Eye of the Storm (23 page)

"Why the hell did you go after the camper?" Stormwalker asked in a harsh whisper. "You know the woman uses it for an
office, that
she would likely be inside."

"Why should I protect her?" Winter's laugh got lost in a fit of coughing. "Anyway, you can see I'm the one who needed protecting."

"Why did you join with the others? Why involve yourself in the white man's war?"

"Because you're in it."

"You hate me that much."

"More."

"Mind telling me why?"

Neither spoke as a gust of wind tore across the prairie and shook the house.

"I'm not about to discuss my life story with you,"
Winter
said finally. "It's none of your damned business."

"I believe you're responsible for our house going up in flames, and you've tried to kill me – more than once. It's my business, all right."

"It wasn't me did it all."

"But you were involved. So talk to me. Or you'll talk to the sheriff."

The injured man remained silent for perhaps a minute. Stormwalker waited patiently until he began to speak.

"Do you recall we were born the same night?"

"I remember sharing a lot of birthdays with you."

"That old lady
sleepin
' in the chair came to help my mother during the blizzard. That's how come she wasn't around when you were born. It was practically the only time I had
somethin
' you didn't. And that's why I agreed to look out for her.
'Cause without her, I might not have made it into this world or survived
growin
' up."
He went silent.

"Go on."

"When we were kids, you had all the things I didn't – a father who loved you, a grandmother that had everyone's respect, a fine, big house. You had so much it never mattered to you that leadership of the boys fell to me. Until the day you decided you wanted that, too. Then you took my place at the head of the pack and I was left with no choice except to follow you like the others did, or strike out on my own. You took it all, even. . . ."

"What did I take?"

"Never mind,"
Winter
said hoarsely. "You have all the motivation you need to put me away."

"Why did you go in with those guys? I can't believe it was because I won at a test of skill thirty years ago."

The cot creaked as
Winter
shifted position.

 
"We knew each other well in those days, Bill, called each other cousin. How many times did we lie in our beds and talk about our dreams? Or follow my grandmother and help her hunt for herbs and plants for her medicines?

"You knew I hated being treated like a
freak, that
I just wanted to be accepted by the others. I told you I would challenge them to prove I was as good as they. I never wanted to be leader, but you left me to face them alone. You called me white eyes and laughed at me. Our friendship meant nothing to you.”

"I was tired of being a charity case. It was a chance to get something back for myself."

"For what?
The house that just burned down?
You lived in it.
For my family?
They treated you like another son. We shared everything with you. And none of it was charity. You were a part of the family. What did we take away?"

"My father's love."
His eyes narrowed. "You stole my father's love." His voice held fatigue and something like defeat.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mike Eagle . . . he's my father."

Stormwalker tried to swallow a curse that emerged as a strangled growl. "How long have you known?" he asked finally.

"Forever,"
Winter
replied.

"But he couldn't have known. He wouldn't have denied you, if he had. He's not that kind of man."

"How could he not know?"

"If your mother didn't tell him. . . ."

"He didn't want us. He was in love with . . . another woman . . . and he didn't want my mother or me."

Things started to make sense.
"The other woman being my mother?"

Winter grimaced but remained silent.

"If you hated us, why come back time after time?"

The injured man drew a raspy breath. "I never hated your folks, not even you.
Until the challenge.
Besides,
hangin
' out kept me closer to him, until I couldn't stand to watch the two of you together anymore."

The soft shush, shush of Emma
Redfeather's
moccasins across the floor interrupted them. "Let this one rest, Grandson," the woman commanded softly. "His strength fades." She gave him a pointed look. "And if you have something to do, better do it now."

"All right, Grandmother." Regretting that their voices had woken her,
Stormwalker
moved to the other side of the privacy curtain he'd hung during the night and found Zan sitting on the edge of her cot. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." Zan nodded in
Winter's
direction. "That was quite a story he told. How is he doing?"

"You drilled him good, Red. Grandmother's worried about him."

They went outside and stood on the porch.

"What are you going to do about Mike?"

"Bring him out here."

"Will he come?"

"He'll come."

Stormwalker took her hand and dropped a cartridge into her palm. "Grandmother dug that out of your arm."

Zan gripped it between her thumb and forefinger and examined it. "Looks small, doesn't it?"

"He switched to his sidearm."

"Well that was a bit of luck, wasn't it?"

As if he hadn't heard her, he looked at the Jeep. "I have to bring Mike out here before it's too late." He turned to her. "Grandmother stashed your gun in the cupboard. Stay alert and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"We have to talk, Stormwalker."

"I know, but this comes first."

Mike came to Emma's house alone. Stormwalker had "something to do", the older man said as he opened the door of the Jeep.

"What could be more important than straightening out this mess," Zan asked.

Mike shrugged. "He didn't tell me, but I guess this trouble is between Bill and me. We're both here and we don't need Stormwalker to help us say what we have to."

They went inside the house, where
Stormwalker's
grandmother moved quietly around the room.

"My nephew took the pickup," Mike said. "I almost used your car, but I wasn't sure you'd want me to so we cleaned up Bill's Jeep and used that instead."

"You could have driven the MG. In fact you can keep it. You've got the keys. I'll sign over title."

The newspaperman grinned like a teenager.

"You have no idea where Stormwalker went?"

Mike shook his head.

Zan didn't like this news at all. Ian and Kenny were still out there somewhere and she was sure Stormwalker was making himself a target again. "I have to find him, before the others do."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To that cabin you told me about."

"Take his vehicle. He won't be using it for a while."

They were standing at the foot of Billy's cot. His gaze traveled from one person to another but he said nothing.

"Is that okay with you, Deputy?" Zan asked.

"Yeah, go ahead . . . turn on the scanner . . . it'll be easier to find him."

"I don't get it." His eyes held a strange expression she couldn't read.

". . . truck's got a tracking device . . . we planted it to monitor his movements . . . like we did with the camper."

So that's how they found me, she thought. I never even thought to check for bugs. All that wasted training. She turned to
Winter
again. "Did he know that?"

"Don't know.
Maybe."
He took another long breath and continued, "You use my Jeep,
it'll
lead you straight to him."

"Enough, now."
Emma gently eased Zan away and sat down beside Billy to feed him some broth.

"Can you draw me another map, please, Mike?"

They found paper and pen and he began to write.

"It's a way's away," the old woman said. She went to a cabinet against the wall and began unwrapping items. "You take some dried meat and fish with you.
Also some
wasna
for energy food.
It's sweet. You'll like it."

She placed the packets in a canvas sack she gave Zan with a squeeze of her hand. "You watch out for yourself and my grandson. I want to see grandkids." Softness melted her brown eyes. "You and him, you'll make pretty babies."

Zan felt her face go hot, but instantly forgave the old woman, who apparently saw something she had almost given up hope of ever finding. "I'll do my best."

She turned to Mike and held out the map he'd drawn for her. "Please go over this with me."

Out on the road, Zan smiled as she remembered her impulsive decision to give away the car. Once she got Stormwalker back from wherever he was, she'd never drive the thing again anyway. She needed to move on, to make a new life for herself. In truth, she'd already embarked on that journey and would continue on, with or without Stormwalker.
Getting rid of the MG represented no more than an exclamation point at the end of the chapter that was her past.
She sighed. She did so want the next chapter to include him.

Mike had written detailed directions and Zan followed them precisely. The scanner led her to his truck, which had been parked beside a cabin standing on a piece of land overgrown with brush. She found two sets of tracks, made by boots whose tread left sharp impressions in the soft-packed earth. One set left shallow patterns and veered off into the woods. The other cut the earth deeply. A third set of boots barely left an impression, but the marks of worn heels suggested they might belong to Stormwalker.
 
She followed them to the cabin and moved in a crouch along the front. She noticed a Winchester on the ledge formed by the top of the door frame. When she reached the window on the right side, she looked inside.

Stormwalker's
tall frame blocked her view, but she saw a handgun tucked into his belt at his back and thought he could protect himself while she went off to explore the forest trail.

A gun and a pair of eyes held Stormwalker as if in a spotlight. "I see you had no trouble finding my humble abode. Been waiting long?"

"Five years," Ian Fields said through an amplifier pressed against his throat.

"I know what you mean. This meeting took a long time to happen, but it was inevitable."

"Your weapon, please, Major." Fields held out his hand. "You have one, I presume."

"I could make you take it."

"Why bother?"

"Why, indeed?" Stormwalker reached behind him and brought the gun around, butt first. He walked to the table and handed it to Fields.
"Now what?"

"Now, you answer some questions."

"You guys beat me, remember? I've got nothing you need."

"Let's not play any more games. What transpired between you and Darwin O'Neill before he died?"

"Nothing."

"There must have been something or you wouldn't have killed him."

"I didn't. One of your people did, to silence him."

"And nothing passed between you?"

"Like what?"

"What do you know about the code machines at the embassy?"