Juliet's Law (4 page)

But now that dog was panting against her neck. Politely at first, then with a cold nose against her ear, a quick nudge. When Juliet buried her head, Tecumseh put his paw on her shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” Juliet said, and flung the covers back, wincing at the cold. The floor was freezing, the air as brisk as icicles. She spied Desi's down coat on a hook and put it on, and some boots that were resting by the stove, which had obviously either gone out or was very, very low. Juliet could see her breath. No wonder Desi had such long hair. She needed it for warmth!

Trying to move quietly, she shuffled toward the front door and let out the dog—well, dogs, now, since the other two were happy to have the chance to get outside, too. Desi locked the dog door at night. They moved gingerly, then one saw something in the trees and bolted. The other two followed in exuberant explosion, barking happily.

Juliet watched for a moment, then turned away to close the door and spied something out of the corner or her eye—a dark splash against the snow on the edge of the porch. She turned back frowning, and saw that it was a dead bird.

No, not just dead.

Murdered. Its throat had been cut.

Juliet yelped. Desi was at her side in two seconds flat, somehow alerted to danger by that small sound. She took one look at the dead bird and cursed. “Damn him!”

She stomped out on the porch, and picked the bird
up with a shovel. “I'm going to report this,” she said, and settled the poor thing on top of the wood shed.

To Juliet's surprise, there was a tear in Desi's eye. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Desi said. “It's not okay to kill something to try to scare me, and I'm particularly fond of ravens, a fact that bastard knows, and used to hurt me.”

Juliet hugged her. “Don't,” she whispered. “Don't let him get inside of your head. He's being terrible, but one day this will all be over and your life will be good again.”

Desi clutched her. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Let's get ready to go to town.” They dressed and did a few chores and piled into Desi's truck. “I'll treat you to breakfast before we get down to business,” she promised. “Waffles and bacon?”

“Perfect.”

Neither sister was particularly chipper first thing in the morning, and the dark spiritedness of the dead raven hung in the air. They rode in silence.

But after a few minutes, Juliet found herself admiring the scenery. It was so astonishingly beautiful it didn't seem real.

The storm had moved on, leaving behind enough snow to dust the trees and ground with a diamond sparkle. Sunshine beamed into the high mountain valley and the sharp, craggy peaks of the San Juans were newly touched with snow. “Do you ever get used to it?” she asked.

“The scenery? No way,” Desi said. “How could you?”

“Good.” She peered upward—up, up, up—to the
rugged red cliffs edged with stark white, and above them, the piercing blue of the sky. “I would hate to become immune. Every winter, I'd dream about being here. We never did come to ski, though, did we?”

“We begged enough, but I think our illustrious parents—” her voice was thick with irony “—thought it too plebian. If one were to ski in Colorado, it had to be Aspen, or at the very least, Vail.”

“Is the camp still open?” All three sisters, Desi, Juliet and their youngest sister, Miranda, had come to camp in Mariposa every summer for years while their parents, afforded long vacations by their positions as college professors, stayed with friends in Crete, or hosted their set in Zurich, or ambled around whatever destination was approved for intellectuals that year.

“I think so. I see kids pouring into town on the bus every June.”

“Poor things.”

Desi laughed. “I loved coming to camp.”

“I liked a lot of things about it, but I didn't like the bugs or the wild animals. I was scared all the time.”

“You were?” Desi said in surprise. “I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because you were always so brave about everything. Nothing scared you.”

“I was always an outdoor kind of girl, though. You weren't.”

“True.” She admired the vividness of the sky. “What I really hated was being away from home all summer. It was really lonely.”

“You poor baby!” Desi smiled. “You know me,
though—I loved getting away from…” She paused. “Oh, let's not be coy. I loved getting away from our parents. I couldn't wait. Camp seemed a thousand times more real and reliable than anything at home.”

“I got used to it eventually.” Juliet thought of those summers, her own wish to lean on reliable things, like the same room, the same stuff, the same friends, and Desi's adventurous heart, which had led to her travels abroad, and Claude. “What happened to Claude?” she mused aloud. “He always seemed like such a good guy.”

Desi said carefully, “Do you think so?”

“Yeah. Don't you?”

“Yeah. I've just been wondering lately if I was blind or foolish or something.” She gave Juliet a little shrug. “I'm glad you liked him, too.”

Juliet reached over and touched Desi's shoulder. “You've always been wise and kind, Desi. Something changed Claude and his character didn't keep up.”

“Thanks.”

As they came down off the mountain and around a bend, they emerged suddenly from the trees and there was the narrow, long town of Mariposa. Five blocks wide, a mile and a half long. The sun had just climbed over the peaks to the east and now spilled into the valley, sparking on the snow-covered roofs. Juliet looked at her watch. Almost 8:30. “I bet it's dark on winter mornings.”

“Very. The sun doesn't come up until nine.” She swung onto the main street. Once it had been called simply Main Street, but it had been changed to Black Diamond Boulevard when the ski runs were built in the late seventies.

The tone of the town was half glitzy ski resort, half
mountain rustic. Stone bungalows built at the turn of the century populated the old part of town, along with buildings that dated back to gold rush days. At the ends of town, built to the very edge of the National Forest lands, were blocks of modern condos and faux Alpine shops housing restaurants and art galleries and shops selling sports gear and yoga clothing. Above it all rose the ski slopes.

“Uh-oh,” Desi said. “There's Claude. Damn.”

Juliet saw him ambling down the street in a black fleece vest and jeans and boots, his black braid shining. He held hands openly with a woman who wore what Juliet thought of as an adventure racer's uniform: tight stretchy pants with racing stripes down the side, a bright yellow thermal shirt, sunglasses on her tousled blond curls.

“Hey,” Juliet said, recognition dawning, “isn't that Christie Lundgren? The skier?”

“Yep,” Desi said, grimly. “Bastard! Now he has to make a fool of me in public?”

In alarm, Juliet looked up. “Just keep driving, Dez. You don't want any trouble.”

But it was too late. Desi swung into a parking spot in front of the bank, and threw open the door before Juliet could so much as blink. Desi had something in her hands. Juliet couldn't make out what it was at first, but then she saw it was a phone. A camera phone. Desi dashed in front of the couple and snapped a picture, then another, before Claude managed to disentangle himself from his girlfriend.

Juliet got out of the truck, braced for anything.

But Desi grinned in triumph, waving the camera over her head. “Got you now, you sorry rat.”

“What difference will a picture make?” Claude said.

“Date and time stamped? Plenty.” She saluted the blond skier next to Claude. “Enjoy,” she said, and headed back to the truck. Juliet, shivering in her thin coat, gladly headed back toward the truck. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Claude make a sudden move. Juliet whirled.

Claude dived for Desi, who yelped, leaping a little to try to get away from him. He managed to grab the sleeve of her coat, and they slid around on the snow underfoot. Desi cried, “Juliet! Come get this!”

Juliet, shaken out of her surprise, dashed toward her sister. “Throw it!”

But Claude grabbed Desi close to him, and the two of them wrestled, slipping and sliding on the snow, and Desi couldn't get her arm free. “Let me go!” Desi cried.

“You owe me,” Claude roared. “You're not going to cheat me out of that land. I bought it, too.”

A crowd started to gather, across the street in front of the diner, and in the street. “I bought that land with my inheritance from my grandmother, and you know it.” She yanked free suddenly, and started to bolt. “Juliet!” she cried, but Claude tackled her.

The two of them went down, slamming hard into the pavement. The girl with him yelped and plastered her back against the wall. Juliet saw blood spill brightly into the snow, but couldn't see who it belonged to. She
rushed toward them. “Stop it, you two!” Juliet yelled. “Just stop it!”

Claude cried out and jumped up, the phone in his hand. Blood streamed out of cuts on his lip and cheekbone, and he wiped it away angrily. With a guttural cry of victory, he dropped the cell phone on the stone stoop and smashed it beneath the heel of his boot.

Desi, too, was bleeding from a cut in her scalp, and tears poured down her face. She struggled to her feet as Claude walked away. “I'm going to
kill
you, Claude Tsosie,” she cried after him.

“You can try,” he said, turning around to smirk at her.

Furiously, Desi bent down, picked up a rock, and threw it after him. It landed harmlessly a few feet behind him, but Desi slipped and landed on her bottom. Stunned, she didn't move, an expression of bewilderment and grief on her face.

Blood from the cut on her head stained the shoulder of her coat, and Juliet bent down with tenderness. “Come on, honey,” she said gently, helping her sister to her feet. “Let's get you to the doctor.”

A tall Ute woman with craggy dark features materialized on the street, a clean white towel in her hands. She pressed the cloth to the wound. “Desi, Desi,” she said in a voice that sounded like the soft south wind, “you must let him go.”

“I need to take care of the wolves,” Desi said, wearily. “If he takes half the land, I can't.”

“The law will be on your side,” the woman said. She met Juliet's eyes. “Let's get her to the clinic. She's gonna need stitches.”

Juliet nodded. “And then, we are going to file properly for divorce, and for a restraining order to keep you two apart until this is over, got it?”

Desi bowed her head. “Yes.”

T
he scalp wound needed six stitches, but as it was Mariposa, a clinic that was supremely qualified to treat cracked heads, and it was the between season—between the high hiking and high skiing periods—it only took a half hour from start to finish. Then Desi, her friend Helene, the Ute woman, and Juliet were finally having breakfast at the Red Buffalo, a diner on Black Diamond Boulevard.

It was a busy morning. Several times, people stopped by the table to ask about Desi's bandaged head, and the trouble that had caused it. Others gave a quick nod and hurried by, and Juliet realized the town's people were taking sides. Some on Desi's side, some on Claude's.

Damn.

Desi noticed, too. “He's so damned charming and
good-looking,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It's hard to get people to see beyond that.”

“It's why some politicians can get so far,” Juliet said.

“What's the feeling about Claude on the rez, Helene?” Desi asked. “They like him there?”

Helene lifted a shoulder. “Some do, the same ones who like him around town here. The ones who fall for charm and good looks fall for him, even in Indian Country.” She stirred her coffee. Her wrist, flat and strong and brown, was ringed with three beaded bracelets in different colors. “There's some who like him 'cause he's been successful. Others don't because of the same thing.”

“Why would they not like him because he's successful?” Juliet asked.

“Some people want everybody to suffer together.”

Juliet frowned. “I'm still not quite getting why all this fuss about the two of you, anyway? Why does anyone care?”

“Because the land is so valuable,” Helene said.

“But why would anyone on the reservation care about that?”

“In a town this small,” Desi said, “everyone is intimately connected. Our fortunes are all mixed up together. The politicians will care what the Indian community wants because the casino is such a cash cow, and the Indian vote is huge.”

“The lawyers will care because they want to be politicians,” Helene said. “The townsfolk care because they need things to keep their tongues wagging, and everything financial ripples around the whole town.”

Desi smoothed the empty spot on her left hand where her wedding ring had lived. “The businessmen will care because they court the Indian vote so the politicians will swing their way on land decisions.”

“Are there businessmen trying to get the land right now?”

Desi snorted. “Oh, yeah. Developers of all kinds.”

Juliet's head ached the slightest bit. “This is a lot more complicated than I expected.” She rubbed the spot between her brows, thinking of what needed to be done.

First, she needed to do some research, both on local real estate law and practices, and on cases like this one in recent courts. “Have you talked to a lawyer at all, Desi?”

“Who can I trust around here, really? The lawyers all want to be politicians, the—”

“I get it.”

A happy little cry cut through the gloom at their table. “Hi, Grandma!” said a girl who popped up at the edge of the booth.

“Glory, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at preschool?” Helene asked, clearly surprised to see her granddaughter. No more surprised than Juliet was to realize Helene was Glory's grandmother.

“My teacher had a toothache.”

“Oh, that's too bad.” Helene scooted over to let the little girl, with her long dark braid, into the booth beside her.

As Glory scrambled in, adjusting a tiara tucked with bobby pins into her hair, she happened to glance up and see Juliet. “Princess!” she screeched. “What are you doing here?” Before Juliet could answer, she whipped her
head up to her grandmother. “How do
you
know the princess?”

“This is weird,” Desi said.

Juliet liked it. She liked it even more when rumble-voiced Josh strolled up to the table and gave her a nod. “How are you, Princess?”

She smiled. His eyes were as warm and kindly as she remembered from yesterday. “Not bad. How are you?”

“Glad to see you. This little girl—” He took a breath. “
Believes,
you know?”

Juliet nodded. “It's okay.”

He caught sight of Desi's bandaged head. “What happened to you?”

“Long story.” Desi stood up, vacating the spot next to Juliet. “Sit down, Josh. I'm going to go wash my hands.”

“I've got to get to the dojo in a few minutes—a home-school class is coming.” But he sat down anyway, the long, solid weight of him warm against Juliet's side. His hands were as big as saucers, and he folded them together in front of him. He wore no jewelry on them. Juliet thought they were extraordinarily beautiful, the sinews and lines, the graceful length of his fingers, the oval nails.

In her fluting voice, Glory said, “Princess, do you want to come sit by me?”

Juliet looked away from Josh's hands. “Honey, we have to run some errands in a few minutes.”

Her radiant face dimmed. “Oh.”

Juliet leaned forward. “I'll be finished in an hour or two. I can come see you later, if you like. You can show me your red shoes.”

“Hey! That's a good idea! Grandma, can you take me
to my house in a couple of hours so I can show the princess my shoes?”

Helene grinned, her eyes crinkling into angles. “I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“What happened to Desi's head?” Josh asked.

“She…uh…fell down.”

He flipped a butter knife end to end on the table. “Claude somehow mixed up in it?”

“Yeah.” Juliet glanced at Helene. “Your mom was there, too. You can hear more about it later.”

“I'm not deaf, you know,” Glory said. “I know about grown-up fights, too. My mommy had them all the time.”

“Nobody is keeping secrets, Glory,” Josh said. “But even if we were, you are a little girl, and little girls don't need to know everything. We like to keep things nice for you.”

Glory sighed, long-suffering, and with a harrumph, leaned her cheek into her hand.

Juliet chuckled. “I like your tiara,” she said. “And I can't wait to see your shoes later.”

“Me, too.” She suddenly perked up. “Hey! Princess, do you know how to curl hair?”

“Sure. You want your hair curled?”

“Yes,” Glory said emphatically. “Natasha in my class always has her hair curled and my daddy doesn't know how.”

Josh put one hand beneath the table and squeezed Juliet's hand lightly. “Thanks,” he said very quietly.

“No problem.” She pulled free delicately, and Desi came back to the table.

“Ready?” her sister asked, putting sunglasses on her head.

“I am.”

A woman in a yellow jacket moved by the table and gave Desi a long, hard glare. Desi stared right back. When the woman continued toward the cash register, Desi and rolled her eyes at Juliet. “The dentist's wife,” she said when the woman had gone outside. “She hates my guts.”

“Because?”

“Because she's one of Claude's groupies, and in their eyes, I'm just a mean woman who doesn't understand him.”

“Yeah,” Josh said, behind them, “you old meanie, you.”

Desi grinned, her eyes flashing in a way that made her sister wonder what had forged the bond between these two.

And was there something romantic brewing? “You better believe it, mister.”

Did her sister have feelings for this man? He was sort of her type, after all, a rugged Native American, an outdoorsman. He had that adorable daughter who needed a mother.

Josh laughed softly, and Juliet felt the sound run down her neck like warm fingers. She resisted looking up at him, getting caught again in that dark, patient gaze. But even as she resisted, she felt the steady presence of him at her back, solid, steady, calm, and she couldn't help the wave of yearning it kindled in her. It had been a long time since Juliet had felt safe—if she ever had.

Scott was a good man—smart, supportive, ambitious—but she'd never felt sheltered by him. Josh, on the other hand—

With a popping little shock, she heard her thoughts.
Stop it!
She was engaged! It was one thing to admire the long, sturdy thighs of a man, or the grace of his hands. A woman had eyes, after all….

But it was something else again to be thinking of resting against that broad shoulder, to imagine taking a deep breath of relief as that deep laughter rang into the room.

Disloyal. In two directions if Desi was attracted to him, too.

Blindly, Juliet stood and walked towards the door, grabbing a green-and-brown-wrapped mint from a bowl on the counter. “I'll be right outside,” she called back. Without waiting for a reply, she rushed out.

The door was in a little foyer with racks of newspapers and tourist brochures on one side. As Juliet rushed through, a man was coming in, and Juliet stepped aside, and—

Slammed squarely into her demons. She was never quite sure what happened, why she was flung back in time, but suddenly, she smelled a musky aftershave and margaritas, and there was a swooshing of all sound, as if her ears were covered. In real time, she ducked her head and managed to stumble around the man coming in the door, ignoring him when he said, “Miss, are you all right?” and got out to the sunshine in the street. Sweat poured down the back of her neck.

But even in the bright sunshine and open air, her throat felt constricted, and her breath came in ragged,
tearing gasps. The worst was the sense of mindless panic urging her to
flee! flee! flee!
Her legs burned with the need, her lungs felt as if they would explode. With as much control as she could muster, she grabbed the stone corner of the building and leaned on it, trying not to fight the sensations nor give into them.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. “Hey, Juliet, are you—”

She screamed, slammed the hand away. Tried to back off, bumped into the wall.

Saw that it was Josh, and wanted to burst into tears.

He held his hands up, palm out to show he wouldn't hurt her. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said. That rich gentle voice splashed into her panic, coating it like chocolate.

And just as suddenly as she'd been sucked into the flashback, she fell back out. With a soft noise, Juliet pitched forward, instinctively reaching for the sturdiness of his big, strong shoulders. Her head landed against his sternum, and she could smell the clean freshness of clothes hung out to dry on a line, and something deeper, his flesh. A gentle light hand smoothed her hair.

“You're okay,” he said. “You're okay.”

And it was true. After a moment, the dark memories retreated, and she could take a long, slow breath. Raise her head. Only then did she realize how close they were. Embarrassed, she tried to take a step back, and bumped into the wall at her back. “I'm sorry,” she said, trying to duck to her left, afraid to look at him.

“Easy.” He moved his big hand up and down her arm. “You don't have to go anywhere. Your sister will be here in a hot second.”

“I'm—this is…oh, I'm embarrassed.” She bent her head. “Thanks. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize.” His rumbling voice again rolled down her spine, easing the tension there, and his hands kept moving on her arms in a most soothing way. Steady. Gentle. “You don't have to say anything at all.”

Juliet bent her head. He wore dark brown leather hiking boots, sturdy-looking with laces and hooks and eyes and a sole that looked as if it could withstand six inches of ice. Her feet in their thin California boots looked insubstantial, tiny even, and with a glimmer of pleasure, she thought one of the reasons to like a man so big was so that you could feel small next to him. And she was not normally a small woman.

She wanted to offer an explanation, to say something to excuse her weird behavior. The flashbacks were hateful, like a scar, and it made her feel overwhelmed to imagine telling him. Where to start? “Thanks,” was all she said.

He released her and in the next instant, Desi came out, offering breath mints to everyone. Juliet moved away, vaguely aware of him watching her. “We'd better get to the courthouse,” she said. “Get this taken care of.”

“Yep. Let's do it. “

Juliet glanced up at Josh. “See you later.”

His eyes were steady and sober and saw far more than she wished. “Right.”

 

The homeschoolers left after their weekly practice, and Josh took advantage of the fact that he had a day
off from his job as a tribal policeman on the reservation—they worked three on and two off—and the fact that his mother had Glory for the morning to do some cleaning at the dojo. He could have hired a service to do the work for him, but he found the rote actions of dusting, sweeping, mopping to be a healthy way to order his own mind.

He opened the doors and windows to the blaze of fresh mountain air, sweetened by the now-melting snow. In predictable autumn capriciousness, the sun was now warm enough to warrant the dread-locked boys taking off their shirts.

There were several layers of things on Josh's mind this afternoon. The first was Desi and Claude. It was a dangerous situation and getting more dangerous by the hour. Until now, Claude had kept his little assignations quiet, or at least somewhat under the table, and although some of the ex-mistresses were a little volatile, Claude had managed to keep them under control. The new one, Christie Lundgren, was a well-known professional skier, a woman much younger than Claude, and well known for her scathing and destructive temper. By all accounts, she was wildly smitten with her handsome, artistic, exotic lover.

Now Claude had gone public, humiliating Desi and, Josh was afraid, others. Claude's layers of women were like those Russian dolls, another and another and another. Someone had been cast aside for Lundgren.

On the plus side, Lundgren had plenty of money from endorsements, and Claude would no doubt want to keep her happy. Maybe he'd accept the restraining
order with something resembling respect, at least until the divorce settlement could be hammered out.