Sacred Ground (23 page)

"I don't mind, really."

"Well I do. You'd better get at that busy schedule of yours."

"How about having dinner with me tonight?"

"I'd love to, Wyatt, but I promised the boys I'd take them to a movie and pizza in Lewistown."

"How about Sunday night?"

"That'd be nice. Yes, I'd like that, Wyatt. Now, you'd better leave so I can feed these buffalo before they stampede you."

Brett breathed a sigh of relief.
Willow
had Wyatt right where she wanted him. Brett couldn't help wondering what happened between them last night. He'd never forgive himself if she had to sleep with the bastard. Brett admitted he should never have allowed her to go. He’d promised to protect her. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't forgive himself for not being there for her.

"Hi."
Willow
said in a soft and warm tone.

Brett wondered how she'd entered the hideout without his hearing her. Lord, she was impressive. He liked how her
Levis
hugged her long slender legs and shapely bottom. Beaded feathers decorated her deep blue shirt, which was tucked into a shapely waist. She wore a sterling silver medicine pipe, which rested against her full breast. "You're beautiful."

A pink stain rushed across her dimpled cheek. "You're looking much better too. I couldn't get a hold of Doctor Alfara. I'll try again later. Say, who put that on your leg? Who was here? I didn’t think I needed to tell you to keep a low profile and tell no one you’re in here." She looked around the straw area. "I smell
sweetgrass
."

"I think a bunch of Indians. Don't look at me that way. I can't explain it. Same thing happened at Rattlesnake Cliff. One minute I'm clinging onto that overhanging branch with snakes everywhere. The next think I know I'm on top of the ridge with a brace on my leg. These old Indians keep dancing and singing. They shake rattles and bells and beat on drums and play flutes. Hell, I don't know what's going on. I think I'm hallucinating most the time. What are you smiling about?"

"You're a chosen one." She settled next to him. Her hip pressed against his side and her nearness excited him, in spite of his weakened condition.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You're regarded with
special favor
by the old ones. You might be the son of the
Ni-namp'-skan.
"

"What the hell is that?" Aware his tone sounded cold and impatient, he added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . it's all new to me. You know so much and I know shit." He liked how her smile softened her features.

"You might be the son of a medicine man.
Ni-namp'-skan
is what we call a medicine man. It actually means man horned toad, but no one among the Blackfeet appears to have any idea as to why it's attached to a medicine man."

"I'm impressed you know how to speak the language of your people. I like the sound of it. It seems kind of a waste, doesn't it? I mean, you don't have anyone to talk to," he added, then wished he hadn’t.

"Many of the People speak Blackfoot. The more who learn, the more there'll be to pass it on to our future generations. Unlike the white man's dictionary, we pass our stories, our heritage, and our language verbally. Much was lost when we weren't permitted to speak our language. The old ones were punished if they spoke Blackfoot."

He stared at her, struggling to believe what she said. "What do you mean by punished?" he finally asked, leaning back into the pillow.

"My grandmother told me she wasn't more than six when she lived at a white mission school. If she spoke Blackfoot, she spent the rest of the day kneeling on a broom handle. Once she was placed in a small, dark closet. She soon learned it wasn't worth the punishment. She spoke her language in her mind and one day she taught it to her daughter, my mother. She taught me, and I teach hundreds of children and adults each year."

"Now I know where you get your stubbornness from," he stated, laughing softly.

"You joke, but the word determined suits us better." She brushed the back of her palm across his forehead. "You're not one to be calling another stubborn. I think we've had this conversation before."

He smiled, remembering how spirited and beautiful she looked that day with her hair loose and moving around her like a free, wild horse. "I'm worried about you. What are you going to do when Gordon shows up?"

She tensed. "I don't know. I keep hoping this is a nightmare, that he's still dead. But seeing you injured here is a reality check. I don't know what to do about him. I can't do anything until he shows himself. Who's going to believe me if I say he's alive?"

"Mike Ferrell will. I've given it a lot of thought, and I think you should call Mike out here. He's not involved with Wyatt and Gordon. I just know it. If I'm wrong, well, I trust him. He'll do right by us. I just know it." Brett read uncertainty in her expression.

"If that's what you want me to do, I'll call him. I was certain he'd be in the middle of all this, but now, after overhearing what Wyatt and Gordon have said, I'm convinced he's on our side. If we're wrong, and Mike is part of this cover-up, we won't live another day."

Every word she said rang true. Would a lifetime of friendship be enough? Brett pulled her hand in his. It comforted him. "Gordon told me an interesting story about that night he supposedly died." He told her about his conversation with Gordon. He didn't miss the hurt in her eyes, especially when he told her Gordon's comments about Lance.

Brett kissed her palm.
"Call Mike.
I need his help." He glanced at her misty eyes. "They can have the ranch, the oil, all of it, if I can have you and the boys."

He opened his arms and welcomed the warmth of her against him. He felt a surge of relief and happiness holding her. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. Tell me one thing. Did you have to, I mean, did Wyatt and you . . . I should never have put you in that position. It’s eating me up,
Willow
. I just have to know."

"I thought I told you before! I got him drunk, he passed out, and I left. A couple disgusting kisses were all he got out of me."

"I thought of nothing but getting to you before he tried to get you in his bed. I don't believe I felt half as angry when I found out
Lorraine
was sleeping around. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you and Lance. It feels right to be with both of you. Our sons are like brothers."

"They are brothers,"
Willow
said.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" he frowned, pushing her away from him.

"I didn't mean it the way you think, because of what Gordon said, honest, I didn't. Have you noticed a small x on both boys’ left thumbs? It's a blood brother thing. Some cut the palm, some the wrist, others a finger or thumb. They've made a vow of brotherhood."

"Damn. I chewed his butt royal when I saw his thumb. He said he and Lance were seeing how deep they could cut an x on their thumbs without flinching. I won't begin to tell you how ticked I was. He has great potential as a sculptor and making things with wood. He needs his thumb for that."

"It's just a cut, shallow on the surface, deep in meaning."

He pulled her gently against his chest. "I know that now, but at the time I could only imagine all the awful things that could have happened. I have to protect him." Brett hated explaining himself. He'd done what he thought best for Sean.

"I understand. I recognized the cut for what it was. I knew what the boys had done, and I worried what you'd have said if Sean explained it. I knew how you felt about us Indians. I only hoped that if Sean told you the truth, you wouldn't restrict the boys from being together."

"I've been a blind fool for so many years. You think I can change?"

"As you said earlier, you have changed. I agree. Look at you. You have an ancient leg cast that even I don't know how to make. You see and hear the old ones sing and pray. They protect you as though you are of importance. They know something we don't. They’re protecting you. It can only mean one thing."

Brett rose up on his elbow. "What?"

"Your destiny is entwined with that of the old ones. Maybe if they protect you, you will in turn protect them."

"I don't understand. How can I protect them?"

"I'm not sure. We won't know until . . . they'll show you, that much you can be sure."

"This is getting too weird for me," he admitted. "
Willow
, you won't go back to Gordon, will you?" His voice caught in his throat. He closed his eyes and held his breath, afraid of the silence that followed his question. She answered by brushing her lips against his.

He kissed her back, a gentle reply. He cherished the softness, the sweet taste of her, and the feel of her warm breath against his cheek. Like a soft wind blowing, he felt the magic of her touch his heart.

"We were meant to be together, I feel it," he whispered, hearing the huskiness of his voice.

"Yes, I feel it too. But we have unfinished business before we can even think about
us
. I'll be honest; I wish Gordon was still dead. If I had the guts, I'd kill him myself. How could I legally be charged with killing a dead man? I'll admit, I thought about it . . . but I can't. Somewhere deep inside, I couldn't do it.
It's knowing
I could even consider killing him that scares me."

Brett blew out a breath. "If only I wasn't hurt. I feel helpless, and it's frustrating the hell out of me."

"I'm grateful you're alive. I don't think I need to call Doctor Alfara. You're doing remarkably well. You're not feverish, and I don't even see any swelling of your leg. Whatever this cast is made of,
it's
working wonders. We should have it analyzed."

"Not a bad idea," Brett said, looking down at the strange cast. "Can you imagine the healing powers it might possess for animal legs? It keeps the swelling down and the bones immobile. I'm going to check into this."

"Always thinking about being a vet, aren't you? Your mother said she never wanted you to quit your schooling to handle the ranch. She's right."

"I have a son to
raise
.
Can't do that without an income.
Can't do that chasing across the country saving the animals of the world.
I made my choice, and I'm not sorry for it, not one minute of time I've spent with Sean," he said, knowing she understood his feelings.

"How did I get such a wrong impression of you all these years? I thought you ran around drinking and womanizing."

"Good, God, what gave you that idea?"

"You're a rodeo star, aren't you?"

He laughed, sliding back to the pillow. "I rode a few bulls. That doesn't make me some wild stud. I haven't ridden for years. Closest I get to being bucked off a twisting, bucking bull these days is on film. Sean and I watch them together and wonder how I didn't get my skull cracked in half."

"I'm glad to hear it. Never thought a man getting on the back of a bull had much for brains," she teased.

"Thank you. When Lance decides that he's riding the rodeo circuit, I'll remind you of your infamous statement."

"He'll never do such a thing. I'll stand in his way, you can be sure of that."

He laughed, enjoying the sparks of her spirit. "You have to get one thing straight. A man doesn't hide behind his mama. One day he isn't going to need your protection. He'll do everything you don't want him to do, just to prove he's man enough to do it. You don't want him going down a particular trail, don't tell him."

"A man of wisdom, I presume. Lance will never go against my wishes. He'll always be there for me and I'll be there for him. I don't expect any trouble from that boy."

"I'm not expecting any trouble from either of our boys,
Willow
." He pulled her back against him and turned her chin to look into the dark brown depths of her sultry eyes.

She moved closer and offered her lips. He captured them, kissing her more with his heart, than his mouth. Her response told him all he needed to know.

"I'll go call Mike," she said, moving back. “I brought some fruit, a couple egg salad sandwiches and a jug of water. I'll be back before you know it.”

"
Willow
, don't trust a thing Wyatt says. Don't let yourself be alone with the bastard. He and Gordon aren't playing games. They've crossed the line to killing. That makes them more dangerous than a rattlesnake."