out of the trailer, trying to ignore the cold wind whipping against her. Halfway across the grounds, she glanced at the ten-by-twelve-foot concrete pad that had once been intended as a floor for her mother’s hobby room.
Her mom had vanished the day before it was poured, thirteen years ago, and the structure had never gone beyond that first step. Emily’s dad had always believed that her mom would someday return, so he’d left it there, ready for completion when the time came. But her mom hadn’t come home. Eventually, the police had stopped searching for answers. As the years went by, her dad, too, had come to terms with their loss.
Old doubts filled Emily’s mind as she thought about her mother. As a kid she’d spend many nights wondering if she’d somehow been the reason her mom had left.
Taking a deep breath, she stopped those musings abruptly. Her mother had made her choice. Now new dreams would spring up where the old had been. That useless concrete pad would be replaced by a new foundation. Once the Tamarisk Inn was up and running, Emily would build her own private residence on that spot.
As she reached the main house, she found Jonas by the back door, waiting. He was wearing low-slung jeans and a flannel shirt that fitted his wide shoulders snugly.
“Good morning,” she called, and held up the mugs. “I brought a cup for you, too.”
“Caffeinated?” he asked, sounding decidedly hopeful.
“Nope. Never drink the stuff. It gives me the jitters.”
“Then I guess this’ll have to do,” he answered with a martyred sigh. “Did you eat breakfast already?”
“I had a piece of toast. I don’t generally have breakfast.” Feeling guilty when she realized he was probably hungry, she added, “But my fridge is full. Help yourself to whatever you’d like. I’ve got plenty of eggs, bread and milk.”
“Thanks, but I’ll wait,” he answered, and followed her inside the house.
The interior felt bitterly cold. Standing on a step stool, she lifted off the curtain rod and removed the drapes from one window. The morning light immediately spilled inside. Emily knew a wave of warmth would soon be flowing across the room.
Not realizing Jonas was behind her, she stepped down from the stool, turned around with the curtains still in hand and ran right into his rock-hard chest. Her heart did a crazy somersault and awareness made her tingle all the way to her toes.
“Excuse me,” she muttered as he steadied her.
With a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth, he stepped aside.
Avoiding his gaze, she moved from window to window, taking down the remaining curtains and folding them. She then packed them into cardboard boxes, trying her best to avoid looking at Jonas. He was leaning in the doorway, arms and ankles crossed.
“Was last night the first time you had trouble with intruders?” he asked.
“No,” she said, and explained about the break-in the day of her father’s funeral and the missing maps. “They were of different quadrants here on our land, but not particularly valuable.”
He remembered his briefing. Diné Nééz, his contact, had raised the possibility that Dinétsoh might have gone to Fire Rock Hollow, the historical refuge legendary warriors like Manuelito had once used.
Its location had been lost for nearly a century. Then one day, the attorney had found the turquoise key near some ruins on his property. He’d showed it to Dinétsoh, his friend and associate, and together they’d rediscovered the place.
After that, Dinétsoh, appointed the cave’s new guardian, had kept the key with him, and to honor the past, had stocked the refuge with provisions. At the time of the accident, Dinétsoh and Powell Atkins had been on their way to conclude the sale that would have given the tribe ownership of that parcel of land.
“How will you deal with your father’s papers?” Jonas asked, glancing into what had been Powell Atkins’s office.
“I don’t have time to do much sorting, so I’m placing everything in storage. If there’s anything in there that pertains to the tribe, you’re welcome to it. Dad also had some papers in his safe-deposit box in town. I haven’t looked through those yet, except to get a few documents I needed right away, like his will, tax forms and the mortgage papers.”
“You should go through everything he placed in the bank as soon as possible. You might find some answers there,” Jonas advised, entering the office and glancing around. It was possible that Emily’s father had hidden something others wanted badly enough to kill for.
Emily stood by a window, gazing at the row of stacked lumber and construction materials opposite the house. “I think those men last night were trying to burn me out, beginning with my building materials.”
“Losing all that lumber and sheeting would have cost you thousands of dollars.”
“It would have been a disaster,” she agreed in a whisper. “I honestly don’t know if I could have recovered from a loss like that. My insurance rates would have doubled or tripled, and replacing the materials would have been extremely costly. Everything’s gone up so much lately.”
“You should consider going away for a while and staying someplace safe—at least until we can figure out what you’re up against.” As he glanced at Emily, Jonas saw her back straighten and her chin jut out in defiance. “It was just a suggestion.”
“No one’s going to chase me away,” she declared, facing him squarely. Then she exhaled softly and in a whisper added, “Life’s not taking anything else away from me—not without a fight.”
The last part obviously hadn’t been meant for his ears, but the haunting sense of isolation that had resonated in her words touched him deeply. His thoughts drifted back to an afternoon at an Afghan border village and the few hours that had changed him forever. One moment’s distraction, a suicide bomber, then bodies everywhere.
He’d sworn back then never to lower his guard again. Life was about survival, and to do that, you had to fight to stay in control—of yourself and your situation. That required constant vigilance and a fighting spirit that refused surrender—a spirit like Emily’s.
“Just hang tough, Em. I’ll help you finish what you’ve set out to do.” His words carried the power of authority and utter conviction.
“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep,” she retorted.
“I get things done. You can count on that.” As she glanced up at him he saw the flicker in her eyes, and recognized the return of hope. “I need to go meet someone, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time. I’ll be fine. It’s broad daylight. What can happen?”
He didn’t answer. Jonas gave her one last look as she sat beneath the open window, placing papers into folders, then packing them into boxes.
Something else about Emily had changed. There was a quiet dignity about her that was new, and it intrigued him. He’d seen much the same look on the faces of fellow Rangers going into battle. He wasn’t sure how that fit yet, but it was that same quiet courage he saw in Emily now.
JONAS
