White Water (7 page)

After dinner Ryan helped Anne clear the table, and Kara escaped to her room to fold laundry and pack. The weather was so unsettled this time of the year, she knew she would need to dress in layers. She'd have to go through Ryan's things too.

By the time she finished, Ryan was in bed and Dad had gone to his room. Colin had taken off for the bunkhouse without even looking at her.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she felt. Sure, she had messed up, riding recklessly and without a helmet. She'd apologized for that and promised not to do it again, but it wasn't her fault that the bear chose to park her cub at the edge of the meadow. That was no reason to treat her like—like fish bait!

A squeak of hinges and the rattle of silverware told her Anne was still in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. Kara sighed. Mom always made sure the kitchen was spotless and the refrigerator cleaned out before they left on a trip, even if it was just a couple of days. Anne was like that too. In fact, Anne was like Mom in a lot of ways.

Kara zipped her duffel bag shut and hurried down the stairs. At the bottom, she hesitated when she heard voices in the kitchen. Maybe she shouldn't interrupt. Besides, she couldn't talk to Anne if someone else was around. She started to turn around and go back to her room, but Dad's voice caught her attention.

“Then you think I should tell her now? I wish I could be sure she will understand.”

“Wakara is wise for one so young, but you must follow your heart.”

Kara stood there stunned. Dad and Anne were talking about her! What did she need to understand? And why all the secrecy? Was this what had Dad and Colin acting so weird? She hesitated. Part of her wanted to run back to her room and forget what she had heard. But if something was wrong, she needed to know about it.

She turned toward the kitchen door just as Dad stepped out carrying a bundle of papers in one hand and a dingy brown, canvas-covered book in the other. When he saw her
standing there, a flicker of dismay crossed his face
. “Wakara.” He shifted the papers to his other hand. “How much of that did you hear?”

Anne appeared in the doorway and shot her a reassuring smile. Kara decided to be honest. “Just the part about you not wanting to tell me something because you're afraid I won't understand, but Anne thinks I will.”

Dad nodded. “I hope so.” He motioned her into the kitchen. “We received a package from your grandfather today. He asked me to read the material, then give it to you.” He nodded at Anne. “Would you please make a pot of decaf? This might take a while.”

It might as well have been a double espresso
, Kara thought an hour later as she took the bundle of papers and the canvas notebook up to her room. She would never sleep tonight anyway. She tossed her great-grandfather's journal on the bed, stared at her reflection in the mirror, and repeated her given name, “Wakara Windsong Sheridan.” Her Yahi name.

She lifted the charcoal drawing of her great-grandmother from the wall, held it up next to her own face, and compared the features. Eyes and nose, the shape of her chin and brow, were identical. The first Wakara was certainly her ancestor. But Kara had always thought her great-grandmother was Nez Perce. Great-grandpa Irish had written a letter saying he had found the infant Wakara in the woods near a Nez Perce reservation. She had always believed that. But now, if what Dad and Grandpa had read in Irish Sheridan's journal was true, almost everything she thought she knew about her namesake was a lie.

T
HE BEAT OF A BOOT-STOMPING
country song shocked Kara into awareness. She groaned and fumbled for the off switch on her radio alarm, then squinted at the digital clock. Six o'clock. She had fallen asleep around midnight, after reading the first couple pages of Irish's journal. It hadn't made much sense to her, but she knew that was because she'd been so upset and tired. She wanted to read it again, but this morning they were leaving for Eagle Lodge, and she wouldn't have time to do anything but last-minute packing
.

She looked at the clock again, then reached for the telephone on her nightstand. Tia's parents had insisted she go to school today, so Kara knew she would be awake.

Tia picked up on the third ring. “What's up?”

Kara flinched. Her friend had gotten a telephone for Christmas, complete with caller ID. Kara wasn't sure she liked it, but that didn't matter now. “You aren't going to believe this, Tia, but remember the pages from my great-grandfather's journal? The ones that came with Irish's drawing?”

“Of the first Wakara? Sure, why?”

“They're bogus, Tia. A fake.”

“What? You're kidding, right?”

Kara shook her head even though she knew her friend couldn't see. “I wish.” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed back the tears. “I know it's stupid, but I feel betrayed; like Great-grandpa deliberately lied to me.”

She went on to tell Tia about the journal and papers Grandpa Sheridan had found in the old trunk in Aunt Peg's garage. “I've only read the first few pages, but in his letter Grandpa says the journal entries prove the version on the other pages was a lie, and that Irish didn't want anyone to know about Wakara's true background. He says the motive is in the journal too, but he won't tell me any more. He says he wants me to read it and figure it out for myself, then maybe I'll understand.”

“Wow! You're bringing it, aren't you? We can read it at the lodge.”

Kara had to smile. Tia was the one who'd been there for her when she'd first discovered the name Wakara was not Nez Perce, as she'd always believed. Anne had insisted “Wakara” was a Yahi word meaning moon, and Tia had dug up research to prove her right. But knowing that had only deepened the mystery around her great-grandfather's words. Why had he told everyone the baby he'd found in the woods was Nez Perce, when he knew she wasn't? If he lied about that, how much of the rest was a lie?

“Earth to Wakara! I gotta go, Mom's rattling my cage to get ready for school, and I still have to finish packing for tomorrow. Bring the journal, okay?”

Kara sighed. “Don't worry, I will. Oh, I almost forgot. Grandpa still wants to read the paper you wrote on the Yahi-Yana tribes. He's still looking for something and thinks your research might hold the key—whatever that means. Could you mail it to him?”

“Are you kidding? I mailed it yesterday. It's halfway to Arizona by now.”

By the time Kara got downstairs, Dad and Ryan were finishing breakfast. Dad studied her face. She must not look too upset, because he looked relieved, then smiled. “Good morning, Sugar Bear.”

“Morning, Dad. What time is everyone leaving?”

Dad took a swallow of coffee and looked at his watch. “Soon. I still have to contact the ranger station, then file a flight plan. Shouldn't take long.” He looked at Ryan. “You ready to go, Tiger?”

Ryan gulped down his orange juice and jumped up from the table. “Yeah. Kara helped me pack my bag last night. I'll go get it.” He raced out of the room before Kara could tell him to slow down. She sighed, then realized Dad was looking at her again.

“Thanks, Wakara,” he said. “I really appreciate all you do for Ryan.”

Kara felt uncomfortable. She knew Dad was grateful for her help. He didn't have to keep telling her, but this morning it did feel good to hear him say something nice.

She helped herself to scrambled eggs and stuck a piece of bread in the toaster. When she sat down, Anne handed her a mug of coffee. “Thanks, Anne. Do you need any help?”

The cook shook her head. “No.” Then she smiled. “It is only for one week.”

Kara grinned back. “True. Wait until June.” It was a lot more work getting ready to be away for three whole months. Last year, Anne hadn't been hired until they were already at Eagle Lodge. The supplies and gear had already been packed up and delivered by then.

Dad picked up his dishes and carried them to the sink, then turned toward the mud porch and lifted his jacket from a hook. “Bud Davis and Floyd Carlson will be here with the stock trailers around ten o'clock. Greg and Colin should have the horses ready to go by then.”

Kara felt a surge of excitement. The big stock trailer was on loan to another rancher who was taking an entire herd of cattle to auction. It would take two of the smaller trailers to transport six horses to the trailhead. Kara had actually ridden Dakota that distance last winter, but that was an emergency, and she wasn't eager to do it again. Instead, she and Greg and Colin would ride into the valley from Pine Creek Meadow. It wasn't an easy ride, but at least it was a trail
.

“I'll get out there as soon as I'm finished,” she promised as Dad opened the door.

He hesitated. “The boys will handle it. You see to your brother and help Anne. I'll let you know when we're ready to go.”

Kara nearly dropped her fork. “What about Lily?”

“We'll handle it.” He was gone before she could say anything else.

Kara sat there, stunned. She'd always helped with the horses, whether she was riding in or not. And Dad had just heard both Anne and Ryan say they were ready to go. No way did they need her help. “Anne?”

The cook was staring out the kitchen window, watching Dad walk to the barn. Kara jumped up and stood behind her. “Anne!” Kara knew her voice had risen about six octaves, but right now she didn't care. This time her eyes were dry; she was too scared and angry to cry.

“He is troubled.” Anne turned from the window and put her arm around Wakara's shoulders.

“Why! What have I done?” She couldn't keep the fear and disappointment out of her voice. She felt like everyone was betraying her—even her own father—and that hurt so badly she could hardly stand it.

The woman led her to a chair, then sat beside her. Kara could tell she was uncomfortable, but if Anne knew what was going on . . .

“It is not what you have done that troubles him, but what could be.”

Kara shook her head. “I don't get it.”

Anne sighed and reached for Kara's hand. “In some cultures, a father sees a young man's feelings for his daughter and locks her away until the bride price has been paid.”

Kara scowled. “What's that got to do with me?”

“In this culture, fifteen is young to be a bride. Your father does not realize it, but he is locking you away.”

“Locking me away?” She shook her head. “I don't get it. I'm not even dating anyone. The only boys I ever see are Greg and Colin.”

Anne said nothing, just squeezed her hand, and suddenly Kara understood.

“Colin?” She felt like her face was on fire. “But he's never . . . I mean I like him, but we've never even gone on a real date.”

Anne smiled. “It is in the way he looks at you. Your father sees.”

“And he's trying to keep me away from him.” Kara felt a chill of anger. “That's not fair. Colin hasn't done anything wrong—he wouldn't, and neither would I. I thought Dad trusted me.”

“A father's love is not always rational.”

Kara looked up at her, astonished. “You mean he's punishing me because he loves me? Right!” She took a deep breath
.
Get a grip, Wako, it's not Anne's fault
. Her throat grew tight, and she made herself choke back the tears. “That's just great; now what do I do? I wish Mom were here!”

The words were out before she knew she'd said them, but she realized they were true. If Mom were here, Dad wouldn't be acting like this.

“Yes.”

Anne's voice was so soft Kara almost missed it. Then she blushed. “Oh, Anne, I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me. I was beginning to think Dad hated me, but I'm not sure this is any better.”

“Shall I talk to him?”

Kara shook her head. “No. I guess I'd better do it. If he'll give me a chance.”

The door slammed and Ryan rushed into the room, panting like he'd run a mile. “Kara, Anne, come on, the trucks are here and they're getting ready to load the horses.”

Kara flinched. “I'll be right there, Ry.” To her relief, he turned around and ran back into the yard.

She picked up her bag and was on the back porch before it hit her.
Colin likes me, and we're riding into the valley together!
That thought made her stomach flutter all the way to the barn.

The horses, including Lily, were already saddled and loaded into the trailers. Kara set her bag at the end of the walkway for Dad to take with him on the plane. Dad and Colin were standing by Mr. Carlson's truck, and Greg was already in the front passenger seat of Bud Davis's Land Rover. She headed for Mr. Davis's rig. No sense in making things worse by trying to squeeze into the truck with Colin.

“Wait a second, Wakara.” She turned to see Dad walking toward her. “Here.” He handed her a small paper bag. She opened it and held up a small canister that fit easily into the palm of her hand. “Pepper spray? What's this for?”