Broken Wings (12 page)

“
Tajan…” Bradford made sure
his tone kept to an even keel. “How are your parents?”

“
They are good,” Tajan said
in English.

“
I must say…” Bradford
paused to rein in his concern, which could easily end up sounding
like intolerance if he wasn’t careful. “I’m rather surprised to see
you here.”

Tajan straightened his stature. “I come
for my wife.”

“
Look, Tajan… I got nothing
against you.” An anguished tone accompanied Bradford’s words.
“Under different circumstances I’d be honored to have you as my
grandson-in-law. But being anywhere near her—” He pointed to
Maggie. “—puts you in great danger. And I think too much of you and
your parents to let that happen.”

“
If I die tomorrow…it will
be worth it.” He looked at Maggie and a smile touched his mouth.
“Just to be with her today.”

Maggie had been silent up until now.
“With all due respect, Grandfather…Tajan and I have discussed the
consequences of our actions,” she said. “And in the end, we’d
rather risk discovery than to live apart. And I won’t keep him away
from his son any longer.”

“
All right.” Bradford sensed
that further argument was useless. He gave in, although against his
better judgment. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your
minds.” He glanced back and forth between them. “I won’t stand in
your way.” He gave them a smile that was backed by misgivings. “You
have my blessings.”

In truth, Bradford had a lot of
objections. But his eldest granddaughter had inherited a great deal
of the Fuller stubbornness. She’d made up her mind, and there’d be
no talking her out of what she was hell-bent on doing.

And now there was the baby involved.
Every child deserved to have both a mother and a father. Bradford
had seen firsthand what his son’s running off had done to Maggie
and her sisters. So, with a bit of reluctance, he wished the couple
well.

* * *

Bradford sat at the head of the table,
with Mary and Maggie on either side of him and Tajan beside Maggie.
Tajan found the white man’s chair to be as unnerving as their
bed.

“
My big regret is that we
weren’t able to recover Molly’s body and give her a proper burial,”
Maggie’s eyes moistened with tears.

The white man’s burial
practices—another custom that Tajan didn’t understand. But it was
important to Maggie. She’d expressed concern over it just last
night, wondering what her mother and her sister would think of the
lack of a funeral for her sister.

“
Is there no way to find out
what happened to her?”

“
We made inquiries, but
nothing’s ever come of it.” Bradford shook his head. “My guess is
that she was buried at the back of the cemetery in Carson City…or
maybe they took her out to Chinatown. That wouldn’t surprise
me.”

The uncertainty of Molly’s plight
seemed to slice through Mary, rattling her shoulders. She let out a
muffling sound that faded away before she asked, “What do you want
to do about the gold and silver we buried?”

“
Get me a pencil and some
paper,” Maggie said.

Mary reached for the bureau behind her
and came back to the table with the items Maggie had
requested.

Maggie scribbled on one side of the
paper under the dim glow of an oil lamp. She stopped and looked at
her handiwork and then folded the paper over and over and drew a
likeness of the area where she and her sisters had buried the
treasure. She unfolded the paper and ripped it in half. Glancing up
with a smile, she handed half to Mary.

The map was Maggie’s token of assurance
that she wouldn’t make an attempt to reclaim the treasure without
her sister.

“
Next summer,” Maggie said
to Mary. “I want you to come to the lake…Grandfather will show you
where. And we’ll go get the treasure.”

“
Better yet,” Mary said,
“why don’t you dig it up and bring me my half? If I never step foot
in that place again, it won’t bother me a bit.”

Maggie looked at Tajan and he nodded
his approval. She turned back to Mary. “All right. Next summer
we’ll bring you your half.”

~~~~

CHAPTER 24

Tajan and Maggie approached the tribal
campsite on horseback. She carried the baby in a cradleboard on her
back. Chatter quickly buzzed through the encampment, bringing
everyone out to greet the couple.

Timeko and Lela appeared from inside
their lodge. Upon seeing Tajan and Maggie, Timeko flashed a
concerned look at his son. Lela’s face spread into a genuine
smile.

Tajan slid off his horse easily and
helped Maggie down. He unstrapped the baby from the cradleboard on
Maggie’s back. Scooping the baby into his arms, he moved toward his
parents. “Father, mother…” he spoke in the Washoe’s native
language. “this is my son.”

Lela took the baby and cradled him in
her arms. Looking down at her grandson, she smiled and then let her
gaze travel back to her husband’s. “You see it, don’t
you?”

“
Yes.” Timeko
nodded.

She looked at Maggie. “He look like
Tajan…as baby.”

Timeko focused on Maggie. “You stay,”
he said in English. “Leave no more.”

“
Sir…” Maggie swallowed over
the lump in her throat. “I’ll never go anywhere without Tajan…ever
again.”

* * *

Things would have been fine if it
hadn’t been for that trapper Trader John happening upon the Washoe
camp on a fine summer’s day a couple of months later.

Maggie had adapted easily and quickly
to wearing the Indian garb once again. Still, the white man’s
scenic drawings enticed her. She wasn’t alone. The stranger’s
pictures had drawn the attention of several tribe members,
including Tajan.

“
Are you the artist?” Maggie
asked the trader.

“
Yes ma’am,” he said. “I
am.”

“
Do you paint,
too?”

“
Yes, as a matter of fact, I
do.”

“
Could you paint me?” She
pointed to herself and then Tajan. “And my husband?”

“
Yes, I can.” He nodded. “If
the price is right.”

Maggie smiled to herself. There was no
way the trader’s price was going to be more than she had. She had
the money from the bank robbery in Carson City.

* * *

Even though Tajan had been against the
idea of having his and Maggie’s paintings done—he’d thought it
would somehow capture his soul and lock it inside his likeness on
the canvas—but Maggie had wanted it and he found it difficult
saying ‘no’ to her. The couple ended up with two fine-looking
portraits.

Maggie surveyed the paintings with
extreme pleasure. Once she was able to tear her gaze away from
Tajan’s portrait, she turned to the trader. “Sir, I cannot thank
you enough.” She fanned her hand in front of the paintings.
“They’re beautiful.”

Trader John stared at Maggie with a
curious eye. “Payment of the agreed upon fee will be thanks
enough.”

Maggie offered him a pouch containing
gold coins.

He snatched up the small bag and dumped
the contents into his hand. Coins spilled into his palm. He glanced
back at her and grinned. “Thank you kindly.”

After collecting his bounty, Trader
John wasted no time in heading for Carson City. He was looking for
a poker game and a good, stiff drink. It’d been a long time since
he’d had enough money to back both his obsessions. Finally, he was
certain he’d have the luck he thought he so richly
deserved.

Tying his horse to the post outside the
saloon, he headed for the door with an air of confidence that was
typically foreign to him. About to enter the establishment—which he
figured would reward his good fortune—he stopped abruptly, eyeing
the wanted poster hanging outside the entrance.

A crude drawing of a girl—who looked a
lot like the white woman he’d painted up at the lake—seemed to
stare out at him from the announcement. The thing that spoke to him
the most was that it offered a five hundred dollar reward for any
known associates.

Could things possibly get any better
for him? Trader John rubbed his chin and smiled. He turned and
hurried across the street, giggling as he entered the sheriff’s
office.

The sheriff looked up from his desk,
but Trader John’s attention was drawn past him and directly up to
the wanted poster on the wall behind the lawman.

“
That’s her!” he exclaimed,
pointing to the poster. “I seen her the other day.”

The sheriff’s face skewed into a shrewd
look and then he twisted around glancing over his shoulder. “Well,
that’d be kind of hard.” He turned back to look at Trader John.
“Unless you’re in the habit of seeing ghosts!” He gave him a swift
chuckle and a stern glare. “She’s dead.” His words seemed to fall
around Trader John like dust settling from a sand storm. “But she
did have a couple of accomplices and that’s who we’re looking
for.”

“
I’m telling you, sheriff—”
He gestured toward Lake Tahoe. “—there’s a woman up at the lake
with them Indians, and she looks like that woman up there.” He gave
the wanted poster a nod.

The sheriff drew a breath and slanted
his mouth with a crooked frown. “Maybe they’re sisters.” He
shrugged. “All right...I’ll gather up a posse and we’ll check it
out.” The sheriff pushed himself up from his desk.

“
What about the reward?”
Trader John asked.

“
If it turns out that you’re
right,” the sheriff said conditionally, making his way around the
desk. “You’ll get your reward.”

“
All five
hundred?”

“
All five hundred.” The
sheriff’s assurance was accompanied by soft laughter.

~~~~

PART FIVE

THE AWAKENING

~~~~

CHAPTER 25

Billy let out a sigh as he glanced over
at Rio. They were in his living room, the pizza box was empty, and
they weren’t any closer to finding their way to the
treasure.

“
So...” She cut her eyes
toward him. “How are we going to figure out where the treasure
is?”

“
Well at this point, the
map, even in its entirety, is absolutely no help at
all.”

“
Billy...” her tone sobered.
“We could spend the rest of our lives digging up random spots and
never come close to finding the right place.”

“
Then we’d better find
another way.”

“
I’m all out of ideas.” As
far as she was concerned, Turner’s goons were the least of their
worries. She knew how to deal with them. What she didn’t know how
to deal with was the fact that she and Billy couldn’t figure out
where to look for the treasure. Not to mention, all the weird stuff
that had been going on since she’d arrived in Carson
City.

Billy sat silently for a time. When he
finally did speak, it was with a bit of disinclination. “There
might be a way,” he said with a hint of secrecy. “But it’s kind of
unorthodox.”

“
How unorthodox?”

“
It involves ingesting a
controlled substance.”

“
Maybe you better spell it
out for me.”

“
There’s a ritual that’s
practiced by many Native Americans. Not so much around here,” he
said. “But I do understand that great results can come from
it.”

“
Okay.” She hated being
teased. “The suspense is killing me. Out with it.”

“
It’s called a vision quest.
You have a better chance of actually experiencing one though, if
you use peyote.” He looked at her, much too calmly for what he was
suggesting. “Or so I’m told.”

“
Peyote?” She rolled her
eyes and couldn’t help laughing. “Well, let’s run right on down to
the corner drug store and grab—” She threw her hands in the air.
“—how much did you say we’ll need?” Her fixed eyes glared at him.
“Are you nuts?”

“
I think I know
somebody...that knows somebody.” His voice was so calm that it
surprised even him—considering what he was suggesting. “I think we
can get some.”

“
You’re serious, aren’t
you?”

“
At this point...” He
shrugged, feeling defeated. “I have no clue how to find that
treasure.”

“
Could you maybe elaborate a
bit?” She looked deep into his eyes, as if she’d find a reason
inside them to hop on board with his crazy plan. “Give me some idea
about what we’d be in for...if we decided to go through with
this?”

“
Well, we’d need to go
somewhere up in the hills or something so we wouldn’t be
disturbed,” he said, making it up as he went along. “Then we’ll
take the peyote and wait.”

“
Wait? Wait for
what?”

“
Your vision. Sometimes it
starts out as your worst fears confronting you.” He cut his eyes
toward her. “But eventually a spirit guide will join
you.”