and my brother.”
“There isn’t any reason why we can’t all work together, is there?” Joanna gazed pleadingly up at J.T. “Andi needs to be with Joe throughout his search. If Russ were my sixteen-year-old brother, I’d insist on going along.”
“Thank you, Joanna, for seeing my side of this situation,” Andi said. “I appreciate the predicament y’all find yourselves in and I don’t want to cause any friction between the two of you. I think it’s best if I leave, too.”
Lacing her arm through J.T.’s, Joanna smiled at him and said, “Don’t you agree that Andi should go with Joe when he sets out searching for the boys?”
J.T. looked as if he’d been cornered by a grizzly bear. He shrugged, huffed loudly, and then nodded. “You have to do what you think is right, just the same as Joe does.”
“Now, Andi, why don’t you stay for dinner?” Joanna said.
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have somewhere I need to go.”
“Right now?” Joanna asked.
“Right now,” Andi replied.
J.T. groaned, but then his lips curved into a smile. “You could give him until morning to cool off before you go after him.”
“If he gets any information on the boys’ whereabouts tonight, he could be long gone by morning,” Andi said. “I’m not going to give him the opportunity to go anywhere without me.”
Chapter 4
Joe knew the minute he walked into his four-room stucco house that Kate had been there earlier. She had cleaned the place and aired it out. A fire had been built in the fireplace, and both living room windows remained cracked open a couple of inches. He dumped his suitcase just inside the front door and quickly closed the windows, blocking out the cool evening air. He would check out the kitchen, bedroom, bath and back porch later. Right now, all he wanted was a few minutes of peace and quiet. No one asking, demanding, questioning. Back home less than ten hours, and he was already caught up in the same emotional storm from which he had run five years ago.
He slumped down in a comfortable tan leather chair to the right of the fireplace, lifted his feet and rested them on the matching ottoman. These two pieces of furniture had been his first buy, right after building this small house for himself. He had loved his home, his job and his way of life. He’d been a Native son whom the Navajo youths had admired and emulated. Joe Ornelas had been the Native American equivalent of the hometown hero. Handsome. Intelligent. A star athlete. A Tribal police officer. A man dedicated to the Dine and traditional ways. He had greatly appreciated and enjoyed having the respect of his people and the high esteem of his family.
He had always been proud of his Native American heritage, his clan and his family. As part of a matriarchal society, a Navajo is born into his or her mother’s clan. Joe had been born into the K’aahanaanii clan. The Living Arrow People.
To the Navajo, the land is everything, and they believe that all living things are equal and sacred. He had lived his life by that code, respecting not only other humans, but animals and birds, trees and mountains. With each passing year, it became more and more difficult for the Dine to hold on to the old ways, to remain true to an ancient heritage. The boarding school experience, the Livestock Reduction Act and the land dispute issue with the Hopi, had divided the people over the years, making it almost impossible to blend traditional ways with a modern lifestyle. Joe had tried to do just that, but he had failed.
Friends and family alike had been divided in their opinion of what Joe should or should not have done when he discovered that Russell Lapahie had not only been covering up his sister-in-law Lucille’s husband’s criminal acts, but had actually taken money for his silence. In a matter of days, Joseph Ornelas had gone from being a hero to being a traitor. Even one of his own cousins, Ray Judee, a friend since childhood, had turned against him. When swarms of area and national news media had shown up on the reservation after Russell’s death, Ray had told Joe that by revealing what Russell had done, Joe had allowed the white world to see the worst side of the Navajo.
Every unkind, unsympathetic word hurled at him had hurt, but none so much as Andi’s bitter accusation that he’d been responsible for her father’s death. She had turned against him completely. He had thought that they could share their grief and console each other. But Andi hadn’t given him a chance to explain why he’d arrested her father, why he believed he had done the right thing. Less than a week after Russell’s death, Joe had known he couldn’t stay in New Mexico, couldn’t remain on the Tribal police force. Raw with pain, anger and resentment, Joe hadn’t known where to go or what to do. It had been his cousin J.T. who had gotten him the job with the Dundee agency in Atlanta, where J.T. himself had once worked. Without looking back, Joe had packed and taken the first available plane to Georgia. He’d left behind everything he’d once held so dear—his heritage, his lifestyle, his family, and the woman he had loved.
Seeing Andi again had been even more difficult than he’d imagined it would be. He had expected her unforgiving attitude, but he hadn’t expected still to feel something for her.
It’s just lust, he told himself. From the moment you first met her, you reacted to her like a rutting bull. You wanted her in a way you’d never wanted another woman. And you still do. Admit it to yourself and deal with it. Whatever you might have had with Andi died the day Russell killed himself.
Andi had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t trust him. Hell, she even believed that he didn’t care what happened to Russ. But he did care. A part of him felt as if he owed it to Russell to help his son. Even if the boy is guilty? an inner voice asked. Now there was the rub. What would he do if evidence showed up indicating Russ had pulled the trigger? He’d be confronted with a similar dilemma to the one he’d faced when he decided to do the lawful thing and arrest Russell. Damn! The only way he could come out of this without hurting Andi and her family even more than they’d already been hurt was if he could prove Russ was innocent.
Eddie Whitehorn wished that he was home in his own bed. Warm. Well fed. Safe. With his parents keeping watch over him. With Summer and Joey pestering him. With a school day ahead and hard work on the sheep ranch to keep him busy and out of trouble. He wanted his boring, uneventful life back. He realized he had never appreciated how good things had been for him. Until now.
If only he could go back twenty-four hours and change what had happened. Why hadn’t he vetoed Jewel’s idea of stopping by Bobby Yazzi’s to pick up some beer? He’d known Bobby’s reputation as a drug dealer. But Russ had assured him that he’d gotten beer from Bobby before, that lots of the kids did. Even the ones who didn’t buy some weed or any of the hard stuff.
Idiot, Eddie chided himself. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t leave Russ, couldn’t turn himself in and let Russ hide out on his own. They’d been best buddies since they were babies. Even when his uncle Joe had arrested Russ’s dad, they had somehow managed to remain friends. Eddie understood Russ better than anybody else did. Russ wasn’t a bad person. He was just a little mixed up. And he was a bit of a show-off. He liked being the center of attention, liked defying his elders, and loved having the girls think he was a real bad-boy. Guess he and Russ were as different as night and day. The last thing Eddie ever wanted to be was the center of attention. But right now, he’d bet he and Russ were the talk of Castle Springs, probably of the whole reservation.
Eddie glanced across the interior of the stolen pickup truck at a sleeping Russ. They’d pooled what little money they had and filled the tank with gas, all the while hoping nobody at the trading post on the outskirts of Sawmill would
