Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (25 page)

Depositing everyone in line, he voiced his remembrance of something he suddenly needed to do and made his way out the side door of the dining hall. He hurried toward the restrooms and passed them without a thought. Jenny was probably sitting on that tree stump in the meadow again. He needed to see her.

He moved through the tall knee-high grass slowly, running his hands along the soft tops of the blades. Jenny’s red hair glowed in the noonday sun, a warm complement to the golden grasses. He paused for a moment, watching her. She did indeed sit on the tree stump with her back facing the camp. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, pale arms wrapped around them. Her chin was propped on her knees.

What would he say to her? Should he leave her alone? She wouldn’t be sitting here if she wanted to see him, would she?

He sighed and debated backing out of the meadow quietly. She hadn’t yet heard him. Why was she out here, seemingly forlorn? What had happened between last night and this morning? Memories of the night flooded in, and he gritted his teeth as he felt his heart begin to race.

Slow down, boy! Slow down. Breathe, breathe... Mom’s apple pie, baseball, the girl next door.

The girl next door...Jenny? She sure didn’t look like any of the girls he’d grown up around. He never ever thought he’d fall for a redheaded white woman. What was his father going to say? He tried to picture the conversation, but couldn’t get past the first words, “Dad, I think I’m in love with...” or “Dad, guess who’s coming to dinner...”

Love! He bit his lip. Love? Who falls in love in a few days? Lust, maybe...

She turned her head to the side, and he froze.

Don’t turn around yet, Jenny. I’m not ready. I don’t even know what the heck I’m thinking...

Clint took a deep breath and tried to check in with himself. He thought he had a crush on her. Fine! That was okay. He thought he wanted to make love to her. For sure! He definitely wanted to be close to her. Maybe they could visit each other once in a while, exchange some phone calls. Sure, sounded like a plan.

The screech of a hawk interrupted the chaos in his mind, and he looked up. The brown-and-white hawk soared overhead, searching for something. Clint looked toward Jenny who watched the hawk, as well.

There was no chance they were going to visit each other once in a while, was there? Why would she want to come to the reservation? He wasn’t stupid. He knew they didn’t have the big city amenities she was used to. Theaters, bookstores, malls...

Fine! So, he would drive there to Boise to see her...once a month. It didn’t seem like enough. Twice a month? He shook his head. How could it seem like not enough and too much at the same time?

Clint gave up. Nothing was making sense. He just couldn’t think straight around her. With a last look at the hawk gliding over the meadow, searching, searching, Clint sighed and turned away.

“Clint?” A female voice brought him to a standstill.

“Celia!”

Chapter Seventeen

“What are you doing?”

Clint turned around, hoping Jenny hadn’t heard, but it was too late. She swung her head around with wide eyes and a look of dismay, jumped to her feet, and hurried off toward the tree line. Beyond where campers were allowed to go.

“Celia. What is it?” Clint asked with impatience.

“Well, I was just wondering where you were.”

Clint narrowed his eyes as he watched her look past him toward Jenny’s disappearing back.

“I’m right here, as you can see. Is there something I can do for you?”

Celia thrust her hands into her shorts’ pockets.

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, but I’ve been having a hard time getting your attention.”

The arch look she threw in his direction made him want to lash out at her, but he jammed his lips together and shook his head, desperate to go after Jenny...to explain that he hadn’t really been watching her...

“Does this have something to do with camp, Celia? Because if not, I’m afraid I have to take care of some things right now, so if you’ll excuse—”

Celia stomped her feet...literally. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, what is it with you? I know I’m attractive. You obviously don’t mind white girls.” She tossed her head in the direction of the meadow. “So, what’s wrong with me?”

Clint knew his jaw was hanging open.

“Umm...nothing, Celia. I just... I’m not... Well, I’m not really looking for anything.”

“Sure you are. You’re mooning all over that woman. It’s obvious...even in group. You can’t take your eyes off her. Do you think everyone doesn’t notice?”

Clint sucked in his breath. He’d done his best to keep his eyes on the floor, anywhere but on Jenny.

“Well, you’re wrong, Celia. Not that I think this is any of your business.”

“Well, I can make it my business, Clint. All I have to do is say something to the elders...about why you coaxed them to let you bring her into the group.”

“Are you serious? Are you that vindictive? Why would you do that?” A cold rage filled him, and he ground out his next words. “You know why I don’t find you attractive, Celia? Because you’re Indian crazy... And I don’t like white women who obsess about Indian men.”

Instant shame made him clamp his mouth shut as he watched two bright spots of color stain her cheeks. Her blue eyes glistened.

“I-I’m not Indian crazy. What a horrible thing to say. What about her?” She pointed in the direction of the long-gone Jenny. “Isn’t she obsessing about you? I’ve seen the way she stares at you.”

In the midst of his warring emotions of anger and shame, Clint felt a thrill of delight. Jenny stared at him?

“I seriously doubt it, Celia. Jenny doesn’t stare at me. Why would she? And even if she did, what’s wrong with that?” He couldn’t suppress the twitch of his lips. She stared at him?

“Well, Clint,” Celia narrowed her eyes and glared at him belligerently as she put her hands on her hips. “Jenny is probably just obsessed with you because you’re an Indian—you know, different, exotic. So, what makes her so different from me?”

Clint dropped his eyes to the ground. There it was. Because he was different...an Indian. That’s what he’d wondered all along. Did Jenny kiss him back because she liked him...or because he was an Indian? Was she just slumming? Giving the local Native American boy a thrill?

“I’m not a bird, Celia, hardly exotic. I’m just an ordinary man.” Clint felt the slump in his shoulders. They weighed a ton, and he couldn’t pull them back for anything. His chest hurt. “Listen, I apologize for my harsh words,” Clint said. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Please forgive me. It was unprofessional.”

Celia’s eyes softened, and she stepped forward.

Clint threw up his hand to ward her off, and she came to an abrupt halt. “I’m just making an apology, Celia. Nothing is different. I’m not interested in having a relationship...with anyone.” He tried to tell himself that was true.

“Fine!” she threw at him as she tossed her hair and flounced away. “Whatever!”

Clint watched her stomp off and turned to survey the meadow once again. Jenny was nowhere to be seen. He moved into the meadow and passed her tree stump, pushing forward until he neared the tree line of evergreens.

“Jenny,” he called. “Are you in there?”

A rustle to his left caught his attention, and he moved in that direction, stepping into the small forest.

“Jenny?”

“I’m here.” Her voice sounded flat, as flat as his heart felt at the moment.

Clint saw her sitting on a large log, her legs pulled up to her chest, hands locked around them. He sat down beside her. From their vantage point, they could still see the camp, and he realized Jenny had seen his entire interaction with Celia.

“What are you doing in the woods? Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

“There’s too much going on. I’m confused. It’s easier to be out here.”

“I know what you mean,” he said as he braced his hands against the log on either side of him and leaned back to stretch out his legs. “Things seem so much simpler in the forest, don’t they?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Jenny offered nothing more.

“Is there something I need to say? Did I do something wrong?” Clint stared straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see Jenny looking at him.

“I don’t know. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Jenny asked.

I love you
. Clint sighed, and his shoulders slumped further.
The Indian boy loves you.
“Ummm...about?”

“I don’t know, Clint. Only you would know if there’s something you want to tell me.”

“I’m confused,” he said, with a quick glance in her direction.

“So am I,” she responded in a mumble.

Silence fell over them, an oppressive silence that did little to relax, giving lie to the saying
Silence is golden
. To Clint, it felt awful, heavy, full of unspoken words. But he just couldn’t figure out what to say. What if she’d only spent the night in his arms because he was different, not like her—exotic, as Celia had called him? His stomach knotted at the thought.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get something to eat?”

He turned to see Jenny shaking her head. “No, I don’t really feel well. I think I’m actually going to go lie down somewhere and get some sleep. Will you tell Kate? I’m sure she’ll wonder where I am.”

Jenny stood, and Clint jumped up and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

“Where
will
you be, Jenny? I thought you couldn’t sleep in your cabin, and it’s too hot to sleep in the van. Do you want to lie down in my room? It’s private...”

Jenny jerked her head to look at him, and Clint took a step back at the anger in her eyes. He dropped her arm.

“No, I-I can’t,” she stuttered. She swung away and hurried away, back toward camp.

“Jenny!” he called, but she refused to turn around.

Clint swallowed hard as he watched her disappear toward the restrooms. Beyond the shower building, people were milling about in the camp, and he glanced at his watch. Ten minutes before group began. He couldn’t think of any place he’d less rather be at the moment than standing in front of thirty-some people discussing life as a Native American. In fact, at the moment, he wished he were anything but Indian. The look of repudiation in Jenny’s eyes nearly brought him to his knees. It seemed obvious she regretted their night together, and that she wanted to avoid him at all costs.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Clint followed in Jenny’s wake, albeit with a dragging pace. As much as he had discounted Celia’s opinion, she might have been right. Maybe Jenny had only responded to him because he was an Indian, and now she had him out of her system.

Oh,
I had me an Indian boy once, and he wasn’t all that great.
Somehow, the notion of Jenny saying such a thing seemed too bizarre to contemplate, but the child in him just wouldn’t let go of the image.

Why don’t you marry a nice Indian girl from the reservation and give me some grandbabies, Clint?

He shook his head against the memory of his mother’s words, but they continued to echo in his mind.

****

Jenny made her way to the van and climbed into it. Though the vehicle was uncomfortably warm, it seemed the only secluded place where she could hide...from everyone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Kate.

She lay back on the sleeping bags, clutching her aching stomach as she stared at the occasional patches of shadow that drifted in the dusty windows from the leaves of the trees overhead. Unlike at night, the sounds of life in the camp continued. A screen door creaked and slammed nearby. Voices in the direction of the nearby dining hall filtered into the van.

Jenny turned onto her side and wished for sleep, but she couldn’t banish the image of Clint’s stricken face in the meadow.

What had she said? She couldn’t remember. The conversation had been so odd. They had talked...but said nothing. Either she didn’t have the courage to ask him about Lisa or about Celia...or she didn’t want to know the answer.

His startled look at her rejection of his room surprised and dismayed her. Had she been too harsh? She’d been stunned, to say the least. Sleep in his room? In broad daylight? Where people might see her enter? Would they think she too had a thing for the handsome Indian? She had always prided herself on being different. She didn’t want to be just another Native American groupie. Was everyone laughing at her? The lonely woman pining away for an exotic Native American man with long dark hair?

The screen door screeched and slammed again. Voices carried...women’s voices.

“So, what do you think of Clint and this white woman, huh?”

“I don’t know, Susie. I don’t know what he sees in her. There’s plenty of girls around here for him to pick. You know...like you and me.”

A round of giggles set Jenny’s teeth on edge. Were they talking about her? What if they were talking about another woman? Obviously it wasn’t Lisa. Celia?

“That boy sure is one fine specimen, isn’t he?”

Jenny rose on her knees and peeked over the front seat. Susie and Sandra, the women who worked in the dining hall, each held a cup of coffee while they apparently took a break from the kitchen and rested on the kitchen steps. Jenny dropped back down to the floor of the van, hoping they’d go away soon. Even if she wanted to get out of the van, she couldn’t now because they would probably see her from their nearby vantage point.

“Mmmm-mmmm,” one said as if tasting something delicious. “I think he should marry me, don’t you think, Sis?”

A short bark of a laugh. “Oh, please. I’m more his type.”

A high-pitched giggle. “And what type is that?”

“Redheaded. Look. Do you see that streak of red in my hair where the sun hits it? I’m a redhead!”

A cackle of laughter grated on Jenny’s nerves. She looked at the copper color of her hair as it lay across the pillow. It seemed likely they were talking about her. Goose bumps rose on her arms. That bystanders thought Clint was enamored of her gave her hope. She rose to her knees once again and peeked over the top of the seat.