The Warrior's Way. Jenna Kernan
used in a vain attempt to remove the scourge of white men from the west by the Sioux people, who followed the great spiritual leader the Anglos called Crazy Horse. His real name was
“How about you wait until tomorrow to see what you think of the job the authorities are doing?”
She stiffened and placed a hand on the latch.
Behind them the string of headlights marked the arrival of the tribe, as they wound along the river road like a great, brilliant snake.
On the great open area between the main lodge and the cabins, the central fire was being lit.
“Are you sure you won’t come?” Jack motioned to the gathering place. “I’d love to watch you dance.”
“I haven’t danced for a long time.” She sounded wistful.
Dancing was a form of prayer for their people, a way to communicate to the great divine while still connecting to the earth.
“You could just sit on your porch and watch. Then come join us if you like,” he said.
“Maybe.” She pulled the latch and the door cracked open. She regarded him now, really looking up at him.
He went still under her inspection, hoping that she liked what she saw. His nostrils flared as he tried to bring enough air to sustain him, but each breath brought her delicate floral scent to him. He breathed it in, making it a part of him. He swallowed but his throat was still dry. He was looking at her mouth now, thinking what it might be like to kiss her slowly at first and then...
“I’d better go,” she said.
“Sophia?”
She stepped closer. Oh, boy. He was about to tell her that she was at the wrong door, but maybe it was no mistake. Maybe she knew exactly which cabin this was. That thought made his wiring short-circuit. His blood rushed and his breathing quickened as the desire drowned the rational part of his mind.
“Yes?” She brushed the tips of her fingers down the center of his chest.
“This isn’t your cabin.”
She stepped back. Damn, he should have kissed her first and then told her. But then he might not have wanted to tell her. Not when his bed was only a few short steps away.
He wanted her in that bed more than he had wanted anything in a long time.
Car doors slammed and headlights swung into the field they used for parking. Voices reached them as the people began to gather.
Sophia looked around her. “Which one is mine?”
Jack pointed and watched her go. He didn’t follow. Not just because he was needed in the drum circle, but because they needed Sophia’s help. Kissing her, sleeping with her, might make it easier to convince her. But it also would lead to the bloody same questions women always asked.
Why don’t you look like your brothers? Why are you so big? Have you ever thought about speaking to your parents?
Jack let his hand trail over his wallet. Inside were the answers. But he just couldn’t bear confirmation that his mother had deceived his father and he was the visible sign of that infidelity. Everyone suspected. No one spoke about it. Except the women he dated. That seemed to make them feel they had some right to turn him inside out. It didn’t. Never had. Never would.
Sophia stood on the porch of the little cabin and listened. The men sat in a circle around a huge drum, each with a leather-tipped drumstick, collectively beating the rhythm for the dance. She could see them all by firelight and recognized many; Ray sat next to Dylan, who was beside Kurt Bear Den. Then came three men she could not see because their backs were toward her. Adjacent to them, Jack Bear Den sat in profile. He was a full head taller than any of the others and that was while he was sitting down. His appearance raised all sorts of obvious questions. The investigator in her wanted answers. But the part of her that kept her own secrets did not.
Much of her childhood had been horrific and blocking it out just made sense. No different than blocking someone on social media. Except those drums. They brought back something she hadn’t remembered, the good part. Belonging to something bigger than herself. Walling herself off, avoiding going home, it was logical but now she felt a longing that made her weep.
So here she stood, leaning against the porch rail and watching the Turquoise Canyon tribe dance in unison around the central fire. Her head bobbed in time and her feet shuffled from side to side. She knew this dance, knew the meaning and the purpose.
There in the light of the fire went Morgan Hooke and beside her was the Anglo Meadow Wrangler. She did not seem to care that she was an outsider, as she matched her steps perfectly to the others. Sophia studied Meadow and how the other women reacted to her. From Sophia’s perspective, it seemed that this tribe accepted the heiress despite her outlandish ocean-blue hair and relations with the known head of BEAR. Sophia longed to join them but something kept her rooted to the porch. If she were similarly welcomed, it would be harder to leave.
She wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and straightened. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to move in slow harmony around the fire or sing the songs to earth and sky. But a prayer might help the outcome of the internal investigation. A song sung with so many voices was a powerful thing. Was it strong enough to give her back what was taken...her badge, her gun, her position?
She needed them. Needed to be away from here and back where she belonged. On the job.
Sophia sang softly to herself. The song was a prayer, her tiny voice mingling with the people. Their languages were different. She hoped it wouldn’t matter as she returned to the language of her youth, her terrible wonderful youth beside the high black-capped mountain. She sang the next song as well and was still there when the logs fell inward and the drums went silent. Still there clinging to the porch rail when the gathering broke and the engines of the cars and trucks started. She watched the vehicles cruise away. Saw Jack Bear Den lift the drum as big as a truck tire and carry it single-handed into the lodge.
She retreated to the shadows as his friends made their way to their cabins. Ray chased his new wife past her door as Morgan giggled like a girl.
Next came Dylan and Meadow, strolling arm in arm, their heads inclined so they touched. They paused at the river and shared a long kiss that was so full of love and desire that Sophia had to look away. She turned toward the lodge and saw Jack Bear Den standing before the steps leading to the cabin beside hers. His eyes were pinned on her. The shroud of darkness wasn’t cover enough to keep him from locating her.
“You didn’t come,” Jack said. His voice was low and only for her. Had he been watching for her? That thought made her tingle all over.
She glanced over at Dylan and Meadow and was surprised when Meadow kissed Dylan good-night and then retreated alone through the doorway. Sophia blinked in confusion as what she knew of Meadow’s wild reputation for men and parties clashed with the chaste kiss. Dylan walked alone to the next lodge and vanished inside.
“They don’t?” Sophia asked.
Jack shook his head. “Nope.”
“But why? They are clearly in love.”
“Because to marry her is to give Meadow federal protection from the local wants and warrants regarding the wildfire. Meadow won’t have the people thinking she married Dylan for that reason. Someday, she will marry him. When the matter is settled.”
“That