Eagle, Kathleen (39 page)

"No.
Change
his life."

"My
brother didn't have anything to do with my dad's death. It had to be this guy
Jones. Or Darnell."

"That's
not your job, either."

"I
said I'd help Carter. If it's a loan, he can pay it back. I can give them their
money back."

She
shook her head. "That's not what they want."

"We're
not giving them what they want, not anymore." He was heading for the door
now, and she was right behind him. "I wish we could be up front with
Sid," he said. "He thinks we're sending him back to camp because we
don't want him around. But if we tell him things are a little hot around here,
he'll be worried about you."

"He's
very protective. He's been the only—"

She
stopped. Reese stood at the edge of the yard, noting the absence of Carter's
pickup, the tail-swishing horses grazing on the hill, the barn door left open,
the perpetual humming of the cicadas.

And
the dog trotting back down the driveway toward them.

"Where's
Sidney?"

"Sid!"
Reese called out. The cicadas droned on.

"Sidney!"

They
circled the house, checked the barn and the machine shed, but they knew. The
emptiness was unmistakable, a twisting in the gut.

"He
must have gone with Carter."

"Shit,"
he spat. "Carter must have
taken
him."

Carter
knew he had a stowaway in the back of the pickup.

The
kid obviously thought he was fooling somebody, but whoever it was, he could
forget putting anything over on Carter. He had kids of his own. They had a heck
of a time keeping still when they were hiding. Carter had seen Sidney reach
through the window and take the pickup keys earlier, undoubtedly thinking his
uncle was thoroughly absorbed in unsaddling his mother's horse.

A
bid for attention was obviously in the works. Carter was all set to put a stop
to it, but Sidney merely unlocked the back of the topper and replaced the keys,
piquing Carter's interest. The boy's sulkiness had suddenly reversed itself,
and he'd been quick to turn his own mount back into the pasture. Sure sign of a
scheme brewing in a kid's mind. "Be seeing you, Uncle Carter," he'd
said as Carter was heading into the bam to unload the saddle. And Sidney
appeared to be bound for the house.

The
boy had climbed right into his lap.

The
pickup bobbled twice on a pothole. In the rearview mirror Carter saw a
displaced foot, then a hand bracing for balance. He took a two-handed grip on
the wheel and stared at the road ahead, air-conditioning blasting his neck.
He'd have to stop pretty soon or the kid was going to melt back there.

Or
drive on, now that he had what he needed.
The boy had climbed right into his
lap.

He
had his cell phone turned off. Cell phones were iffy out here in the
wilderness, and he knew his dad's place wasn't accessible until you got up on a
hill. Calling Law and Order and having them relay the message would be the
decent thing to do. But for the moment, the boy had given him leave to perform
ignorance rather than decency. He knew what he ought to do. He knew what he was
inclined to do. But what he might have to do was something else, a disturbing
idea if he thought about it. As disturbing as the boundless grass and barely
traveled roads he'd never really gotten used to on the prairie. As disturbing
as big brothers with big heads and grandiose ideas.

Carter
had been directed to deal with his brother, the man who was supposed to play
the councilman role like a cork, skimming the surface, bobbing his weightless
head in agreement. All he was expected to do was play the game. But Reese
couldn't get it through his head that the game was played according to Ten
Star's rules. He'd treated Carter like a kid, when Reese was the one who had no
idea what was at stake.

Don't
worry, your brother's here now.
Even less comfort than
Your father's
not afraid of them.

Either
they didn't get it, or they just didn't care.

Deal
with your brother, Carter.
If he couldn't find a way, Darnell would. Keeping it
in the family was thought to be the best way.
You people have strong family
ties. You need to learn how to use them the right way.

Use
them? How could you use them the
right
way when Indians were crazy?
It's
a good day to die,
they said, and then they'd paint lightning bolts on
their faces and watch the sky for thunderheads. That was exactly what his
father had done, what Roy himself had once described as "tweaking the bull
by the tail while the white guys are fighting over who gets to grab it by the
horns." Roy had been watching for thunderheads instead of headlights.

Carter
wasn't eager to claim either end of anybody's bloody bull. He wasn't crazy. He
wasn't interested in getting himself kicked, gored, or run over. He didn't
believe there was such a thing as a good day for dying, and if that made him an
apple—red on the outside and white on the inside—then fine. He was an apple.
Likely a rotten one, but at least he wasn't crazy. He wasn't risking his kids'
lives. There was no way Darnell would get to them on Sarah's reservation if the
management contract went south. He'd tried to warn Reese not to let that
happen, but Reese was a stud. Reese was in charge. Like the announcer used to
say when he'd make one of his game-saving shots,
Reese Blue Sky was in the
house.

Good
enough. Now all Carter had to worry about was his own hide.

In
his side mirror he saw the police car's lights flash. There was a little
movement in the back, too. A long, lean, sun-blessed arm snaked up to the
topper's side window and slid it open. Carter smiled and pulled over before the
cop turned his siren on. Maybe Dozer Bobcat was about to do everybody a favor.
If he searched the back of the pickup, the lost would be found. So be it.

"Looking
for Sid," Dozer said as Carter lowered the window at the touch of a
button. "Your brother's boy. Weren't you just over there? They thought
maybe the boy jumped in with you."

Carter's
nose looked huge in Dozer's mirrored sunglasses. "He said something about
going for a run. Did you look along the road?"

"He
said that? He was going for a run?"

"I
think that's what he said. He seemed a little pouty."

"Like
he might run away?" Dozer laid his arm on the roof of the pickup.
"Shit. You think that's what he did?"

Carter
shrugged. "I don't see how he could get very far, though, do you?"

"Unless
he hitched a ride, but that quick? He'd have to be damn lucky."

"Where's
Reese?"

"Where
do you think? He's beatin' the bushes out to your dad's place looking for the
boy."

"I'll
give them a call as soon as I can."

Dozer
nodded. "The kid'll come back on his own, probably, but right now, they're
both pretty scared."

They
had reason to be, Carter thought, using his side mirror to watch Dozer. Their
son was in the company of a desperate man. Dozer peeked through the topper
window. If he looked carefully, he'd see the boy's shoe. Look through the back
window, Carter thought. He wants attention. I want... relief.

But
Dozer Bobcat was not the man to relieve him.

Carter
pulled the pickup back onto the highway, reached above the small rear seat, and
opened the window between the cab and the box, which was enclosed with a custom
topper. There was plenty to hide in back there—toys, boxes, a rack of Carter's
clothes. Yet Dozer should have seen him. He should have forestalled this thing
right there and then, while it was still an innocent child's prank. He'd had
the chance.

"Did
you hear any of that?" Carter called out after he'd watched the cop turn
around and hurry back to his buddy Blue. "Sidney? I know you're back
there. You might as well talk to me."

No
answer. An invitation to save them both, and there was no answer.

"Either
I make a U-turn right here, or—"

"Don't
take me back, Uncle Carter," the boy pleaded as he shoved plastic crates
and in-line skates aside, scrambling toward the cab. "All I wanna do is
miss my plane."

"You
were all set to turn around and head right back after—"

"It's
stupid to go back to camp now." Sidney stuck his face through the back
window and gulped cool air.

Carter
could smell kid sweat. He turned and smiled at the soggy head.

But
Sidney had used his quiet time to get wound up, and he wasn't having any
patronizing smiles.

"No.
I'm serious. It's totally stupid. I've gotta get used to the idea that I have a
father. A real, live father, emphasis on the 'live' part. Just looking at him
is, like, unbelievable. I know I said I wanted to go back to camp, but I don't
anymore. I wanna stay. And they wanna get rid of me."

"Maybe
they want to get used to some things, too, like..."

"Sleeping
together? Yeah, right. Don't you think maybe he oughta marry her first?"

"Maybe
that's one of the ideas they're working on. When does your plane leave?"

"Tomorrow
morning. What I'm figuring is, once I miss my plane—"

"They
can put you on the next one."

"But
they won't, because by that time—"

"They'll
be so glad to see you they won't want to let you out of their sight. Have you
run away before?"

"Once.
I hid out at my friend's grandma's old place for a day and a half. I didn't
want to stay with my grandfather while my mom went on assign—"

"Assignment?"

The
boy pressed his lips together, sucked them in and clamped them between his
teeth. He stared straight ahead.

"Your
mother's talked with me about her work."

"I
don't... I didn't mean
assignment.
I meant, just a trip."

"She's
really got card smarts. Excellent candidate for her line of work, which I know
you're not supposed to talk about."

"I
just know she's a good dealer," Sidney said quickly. "So how about
it? Can I stay with you until tomorrow?"

The
boy had no idea how worried his parents were. Or maybe he did, but only in
terms of how that would affect him. They'd be so relieved when he showed up,
they'd give him whatever he wanted. Carter knew how well that worked. He'd used
it on his father. He'd used it on Jane and Bob Marshall. He'd tried it on his
wife, but he couldn't get it past her as easily. Times like this, when she and
the kids were gone and he knew he couldn't just pop in the door with presents
all around... oh, God, these were the times when all he wanted was to see them.
Just that—just see them, hear their voices in the room, know they were close
by—and he'd make sure they knew how pleased he was. This time he would truly
experience the pleasure himself. He would believe in it and make it last.

But
Sarah and the kids were safe now, better off without him. This boy would be
safer at camp in Colorado, and his father knew that. Safer than he was with his
desperate uncle.

"You
should have driven off with the pickup," Carter said, chuckling for
effect. "Then I wouldn't have been implicated."

"I
can't drive. And I wasn't going to implicate you. I figured you'd probably go
to the casino, and I was going to sneak out of here and get a room at the
hotel. Under an alias, of course."

"Of
course."

If
he'd been in a better mood he would have laughed, and he might have told his
nephew that the staff wouldn't rent a room to an unaccompanied twelve-year-old,
even if he did look more like fourteen. And he would have been in a better mood
if the notion that desperate times called for desperate measures wasn't
rattling around in his head, knocking against the question of how to play this
unexpected hand.

"All
you want to do is miss your plane?"

"Mom's
starting to worry by now, but she knows I can take care of myself. It's just a
little game of hide-and-seek, is all."

"I
know a place," Carter said, hardly believing the words were coming out of
his mouth. But the hard part of him believed, and that was the part he would
call on now.

"You'll
help me?"

"I'll
help you miss your plane."

Hell,
he'd paid for the ticket.

***

Reese
had been searching for several hours, and he was coming home empty.
Sick-to-his-stomach empty. It was a helpless feeling, and he didn't want it
plastered all over his face when he walked in the door. He took a couple of
deep breaths before he turned the knob.

Helen
was waiting by the phone, standing with her back against the refrigerator and
her arms wrapped around her middle, as though she were holding herself
together. The hardest of jobs, waiting.

She
looked past him, hoping, but it was only Crybaby who followed him inside. He
closed the door, apologizing with a look. She lowered her head.

He
drew a deep breath, sick with heartache. The smell in the house made it worse.
"Can't get rid of the damn smoke in here," he muttered.

"I'm
sorry," she said in a small voice. "It's me. I had to have a
cigarette. I would have gone outside, but I was afraid I'd miss the
phone."

"No,
it's okay. I didn't know. I guess I've..." He started toward her, but he
ran into the corner of his father's damned Little Bighorn disaster. Routed and
smarting, he offered a wan smile. "... never seen you smoke."

"And
you won't. I found a pack in the cupboard. Don't tell Sidney. I promised to
quit for good, but sometimes..." A fluttery gesture seemed to embarrass
her, for she quickly jammed her trembling hand back where she'd had it, nailing
it down with an elbow as she hurried to explain that smoking wasn't all she'd
been doing.

"I
asked Jean Nelson to wait at my place, but so far, Sidney hasn't shown up
there. I've tried the casino, tried Carter." She shook her head, breaking
his heart with those fragile eyes of hers, like blue glass lying in the middle
of a gravel road.

He
wanted to reach for her, but he felt too damned powerless. He turned away,
hating his empty hands.

"You
can't get hold of Carter?" He went to the sink, flipped the faucet
handles, plunged his hands under the water, and splashed it on his face.