A Certain Kind of Hero (23 page)

“He was here earlier. They wouldn't let him stay long, and anyway, kids… You know? He got a little…” She scanned the small room, which was crammed with equipment. “All this is
a little scary. Especially after he saw you get…” She pressed her lips together tightly and blinked furiously.

“He's not hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Then what's to cry about?” He managed a wan smile. “You haven't been cryin' like this ever since—”

She shook her head even more vigorously, half laughing as she lifted her hand to her face. But his, energized by her emotion, got there first. His weary eyes held hers as he caught a tear, then licked it like cake frosting from his finger.

“Thirstier 'n hell,” he said in his hoarse voice, and she gave a teary laugh. “Sure nothing important's missing?” Lips pressed together, she nodded, her eyes glistening merrily through her tears.

“Did you check?”

“Not yet,” she whispered.

“Later, then.” He closed his eyes. “They got me on some kind of fairy dust, don't they?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her soft, sweet voice came closer. “So you don't hurt so much.”

“Don't feel much except tired.”

“Sleep, then.”

“Don't want to. Not while you're…still here.”

“I'll be here when you wake up.” She was toying with his hair again. He liked it when she did that. “Before you go back to sleep, I have one more thing to say.”

“Better…hurry.”

“
Mii gwech,
Gideon Defender.”

Eyes still closed, he did his best to smile.

She felt as though he were slipping away again, and it scared her.
Stay with me another moment, just to make sure.
“Did I say it right?”

“Not quite.” His lips hardly moved. “Supposed to end with a kiss.”

She licked her lips, then used them to moisten his in a tender, loving way.

“Mii gwech,”
he said.

 

In the next two days there were a flood of flowers and a barrage of phone calls. The governor, legislators, congressmen—Gideon had no shortage of well-wishers. His doctor told him that the less he rested, the longer it would take him to recover, so he agreed to keep the visitors to a minimum. But he had to let his people know that he was going to be all right. He asked to see Carl, Arlen and Rosie as soon as he was able to sit up.

“One TV camera, one reporter, one microphone,” he told Rosie. “I want to let people see that I'm still kickin'.”

“We've got some guys who are all set to go on the warpath, Gideon. They're fightin' mad.”

“What guys? Anybody starts talking like that, you tell them to keep a lid on it. We can have our day in court without taking any of our kids spearfishing just to see if we can get somebody to take a potshot at one of them.” He knew he didn't have to tell that to Carl or Rosie, but he wanted them to relay his message to anyone who would listen. “I know, I know. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Hell, it's
never
supposed to be like that. But it doesn't take much of a spark to light a fuse.”

He turned to the old man, whose approval he had recently come to covet. “I've done my reading, Arlen. I know all about Red Cloud's compromises to try to save the Great Sioux Reserve and the Black Hills. And I know the Sioux went to court over it. They wanted their land. And that's what we're trying to get. Some of the land back. A part of the lake where we can take the fish our own way. The way our more traditional people still remember.”

“The treaty promises more than that. But either way, there's going to be a fight. Promises are like river water for them. An endless flow.” Arlen eyed Gideon and gave him that mischievous look that put a youthful sparkle in his eye. “Do like the beaver. Find a way to build a dam.”

“Not like the other night. I don't make a very good dam.” Gideon touched his side, which was bandaged beneath the cotton hospital robe. “They put a hole in me real easy.”

“And like Judge Half says, there are too few Natives left. We can't spare any more.” With a nod Arlen urged, “Use the courts. See what they mean by ‘justice for all.'”

“We will if we have to, Arlen. We know who we are, don't we?” He sought confirmation in each face. “We've been around for a hell of a long time. Against some pretty big odds, we're still hangin' in there. Main thing is, we remember who we are.”

“And we teach the children, so they know who they are,” Arlen said.

“Cool heads. Sharp minds. That's what we need.” Gideon shifted uncomfortably. He hated calling for painkillers, but it felt like something was starting to eat at his raw insides again. “If this settlement fails, we go to court. The law's on our side. You hear anybody talkin' up the cracking-heads warpath, you bring 'em to me.”

“What about the guy who did this?” Carl asked.

Gideon made a cutoff gesture. “They arrested him.”

“You know they won't do nothin' but—”

“That's for the court to decide, too.” He managed a fleeting smile. “We gotta work the program, Carl. Right? Do the best we can.”

 

Peter's turn came that afternoon, after Raina had been ordered to “go across the street to the hotel and sleep off those
raccoon eyes.” He'd brought his mother some clothes, but he wasn't staying at the hotel with her. Now that Gideon was out of ICU
and
out of the woods, Peter didn't mind saying that he wasn't crazy about hospitals.

“I'm with you,” Gideon assured him. “I can't wait to blow this pop stand.” Then he added, “Sure has been one hell of a summer vacation for your mom, hasn't it?”

Peter avoided Gideon's eyes. “I know you saved my life. You took that bullet for me.”

“I was going after the gun, not the bullet.” Gideon chuckled. “I was bigger than he was. I thought I could take the gun.” When Peter looked at him as though he were some kind of miracle worker, he protested with, “You think I'm crazy, or what?”

The boy shook his head. “I think you're pretty brave.”

“I wasn't thinking about being brave. I wasn't thinking at all. I wasn't going to let anyone hurt you, was all.”

“You weren't even scared,” Peter insisted. “You didn't look scared.”

“It all happened very fast.” Gideon thought back, then shook his head. “No, when I saw that gun I was scared. I hope you were, too.”

“Why?”

“Because guns kill people. You take the gun away from that scene the other night, probably nobody would've gotten hurt. At least, nobody would have gotten shot.” He reached for the water bottle on the bed table, and Peter fairly leapt to put it in his hand. Gideon nodded, gave a quick wink and offered a teasing aside. “I'm supposed to move around a little.”

He was also supposed to drink plenty of water, and he was damn well determined to do whatever the doctor ordered so he could be on his way. He downed half the bottle before he continued. “People get mad, they get a little crazy, too. You
put a gun in some hothead's hand—” He snapped his fingers. “That quick, somebody can be dead. It's too easy. Too damned easy.”

“It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be like we were standing up for our rights.”

“We have to do that, too. And that can be risky.” Gideon shoved the plastic bottle aside. “You have to be careful who you follow, Peter. You have to listen to what they say and really think it over. Maybe talk to some other people.”

“Like you?”

“Your grandfather, your mom. People who show you how much they care about you by treating you right.”

“What about you?”

“Just say the word,” Gideon offered lightly, but his eyes said,
I'd lay down my life for you, son.

“I…” Peter polished his knees with his palms. “I don't know what to call you.”

“How about just plain Gideon?” The boy looked up, dubious. “We'll take it one day at a time, okay? You take your time figuring out who I am.”

“I miss my…my dad a lot.”

“So do I.”

“So that's okay, huh?”

“It better be.”

Paddling with his heels, Peter scooted his chair across the floor until his knees touched the side of the bed. Then, awkwardly, he flopped one arm around Gideon's middle, pressing his cheek to Gideon's shoulder. “I'm glad you're gonna be okay.”

“Mii gwech.”
Gideon was unaccustomed to the way his throat prickled as he ruffled Peter's hair. He had to swallow more than once before he could come up with a breezy “Careful,
ningozis,
I'm a wounded man.”

“What does that mean?
Ningozis?
”

It meant that his shoulders, his hands, his tender side, would always be at Peter's disposal. “It means I've already figured out who you are.”

 

When Raina came to the room that evening, she found him dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and sitting in a chair with a bed pillow at his back.

“You're up!”

“Dream on, honey. They just took out the last of the tubes, and I am one wilted puppy. Oh, you mean up out of
bed.
” He gave her a cocky smile, just to show her how really good he was feeling about his accomplishment. “Since you're looking so damn sexy today, I thought maybe you were out to seduce me, and I was gonna say…” He eyed her up and down. She'd bought herself a new flowered dress, similar to the other one, but maybe just a little clingier. “Mmm, I think I'm getting my, uh…strength back.”

“That's good news.” She glanced up at the TV as she pulled a chair close to his. “Yeah, well,
that
isn't.” He aimed the remote at the local news, clicking it off with a vengeance. “Some damn retired football coach just held court at a screw-the-Indians rally today. What gives him any authority to speak on Native issues? Who appointed him lord of the walleye? What in hell is he talking about, special privileges? The man owns a million-dollar house, for…

“Arlen was there, quoting chapter and verse from the treaties. Damn, that old man's got spunk.” Gideon jabbed a finger at the dark TV screen. “And that jerk's answer is that Arlen's ‘under the influence.' Under the influence of what? Time-honored traditional ways, that's what.” He tossed the remote aside. “Damn pigskin-for-brains wouldn't know
American culture if it kicked him in the butt. And Arlen doesn't drink.”

“I'll say you're getting your strength back.” She sat next to him, the way they used to on his porch. “
Native
American culture,” he reiterated, carefully enunciating each syllable. “But you
do
know,” she said. “And you're absolutely right. The man is making a fool of himself, casting bigoted aspersions like that, so I'm sure no one will listen to him.”

“You kidding? Every damn sports nut in this state will listen to him.” He scowled. “What am I talking about.
I'm
a sports nut. I'm a Timberwolves fan even when they're in the sub-basement, and I can fish the pants off that pinhead.” He turned a sly smile Raina's way. “Without him even noticing his fly's slipped.”

She laughed, and because humor always helped his people through the bad times, so did he.

“I have a buyer for the house,” she told him. He raised his brow appreciatively. The warmth in his dark eyes was all for her, but it made her dance away from the subject she had intended to lead up to. Evasively, she wondered, “Do the nurses know that you're going around here barefooted?”

He glanced down at his toes and shrugged. “You wanna make a note on my chart?”

“Didn't they help you get dressed?” She could think of one in particular who probably would have jumped at the chance. The little brunette who jumped to do his every other bidding.

“Did it all by my lonesome,” he said, his tone irresistibly cute. “You should'a been here.”

Now that he was in a good mood again, she had to avoid his eyes and charge ahead if she was going to get this out. “Arlen says that since we're moving to Pine Lake, he's not going to
ask for custody of Peter. You're the only other person who can…press the issue.”

“Peter's almost thirteen years old. It's up to him to decide whether he'll let me be his father after all this time. Not the judge.” Suddenly all anger and all frivolity had disappeared from his quiet, steady voice. “I told you I wasn't going to take him from you. I meant that.”

“So he can live with me?”

“You're his mother. There's never been any question about that as far as I was concerned.” His eyes held hers. “But there is one question you haven't answered, Raina. My offer still stands. You can both live with me.”

“You offered that as the solution to a problem,” she reminded him. “But the problem no longer exists.”

“So that's it, then?” he asked tightly. A frosty glaze slid across his eyes. “You can sleep with me, but you can't be my wife? You won't marry me?”

“Why are you asking, Gideon? You wanted sex—” she glanced away “—and we've had sex. You don't have to…” No, that was silly. She knew very well that that wasn't the reason he was asking. “Why did you pull away from me sixteen years ago? Was it because I wasn't ready to—”

“
I
wasn't ready,” he told her calmly. “I didn't have much to offer you, Raina. Except a good time. I wanted you. And, God, how I wanted you to want me. But for what? What would you want from me?”

She looked up, puzzling.

He chuckled, remembering. “I couldn't let you know how bad I had it for you. A case of the hots, I figured, so I tried to be cool. Suave, you know. Figured if you'd go to bed with me, just once, you'd be mine.”

He touched the back of her hand, hoping to loosen her tense grip on the arm of the chair. “But I scared you off, didn't I? I
rushed you. And the hell of it is, I
know
better than to move too quick. I can wait out in the brush for hours, never move a muscle. Hell, I can stalk a deer all day long.” He looked into her eyes. “You needed more time. Among other things.”