by Jenna Kernan
“I will, Grandma,” he said, but his gaze fixed on Cassidy. Her expression was a frozen mask, her smile tight as the grip on her coffee.
“You work too hard. That’s why you don’t have a girl. You need to dance more and sing more and play the drum like you used to.”
It couldn’t be Cassidy. He would not allow it to be her.
“I still play the drum and sing.”
“At ceremonies. What about your flute? You used to play all the time.”
What had happened to his flute? He didn’t even know. In a box somewhere with the things his mother had packed when she moved his belongings from their father’s house while he’d been deployed in Iraq. Despite the hot coffee in his hand, Clyne felt cold.
His grandmother noticed something immediately. Her face now held the etched lines of concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Glendora gave him a long look and then she began talking to Jovanna about the beading of the moccasins she would make and how her sisters would come up from Salt River to help with the cooking.
“There will be hundreds of guests. On Thursday we will all dance and sing, and I’ll feed everyone with the help of my sisters and Kino, Clay and Gabe’s girls. The men will prepare the sacred objects. You will meet with the medicine man and your mentor for instruction. Friday you will have to run around the gifts that people bring you and you’ll give them gifts, too. Then you and Selena will prepare for your longest dance. All Friday night and, if you are strong, you will still be dancing when the sun rises.”
“All night?” asked Jovanna, a note of concern in her voice.
“Um-hm. And then you will rest and later Selena will massage your back and legs, molding you into a new woman.”
Jovanna’s eyes were wide. Cassidy listened with a mixture of awe and worry.
“There will be a blessing and then you will dance in the dress I showed you.”
“Changing Woman,” said Jovanna and smiled.
“People will come from everywhere to see you dance and receive your blessing.”
Clyne watched Cassidy as she stroked her daughter’s hair and sipped her coffee. As she began to relax, so did he. She glanced at him and cast him a smile. He sent it back and saw her cheeks flush. That made his smile broaden. Was she thinking of last night and the kisses they had shared? He lifted his mug, but kept his eyes on her as the memories warmed him.
Gradually he noticed that his grandmother had ceased talking. His eyes rounded and he turned to glance at her to find her gaping at him.
Now he flushed.
“What?” he asked.
Glendora’s gaze flipped to Cassidy and then back to him. She lifted a brow in silent inquiry and looked to Gabe, who nodded. His grandmother frowned. So much for keeping their situation secret. Gabe already knew and now his grandmother suspected.
Clyne sank back to the sofa, wondering what to do. He wanted her now more than ever. But pursuing her would mean going public. He wondered what kind of a hit he would take in the elections. He knew enough to know that as an Apache politician, a white, FBI agent wife would not increase his popularity. He looked at her and wondered if she might be worth it. Then she glanced at Jovanna, who was speaking to Clay about the family’s cattle holdings in the tribe’s communal herd.
“You better make up your mind quick,” said his grandmother in a low whisper. “That girl is a mother and you don’t mess around with a single mother unless you intend to marry her.”
“She might not be a mother for long,” said Clyne.
“She will always be that child’s mother. No court in the world will change that. All you’ll do is force them apart and make her choose her mother over us. But...”
Clyne looked at his grandmother but she had stopped speaking.
“What?”
“If you marry her, then Jovanna can stay with her mother.”
“She’s not staying on the reservation, Grandmother. Cassidy wants a transfer to Washington.”
“She wants to stay with her daughter. And from the look she just gave you, she wants you, too. Maybe she just can’t see how that would work out.”
“Neither can I,” he said.
In response his grandmother patted his knee and smiled.
Cassidy’s phone rang, making them all jump. She glanced at the number and then took the call.
“Walker here, sir.”
Her boss, Tully, Clyne knew.
“Yes?”
Clyne watched her use that index finger to plug her opposite ear as she pressed the phone to her opposite cheek. Her eyes moved restlessly as she listened. He knew the instant that it was over because she exhaled a long audible breath and her shoulders dropped a good two inches. A moment later her eyes closed for just a few seconds. When they opened they found him and she smiled.
“Yes, sir. I’ll meet Agent Forrest there. Thank you.”
Cassidy punched at the screen and slipped the phone away. Then she hugged her daughter.
“All clear,” she said.
“What happened?” asked Gabe.
“They got him.”
“Who?” asked Jovanna.
Clyne waited to see what Cassidy would do. This was the point adults sent children to their rooms or spoke in vague generalities.
“The bad man who was after me.”
“You? Why?”
“His brother was a kidnapper. I caught him and...well, he died.”
Jovanna cut straight to the point. “You shot him?”
Cassidy nodded, then glanced at Clyne. “I did. I had to. He was hurting someone and I had to make him stop.”
“Is that person okay now?”
Her smile was sad. “No, darling. I was too late. His brother is really mad at me for hurting his brother, so he...” Here Cassidy did go vague. “He tried to hurt me. My offices figured out who it was from the fingerprints on, well...”
“A gun?”
“Something like that.”
“Bullet casings,” said Gabe in Apache.
Clyne nodded.
“So they chased him and arrested him and he’s going to jail now.”
“And you’ll have to testify again?” asked her daughter.
“Yes. Likely.”
“So can we go home now?” asked Jovanna.
Cassidy looked around the room at the Cosen family.
“Well, you are going home with your brothers.”
“You, too?” asked Jovanna.
Cassidy’s mouth went grim and Jovanna clung to her mom. Clyne glanced at his grandmother, whose brow lifted pointedly.
“You can stay in our house as long as you like,” he said to Cassidy. His brothers added their consent with the simple nod of their heads.
“No,” said Cassidy. “Jovanna, you remember what I told you. Six months. That’s the court’s order.”
“But what if I get scared again?”
“Call your grandmother or any of your brothers. I trust them, doodlebug. You can, too.”
Jovanna clung to her mother, who kissed the top of her head.
“You have to be strong, Jovanna. A strong Apache woman like Changing Woman.”
Her daughter sniffed but then pushed herself upright and let go of her mother. That nearly broke Cassidy’s heart. Her willingness to be brave and not cling like a child. She looked at Jovanna and thought she saw a glimpse of the woman she would become.
She turned to Clyne and asked him to drive her back to the station. Then she walked out the door.
Buster roused to his feet and gave a long, soulful whine of discontent.
Cassidy felt exactly the same way.
Chapter Seventeen
Cassidy buried herself in work. The interrogation of Ronnie Har
e took her to Salt River for all the next day. Jovanna had not called. Clyne had not come to the hotel to fetch her. Her daughter was safe and fast becoming part of her family again. And that was as it should be.
Cassidy was no longer afraid that Jovanna would not choose her. She was now afraid that her daughter would choose her and by doing so, lose the family of her birth. She could see now that separating them twice was cruel and wrong. But how could she keep them together and become a part of this family?
On Saturday, Cassidy succeeded in getting her boss to agree to pay for the overtime to add additional security on Ronnie Hare. The Salt River jail was really only three holding cells in the Salt River police station. She remained at the station filling out paperwork to petition to move him to federal custody, while Luke took on the more difficult task of convincing individual members of the tribal council to vote to turn Hare over to them. They needed the consent of the Salt River tribal council to do so. Luke had spoken to the tribal chairman and, even after hearing of the charges, Luke said that he was still reluctant to relinquish custody of any of his people. If they did not, Hare would be tried here and the sentence would be very short. Luke did manage to get their chairman to at least agree to raise the matter with his fellows at the next meeting.
As for Hare himself, he was remaining tight-lipped until he knew if he would face tribal or federal court. All they could do now was wait.
“He’ll spill if we have a federal case,” said Luke. “He won’t want to be in the same prison as Raggar.”
That was the head of the American distribution ring and Cassidy agreed that turning state’s witness was far better than facing Raggar’s men in prison.
“We’d have no way to guarantee his safety there,” she said.
“But if he plays ball we can move him to any prison, even process him under a different identity.”
“He’ll try for witness protection,” she said.
“Not going to happen,” said Luke. “We got him. I’m going to squeeze him like toothpaste until I have every last name of every last man who is involved with smuggling on the rez.”
His home, she realized. His ancestral home. Cassidy filled with a deep longing for something she could only vaguely grasp. A place she belonged.
Why had she never noticed the need to be a part of a place and a community? Who was she fighting for? Americans?
Not really. She had never fought for anyone until yesterday. Yesterday she had fought for her daughter and it felt right. All this time she had been fighting against something—bad guys who broke federal law and the organization that killed Gerard. She’d never bring them all to justice. Never stop them. But the fight itself was the thing? Wasn’t it?
She let the weariness weigh her down as she recognized the impossibility of the task she had set for herself. She’d never do it. Even if she made the most important case in FBI history. It wouldn’t bring Gerard back.
“You all right?” asked Luke.
“Yeah. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“If I really need to go to DC to make a difference.”
Luke’s jaw dropped and gradually a smile replaced the stunned expression. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said in weeks. You staying?”
“Maybe. For a while at least.”
* * *
CLYNE TOOK KAREN Little Hill out on Saturday night. He usually took one of three women out, keeping it obvious to all that he was unattached. But this was two nights in a row.
Karen adjusted her shawl against the chilly air. The temperatures always dipped with the sunset, but March was susceptible to wild temperature swings.
His date had worn pants as a matter of practicality. Her necklace was Navajo and the many bangle bracelets represented most of the silversmiths in the area. She collected them the way some women collected glass figurines. Her shop at the Apache Cultural Museum showed off her knowledge of Native American Indian jewelry and pottery.
Clyne had been trying to summon up the courage to have a serious talk with Karen. Trying to gather the conviction to look her in the eyes and ask her to marry him. She’d say yes. He was certain. At least she had made her desires known to him last Christmas when he had given her a silver bangle instead of an engagement ring.
He walked her back from the restaurant to his truck, still toying with the idea of asking for her hand. He didn’t have a ring, of course, except the one that had belonged to his mother and he felt loathed to give Karen that. He just felt filled with the desire to get this over with and behind him.
She beat him to her door and managed the handle without his help. Karen didn’t need him. And he didn’t need her. But he needed children. Ached for them.
Not just to help his tribe survive, but to fill the empty places in his heart.
“I saw a therapist yesterday,” he said, once seated beside her in the dark cab.
“Why?”
“To talk about things. Things that happened while I was in the service.”
“Do you think it’s wise to dig up all that ancient history?”
Cassidy had encouraged him to do so, felt it was essential, in fact.
“Well, he’s a medicine man and he served in Vietnam, so he knows about such things.”
“I would not raise old ghosts,” she said and shivered.
“Did you notice that I haven’t been able to hunt since I came back home?” he asked.
“No. But it doesn’t matter. We have enough guides and hunters. We need leaders. Strong role models. Which is why I was surprised to hear from Yepa that you had taken that white FBI agent to lunch.”
“Gabe asked me to take her.”
“You should have said no. You are the one who told me that she didn’t belong here. That the federal authorities trample our rights.”
“I did say that.” He thought of Cassidy fighting to reach her daughter and trying to catch the man who had run messages to the cartel from the reservation. Gabe wanted that man caught and punished.
“It’s bad for the people to see you with an FBI woman. It sends the wrong message.”
“She raised my sister.”
“I know who she is. But you won custody. How is Glendora managing?”
“She’s fine.” Clyne turned over the engine.
“She’s a little old to raise a teenager.”
Clyne did not dignify that with an answer.
“Your sister will need a mentor. Someone to teach her before the ceremony and mold her into the kind of woman who will make her family proud and serve her people with dignity.”
“My grandmother is asking Selena Dosela.”
“Selena? She’s a criminal and her father was in federal prison. I wouldn’t let her anywhere near Jovanna.”
“My grandmother thinks she is the right choice.”
“She’s wrong. It sends a bad message to the people.”
Clyne set them in motion. He was not asking Karen Little Hill to be his wife. She was the perfect choice and the only emotion she raised in him was annoyance.
He knew what he felt for Cassidy was real and dangerous. But to pursue Cassidy would threaten everything he believed he was. How could he preserve their culture and their way of life if he chose a woman who knew nothing of them?
Others had married outside the community, of course. But not a tribal council member. Not one single tribal leader had married anyone other than an Apache. Clay’s wife, Izzie, was Apache. Gabe’s fiancé, Selena, was Apache and Kino’s wife, Lea, was Apache, though she had only one clan because her mother was Mexican. But her dad was Salt River Apache.
Clyne dropped Karen at her door and gave her a kiss that left much to be desired. He couldn’t help but compare the cold perfunctory touching of lips to the scorching desire stirred by just a glance in Cassidy Wal
ker’s direction. Each kiss vibrated through him like a drumbeat, building in power.
A warrior woman. A fighter.
He drew back and Karen smiled up at him. Did she feel something that he did not?
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, stroking her hand down the lapel of his overcoat.
“Ah, Karen?”
“Yes?” Her eyes were dark and bright, her mouth curled in a coy smile.
“I can’t see you again.”
The smile fell and her mouth dropped open.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m seeing someone else.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and her words came like the hiss of a snake.
“It’s that white woman. Isn’t it?”
He drew a breath and then admitted it, saying it aloud.
“Yes.”
“Are you crazy? She’ll ruin you.”
“I used to think so.”
“Clyne. I know you. You’re one of the most respected men in Black Mountain. And you are smarter than this.”
“Goodbye, Karen. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes glittered dangerously. “You will be.”
Clyne left her on the stoop to her home and returned to his SUV.
Karen was going to make trouble. He knew it and he didn’t care. If he was going to court Cassidy, he’d have to face this sooner or later. Many would be disappointed. But he hoped a few would see that a good woman could be Anglo as well as Apache.
He kept telling himself this as he drove to the casino hotel where Cassidy was staying. They had been strong adversaries and she was a brave woman but was she brave enough for this?
Chapter Eighteen
Clyne knocked on her hotel door and waited. He could feel her on the opposite side of the door staring at him through the peephole.
The bolt clacked, the lock turned and the door flew open.
“Jovanna?” said Cassidy.
“Fine.”
She cocked her head. He saw that she was still dressed in her pants and shirt. But she wore no shoes or socks and her blazer and holster were absent. She had released her hair from the short, stiff little ponytail she usually wore so her hair fell like silk beside her face.
