Dedication
Jennifer Lewis
For Dwnell
Many thanks to my editor Charles Griemsman.
“Just get rid of her as quickly as possible. She’s dangerous.”
John Fairweather scowled at his uncle. “You’re crazy. Stop thinking everyone’s out to get you.”
John didn’t want to admit it, but he too was rattled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs sending an accountant to snoop through New Dawn’s books. He glanced around the grand lobby of the hotel and casino. Smiling staff, gleaming marble floors, paying customers relaxing on big leather couches. There was nothing he didn’t love about this place. He knew everything was aboveboard, but still...
“John, you know as well as anyone that the U.S. government is no friend of the Indian.”
“I’m friendly with them. They gave us tribal recognition. We ran with it and built all this, didn’t we? You need to relax, Don. They’re just here to do a routine audit.”
“You think you’re such a big man with your Harvard degree and your Fortune 500 résumé. To them you’re just another Indian trying to stick his hand in Uncle Sam’s pocket.”
Irritation stirred in John’s chest. “My hand isn’t in anyone’s pocket. You’re as bad as the damn media. We built this business with a lot of hard work and we have just as much right to profit from it as I did from my software business. Where is she, anyway? I have a meeting with the contractor who’s working on my house.”
The front door opened and a young girl walked in. John glanced at his watch.
“I bet that’s her.” His uncle peered at the girl, who was carrying a briefcase.
“Are you kidding me? She doesn’t look old enough to vote.” Her eyes were hidden behind glasses. She stood in the foyer, looking disoriented.
“Flirt with her.” His uncle leaned in and whispered. “Give her some of the old Fairweather charm.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He watched as the woman approached the reception desk.
