his mother, and he took to me right away. After she left, he was different. For a while we thought sure she’d come back. His brother and I did, anyway, but Ethan never asked about her. Never jumped for the phone the way Trace did, never expected any more from her. He kinda became his own little man, you know? He got a little older, he tried to find his father. We didn’t have much to go on, so it didn’t pan out. Far as I know.”
“You helped him?”
“Did what I could. He had a picture and the little bit his mother told him. The guy was part Indian. Don’t know where he was from, though. Ethan looks a lot like the guy in the picture. I don’t know what would’ve happened if we’d found him.”
“Ethan didn’t seem like one to dwell on the past. History didn’t interest him all that much.”
Logan smiled wistfully. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s as smart as they come.” He punctuated a cocked finger with the cluck of his tongue. “Ethan’s your connection to Square One.”
Without a GPS Bella would have missed the turnoff to Square One Ranch. The sign stood so low to the ground that the dancing heads of the tall crested wheat grass obscured the small print. Rebuilding Our Lives From the Ground Up. The two visible roofs turned out to be a hulking old barn and a spanking-new two-story box. It wasn’t until the access road took a dip that she saw the small ranch-style house that had to be a good place to start searching for someone in charge of the operation.
An attractive young blonde opened the front door before Bella mounted the steps. Bella knew the routine. Country dwellers saw visitors coming a mile off. At half a mile they had the vehicle categorized—known or unknown, in- or out-of-state, on target or gone astray. In good weather they met you outside. In bad weather they opened the door just enough to check you out with eyes that challenged your motivation, not to mention your common sense.
But Bella had an advantage. “I’ve seen you on TV.” The woman offered a handshake. “Shelly Jamison.”
“Bella—”
“Primeaux, right? You’re even prettier in person.”
“Thank you. I’m aiming for professional.”
“You’ve hit that target, too, but my observation stands.” Shelly tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “What can I do for you?”
“Show me around and tell me about your program.”
“You think we might be newsworthy?”
“I met with a councilman from my reservation. He suggested I come out and take a look.”
“Tribal Courts have sent us a few kids since we started the program.” The hands came out of the back pockets and the arms were quickly folded up front. “We haven’t had any complaints.”
“And you still don’t.” Bella shaded her eyes with one hand so she could offer an unsquinty smile. “Councilman Wolf Track said you were doing a good job here.”
“Wolf Track? We’ve got a Wolf Track on the payroll here.” Shelly glanced toward the weathered barn as her shoulders relaxed and dropped a full two inches. “Hell of a good worker.”
“Ethan,” Bella supplied. “I went to school with him.”
“He can’t be on the Tribal Council, can he? He hasn’t been … I mean, he keeps busy around here, like, 24/7.”
“His father’s the councilman.”
“He never mentioned that. You don’t think that’s why we get … I mean, we didn’t hire Ethan as a favor to any—”
“His father didn’t know he was working here. Really, I’m not here to, um, dig up any dirt.” Recalling Ethan’s words, Bella almost smiled. “KOZY loves a feel-good story, and I thought we might find one here. Ethan has been—”
“I know where he’s been.” Shelly grabbed a chunk of hair that had strayed from her low ponytail and hooked it behind her unadorned ear. “You tell anyone who asks, Ethan Wolf Track is doing just fine. The boys really look up to him. Tell the truth, he’s quickly becoming indispensable around here.”
“I’m not here on any kind of assignment. I’ve heard only good things.” Bella followed the direction of Shelly’s gaze toward the hulking barn. Noisy swallows darted in and out the tiny doors of the clay row houses tucked under the edge of the gambrel roof. “I’m interested in the wild horse part of your program, and I thought maybe I could take a tour.” She lifted her shoulder. “And if Ethan’s around, I’d like to say hello.”
“Oh, he’s around. Dependable as they come, that guy.”
Bella smiled. “If anyone asks, I’ll relay the message.”
“I don’t know anything about Ethan’s family.” Shelly stepped down to ground level, putting them on par, height-wise. “It’s just that good help is hard to find when you’re paying in hot dogs and beans.”
“There must be other rewards,” Bella prompted.
“You get to be around wild things. Wild kids, wild horses and what’s left of wild country.” Shelly moved into the shade of a tall cottonwood, and Bella followed suit. “Wild hearts attract each other.”
“How’s yours?”
Shelly grinned. “I’m the maypole they all get to dance around. I have to crunch the numbers and find the wherewithal.”
“I like that image. This could be a good story, and KOZY isn’t the only media outlet I can access.” Bella smiled. She didn’t mind throwing her TV connection into her pitch. Most people—local people, anyway—were dazzled by it. If they had nothing to hide they eventually opened their doors. Sometimes they couldn’t resist even if they did have something to hide. Besides, everything she was saying was true. “Do you have time to show me around?”
Of course Shelly did.
She led the way with a “follow me,” and they started toward the barn. “The bunkhouse is new.” She pointed toward what might have passed for a truncated no-name roadside motel—plain white, no-frills. “Kitchen and commons area downstairs, bunks upstairs. You wanna see inside? Nobody’s there now except the cook.”
Bella shook her head. “Another time. Who paid for the improvements?”
“We qualified for a government grant and scored some private funding, as well. We get community support, too. People come in and teach whatever skills they have to offer.” Shelly glanced over her shoulder. “TV reporting must require all kinds of skills.”
“You mean, besides talking to the camera?”
“Are you kidding? You’re talking to thousands of people.”
“I don’t think of it that way,” Bella said absently as they rounded the corner of the bunkhouse and headed toward the barn.
“I’d be shaking in my boots and tripping over my tongue,” Shelly said.
“You get used to it. The scary part can be trying to get information out of people
