Thunder In Her Body (55 page)

Blaze did not speak for two or three minutes.  Without turning back to face the investigator, he said, “What do I owe you for your services?” he asked.

“Well, our agreement was by the hours of work, so based on what I’ve done, and my other investigators have racked up, and I’ll send you a full invoice, we’re up to about $26,000 at this point.  It cost us a bit of cash to get a lot of this information, you know what I mean?”

“And if you make a telephone call to whomever, and I don’t want to know who, a couple of days before you do your civic duty and let
law enforcement know where he is, will there be an additional fee for your… delay?” Blaze asked, sounding like a businessman in a board room.

“No sir, there won’t,” he responded quietly, “I believe that within a few hours after a telephone call, I might just be able to retire from this business.  I ain’t getting any younger you know.  Been at this on my own since I retired from the Air Force Security Service almost thirty years ago.  I think I’d like to buy me a nice place with a big swimming pool out in Las Vegas, and spend my nights playing in the casinos, rather than sitting around in parked cars on stake-outs, you know what I mean?,” he asked with a contented smile creeping across his face.

Blaze did not answer.  He just continued to stare up at the mountain.  When he turned around, his eyes were dark, small slits. He looked at the investigator in a way that made chills run up his visitor’s arms.

“Can I be assured that Tomahawk will truly understand who and why
special attention
is being paid to him before he…”

“Yes sir, yes sir, I can give you that assurance on my word.  He will be
painfully
apprised of the consequences of his actions.  And you know what the Good Book says about ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the disheveled man clucked under his breath.

“Then, I will expect that you
’ll continue to be as thorough, meticulous and discrete as you have been so far, and information that will be helpful to the proper authorities, will be given to them – in due time -, ya’ know what I mean?” Blaze said, with no inkling of a change in expression on his face.  Blaze sat back down at his desk, from which he withdrew a hand-tooled leather folder.

“The sum of $30,000 should cover all of your costs, including today’s business update,” he said in a voice lacking emotion.   He handed an envelope to the investigator.  From a cash box in a side drawer of the desk, Blaze counted out an additional thousand dollars, and
placed it in front of the man.  He watched as the fellow secured the envelope and the loose cash in his battered briefcase.  Blaze put his hands together in front of his face with his fingers pointing upward in the shape of a teepee, and rested the tips of his fingers on his chin.

“You don’t need to send me a bill for your services, but I think I’d like a postcard from
Las Vegas sometime.  That thousand dollars should pay for the stamp,” he smiled for the first time in the conversation.  “Yes, I’d like that,” he concluded, shaking the investigator’s clammy hand for the last time.

C
HAPTER 38

¤

A Look Back

T
hough Clare was a woman of strength and many competencies, the loss of her beloved husband threw her into a deep, lingering depression.  She thought about leaving Crystal Bend, but where would she go?  She had made Rancho Whitehall her home for nearly twenty years, learning the ranching business, and as an attorney, she had been a tremendous asset to Aaron.  Lynette sat with her day after day as she agonized over her choices, and the life that lay ahead of her without Aaron.  There was just a big hole in her heart and no one could fill it ever again.  She had waited all of her adult like for a man like him – this man – and now he was gone; taken from her in an instant of hate.  Out on the deck, they talked about lessons learned.  They talked about the joy that Aaron had brought to her and how he loved her and Blaze, and the herd of rescued dogs that had graced their home.  In the end, Clare decided to stay at what was now her ranch.  She created a memorial scholarship in his honor at the local university and at the law school in Arizona where he graduated. She wanted his legacy of caring and opportunity to live on for some deserving students.

In his wisdom, Aaron left a half interest in the ranch to her for the remainder of her life.  The other half interest was willed back to Blaze so Aaron would know that his wife, and his lands, would be protected and taken care of.  After her death, her part of the ranch would go to Aaron’s remaining sons and grandchildren.  Until Clare was better, Blaze was compelled to take over the running of their ranches again.  In a way, that was good for him, because it caused him to work though his brother’s death, instead of continuing in a state of suspended, overwhelming grief.

Lynette’s other daughter, Veronica, died at the age of forty-eight of complications from her numerous diseases.  It was good that they had reconciled some years before.  She grieved quietly.  Blaze would sit next to her on the sofa and just wrap his arm around her shoulders.  There was such peace, such security in his chest.  She could lean against it, feel the warmth of his body and inhale him.  His scent, though manly had the same effect as lavender incense to her nostrils and it calmed her.  He was like a doctor of the soul and she could get through anything with him at her side; with his arm always outstretched for her.

One by one, the many horses they’d adopted passed away from old age, as did the more than two dozen dogs they’d rescued over the years.  Each was like loosing a member of the immediate family.  BC was there to help bury them and one by one, they staked wooden markers for each of their deceased friends.  BC was such a wonderful son.  He was a product of his parents’ positive ideals and examples; but most of all, he was truly a son of Blaze Snow Comes Down – tall, proud and strong.  He would make good babies, and carry the blood of his parents well into the seventh generation.

Lynette’s youngest sister was killed by her husband after he had endured all the insults he could behind her continuous infidelities.  It was a brutal and horrid way to die.  Lynette had talked to her sister until she was blue in the face about the way she abused her marriage, but to no avail.  Her sister, in fear of loosing her desirability and attention from strangers, bed hopped from one man to another.  She refused to admit that she was aging, like everyone does, and tried to live a single life, in a married state.  It didn’t work.  He shot her right after both of their daughters graduated from college. Then he turned the gun on himself.

Merrilynn’s husband, Javier, left her after twenty some-odd years of marriage.  She had established a very lucrative practice in Albuquerque, but the move to that city never sat well with her husband.  He yearned for the simple life of the Tribal Lands, and never adjusted to the hustle and bustle of the big city.  He returned to Crystal Bend and continued to work as a nurse at both of the hospitals.  They didn’t divorce right away but it was inevitable.  He was not willing to leave the area, and she was not ready to return to it.  She had met her commitment to the tribe and the reservation.  She and the children were thriving in Albuquerque.  No counsel that Blaze gave could change their destinies.  It saddened him because marriage meant so much to him.  He wanted for his daughter and son-in-law, what he and Lynette had, but it was not a gift he could give.

Lucinda was diagnosed with breast cancer, at age sixty-four, which was in late stage when discovered.  She died within that year.  They mourned her as if she was a sister or aunt.  Indeed, she was a dear and close friend.  As a gift to her family, Blaze and Lynette arranged for the beautiful headstone that world mark the place where she was laid to rest.

Trapper and Pepper, had three more children, a total of five, and their now large family moved to the country up near a small town in Vermont.  They made a point of coming back to the ranch every Thanksgiving until well after all of their children were grown.  Trapper knew that Satellite Hill was always a place he could call home, no matter where he and his family lived.   In his later years, after all his children were grown and on their own, he and Pepper did move to the ranch, and he and BC ran it as a profitable business.  BC was glad to have his big brother working with him.  Keeping the ranch running took a tremendous amount of work, and even with the hired hands, they found that the days started early and lasted well past sundown.

One afternoon, as Spring turned into a cool Summer, the dogs started to bark, running to the window in the front of the house to let Blaze know that there was something going on outside.  He looked through the window and saw a black man and an obviously Hispanic woman walking slowly across the front of the house.  The man was pointing and laughing as he indicated first one thing, then another to the woman.  Blaze did not recognize him at first and walked out on the front porch to inquire of their visit.

“I’m James,” the young man spoke up.  “I helped to build this log home,” he said smiling proudly.

“Oh, hell yes, I remember you,” Blaze replied.  “Come on in, you all come on in,” he beckoned, smiling broadly.

Inside, Lynette stared for a second
.

“Is that you James?  My goodness, life must have been good to you, you look wonderful.  Is this Mrs. James?”  Lynette realized that she couldn’t remember his last name.

“Yes m’am, this is Mercedes, my wife,” he said again proudly.  “We’ve been married for almost ten years.  We’ve got two sons, plus the one girl from my first marriage,” he said, hoping that they would understand without him having to recount details.

Blaze insisted that they come into the Great Room and sit and visit. But after a brief conversation in the entry way, because James did
n’t want to intrude or stay, he reached

into his shirt pocket and pulled out a check. 
He handed it to Blaze, a bit shyly.

“I told you I’d repay you, sir.  I’m sorry it took so long to do it, but here’s the money plus a little bit of interest.  That money changed my life in ways you can’t even imagine,” he added.  Blaze tried to push the check back at him, declining to take the money, but James insisted.

“It’s a just debt, Mr. Snowdown, and my grandmama taught me to pay what I owe.  You hafta take it.  It’s done all the good it’s supposed to, and anyway, I can afford to give it back to you.  I’m half owner in a construction company back over in Lubbock and I’m doin’ well now, thanks in good part to your generosity.”

Blaze shook his hand mightily.

“Y’all stay for lunch,” he insisted, but James and Mercedes said they had to get back to
Lubbock before nightfall.  Each couple wished the other well and Lynette told them to come back soon again, when they could stay longer.  Blaze looked at the numbers on the check - $1250.  $250 more than he had given the young man, and he shook his head.  He handed the check to Lynette, who stared at it for several seconds.

      
Let’s pay it forward,” she said quietly.  “If the original thousand dollars did something really positive for that man, let’s see how much good this money can do for somebody else.  We’ll think of something,” she said, smiling up at her husband.  “I have an idea,” he replied, throwing an arm over her shoulder as they walked together toward their office.

Blaze eventually had to undergo open heart surgery with a triple bi-pass, and Lynette had what appeared to be a mild stroke or TIA, temporary ischemic attack.  Thank goodness she had no apparent lingering effects. She asked the doctors if this was the precursor to a full stroke.  The responses were vague, but with her history of hypertension, though beautifully controlled for over thirty years, none could rule this out as a possibility.  The doctors warned that this was indeed a dangerous situation.  Though she had watched her weight studiously over the years, they encouraged her to loose a little more and increase her daily exercise.  Through it all, Blaze and Lynette held tightly to each other, deriving strength from the love that could neither be tested, nor damaged.

Because of their acknowledged love for one another and the soundness of their marriage, this aging couple was often called upon by the Elders and other church organizations to counsel with, and mentor, young couples about to embark on marriage.  They provided wise counsel, and often suggested that the couple look past the big wedding and look to the days of the marriage.  They urged them to measure their passion for one another, not just the lusty part, but the commitment toward the
passion to
be
married
.  The couples needed to be sure that the partner each was choosing was the one that had the qualities they were looking for, not qualities that they wanted to immediately change once the rings were on the fingers.  Straight forward and honest about the trials of marriage, they were credited with preventing some serious mistakes, and for helping other couples to achieve good, grounded marriages similar to theirs.