Holdin' On for a Hero (6 page)

The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and Wyatt suddenly heard the sound of Chance screaming. He dropped the dead man and turned to her. She looked up at him with eyes full of fear as he reached for her.

Wyatt sat up. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breath was ragged, sending small bursts of steam into the cold night air.

“My god!” He lowered his head into his hands. “It isn’t possible!”

But something inside told him that it was more than possible. Something told him what he had just dreamed was the truth. The truth that had been hidden for nineteen years. He looked up at the moon, thinking back. The summer he turned thirteen, Maurice and his wife had gone on holiday in Europe. Adeola, the woman who took care of Chance and Wyatt, arranged for them to go stay with Wyatt’s father, John, under the condition that they not mention it to Maurice. Neither child had a problem with that. Maurice paid them scant attention, only bringing Chance out to show her off at social affairs.

Wyatt had no idea what Maurice’s interest in him had ever been. The only times they ever spoke was when Maurice would question Wyatt about the stories Wyatt’s grandfather had told him, and whether Wyatt thought there was any truth to the old tales. As a child, Wyatt had believed his grandfather without question and had told Maurice that his grandfather would not have lied. There were times when Maurice challenged him to prove the stories were true, to produce one piece of physical evidence that validated any of the tales.

Wyatt had not known how to prove the truth of the tales and had often wished he did have something he could flaunt at Maurice.

While he and Chance were visiting that summer with John, they snuck off one afternoon. Wyatt borrowed a dirt bike from one of the older boys who lived near his dad. He took Chance up to Clingman’s Dome to show her the place where the enchanted lake was supposed to be.

He had never remembered what had happened while they were there. All he remembered was going to the Dome, then being wakened in the forest near his dad’s house. He and Chance were both covered with blood and she was in shock. They were taken to the hospital and released after a couple of hours. That afternoon a man’s body was found on the Dome. The dirt bike he and Chance had taken was found near the body. Aside from that there were no clues. No one had ever discovered who had killed the man. Both he and Chance were questioned but the memory of that day was erased from both their minds so there was nothing they could tell the reservation police.

Thanks to Wyatt’s grandfather’s position on the reservation council, Chance’s father was not informed of the event and both children were returned to Chance’s home.

“Could I have killed that man?” he whispered to the sky. “Is that why I couldn’t remember—because I didn’t want to?”

There was no answer from the moon or the stars. There was only the reply of the whispering wind, “We are One.” Wyatt shivered and curled up in his sleeping bag. The stars twinkled overhead and the moon made its leisurely journey across the velvet sky. But his mind was not on the beauty of the night. It was on the horror he had seen in his own mind.

* * * * *

Chance was up early. After showering and dressing she called her office. Dianne, her assistant, told her that Steve from the research department was working on her request and should have something by the end of the day.

She hung up returned to the diner where she had eaten the previous night. Chance lingered over breakfast, trying to overhear the conversations of the people around her. Talk today was centered on someone named Jimmy who was in the hospital and about a meeting some men had about the casino.

Chance paid for her breakfast and got in the Wrangler. She drove to the reservation where she spent the day looking around and asking questions about the new casino. The people were polite but distant, answering her questions in as few words as possible.

By the end of the afternoon it was clear that she was not going to get any answers. She drove to the small town of Whittier. There was one small restaurant open. She went in and sat at the counter. A friendly older woman served her.

Chance asked the woman about the new casino and what the people thought about it. The woman immediately began a lecture on the sins of gambling and drinking. It took Chance over an hour to get out of the restaurant. She wandered around town for a while then got in the Jeep and returned to her motel.

There was a message on her voicemail to call the office. She returned the call and was put through to Rich Lange, her boss.

“What the hell are you doing in Bryson? And where the hell is Bryson, anyway?”

“Rich, I think I may have stumbled onto something. Something to do with the plans for a new gambling casino the Cherokee are trying to build. I think there’s some trouble with the locals and from what I hear it’s getting worse.”

There was a moment’s silence on the phone. “Okay.” Rich’s voice sounded resigned but also grudging. “Let me know what turns up. In the meantime, Steve said to give him a call in the morning.”

“Thanks, Rich,” she replied and hung up.

Now if I could just find a way to get someone to talk to me
! she thought to herself. But who and where?

Something occurred to her. She had heard several of the men saying something about Ralph’s. She threw on her coat and went to the motel office.

“Mrs. Carter?”

The woman walked out of the back room. “Could you tell me how to get to Ralph’s?”

Mrs. Carter hesitated a moment before giving her directions. Chance thanked her and went outside to her Jeep.

Ralph’s Bar was on the reservation. It was a weathered, wooden structure that looked like it had been there forever. There were a great many trucks and cars parked around the building. Chance found a place to park, stuffed her keys and billfold in her coat pocket and went inside.

Cigarette smoke hung like a blue haze in the air and the smell of sweat and alcohol assaulted her senses. She looked around for an empty table but didn’t see one.  She spotted an empty stool at the bar so went over and sat down, aware of the eyes that watched her as she passed.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender, a big heavyset man with a long graying braid, asked.

“Beer. Whatever you have on draft.”

The man filled a mug and set it down in front of her. “Two bucks.”

She pulled a ten from her billfold and handed it to him. “I’m looking for someone—a man named Wyatt Wolfe. You know him?”

“Why’re you looking for him? He run out on you or he owe you money?”

“Neither. He’s an old friend and I was passing through so I thought I’d look him up.”

“Sorry,” the man said and made change for her ten.

“Thanks anyway, and keep that.”

“It’s your nickel,” he replied and moved to the other end of the bar.

Chance turned her stool and looked at the people. There were several couples dancing on the small wooden dance floor to a tune on the jukebox but most of the people were just drinking and talking.

One table caught her eye. At it sat three men who appeared to be in their early to mid-thirties. They were casting sly glances at her. She watched until one of them looked over at her again and smiled at him.

The man’s eyes widened slightly and he turned away with an embarrassed look on his face. Chance continued to stare and after a few moments he looked at her again. She raised her glass and smiled once more. He returned the smile then turned away said something to the other men. A moment later he got up.

“Hi,” she said as he walked over to her.

“Hi to you. You visiting or just passing through?”

“Little of both. You from around here?”

“All my life. Name’s Billy Hawkes.”

“Well, hello, Billy Hawkes.” She extended her right hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Daven Porter,” she said, giving him the name she had given the lady at the motel—the name she used when she was on assignment.

“Porter?” He gave her a funny look. “That name sounds kinda familiar. Any relation to Cole Porter?”

“No,” she laughed. “Afraid not. So, tell me, Billy Hawkes, what do you do in this beautiful place?”

“Why don’t you join me and my friends? We’re just throwing back a few brews.”

“Sure,” she hopped down off the stool, “I’d like that.”

Billy introduced her to the other two men at the table, Joe Whiteside and Ben Hunter. “Nice to meet you,” she said as she sat down in the chair they offered, with her back to the door.

“What brings you here?” Billy asked her as he signaled the bartender for another round of drinks.

“Actually, I’m looking for an old friend. Maybe you know him. Wyatt Wolfe.”

“Wyatt?” Billy blurted then stammered nervously. “Uh, no. You sure your friend lives around here?”

“I know he’s from here,” she said, thinking that if she kept at Billy he would break down and tell her where Wyatt was. Because as sure as sunrise, he did know Wyatt. “We’ve been out of touch for a few years and the last thing I heard he’d bought some land up here.”

Billy looked at his friends as the bartender delivered the drinks. He stuck his hand in his pocket but Chance stopped him. “Let me get this round. You can get the next one.”

She paid the bartender then turned her attention to Billy again. “You never did tell me what you do.”

“Well, you know.” He smiled shyly. “This and that. How ‘bout you?”

Chance decided to play a hunch. “I work for CNN.”

“CNN?” Joe spoke up. “You mean you’re a reporter?”

“No, actually I’m a producer. They save the on-camera stuff for the pretty people.”

“Well, you’re prettier than any of those other babes I’ve seen,” Billy said earnestly.

“Thanks.” Chance smiled at him. “That’s sweet of you to say. But I like working behind the scenes just fine.”

“What does a producer do?” Ben Hunter asked.

“Well, we decide what stories we want to do then we have our research department get all the facts. Once that’s done we verify everything they’ve come up with. Next we send a camera crew and a reporter out to the site, do interviews and get some video footage. The next step is putting it all together and then ta-da—a news story. The producer’s job is to oversee all phases of the project, sort of like a supervisor but with a little more control. I get to decide the slant of the story. You know, sort of like who I want to be the good guy and the bad guy.”

“That’s pretty interesting,” Ben said and stood. “Excuse me a minute. Nature calls.”

Chance smiled and turned her attention back to Billy. He was tapping his foot in time with the music as he watched her. She looked down at his foot then up at his face. “You like to dance, don’t you?”

He nodded as she finished her beer. “You want to dance with me, Billy Hawkes?” she asked with a smile.

“You bet.” He grinned and stood, taking her hand.

Chance thought he would go to the dance floor but instead he swung her around right there beside the table. The music was not particularly slow but Billy pulled her up against him anyway. She pushed against him gently and backed up. Billy didn’t seem to take offense. He grinned at her as they danced.

He looked up at something over her shoulder and his grin disappeared. Before Chance could turn around she heard a voice behind her. “Well, Billy, what’ve you got here?”

Chance broke free of Billy and whirled around. Time seemed to come to a standstill. The music and voices faded away and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

Wyatt looked bigger, more muscular and powerful. His hair was longer than the last time she’d seen him. It brushed the back of his collar. But the biggest change was his face. Not that his features were different. Just that they appeared so hard, like he was made of stone instead of flesh and blood. His black eyes bored into hers and she felt an ache in her heart.

“Wyatt!”

Wyatt was so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely heard her speak. He never expected her to show up, but here she was. No longer under his conscious control, his eyes took in her appearance. She had changed. Her hair was still the color of summer wheat, but longer with a fringe of bangs framing her eyes. She was a startlingly beautiful woman, with high cheekbones and full lips. She was still slim, but the shirt she wore displayed her full firm breasts.

He looked down into her eyes. Her eyes hadn’t changed. No one had eyes like her. Only a shade darker than her hair, they seemed more gold than brown, the inner portion of the iris dotted with gold flecks and the rims a deeper hue. Long dark lashes framed her eyes, seeming incongruous with the light hair. She wore no makeup to accent her features and he realized she didn’t need it. She was more beautiful without it than other women were with it.

“Wyatt?” her voice cut into his scrutiny.

“What are you doing here?”

She looked up at him with hurt in her eyes. “I—” Casting a look at Billy who stood behind her and Joe sitting at the table staring, she paused and then stepped closer to Wyatt.

“I had to see you,” she whispered.

“You shouldn’t have come.”