had to supplement the amount with some of her own. The new expense sucked at her living expenses budget she was trying to build.
Rather than having enough money to get a place to stay, Rachiah would have to wait a little bit longer. She needed food. She needed gas. She needed the basics of life.
The trip home had been fast. She hadn’t stayed with her parents, choosing instead to stop at a rest stop to clean up and change before showing up for the funeral.
How had she gotten to where she was? Standing there, in a group of people dressed in black as some old white man extolled the value of grief.
They didn’t understand funerals in the white community. The Salish celebrated life. They didn’t focus on the death. The ending. They rejoiced in the journey taken to get to the next life.
Detached from the significant loss of it all, Rachiah studied each person in turn.
Damon drew her eye. His golden blond hair curled under his black Stetson. Piercing blue eyes, red rimmed from grief, caught her gaze. Rachiah found herself glancing toward him more and more.
Movement at the edge of the group caught her attention.
Nate. He hadn’t he been at the funeral, his absence had been noticed and whispered about in the pews as people tossed around how disgraceful it was that he wasn’t there. Emma’s parents were there. Everyone but Nate.
Rachiah was surprised he’d shown himself at graveside. He didn’t stick around for the dirt to be placed over his wife.
Judging from the long black duster he wore and the horse tied to a tree beyond the edge of the cemetery, he didn’t plan on sticking around anywhere.
Rachiah understood running. Running could save a person. Self-preservation sometimes had to take priority over anything else.
She studied the graveside group again. Not one of them had lost their spouse. To lose the significant other was harsher, more unbelievably painful than anyone there could understand. Especially herself. She had never experienced the type of love Nate and Emma had draped around themselves.
Their love was all-encompassing. The whole of their passion seemed to surpass the physical, the pain of cancer, and the despondency of ineffective treatment.
Rachiah would give anything to have a fraction of that kind of belonging. Commitment.
With Nate’s disappearance, Rachiah was free to step back, fade to the edge of the crowd. If the husband could leave, so could she. She didn’t want to face her friends. She didn’t have an answer. And she wasn’t ready to talk to her mom or stepdad yet.
They hadn’t come to the funeral but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be at the wake. And the community of Taylor Falls would definitely have a wake for Emma Rourke. She had been loved by a lot of people.
Rachiah turned at the edge of the crowd and picked up her pace. She ducked her head as she tried to slip away faster.
The crunch of gravel behind her caught her attention. She whipped her head around, the dark of her hair cascading around her in a spiraling effect.
Damon reached out and stopped her by curling his fingers on her shoulder, not gentle but not hard.
Rachiah was a tall woman, yet Damon still towered above her. With the breadth of his shoulders and the solid strength in his hands, Rachiah was distinctly aware of his presence and how much larger he was than herself.
“Rachiah, where are you going?” His blue eyes searched her face as if her answer would be in the curve of her lip or the angle of her nose. His soft voice warmed her.
She kept her voice down, turning to face him fully. “I need to get back. I got a job.”
“Get back where? Last I heard you were in Cody, Wyoming. Are you still there? What’s going on? I haven’t even had a chance to talk to you in the last week or two.” His grip loosened, just enough to where his thumbs could rub up and down her arms. Skin bare in the sleeveless dress reacted to his touch with goosebumps.
“No, I’m in North Fork now. I got a job at the diner there. It’s a small town, Damon. I can’t be away for long. I just came up for the funeral.” She nodded, trying to keep her smile impersonal, trying to hide the fact his touch was driving her nuts.
It didn’t matter what his affect was on her, she would never be allowed to be with him. Not date him. Not marry him. Not ever. Full Salish children were not allowed to date outside of the reservation. Preservation of the bloodline was protected above most things.
Even love.
Not that she loved Damon.
She barely knew them.
The kindness in his eyes and the way he let her talk promised it was a possibility. Promised he was the type of man worth loving. But not for her. No matter what she wanted.
“Wyoming is so far away. How much longer?” There was no pressure in his eyes. He just watched her as if he could watch her rest of his life.
The blue in his eyes mesmerized her. Rachiah would gladly drown in their depths. But she had her pride too. She arched an eyebrow, and cocked her lips. “As long as I need to be, Damon.” She placed a hand on his chest which he quickly covered with his own warm palm.
“I like when you say my name. I want to hear it more.” His husky voice snapped her eyes up.
She softly pushed herself away from him. “I have to get going.” She turned and glanced over her shoulder then added, “Damon.” He
r half-smile would have to be enough.
Why was she playing games with him? She couldn’t have him. Her draw to him didn’t make sense. Ever since his teasing words at the wedding, she hadn’t been able to focus on much else. When she had left, he was the only thing making her wish she would stay.
Sadly, as with most things, she denied herself any real involvement.
She had to keep reminding herself.
He was a white boy.
She was Salish.
She could never let herself sink in his eyes.
~~~
Rachiah yawned, pulling on her apron and rolling her shoulders.
Sleeping in the Escort wasn’t getting any easier. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she would swear her car had developed a vendetta against her. Was there a possibility the interior was growing tumors? It felt like some kind of a rock was in the small of her back all night.
She hadn’t slept well since she got back to North Fork.
The middle of the week didn’t warrant her coming in much earlier than seven. Tom had her come in around seven-thirty to help with the morning rush which was about eight tables.
He dinged the bell and motioned her to the window. “Some guy has been here all morning asking about you.”
A man was asking about her? Was it Ratchet? Had he come around? Maybe he had remembered something that he had to tell her. She didn’t think it was coincidence his name was the same as the man she’d been told was her father. Maybe he’d taken it upon himself to steal the nickname. It was pretty perfect for a mechanic.
She wouldn’t entertain the possibility that he was her father. She’d been raised full-blooded Salish. Her mom wouldn’t have forgotten to mention the fact that she was half-Caucasian.
All that aside, she hadn’t been able to figure out a way to approach Ratchet since.
She grabbed her notepad and tucked it into the front pocket of her apron. Whoever it was didn’t know she wasn’t on until seven-thirty. All morning for Tom meant from five-thirty until she showed up. They were early rises, whoever it was.
Retrieving the full coffee decanter, she started her rounds on her way to the end of the counter where Tom had indicated he was. The diner was fuller than normal and she was having a hard time seeing anyone with so many other people sitting and standing in her way.
After eight refilled mugs and two empty plates in her hand, she finally reached the man sitting at the end of the counter with his face covered by a dark Stetson.
But she would know those elegantly tapered hands anywhere.
It was him.
He sipped his coffee and lifted his eyes to the news on the TV. Those brilliant blue eyes.
Rachiah paused as she filled two more cups leading like pebbles down a path toward him.
She couldn’t fight her smile. Of course she was happy to see him. Happiness along with a torrent of emotions ripped through her.
He would find out what she was doing. She hadn’t declared it outright to anyone except Sherri and Cyan. Everyone else thought she was searching for something. Not someone.
Even knowing the whole story, though, Cyan and Sherrie didn’t understand.
And how could they? Their dads had stuck around. Heck, Sherri had even been allowed to keep her bugs. She was into the insects and her dad stayed. She hadn’t been forced to change. Her dad loved her regardless of anything.
Why couldn’t Rachiah’s father?
That wasn’t the real issue. Rachiah couldn’t get too close to Damon. Somehow he would get in, the closer he got the easier it got to let him in.
Maybe, maybe just maybe, she could have her little fling.
A lot of the Salish guys did that. A lot of the tribal men around the country did that. They had a purging period where they went off into the world kind of like the Amish and got the white people out of their system. Then they returned to the reservation and married their Salish blooded brides and had Salish blooded children.
Maybe Damon could be her purge.
She poured him a coffee when she reached him. He glanced at her, his gaze stopping before he could look away. A slow grin showed startling straight teeth and his rugged tan set off his eyes even more than his dark hat. “I thought you’d never get to work.”
“I’m working now but I won’t be later.” She bit her bottom lip. If she could think of him as her fling, as a good time, she wouldn’t feel so guilty flirting.
“Sure. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” He sipped on his coffee, watching her as she moved around the restaurant.
The morning rush came and went. Tom motioned to her and pointed towards Damon. “Go ahead, with your fellow. The rodeo is in Cody right now. That town takes all my customers in the afternoon. Our rush was the attendees heading down that way. I probably won’t need you tonight or tomorrow. How about the day after?” He winked at her and scooped the stack of hashbrowns onto his long spatula and flipped them. The fresh sizzle covered his laugh.
Rachiah nodded even though he wasn’t looking at her. She untied her apron and did her end of shift rituals. She unbraided her long hair and strode over to join Damon at the counter. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re bored. Do you want to get out of here?”
“I haven’t been bored at all. You’re one of my favorite things to watch.” He offered a half shrug, and slid from the stool. Stretching his legs, he groaned. “Next time though, I’m bringing an easy chair.”
Rachiah laughed with him, his chuckle warming her. He had said next time. She held the promise in those words tight to her chest.
He followed her to her car. They stood at the driver’s door for a moment. What did she do? Invite him into her car?
Damon pulled the keys from his front pocket. He flipped them around his finger, making a jingling sound. “Where are you staying? I can follow you.”
Rachiah glanced at the car and then back at the café.
What did she say? She didn’t have anywhere to take him. She could take him back to the diner, but then what? It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to offer. She thrust her jaw to the side and pulled her shoulders back. “Here. I’ve been staying here.” She shifted her feet uncomfortably. Too late to back down now.
Confused, Damon glanced around the parking lot. “Here? Are you hiding a hotel or a house or something?”
“No. I park behind the storage units on the west side of town in my car. I use the rest stop for showers, and stuff. And Tom lets me earn my meals. I’m saving my money to get a room.” She offered a tight smile. She would not be ashamed of what she was doing. She was working hard and making things work. If he couldn’t respect that, then he could go to hell.
“Here?” Damon scanned the parking lot. “That’s awful.” Horror widened his eyes.
So he was going to judge her. Fine. She could deal with that. As disappointing as it was, she would rather deal with losing him now before he became too important to her. Rachiah cocked her head to the side, and folded her arms. “Why? Because I’m a dirty Indian right?”
Damon’s face softened and he pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “No. Because you deserve so much better. You deserve to be treated like a princess. Sleeping in your car in a parking lot is not what you deserve. Let me get you a place. I saw a motel right down the street. It’s not the best conditions, but it will be a bed and a shower you can call your own for a while.” His words stole her breath and her shoulders loosened.
He didn’t think poorly of her. She couldn’t throw her arms around him in relief, but oh how she wanted to.
His sentiment chipped away at her resolve to keep them platonic. Even friends with benefits would be fine.
Her muffled words barely reached her own ears. “Damon, I’m not yours. You don’t need to take care of me. I don’t need your protection.”
“I wouldn’t mind, if you were mine.” He reached out and twisted a stray shock of hair between his thumb and forefinger. He softly tugged her forward. “I’m not a bad person Rachiah. You need to stop pu
shing me away.”
“It’s not like we can get married. It’s not like we can even honestly date.” She threw it out there like a gauntlet. Challenging him to define whatever was happening between them. How had he gotten past her defenses in just a few minutes? Was she that lonely? That hungered for affection from a man? From anyone?
“Sherri told me all about it. I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ll just have to convince you white isn’t a problem.” His grinned colored his voice with warm undertones like cinnamon flavored hot chocolate.
“It’s not me you have to convince. It’s an entire tribe. It’s generations of protecting the bloodline. It has nothing to do with you or me. It’s nothing personal.” Rachiah shifted her gaze from his. It was personal though. And she had resented the logic of genetic preservation and cultural purity all her life.
Maybe she could trust him. Maybe she couldn’t. It wasn’t a huge problem for her though.
Like she said, it wasn’t like they were going to get married or anything.
~~~
Damon signed a card at the small motel, one for his room and one for hers. “Want to go with me to get some dinner?” He turned to her and gave her the key. “Unless you just want to go to bed?”
Rachiah giggled and then arched her eyebrow. “Really?” His blush highlighted his eyes.
He shook his head. “I mean, if you’re tired or something.” He coughed and held the door open for her.
She watched him as they walked side by side. “The only thing open is the gas station.” She reached up and looped her arm around his, pushing on his side with a playful nudge.
Pink and purple clouds reflected the sunset above them, framed on the edges by the dark ragged edges of the trees on mountains.
“How about some gas station burritos and maybe a corn dog? It’s the best date food you’ll ever have.” He placed his hand over hers and stopped at the corner. Turning to face her, his eyes dimmed from teasing to serious.
“I like that we’re on a date.” Rachiah spoke softly, partially hopeful that he wouldn’t hear her.
“Me, too.” He pulled her to a stop, his face ruddy and flushing as he spoke. “Earlier... you acted like I was calling you a d... something that wasn’t nice.” Damon bent his head and Rachiah caught a waft of his cologne. “Let’s be clear. I don’t call names or bully or anything like that anymore.”
Forgotten Trails Page 4
