Eye of the Tiger Lily

by Ann Yost

  Molly stared over at the deserted web and wished she, too, could run away from the tangled mess she’d woven.

  But she couldn’t. She wasn’t a spider.

  The telephone jangled and she jumped. It would be Cam. It was the morning of the long knives and she wasn’t ready. What could she say to him? Nothing. There was no excuse. She’d just let him have his say and then she’d tell him she was sorry.

  She sucked in a long, fortifying breath and picked up the receiver.

  “This is Molly.”

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re there,” said Nancy Dove. ”Lenaya’s bleeding again. This time it’s something awful.”

  A reprieve. Molly snapped into professional mode. She could tell Nancy was on a cell. “Where are you?”

  “On Route Two.”

  “Good. I’ll call ahead to the hospital and they’ll be expecting you. And, Nancy, I’ll be there as fast as I can but be safe. She’ll be all right.”

  Minutes later, without even brushing her teeth, Molly hopped into the Jeep. Lenaya would have the miscarriage with or without her and whoever was on duty would take care of the girl but experience had taught Molly that folks from the rez were more comfortable at Eden Memorial when she was there, too.

  This natural termination of the pregnancy was best for Lenaya and her mom but Molly felt a twinge at the thought of the life that would never be. Impatient to get to the hospital, she stomped on the gas and the Jeep squirted forward. Luckily, there was little traffic on the road. She barely paused as she reached the intersection of the rez’s main road with Rural Route Two. Moments later though, she heard the wail of an approaching train. Dang. Could she beat it? She knew it would take the lumbering freighter about thirty seconds to reach the crossing. She stomped hard on the accelerator but the little Jeep had limited horsepower and the guardrail dropped into place when she was still twenty feet away. She braked like a crazy woman, causing the small vehicle to fishtail on the highway.

  Dang.

  Well, maybe it would be a short train.

  The big, boxy, black engine chugged past and she ground her teeth as the conductor waved, lazily, to the occupants of the car stuck on the westbound side of the crossing.

  The freight cars rumbled by at a snail’s pace. Molly noted the logos: Maine Eastern, Burlington Northern, Penn Central, National Steel, Siemens. She winced. Siemens reminded her of semen. She shook off the thought. She’d make sure Lenaya was all right and then she’d find Cam. She’d apologize and the whole, misbegotten adventure would be over.

  Except for the guilt.

  And the regret.

  And the loss.

  Molly vowed to consign all three emotions to the dream catcher.

  She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and peered through the chain of cars, surprised to spot the red Porsche.

  It was only about nine a.m. It was conceivable that Davey Tall Tree could be on the road heading to Eden but coming back toward the rez? What could have taken him to town at this hour?

  Her attention caught, Molly tried to see if it was Davey driving the sports car. Yep. Davey at the wheel and a dark-haired woman next to him. Probably Sandra.

  Had they dropped in at the harvest festival then recalled some previous engagement on the rez? It seemed unlikely. Molly tried to make a mental list of the reasons they could be on the east side of the railroad tracks this early but she came up blank.

  A flatbed car clattered past affording Molly a clear view of the sagama and his wife. Davey’s normally jovial face looked drawn and Sandra’s dark eyes were stark above her high cheekbones. Neither seemed to be aware of Molly. Was she getting a bird’s eye view of a marriage falling apart?

  Poor Davey. Poor both of them.

  Molly’s thoughts turned to the Doves. She hoped they’d made it to the hospital by now. At least they weren’t stuck at the crossing. Another dozen boxcars passed. Finally the caboose was in sight. Before it arrived though, there was another flatbed. Molly chanced to look across the tracks at the Porsche. This time she couldn’t see Davey’s expression. His head was turned as if he were checking on something or someone in the backseat.

  Molly’s curiosity was piqued. As soon as the caboose cleared the crossing, she took a closer look. Just as the gate lifted, the morning sun glinted off of something bright. Hair. It was blonde hair. What on Earth? A tremor that owed nothing to the brisk morning air rippled down her spine. She glanced at the slowly disappearing caboose and saw the brakeman wave to the Porsche. Suddenly it all came together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Someone blonde in the backseat, the waving brakeman, the fact of the sagama’s car heading back toward the rez, the tension on the faces of both Sandra and Davey.

  There was a child in the backseat of the Porsche. Molly caught her eye as the truth dawned.

  It was Daisy.

  They had Daisy.

  Molly’s heart stopped. The threat of the squashed flower had come true. The Tall Trees had kidnapped the child, probably as a hostage. Did this mean Davey was Sandra’s partner? Suddenly Molly understood. Sandra had had the money all along and Davey, lovesick fool that he was, had offered to join her after Dwight Winston’s untimely death.

  Oh, Davey.

  The thoughts flashed in her head but she didn’t wait to think them through. Davey and Sandra had Daisy and there was no telling whether anyone else even knew it. Davey Tall Tree’s eyes met hers as he powered the Porsche across the tracks. His face was set, his mouth, a straight line. No longer the lovable teddy bear, he looked determined. Intent. Deadly.

  Molly’s tires squealed as she executed the world’s clumsiest U-turn. There was no time to waste.

  She had to rescue Cam’s daughter.

  As soon as she’d stabilized vehicle, she thrust her hand into her purse to fish for the phone which was, as usual, underneath her wallet, traveling thermometer, blood pressure kit, sunglasses, notebook and bottle of aspirin, and other paraphernalia.

  Molly’s own blood pressure rose as she watched the Porsche widen the distance between the two cars. She used her thumb to punch in the emergency number. The sheriff’s department dispatcher patched her through to Jake’s cell.

  “Langley,”

  Molly could hear voices laughing and fiddle music in the background. The sheriff must be at the Harvest Festival. She told him quickly what was going on.

  “I think they’re heading to the border.”

  “I’ll call a state unit,” he told her. “And I’m on my way. Listen, Molly, I know you want to keep Tall Tree in sight but don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “They’ve got Daisy.” She hoped he hadn’t heard the wobble in her voice.

  “I know. Calm down. There’s no reason for Tall Tree to hurt her. She’s no good to them dead. What’s that fool up to, anyway? Sandra’s not gonna be charged with anything. Something’s got them spooked. Don’t worry, Molly, Daisy’s their insurance policy. She’ll be okay.”

  Molly wished she could be sure of that. Jake hadn’t seen the snarl on Davey’s face. Daisy was at risk and not just from the speed of the Porsche. Molly caught her breath on a sob. If anything happened to Daisy it would kill Cam. Good grief. He wouldn’t even be involved in this—or his small daughter, either—if Molly hadn’t tried to fix things by going under cover at the casino.

  This was her fault.

  She stomped on the gas so hard the old Jeep rattled and creaked. What if they turned off before the sheriff could get here? What if she somehow lost them? No, no, she assured herself, Davey wouldn’t turn off. He had to be heading to Canada and this was the fastest, most direct way. He must think he could lose himself on the other side of the border.

  Molly tasted blood and realized with surprise, that she’d bitten her lip.

  She should have listened to Davey. He’d told her he wanted a good looking wife. He’d told her Sandra wanted pretty things. She should have heard the implicit message: he needed money. As she bounced and jolted along the road another thought b
arreled into her.

  Davey had been on the porch the night Dwight was shot. Was it possible he’d shot Dwight with the man’s own pistol? Was it possible he’d been in on this all along? And what about Big Eddie. Molly strained her memory to recall that night at the casino. Had Davey been there? She remembered Daniel excusing himself to talk to the former tribal cop.

  Had the answer to this been under their noses all along? Had Sandra just been using Dwight? Had she been Davey’s accomplice all along?

  A modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

  And no one had suspected him. Davey, with his big, woebegone eyes and his terrycloth robe. Davey, with his stories and over-the-top pride in being elected sagama. Davey, who, until his mother had died, had lived in her shadow.

  If true, this was another black mark against the rez but that hardly mattered. The thing that mattered, the only thing that mattered was the child in the speeding Porsche.

  Please, Molly prayed, I’ll spend the rest of my life working for the good of the rez, I’ll give up my dreams of a husband and child if only Daisy is safe.

  The getaway car was way past the rez now and heading due north. It had become a dot on the horizon. She willed Jake to hurry. She willed the Porsche to run out of gas. She willed Daisy back to safety in Eden with her father.

  Molly leaned forward in a hopeless effort to make the Jeep fly.

  The road bent sharply to accommodate a hill and for the distance of a mile or so Molly lost sight of her quarry. There was no turn off here, no major road at any rate but what if Davey knew of a shortcut? What if she lost them? And then the road straightened out and the Porsche was there, no longer a sleek, beautifully engineered machine speeding along but a beached creature, like a horseshoe crab. It listed on two punctured tires like a fat kid pushed over by a bully. Orange cones littered the highway. An earthmover and a dump truck sat, empty, several yards away on the grass shoulder.

  Davey must have blown out his right side tires in the construction zone.

  Molly held her breath and, without thinking, she jerked her Jeep to a halt and sprinted toward the other vehicle.

  ****

  Cam slipped the wide, plain gold band into the pocket of his charcoal flannel shirt. It had belonged to his grandmother. He’d never thought of giving it to Elise who’d wanted a large diamond and he hadn’t considered giving it to Sharon Johnson, either.

  Molly would love it. She would know that it represented a welcome to his world, an invitation that was long overdue. Several days of reflection had convinced him that what he wanted was Molly and the new baby. And Daisy, of course. They would start over again and the glow of happiness from their instant family would wipe out any hard feelings left over from the past.

  He smiled to himself. He’d always wanted Molly. The baby she was carrying would be the cherry on top of the sundae.

  Cam grabbed his car keys and, on his way to the back door, glanced at Wilbur who was lounging on his Miss Piggy pillow in the kitchen.

  “Get ready, son,” he said. “Everything’s going to change. For the first time, everything’s going to be perfect.”

  He heard the fiddles well before he arrived at the park. The Harvest Festival was in full swing. Hallie and Asia had taken Daisy early and he’d promised to stop by to take the little girl through the corn maize and on the moon bounce after which he’d head out to the rez. He’d ask Molly the all-important question of whether she wanted to elope to New Jersey or plan a wedding in Eden. He wouldn’t give her a choice about marriage.

  That was a done deal.

  He felt a rush of emotion that left his heart light and his blood hot as he pulled onto Main Street and parked behind Jake’s white Blazer. The sheriff was at his window before he turned off the Mercedes. Cam flashed his brother-in-law a cocky grin. “This an illegal zone?”

  Grim lines bracketed the sheriff’s mouth and Cam’s gut tightened.

  Something was wrong.

  “Davey Tall Tree was evidently behind the robbery at the casino,” Jake said, tersely. “He’s heading out Route 15 toward Quebec and he’s got Daisy.”

  Cam cursed and jerked the ignition.

  “Come with me,” Jake said.

  “Merc’s got more horses.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got the lights, the sirens. And the guns.”

  Guns. Cam forced back the fear, leapt out of the Mercedes and vaulted into the Blazer.

  ****

  Daisy’s eyes were giant cornflowers. When she saw Molly they became giant wet cornflowers. Molly leaned over the door and worked at loosening the child’s seatbelt.

  “Get away from her, Molly. Don’t think I won’t shoot.”

  She glanced up into the barrel of a blue-gray revolver in Davey’s hand. Everyone on the rez could handle a rifle and Davey had been a tribal cop. Still it was strange to see the easygoing sagama brandishing a handgun.

  “He’ll do it,” Sandra whispered. “He killed Dwight.”

  “I said get away from that kid,” Davey growled, ignoring his wife. Molly forced herself to take a step away from the Porsche and Daisy let out a howl of protest.

  “It’ll be okay, Daze,” she said, in what she hoped was a comforting voice.

  “It’ll be fine,” Davey bit out, “if you follow my instructions. Here’s what we’re gonna do now. We’ll take your Jeep. And you’re gonna drive.”

  Molly was surprised. “You want me to drive? Why?”

  “He’s sick,” Sandra muttered.

  “He ’frowed up, already,” Daisy put in.

  Molly’s medical instincts kicked in at once. He did look a little white around the gills. “What is it? Flu?”

  “Shut up. Just listen.”

  Molly had known Davey Tall Tree for Two years. He’d always been a bit of a hypochondriac and a mama’s boy. He’d always reveled in sympathy. That dimension of him probably hadn’t changed even if, as seemed likely, he was now a cold-blooded killer.

  “Get Sandra into the back of the Jeep. I’ll bring the kid, then I’m riding shotgun.”

  “No-o-o!” Daisy screamed and kicked and generally gave a performance worthy of a two-year-old.

  “Jesus.” Davey’s face had turned the color of winter wheat and he was breathing hard. Probably getting ready to puke again, Molly thought. That flu gave her a slight advantage. All she had to do was figure out how to use it.

  “I’ll get her,” she said, diving for the little girl’s seatbelt before Davey could object. “You get Sandra over to the Jeep.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  “C’mon. What am I gonna do? There’s no way I could outrun that gun even if I were willing to leave Daisy behind,” she said, reasonably, “which I’m not. And I’m not interested in risking an accident with the child. I’ll get Daisy and meet you in the Jeep.”

  Davey didn’t answer. Molly got the feeling he was using most of his concentration to keep his guts from hurling out of his mouth. He grunted as he staggered out of the Porsche. Sandra looked as if she couldn’t move. Her slender body remained huddled in the front seat of the sports car and she shook like an aspen. Davey jammed the nose of the gun into her shoulder.

  “Go ahead, Sandra,” Molly said, hoping that man who used to be her friend wouldn’t hurt his wife. “Davey won’t hurt us if we cooperate.”

  Molly heard a harsh retching sound and realized that while Davey had made it to his feet he was now doubled over vomiting all over the hood of the cherry-red Porsche. He managed to keep a grip on the weapon.

  “He’s crazy,” Sandra said, in a dazed voice. “I told him I could make good money from Dwight but he didn’t care. He was crazy jealous.”

  “I imagine so. He loved you.”

  ”He didn’t understand,” Sandra mumbled. “We could’ve been rich. It was just sex.”

  It was the young woman who didn’t understand, Molly thought. Davey might have wanted her to have nice things, but one of those things wasn’t another man.

  “Get a move on,” Da
vey rasped. He held the gun on Sandra while she climbed out of the Porsche and into the back of the Jeep. “Put the kid in the back,” he told Molly.

  “We don’t need her,” Molly argued. “She’s just gonna slow us down, Davey.”

  “She’s my insurance policy.”

  The words were slow, halting and Molly knew the sagama was about to be sick again. She tried to think fast. Jake would be here soon. If she could just keep Daisy out of the Jeep, the child would be all right.

  “You don’t need her,” Molly said, casually. “You want protection from pursuit, right? I can give you that.”

  “Like hell. She’s Outlaw’s kid. The sheriff’s niece. You’re nothing but a rez midwife.”

  “That’s not true. I’m engaged to marry Cameron Outlaw. And I’m pregnant with his child.”

  Davey made a derisive sound.

  “You’re lying, Molly. Outlaw dumped you years ago.”

  “That’s right. I found out that he and his late wife used a fertility clinic and I managed to get a sample of his sperm.”

  He looked at her, a glint of respect in his dark eyes. “You’re crazier than hell, you know that?”

  At least he believed her. It helped that he was almost completely disabled from the combination of nausea and stress. Still, she couldn’t afford to wait for him to agree to her terms. She had to act.

  “They won’t come after us if we leave Daisy here,” she said, firmly. She bent over to put the child back in the Porsche. She kissed Daisy, who had started to squawk.

  “Just wait here,” Molly said, in a low voice. “Uncle Jake will be here in five minutes.” She straightened. “C’mon, Davey.”

  “Get Sandra in the Jeep.”

  The directive came out in little gasps each word separated by a retching sound.

  Molly crossed her fingers and headed back to the Jeep.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “You want to make the border before the sheriff catches up with us.”

  “Sandra,” he puffed.

  “She’ll just slow us down.”

  “Fine.” Retch. “Then I’ll just—” he paused to retch again, “—shoot her.”

  Sandra shrieked and got out of the Porsche. An instant later she was in the backseat of the Jeep with Molly in the driver’s seat. Davey struggled over to the car, gasping and retching and cursing. He fell into the passenger seat and held the gun on Molly.