by Rain Trueax
“Do you text?”
“As little as possible. Mom isn’t good with electronic devices of any sort.”
“Hmmm.” He turned into the drive that led to the hacienda and barns.
“Will Luke be expecting you?”
“Originally I planned to take Ranger for a ride. He was to have him in the main stable. I can leave him a note, and he can let your mother know. I think that might be best.”
“You really think I am targeted?”
“In two ways.”
He wasn’t much for lengthy answers. She herself had come to believe the demonstrations and murder were connected. What was his source to add her to the mix? He pulled in front of the barn, backed up to a trailer and turned to look at her as he unfastened his seat belt. “I won’t be long.”
“Do you need help with hitching the trailer or getting your horse in?”
“Nope. How about you write a note to Luke for both of us.” He reached under his seat for a pad and pen. “He’ll know to be careful how he gets it to Maria.”
Watching him in the mirrors as he smoothly attached the trailer to the truck, she knew she was with Adolfo. He wasn’t fictional. Adolfo had been a warrior who could overpower the strongest of monsters. Perhaps Mitch had fudged some on the abilities. When he disappeared into the barn, she looked at his wolf in the mirror. “How about it, Adolph? Is he all Adolfo Lupan is?” She wasn’t really expecting an answer.
“And more,” the wolf said.
She turned in her seat and met the wolf’s level gaze. “You aren’t all you seem either.”
“Are you?” The wolf gave one of those smiles, that in her experience, only wolves could manage.
“Is anybody?” She heard hooves and watched as Mitch easily led his horse into the trailer. Then she remembered her assignment and quickly wrote a note explaining going north with Ranger. And asked Luke to let her mother know she would be along—but keep it quiet. She’d let more explanations wait for when she better understood herself.
When he got back to the truck, he grabbed a wipe to clean his hands, then took her note and put it in the barn.
Once he was driving again, she said, “So what will we talk about going north?” She glanced at him with a grin.
“You like conversation on the road,” he said without enthusiasm.
“How about talk radio then? There is a late night alternative reality talk show.” She laughed when he made a face. “Music?”
“What kind do you like?”
“Everything old. Barry Manilow is right up my alley.”
She was teasing and got the expected response. “Maybe we can talk,” he said. “The cold box is right behind you if you want a drink.”
“What would you like?” She opened the lid and saw cans of iced tea, Coke, lemonade, 7-Up, and bottled water. On the floor was a bowl with water for Adolph.
He turned onto the main road leading to the freeway. “Nothing for now.”
“You haven’t been very talkative.”
“I can be. Offer a topic.”
“Adolph.”
“Go ahead.”
“Your wolf thinks highly of you.”
“And you know this why?” He glanced over at her.
“He told me so.”
“He doesn’t talk to just anyone, so who is Elke Hemstreet, that he’d trust you?”
“You already know, just as I know you are Adolfo Lupan, even if maybe with less of his skills or maybe not.”
“So the demonstrators were right.”
“Not about who witches are.”
“Witch though you may be, you are not superhuman, are you?”
She shook her head. “No, and I already know you can bleed. What I don’t know is who you are.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked, avoiding answering.
“You have food along also?”
“Sure, the other cold box. I would have to stop to open that one. Sandwiches, cut up fruit, vegetables, cold cuts for Adolph.” He smiled for the first time with warmth. Turning onto the freeway, he asked, “Did you know who was trying to visit you?”
“I could only guess. There is a man who has been irritating me with unwanted attentions. There is another possibility though. Today, I visited Pastor Jefferies.”
“Bill’s brother?”
“He runs a church that is opposed to the occult.”
“Not too unusual in religions—especially where it comes to witches.” His smile was again actually amused. “At one time, that meant burning at the stake or hanging.”
“I think he’s not going quite that far.” She smiled too. “Despite his aggressive approach encouraging his parishioners, I don’t believe he’d send someone to break into my home.”
“Maybe to scare you.”
“I suppose.”
“You were investigating the most recent murder, weren’t you?”
“I was looking into it. Not that we had been hired, but I had met the victim earlier the night she was murdered. She had been at the meeting when we discussed the fall production. Do you know David Jefferies?”
“Just by name.”
“He had invited a few actors as well as Pamela Crosby who does makeup and I think is David’s current lady love.” She smiled. “I can’t believe that was all just Monday evening. My world seems to have been cramming a lot into a few short hours.”
“You talked to them about using my book?”
“I did. I looked back at that meeting for any clue I should have had that Debbie was in danger. There was nothing. I learned after her murder that she worked as a secretary for Martin Jefferies at his church, Faith in Action.”
“Is she why you went there?”
“I thought the protests and the murder might be connected. I also visited John Donovan.”
“Now, him I know. He runs the street church south of Tucson.”
“And you donated to his work.”
“He makes a difference.”
“He seems very authentic.”
“So, in your research, did you look me up before you came to ask me about using my book?”
“I admit I tried. There was virtually nothing online about you. I suppose that was purposeful.”
“You could have used other methods, given who your family is.” He glanced over at her before changing lanes to pass a semi.
“I suppose, but I didn’t. My family has strict rules about how magick can be used.”
He nodded. “Do you know who Robert Flynn was?”
“Of course, everybody does, don’t they? I loved his films on the movie channels and used to rent them as DVDs.” She suddenly saw the resemblance. “He was your father, wasn’t he?”
“Something I only learned when my grandfather was dying. I am a half-breed, Miss Hemstreet. My mother was pure Apache. She died at my birth. My father never knew of my existence until I showed up at his door.”
“Did he take it well?”
“After he got over the shock. He couldn’t really deny it.”
“I realize now how much you resemble him.”
“I don’t talk about it, don’t tell people until I get to know them better. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it, but I didn’t want to succeed because of who he was.”
“I am trying to understand then from where the book came. Surely not him?”
He smiled again. “No, that would be my great grandfather, and I guess inherited abilities.”
“You were fortunate to know your great grandfather.”
She saw him hesitate. “He came to me from the other side, Miss Hemstreet.”
“Elke.”
“He came to me as a guide, Elke. He had died before I was born.”
“Apache mysticism.”
“You aren’t sounding surprised by that, even if you were about Robert Flynn.”
“I know a bit about shamans. My family claims Yaqui ancestry.” They had more in common than she had imagined.
When they approached Phoenix, she looked over at
his profile, intent now on the highway. He handled the truck well, especially considering the horse trailer on behind. He had secure the gelding well, as the trailer wasn’t shifting the truck. Adolph had seemed to be enjoying the drive as he watched with enthusiasm out the window. Mitch lowered the rear window a bit for the wolf to scent the air. Once they got through Phoenix traffic, lighter as it was for being nearly three, she saw the glow to the east. “The moon is coming up,” she said.
“Right on time.”
“A new moon. A good time for planting.”
“You follow astrology?”
“Don’t you?”
“What do you think a new moon is good for?”
She had to think about whether she wanted to tell him. “It’s for starting over, new beginnings.” She didn’t add also for love and romance. She didn’t want to kick her own imagination into overdrive. She paid more attention to the moon cycles than maybe she should.
“The new moon is a time for wishes,” he said, “for thinking what you want to make manifest. From now until the full moon is a good time for prophecy, protection, divination.” When she looked over at him, he winked before turning his attention back to the highway. “Maybe I know a little about it.”
“Maybe you do.” She smiled then and leaned back against the seat. She liked riding with him. His handling of the truck was smooth, as he wove through what traffic there was and then headed beyond Black Canyon for the climb toward the Verde Valley.
“So, what do you want to make manifest in your life?” he asked as he set the truck on cruise control with the traffic thinning to only a few long-distance travelers.
“Would it be safe for me to tell you?” she asked putting a deliberately teasing note to her voice.
“Of course, I wrote Vislogus. You know all about my good intentions.”
She laughed at his pious tone. “There were no love scenes in it. Maybe your good intentions change when testosterone enters the picture.”
“Ah but I am a monk. Dedicated to spiritual pursuits.” She looked over to see the expression on his face, but a fast moving police car raced by. Mitch’s only expression was directed to the highway.
“And that’s why Adolph’s friend, Estella, got nowhere in attracting his interest as she wanted,” she suggested when the road was again theirs.
He glanced over at her. “You were disappointed it didn’t have a romance?” He laughed.
“Of course. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”
“Romances usually end badly.”
“You mean love stories. Romances must have a happily ever after.”
“Not very realistic.”
“Of course not, that’s what newspapers are for.”
He chuckled. “So you read romances and imagine happy endings, but then don’t you find life disappointing?”
“I guess so… sometimes. My sister seems to have found her happily ever after.”
“How long have they been married?”
“Not quite two months.”
“Get back to me in two years.”
“You are a cynic.”
“And you didn’t recognize that in Vislogus?”
“Actually, I didn’t. I thought Adolfo was a true believer in the power of good to win out.”
“In some situations. The emotion we call love is not one of them.”
“Is your disillusionment about love something you discovered in your own life?”
“That’s a rather snoopy question.”
“For a man who kidnapped me, I think it’s a fair one.”
“I did not kidnap you.”
“Did you give me a choice?”
“Two of them.” She glanced over and saw the smile.
“I’ll let that go for now. I would have resisted more had I not wanted to come.”
“And I’ll let you believe that might’ve changed things.”
This time she smiled. “I have more powers than a plasma bolt.”
“Good. I will worry less about you… if I believed it anyway.”
“What do you know about witches?”
“Very little.” He glanced over at her. “I expect I will learn more though.”
“She talks to animals,” Adolph offered from the backseat.
“All animals?” Mitch asked. “Or just the ones who aren’t exactly the expected?”
“If they can communicate and hear, I can talk to them,” she said. “Did you try that with Ranger?”
“There is a little problem there. He doesn’t trust me. I am hoping Luke will have changed that.”
Suddenly she knew why. “You are a wolf shifter.” It was another thing they had in common, but she wasn’t going to tell him that yet. It might come in handy at some future point for him to end up surprised.
He didn’t admit it. “I want to ride with Adolph.”
She had never had a problem with horses distrusting her despite her own enjoyment of occasionally shifting into a wolf. “Maybe you are too aggressive with Ranger,” she suggested.
“I can ride my other horses.”
“How many do you have?”
“Fiona and Pepper, mares. Traveler, another gelding, and Major, my stallion. None of them have been so flighty as Ranger. I saw it as something about wolves.”
“I will try talking to him when we get there,” she said smiling as he gave her one of his looks.
“And you will have better luck than I’ve had or for that matter Adolph?”
“Does Ranger talk to you?”
“No.”
“So let me try.”
“Sure, give it a shot.”
“And when we get there, do we try to figure out what’s going on in Tucson, so I can go home.”
“How about we take a day to unwind. You might like my ranch.”
“I expect to but people are being killed in Tucson, and I worry that someone is trying to set up my brother-in-law as the murderer.”
“And you know he’s not.”
“Yes.”
“Not just because your sister married him?”
“No.”
“All right.” He turned off the freeway onto the exit for the Verde Valley. Even in the dim light of early dawn, she liked what she saw. She’d spent more time in Sedona than this part of the Verde, but there was a natural and laidback feeling to this country. The river wound below the highway, visible only now and then. This land still had the feel of the Sinagua who had lived here before the first Apaches and then Euromericans appeared. Because of the rich river bottom, it had long been valued and fought over.
“How long have you owned your ranch?” she asked.
“It was my father’s—same with the Tucson house. He used this one as a personal retreat, a place to escape. He loved it and took me here as soon as he and I met. We had a chance to talk, to ride. I feel him here always. His ashes are spread in a special place he had requested.”
“It’s wonderful to have a place with that deep of meaning.”
“The Circle C is not that for you?”
“Not really. It’s my mother’s of course. I go out there, and we have a place we meet as a family. I don’t consider it mine.” She realized she had no place that she felt that way about. “I do love Barrio Viejo, have worked with others to see the neighborhood stays as it is, but it’s not really mine either.”
He drove past Cottonwood and then Clarksdale. She began to wonder exactly where his land might be and then he turned north on a small road, all but invisible until on it. “Is your winery out here?” she asked.
“Yes, the vineyard anyway and the building where Jacques makes and ages the wine. The shop and tasting room are in Cottonwood—well, between it and Clarksdale. The vineyard is open once a year, by invitation only, when the new wines are introduced.” The road wound into the hills above the Verde and dimly she saw the dark cut of another canyon. “What is out there?” she asked pointing to it.
“Sycamore Canyon. We overlook it and the Verde.” He crossed a small b
ridge, obviously a private one. She’d seen no gate. “Aren’t you bothered by trespassers?” she asked thinking of the big gate on his Tucson estate.
“Rarely. The ones who know it’s here, connoisseurs of fine wines, aren’t that impressed by authors or movie stars. My land stretches to the Mogollon Plateau. I’ve bought more as the opportunity has arisen. Beyond it is national forest.”
“How did you know it would do so well on growing grapes?”
“Research, once I knew I wanted to do this. It’s similar in soils and elevation to parts of Lebanon and Iran where they first made wine. Grapes get a richness when they have to struggle a little to survive. Maybe not so many to harvest but more flavorful. This has been volcanic, had floods, layers of minerals.”
He made another turn and then she saw the house. It was two stories, with a deck on the second floor that ran its length. Red tile roof, chimneys for fireplaces. It was simpler than the estate in Tucson, looked to have been here a long time, and had a hominess, to which she was immediately drawn.
“It’s not as big as Tucson, but this is where I can think.”
“Where you wrote Vislogus, I guess.”
“It was.” He pulled around behind, and she saw the stables and corrals. When he stopped the truck, he got out and opened the door for Adolph. She walked to the corrals, while he opened up the trailer to back Ranger come out. “Hey boy,” he said, “you’re home. Like it better now?”
The gelding whinnied, and she heard an answer from the corrals as the other horses galloped to greet the arrival. Another whinny came from a corral above the stable. She guessed that to be the stallion as he galloped to the fence in an aggressive mode.
“Major thinks he runs things here,” Mitch said as he led Ranger to the lower corrals and let him in before removing his halter. “Pretty much he does.”
“Your stallion isn’t bothered by the wolf scent?” she asked watching as the horses greeted each other like old friends.
“Maybe he was one in a previous life,” Mitch said as he walked back to her.
“You believe in transmigration?”
“Among other things.”
“And those would be?”
“Getting some sleep. Do you want to eat first?”
“No.”
