Apache Heart (3 page)

             
It didn’t take long before they were winding up the mountain, and it was clear that Lee did know every nook and cranny.  He pointed out different people’s places, landmarks, signs of wildlife, and Randi found that she was seeing the beauty of the countryside through his eyes. It helped her to feel a lot less like a visitor to a foreign land. 

             
They pulled off the road, and Randi could see the narrow river winding through the trees.  Lee popped the cover on his truck bed, and started getting the rods and tackle together.  “You ever fly fish?” he asked. 

             
“I grew up on the Delaware River and my father only had daughters, what do you think?”

             
Lee grinned, “You are just full of surprises.”  He pulled out some hip boots and threw them at her, “These are my sister’s, so they ought to fit you.”  He pulled on his boots, “This is one of the few really good things I’ve picked up from the white man, and I used to make my sister come with me.  She’s pregnant right now, though, so she’s not really fishing.” 

             
Randi thought about the pregnant woman she saw at the clinic with the black eye, and tried to shake the image from her mind.  Why spoil a beautiful day?  She pulled on the boots, and Lee handed her a rod.  “Look in that box there and pick out a fly.  These fish are picky, I have no idea what will work on any given day.” 

             
An old-fashioned looking fly that reminded her of an orange dragonfly caught Randi’s eye.  She picked it out, “I’m going to try this.”

             
They waded out into the water, and soon they were casting and slowing reeling the flies in.  There was a rhythm to fly fishing that invites one to adopt a quiet, patient demeanor, Randi thought, and it was an interesting choice for a first date of sorts.  The day was beautiful, and the spot Lee had picked was a good ten degrees cooler than it was further down the mountain.  The only sounds were birdcalls, and cicadas, the line spinning out when they cast, and the gentle ‘splooshy’ sound they made as they waded around a bit.  After some time, Randi felt a telltale tug on her line.

             
“I got something,” she said quietly.  She played the line with a soft hand, but then had to use more effort.  “It’s something big, maybe a turtle.”

             
Lee watched as she began to really struggle with it.  He reeled in, and got a dip net, resisting the urge to land the fish for her.  Suddenly she pulled out a magnificent brown trout.  The fish was huge, maybe close to fifteen pounds.  Lee caught him in the net, and looked at Randi with admiration.  “Wow, you are quite the fisherwoman.”

             
“Dumb luck,” Randi said modestly.  “But look at him, he’s the old man of the river, King Trout.”  A tear started to form in Randi’s eye, and she wiped at it furtively. “I can’t eat him.”   She looked at Lee questioningly, who simply nodded in agreement.  He helped her control the fish, while she slipped the hook out of his mouth.  And then together, they released him back into the water.  King Trout seemed to test that all his parts were operational, and then swam away without much urgency.  Randi sat back on a rock and watched him go.  “What a beauty.  And we didn’t even take a picture with a phone.”

             
Lee sat down on another rock across from her, “The best fish stories never have documentation.”  He tapped the side of his head with his index finger, “Up here, that’s all you need.  That, and Brother Trout knows that his kind Sister let him go.” 

             
“I think we need a biscuit,” Randi said, and she got up and headed to the truck, fearful that she might actually cry.  She wasn’t sure why the fish had touched her so, but maybe it was Lee’s easy company that allowed her to feel so deeply.  And maybe fishing made her a little homesick, too.

             
Lee watched Randi as she headed to the truck, and he could feel himself tumbling over an abyss.  He had never believed in love at first sight, but something about this woman seemed like destiny.  It started with the moment he saw her changing the tire, and then the coincidental meeting at the grocery.  Somehow she’d made his favorite breakfast, knew how to fly fish, and best of all, had a gentle soul that respected nature’s gifts.  It seemed too good to be true.

             
Getting a grip on her emotions, Randi retrieved the biscuits and the thermos of coffee.  She poured some coffee into the top and handed it to Lee.  She looked at him, her green eyes sparkling but serious, and simply said, “I think I’m going to like it here.”

             
They kept eight of the five to seven pounders, letting the smaller fish go.  Lee had them on a line in a five-gallon bucket he strapped into the back of the truck.  It was late in the afternoon before they could pull themselves away from the river despite the fact the fish had stopped biting by early afternoon.  Randi found it curious that all in all they said little to one another, yet on some profound level she felt like they had shared something very meaningful.  It seemed contradictory, but nonetheless true.

             
“You know, you don’t talk a lot,” Randi observed as they got back into the truck.

             
“I suppose by Anglo standards, that’s true,” Lee said thoughtfully.  “I think it’s an Apache thing, you know, if you talk too much, it prevents people from thinking their own thoughts.”

             
It was a completely unique take on the world.  “So what have you been thinking about all day?”

             
“I guess I was thinking about what happens after we cook this trout.”

             
Randi felt the butterflies in her stomach and edged closer to Lee like he was a magnet.  “Do you know what I’m thinking about right now?”

             
“I imagine the same thing I am.” 

             
Randi leaned in a bit, subtly signaling to Lee that it would be okay to kiss her, but to Randi’s disappointment, Lee turned away and started the truck.

             
Lee took his time driving down the mountain.  He made a few comments in his measured way, but said little until they pulled into her cabin. 

             
He took the bucket out of the back, and laid out some newspaper on her picnic table.  “How are you at cleaning fish?” he asked.

             
“I’m okay at the cleaning, I’m just not so good with…” her voice faltered.

             
“Killing them?”  He said it seriously, not as a joke.

             
“Yeah, I find it hard to kill them.”

             
“Don’t look then, I’ll take care of it.  Why don’t you go inside and get out stuff to cook?”

             
“Sure, good idea.”  She looked at all the fish in the bucket. “That’s a lot of fish Lee, do you want to take some to your family?  I mean, I like trout, but, you know.”

             
He nodded appreciatively.  “That’s nice of you.  I’ll take some to my grandparents.”

He smiled, more shyly, Randi thought, and she realized something had shifted between them.  It was like the more intimate they became
as the day wore on, the more his bravado fell to the side and the more he held himself back in a certain way.  It wasn’t that it was exactly off-putting; she just found that it was confusing to interpret. 

             
She pushed through the screen door into her kitchen, and soon Lee could hear cupboards opening and closing, and the rattle of pans and dishes.  He liked that sound, the sound that women make in the kitchen—to him it was the sound of the center of the universe.

             
Randi called out from the kitchen, “You want a beer or a coke or something?”

             
“Just some ice water, please.”

             
She brought out a big plastic tumbler of ice water, and set it on the table next to where he worked.  “You want some help with that?”  Her natural inclination was to put her hand on his shoulder, perhaps push his shiny, black hair away from his handsome face, but she kept her hands to herself. 

             
“Nah, I’m almost done.”

             
Randi grabbed two of the cleaned fish, “Well, I’m going to start cooking these.”  Lee just nodded, like no other alternative could even be under consideration.  He finished his work, then rolled up the newspapers and put them in the little fire ring near her picnic table. Setting them on fire, he added some juniper twigs to make the fire hotter—and smell better.  Then he washed down the table with a wet rag as Randi called from the kitchen, “Fish is up.”

             
She set two plates down on the picnic table, but didn’t bother with silverware.  Now it was her turn to feel shy, “Thanks for doing the dirty work,” she gestured to the fire, “And for cleaning up.”

             
Lee pulled some of the hot fish away from the bone with his fingers, and popped it in his mouth. 

             
“Hey, be careful—you’re going to burn your tongue!”  Randi cautioned.

             
Lee swallowed the fish and stuck his tongue out at her.  “See?  Asbestos mouth.”  And they both started to laugh.

             
“So what’s it like when there’s a real fire around here?”  Randi asked as she gingerly pulled off a bite of fish.

             
“Scary.  The Little Bear fire last summer took more than 40,000 acres and a lot of homes.   It went right through some of the slopes at the ski resort.”

             
“How did it start?”

             
“Lightening.  I’ve never known a wildfire on the reservation to start any other way.” 

             
“I guess that’s positive at least.  How do you get trained for that anyway?”

             
“Fire Academy—right in Rio Blanco.  People come from all over to take classes on different techniques for fighting wildfires.  Why, you want to be a firefighter?  You’re the kind of gal I could picture with a chainsaw.”  He gave her a sly smile.

             
“Not me.  I’ve got my hands full with doctoring.”  She paused, “”Whad’ya mean you can picture me with a chainsaw?  You mean…like I’m a practical kind of girl, or…just a garden variety psycho?”  Randi did her best to look maniacal.

             
Lee laughed.  “I definitely don’t think you’re psycho.  Maybe a little unusual, but I’m pretty sure that a girl who can’t kill a fish probably doesn’t have bodies in the backyard.” 

 
              “Seriously, I just want to learn about the community, and it’s good to know that people are well trained.  I’d prefer not to be treating burns and smoke inhalation.”

             
Lee raised an eyebrow. “And believe me, I’d prefer not to have to be treated.”

             
Randi made her crazy face again, “What? You don’t trust the new doctor?”  And they both started laughing again.  She stood and started to clear their plates when Lee wrapped a strong hand gently around her wrist.

             
“You know something?” Lee said.  “I’m glad you’re the new doc, I wasn’t at all sure how that Randy guy was going to work out.”

             
The butterflies started flittering in Randi’s stomach again, and she thought maybe now Lee would make a move.  He quickly let go of her wrist, and stood up too, but he just carried his plate into the kitchen.  “I can help tidy up,” Lee looked around the kitchen.

             
“After cleaning the fish?  Absolutely not!  It won’t take me but a minute.”  She turned to face him, smiling.

             
Lee felt a tug-of-war going on between his desire for Randi, and his wish to show her how much he respected her.  Every bit of the man in him wanted to touch her, to hold her, to make love to her, but the Apache in him said it was too soon.  “It’s been a good day,” Lee commented. “I should go now and let you get some rest.”

             
Randi’s heart was beating fast, and she wanted to throw herself at Lee.  But his reserve made her hold back, and instead she just said, “It
was
a good day.  Good night, Lee.”

Chapter 2

              Randi spent Sunday afternoon getting new tires at a small gas station and garage that, remarkably, offered full service on a Sunday.  Her tires were a common enough size for the area, so they had them in stock.  A young guy got busy with the air gun, and Randi chatted about the truck with the proprietor.  He was a man in his 40s, wearing a short ponytail, and he had just enough belly to show he enjoyed a good meal.  When there was a natural lull, he suddenly interjected as if it had only then occurred to him, “You’re…Dr. Green.”

             
“I prefer Randi, but yeah, that’s me.”  And then Randi remembered her conversation with Lee, “And you must be Harold.”