‘‘I always wanted to try that. You know, if the Donner Party people had known how to make snowshoes, they could have walked over the last pass easily. But they were mostly Missouri farmers. It was the snow depth that did them in.’’
‘‘Yes, that’s a hell of a story. Stuck just below a seven thousand foot pass that would have led them straight down and out of the snow.’’
‘‘It is. I think about them when winter comes here, imagine the mothers trying to feed their kids . . . you know, the Irish family never resorted to cannibalism because they were the only ones who could manage to eat the cattle hides they had used for roofs.’’
‘‘Pretty grim to think of them coming to America to escape the potato famine, only to starve here.’’
‘‘The luck of the Irish—I always wondered in what way we were so lucky,’’ Nina said. ‘‘What luck? We’re just above the Sudanese on the luck scale. But at least the Irish have one talent to keep us going.’’
‘‘And what might that be?’’ Collier asked, somewhat warily.
‘‘We’re famous bullshitters,’’ Nina said. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. ‘‘It’s no secret. And did you know that it was an Irishman named Thomas Maguire who invented snowshoes?’’
‘‘No, I didn’t know that.’’
‘‘Yep, he made the first set, and then he called in his family and said, ‘See what I’ve made.’ And his wife says, ‘Well, Thomas, what’re they for?’ And he says, ‘They’re for trampling down the grass on the trail down to the pub.’ And trample it he did, for the next twenty-four years until he passed away, and the rest of the world had to wait until somebody else reinvented them.’’
‘‘You just made all that up on the spot.’’
‘‘Never! I can prove it.’’
‘‘How?’’
‘‘Okay, I can’t prove it,’’ Nina said.
They were in Alpine County, the least populated county in California. They passed through the forests into open meadows, and passed the quaint settlement at Sorenson’s Resort through Woodfords, where the main event was a small general store. In another few minutes they had arrived at Markleeville, the county seat, little changed in a hundred years.
Nina, holding the wedding present and the map, said, ‘‘Take a left here. Sandy’s friend lives near Indian Creek.’’
‘‘The reservation?’’
‘‘No,’’ she said, studying the map. ‘‘She’s between Indian Creek and the Carson River, right before you get to the reservation.’’
‘‘Wait. I have to put it in four-wheel-drive.’’ In summer, the road would be dirt. Now, slush and snow covered it, and two wavering grooves led the way for wheels to follow. As they pulled off to make sure they weren’t heading off into complete wilderness, a pickup truck full of Native American men whooshed by, sending up a rooster tail of snow.
After some time, they came to a large, rustic ranch-style cabin on a wooded knoll, completely surrounded by a classic car dealer’s dream of trucks and cars, some battered and just old, others spiffed-up and gleaming. Small groups of people were still arriving—elderly ladies with covered baskets, small children in snowsuits and mittens, young men in cowboy hats. The sky glowed high-altitude blue, with a few clouds on the eastern horizon.
A wide-planked porch surrounded three sides of the house, and colored lanterns had been strung and lit. Bunches of pinecones, pine branches, and red berries tied with ribbons decorated the railings.
At the green front door, surrounded by the smell of white gardenias from a wreath hanging behind them, Sandy and Joseph stood together, receiving their guests. For the first time Nina could remember, Sandy looked nervous.
She wore a fitted blue suede jacket with a thousand small beads sewn on it and long fringe along the arms and across the shoulders, a long skirt, and her turquoise earrings. Handing her the present, Nina said, ‘‘Happy Hey You Guys Day. I’m so happy for you, Sandy.’’ Sandy nodded. Nina reached up to shake Joseph Whitefeather’s hand. He looked upright and handsome in his white cowboy hat. Close up, she saw where Wish had gotten his long jaw and benevolent expression.
The house framed a large interior courtyard, paved in stone and swept clear of snow. In spite of the cold weather, somebody put on recorded music and the kids got into a circle and started dancing out there, a simple one-two step in unison, while the grown-ups stood on the sidelines, some from behind the warmth of plate glass, looking on and drinking punch.
A few of the kids, up to about age thirteen, were dressed in full regalia, with headbands and feathers that stuck straight up on their heads like elaborate punk hairdos, or drooped down their backs like raccoon tails. Their clothes were long sweeps of fabric in blue, yellow, red, and white decorated with diamond patterns.
The youngest, about two years old, wore what appeared to be an oversized, fringed bib with a large yellow star centered with a smaller red one. Watching an older dancer, he lifted his tiny feet solemnly, staring first at the ground, then back at the other dancer’s feet, then at his own.
Nina watched him. God, he was cute. Maybe someday soon . . .
The guests talked to each other in low tones, formal sounding and subdued. A few men wore suits, and Nina noticed Hal Cole, the current mayor of South Lake Tahoe, and Cathy DiCamillo, the city attorney, earnestly explaining something to Sandy. From the kitchen in back the smell of roasting turkey emanated, and Nina could see the backs of the men and women crowded in there. A big red cooler sat against the wall. Wish was handing out sodas.
‘‘I’ll bet that’s got something for me in it,’’ Collier said, heading for it. Nina leaned against the wall watching the children dance, sipping her punch and feeling quite content.
A shadow fell over her.
Looking up, she felt a weird sense of displacement. What was he doing here?
‘‘But you’re supposed to be in Washington!’’ she said. She touched his arm. ‘‘Of all the places . . .’’
‘‘I got an invitation to a good friend’s wedding, so I flew out,’’ Paul Van Wagoner said, grinning. ‘‘I figured you’d show up.’’
With his blond hair and white sweater, he seemed to attract all the light in the room.
‘‘You do get around,’’ Nina said.
‘‘Told you I was getting bored. I have to go back tonight and be back on duty at eight A.M.’’
‘‘It’s good to see you.’’
‘‘It’s been a while.’’
‘‘Remarkable. You flew all the way out here.’’
‘‘Why not? She’s my friend.’’
‘‘Why not?’’ Nina echoed.
‘‘So Sandy’s broken down and decided to make it official with Joseph. I never thought they would do it.’’
‘‘You knew about them?’’
‘‘I know more than you think. About everything.’’ How Paul loved double entendres. ‘‘It’s so sudden,’’ she said, not ready to open the conversation they would have to have too soon.
‘‘You have to go for it while you’re hot together, or it never happens,’’ Paul said.
‘‘To be honest,’’ Nina said, ignoring his suggestiveness, ‘‘Sandy was the last person I expected to remarry. She’s so independent. She’s lived alone so long.’’
‘‘At three A.M., when the traffic shuts up and the birds go to sleep and the only sound is the noise of your own damn thoughts, even the strong get lonely,’’ Paul said, and gave her a look that reminded her of the many occasions that they had kept the loneliness at bay with each other. ‘‘You look terrific,’’ he went on.
‘‘Remember the dance at the Elks Lodge, that spring —what was it, two years ago? When we met each other again. I had just moved to Tahoe.’’
‘‘We had some drinks. You wore red wine on your sweater. I wore beer on my shirt.’’
Nina laughed. She had missed him. Tony Ramirez was a good investigator and a good man, but Paul would always be the best.
If only—she wished again that he was working with her on the Strong case. Paul could find out anything, charm anyone, and he was infinitely curious, to the point that he would continue to work on things everyone else thought were hopeless.
Of course, there was also Paul the problem, Paul the unpredictable. He never lost his temper, exactly. He simply trusted his instincts, even when they took him outside the usually constraining influences of law and morality.
He seemed to be following her thoughts. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair. ‘‘Too bad it got so complicated.’’
‘‘Sandy almost quit the day I fired you.’’
For a moment, he stood contemplating her, and had the grace not to mention that it was he, not she, who had ultimately called for an end to their relationship. Then he looked toward Sandy. ‘‘She looks happy, doesn’t she?’’
‘‘How can you tell?’’
‘‘One corner of her mouth is turned up a millimeter.’’
‘‘Oh, yes. I see now.’’
‘‘I gave them a hell of a wedding present,’’ Paul said. ‘‘I know she’s been pining for one. Every time I talk to her, it’s the same thing. So I picked up a used one in Reno. It’s being delivered tomorrow.’’
‘‘Oh, really? She never told me she was pining for anything. What is it?’’
‘‘A small tractor.’’
‘‘No kidding!’’
‘‘You have to see it sometime. Twenty horsepower, attachments for everything from plowing a field to harvesting the alfalfa. Joseph has twenty acres near Woodfords. I’m just sorry I won’t be here when it arrives.’’
‘‘I never knew you and Sandy were so close.’’
‘‘Once a friend always a friend,’’ he said lightly. ‘‘Listen. Grover Hot Springs isn’t far from here. We could have a soak after the party.’’
‘‘I didn’t bring a suit. Paul, I’m in love.’’
Paul didn’t move a muscle. They were pressed together in the crush, so she would have known.
‘‘Anyone I know?’’ he said.
‘‘Collier Hallowell.’’
‘‘The D.A.? He’s back?’’
‘‘He’s different, Paul. He’s fine. He’s been back for a couple of months. We started seeing each other and— it’s gone very fast.’’
‘‘Is he here?’’
‘‘He’s over there somewhere, trying to land a beer.’’ She scanned the group again, but couldn’t see his head.
‘‘You’re sure about this?’’
‘‘Very sure.’’
‘‘I’m surprised.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Someone finally got through to you.’’
Nina said simply, ‘‘Yes. He did.’’
‘‘And he’s—’’
‘‘He’s in love, too.’’
‘‘Well.’’ There was a pause. Then he rested his hand on her shoulder lightly, bestowing a benediction. ‘‘I wish you the best, you know that.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’
He looked into her eyes with the same old warmth, the same old twinkle. ‘‘I’m still here for you. If you need me, I’ll come take care of it.’’
He removed his hand from her shoulder, and Nina turned away from him, touched. There was a sweetness in the words that made her smile and ache at the same time. ‘‘You can count on me too,’’ she said.
The kids had gradually stopped dancing, almost imperceptibly slowing and fading off into the kitchen or out front. A handsome young woman with curly black hair that fell below her shoulders, wearing a blue vest with a long black skirt, held up a big book. She spoke, and the room hushed.
‘‘Let’s perform the ceremony,’’ she said. Nina saw now that the book in her hands was a Bible. Where was Collier? Outside? But Sandy and Joseph were walking through the crowd, which parted for them, making their way to the young woman. Wish trailed behind, along with an assortment of other close relatives, a few Nina recognized. And just like that, the marriage ceremony began.
‘‘As it says in Psalms, God has tested us,’’ the minister said. ‘‘Sandy and Joseph know all about this test.’’ She smiled and began to read from the book, ‘‘ ‘Thou hast tried us as silver is tried. Thou didst bring us into the net . . .’ ’’
Except for the occasional babbling of one of the toddlers, the room, the whole cabin, fell silent and listened. ‘‘ ‘We went through fire and through water; yet thou hast brought us forth to a spacious place . . .’ ’’ the minister read.
Nina, at first listening with half an ear, felt herself drawn in. ‘‘ ‘Sing praises to the Lord, O ye his saints, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime . . .’ ’’
Sandy held Joseph’s hand. All Nina could see of her was her long black hair, held loosely by a silver pin, spilling down her back.
‘‘ ‘Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.’ ’’ She closed the book.
‘‘Sandy and Joseph, I’m so happy today to see you together again in this ‘spacious place,’ full of harmony and love. We don’t often get two chances to make things right in this lifetime. You’re blessed, and I believe you know that you are blessed.
‘‘You know, I used to see you when I was a kid, walking together twenty years ago along the road by Woodfords, and it pleases my soul to think you might do it again. Anything’s possible when you love each other. And I know this time you’re going to love, honor, and cherish each other for the long haul. This morning, your joy has come.
‘‘Let’s have you take the vows.’’
In five minutes, it was over. Sandy and Joseph didn’t exactly kiss, they just sort of brushed cheeks. People surrounded them, and Paul and Nina watched from their corner.
‘‘It takes a lot of guts to do that,’’ Paul said. ‘‘Extra guts to do it with the same person twice.’’
Nina, who had completely choked up during the ceremony, wiped her eyes. ‘‘Maybe they never really broke up,’’ she said. ‘‘Where’s Collier? Do you see him anywhere? He missed the whole thing.’’
‘‘Let’s go find him.’’
A procession had begun from the kitchen. Everyone was bringing out the potluck dishes to the linen-covered tables that had been arranged in the main room. Nina and Paul made their way slowly past the parade toward the front door, until at last they could negotiate their way outside. ‘‘Let’s check the car,’’ Nina said, and they trekked through the snow to the tree that shielded Collier’s Subaru.
Which appeared, like Collier, to be missing.
‘‘Hey!’’ They turned back toward the house. Sandy was waving at them, so they headed back. ‘‘I was trying to talk to you, but I had to get married first. Collier had to go in a hurry. He got paged. There were a lot of people in that room and he couldn’t find you, so he told me to tell you he was sorry to take the car.’’