Once a Father (13 page)

“I take my roots back.” He accepted the cup dispassionately.

“And take your bed back.”

“You keep the bed. You've already…”

“Contaminated it?”

“Yeah. Exactly.
Contaminated it.
” He headed for the door. Clean exit, he told himself. No speeding, no slamming, no stomping. No stopping, Wolf Track. No looking back.

Damn.

“I'll be across the hall if…if you need anything.”

She was laughing at him. And then she mumbled something about a man, and he felt like an idiot. Would it have helped if he'd gotten down on one knee?

He was a Lakota man, for God's sake.

 

“You're a beautiful man,” she said under her breath when the words could not be heard unless they escaped under the bedroom door.

And what I need is for you to touch me and keep touching me and don't stop touching me with the hands you use every day to fix things.

 

The deep, soft sound of men's voices pulled Mary to the outer edge of sleep.

Being surrounded by men's voices was nothing new for her, but being drawn from night into day by one voice in particular with such an exquisite sense of connection was a first. No man had ever found his way into her life so thoroughly—outside in and inside out—as Logan had done. He surely hadn't meant to, couldn't possibly know the depth of his incursion, but this morning Mary knew something new. She could tell by the way the sound of his voice lifted her that he had become part of her, and it had nothing to do with sex, nothing to do with genetic material. She'd
made a lasting connection with a beautiful man, and no one could take that from her. Not even the man himself.

She put her jeans on, followed by socks and boots. She found a hairbrush on the dresser and took great pleasure in contaminating it with her hair. She wanted to leave a few strands behind. He wouldn't see them right away, but in a few weeks he'd notice and he'd miss her a little. She liked that idea.

She would miss him more than a little.

The unfamiliar voice belonged to another fine-looking man in a cowboy hat. He wasn't as tall as his younger brother, and his face was more refined. He was clearly at home in Logan's kitchen, and the look he gave Mary when she walked in was easy, friendly, maybe pleasantly surprised.

“Mary, this is my older son, Trace.” Arms folded, the two men stood side by side like bookends for the coffee fixings on the counter behind them. Trace touched the brim of his hat. He'd been raised a cowboy. “He's the real rider in the family. Only he likes his ride as wild it gets.”

“You're the bronc rider.” Mary pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She wasn't feeling up to elbowing anyone aside at the coffee station.

“And you are the…”

“Logan and I teamed up for Mustang Sally's Wild Horse Makeover.”

“Wow. You get to train a horse with Logan Wolf
Track?” Trace gave Logan a mock once-over. “I don't see a cast on you anywhere.”

“I don't mind working with somebody, as long as she's interested. You know that.” Logan opened a pine cupboard door and took out a mug. “Coffee or tea, Mary?”

“Whatever's easy.”

“Same as before?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached back into the cupboard and pulled out a plastic bag. “Mary's a fine partner,” he told Trace, who was more interested in the plastic bag than Mary's attributes. “That horse took to her right off.”

“The
horse
did?” Trace scowled. “What the hell are you smoking now?”

“It's not for you, so don't worry about it.” Logan filled a small saucepan from the tap and put it on the stove.

Trace turned the burner on for him. “Just making sure. I don't want them haulin' my dad in front of some cable TV camera asking him if he inhaled.” Logan gave him a look, and Trace grinned. “You wouldn't think he'd be old enough to be my father, would you, Mary?”

“Older brother, maybe.”

“See, Logan? I'm even starting to look like you. And you look damn good for an old man.”

“You don't have to sell me to her, Trace. She's checked my teeth.”

“They're all there, right?” Trace asked Mary. “I'm here to tell you, there's nothing false about this man.”

“He's about to hit me up for something.” Logan made a
gimme
gesture. “Let's have it. Anything but the keys to the pickup.”

“You've got me confused with my brother.” Trace pulled the glass pot from the coffee maker. “I saw Ethan a few weeks ago. He's doing okay.” He offered Logan first refill.

Logan nodded. “I saw him the other day. He was entering up in the competition.”

“Against you?” Trace chuckled as he poured. “Glutton for punishment, that guy.”

“Not from me. I've never been keen on punishment.”

“He used to tell me, you'll catch more flies with honey,” Trace told Mary. “And I couldn't figure out what he was gonna do with all those flies.” He glanced at Logan. “Is Ethan still around?”

“I ran into him at the Drexlers' place. He hasn't come around here.”

“He will.” Trace sipped his coffee, and then he gestured toward the window above the sink. “You've got a great looking horse out there. You want me to buck him out for you?”

“He's kidding,” Logan assured Mary. “He knows better.”

Trace shrugged, making a face as he watched
Logan sprinkle dried brown bits into the saucepan. “He might make a good calf horse. I just finished one out for a guy who can't rope worth beans, but that horse will make him look good right up until he throws his loop away.”

“Sign up and get your own horse,” Logan said.

“Sally's looking for more competitors,” Mary said. “Somebody like you could attract some publicity for the cause.”

“Three Wolf Tracks would definitely be a crowd. I'm gonna cook you some breakfast, Mary. How are we fixed for eggs?” Trace stuck his head behind the refrigerator door and called out, “Damn, Logan, how do you survive?”

“There's bacon in there,” Logan said.

“Yeah, but that's about it.” Trace closed the door and caught his dad's eye.

“The bacon's all we got shakin',” the two men said in unison, both grinning.

Trace shook his head. “I'm gonna have to sign you up for Meals On Wheels just to make sure you get a balanced diet.”

“Mary knows all about ‘meals on wheels',” Logan said. “She's done a couple of tours in Iraq.”

“That's what we call the MKT. Mobile kitchen trailer.” She smiled. “Meals on wheels.”

“You're in the army
now?
” Trace hummed the tune to his question, and Mary nodded. “What did you do? Go over the hill?” he teased.

Logan shoved Trace's shoulder. “She's on leave.”

“Look at this guy, coming to your defense. You can just tell he's—”

“About to pour honey down your throat, boy.” Logan set Mary's tea in front of her and joined her at the table.

“Otherwise he'd be the one joshin' you,” Trace said.

“I've been thoroughly joshed,” she said into her cup before she took her first sip.

Logan dropped his face into his hand.

“Time out.” Grinning, Trace clapped a hand on his father's shoulder. “No more joshin' on an empty stomach. How about I make an egg run?” He used his hand as a stop sign. “Don't say it. I called time out.”

“You cooking?”

“Oh, yeah.” Trace laughed. “Logan's good at a lotta things, but cooking ain't one of 'em.”

Trace took his coffee with him along with Logan's order for butter and juice. He left them sitting kitty-corner from each other in awkward silence.

“I'm sorry about last night,” Mary said at long last.

“Forget about last night.”

She nodded and concentrated on her tea.
Take your medicine like a good soldier.
She wondered how Trace and Ethan had been encouraged to take their medicine. Cowboy up? Be brave?

Growing up, she'd certainly never been encouraged to be a good soldier. She'd helped in the kitchen, but she'd never really done any cooking. Her mother had encouraged her to do her homework, but only after the chores were done. And she didn't want to run into her father while she was doing her chores because he'd have a few more for her to do. She was going to have to take over someday now that her “worthless” brother had flown the coop. And cooped she was. The kind of banter Logan had traded with his son never happened in the Tutan household. Not when Father was around.

“If you feel up to it, we can do some ground work with Adobe this morning,” Logan said. “Show him off to Trace. I have a meeting later.”

“I should spend some time with my mother.” She looked into his eyes, hoping for some sign that he didn't mean
forget completely.
It wasn't there. The warm smile she expected to find waiting for her in his dark eyes was not there. She glanced away. “And Sally. I should explain to Sally.”

“They'll be able to help you out,” he said. “Woman to woman.”

“Is today's meeting the one with my father?”

“I can handle your father.”

“I know, but just don't…” She laid her hand on his forearm. “He's had his way over that land long enough. It's time for a change.”

Logan nodded.

“Just don't ever turn your back on him. Don't ever think he's given up.”

“My business with your father is my people's business. It isn't personal. His time is over.” He gave a perfunctory smile. “The
times
have changed.”

She smiled back. “Which times, Wolf Track? Central? Mountain? Daylight savings?”

“All of the above.” He tossed an invisible time-piece over his shoulder. “Out the window. Indian time rules here now, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Hell, yeah. Killer-sweet. You gotta love 'em, even when—
especially
when they're breaking your heart.” He slid his hand into her hair and met her halfway for a deep, demanding, unstinting, unhurried kiss. Then he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “You'll see.”

M
ary loved her mother, and she missed her, but the woman she missed was not the timid soul who slipped quietly from room to room in the Tutan house like a sad specter. It was painful to see the mainstay of what was once her home fade into the woodwork of a mere house. Mary felt guilty about these thoughts, and her guilt made it doubly hard to come to her mother's kitchen for a heart-to-heart. They made tea, and they sat side by side on the big banquette in the sunny nook that housed the kitchen table—one of the few bright spots in the house—and neither of them spoke. Not right away.

“I had a checkup yesterday,” Audrey said finally.

“Oh, God.” Mary slapped her forehead. “Mother, I'm sorry. I was going to go with you.”

“Your father dropped me off. There was someone he had to meet with anyway, so it worked out just fine.”

Audrey laid her thin hands palms down on either side of Grandma's pink Depression glass salt and pepper shakers. The rings that had been Grandma Tutan's clicked against the table. The Tutan family rings, supposedly destined for Mary's hand someday since her brother had refused them. She wouldn't hurt her mother if she could help it, but…

It would be a cold day in hell before she would wear those rings. It was a hard thought, a mean thought.

“I got a good report.”

Oh, God.
Mary took her mother's hands and held on for dear life. Dear, dear life. Words so rarely said under the Tutan roof burned in her throat. Tears stung her eyes. All she could do was squeeze, nod and whisper, “Good…good, good.”

When she was able to breathe easily again, she unclenched her hands and let herself lean until gravity brought her down, and Mother took her daughter's head in her lap.

“Did you think I was a goner?” Audrey asked. Mary closed her eyes and drifted in the timeless comfort of being stroked by a mother's hand. “Hmm?”

“I couldn't, no.”
And I couldn't know.

“I'm here,” Audrey said. “So tell me what's bothering you. Maybe I can help you sort it out. Or just listen. Whatever you need.”

“When did I become so transparent?”

“To me?” Audrey made a wistful sound. “When they cleaned you off and handed you to me. Your skin was like tissue paper, and you had a protective glaze over your face, as though you really had just come from an oven. I saw everything, every precious part.”

“Since you know me so well, it would be comforting if this came as a surprise, okay?”

“Okay.”

The frail hand continued to stroke Mary's hair.

“I'm pregnant.”

Audrey drew a long, slow, deep breath. “Wow.”

“Wow?”

“I'm surprised. Wow. You can tell that quickly?”

Mary sat up laughing. “That's not the reaction I was looking for, but any surprise will do.”

“Well, I
am
surprised, but you know what you're doing. You know what you want. You'll be a wonderful mother.” She smiled and touched her daughter's cheek. “I'm happy. Are you happy?”

“I don't know. I'm still surprised.”

“How does Logan feel about it?”

“The truth is…” Hard to admit only because it was so far from what she wanted it to be.

“I can tell you how he feels about it.” Dan Tutan strolled from the dining room shadows into the light, hands firmly planted on his ample hips. “Pretty damn proud of himself. Dan Tutan's daughter makes a nice little feather in his war bonnet.”

Mary closed her eyes and fought for control, starting with her voice. Soft and steady. “I'm leaving, Mother. Would you like to go with me?”

“No, she would not. She's already had one heart attack. Are you trying to give her another one?”

Mary slid to her feet. “Mother?”

“I'm fine, Mary. I'll be right here.” Audrey gave a subtle wave of her hands. “Don't get into it now. Go.”

“You should come with me, Mother. You don't need this.” Mary reached out, leaning into her plea. “Mother, I'm going to need help with this baby. Come with me.”

“You'll have all the help you need. He's a wonderful man.”

“Mother, it isn't…” She glanced at her father.
Glared
at her father. What it was and was not was none of his business. She would allow him no more—not another word, not another moment.
No more.
“I want you to call me, Mother. If anything happens, anything changes, I want to…” She swallowed against the needles in her throat. “He has no right to take you away from me.”

“Nothing can take me away from you. I'm going
with you in ways you'll soon begin to understand.” Audrey smiled and nodded. “Go. Be happy.”

 

Sally had always been easy to talk to. Bring her your latest hardship and you were soon persuaded to throw most of the heavy stuff overboard and go with the flow. But Mary's news threw Sally, at least enough to abruptly silence the front porch swing.

Wide-eyed, she leaned toward Mary. “How did
that
happen?”

“Um…”

“You know what I mean. I knew you two would hit it off, but what a—” She whooped, clapped her hands together and brandished them right and left victoriously. “Don't say
bang,
” Mary warned. She wanted to let the fantasy live. Logan's baby. The more she thought about it, the more she wished for it. It could have been. It
should
have been. But she had to remember that it was not. “Wrong word.”

“So inappropriate.” Sally grinned as she pushed the ball of her sneaker against the porch floor with one foot and got them swinging again. “I've seen you two together. You were meant to be. And I ca-a-lled it,” she sang out.

“Seriously, Sally.”

“Seriously,
Mary.
” She nodded toward the big white pickup parked in front of the house. “I'm
dying for details, but we have to get going. There's a meeting at the tribal office.”

“Is it about the land?”

“I don't know those details, either. Committee meeting, Logan said. They want an update on the sanctuary and how we're doing with our expansion program. They've got some questions.”

“So it isn't the big hearing.” Mary took Sally's cue and reached for the cane propped against the porch railing.

“Ready?” Hank stepped out on the porch and closed the front door behind him. “Hey, Mary. You going to the meeting?”

“No, I don't think I'm invited. Is it open to the public?”

“Interested parties,” Hank said. “Come along if you're in that category.”

“I am, but I think it's better if I go separately. I was more or less told to stay out of it, but maybe there's some way I can help. Show community support.” She turned to Sally and shifted eyeballs only in Hank's direction. “It's more complicated, Sally, so not a word, okay?”

“Of course not. I'm not
that
inappropriate.”

“May I keep the pickup awhile longer?”

“It's yours as long as you need it.”

 

It was a small meeting held in a large room, and it was already underway when Mary took advantage
of a door left open by a clerk delivering files and followed her into the room. She took a chair close to the door behind a couple of ranchers and an out-of-state bureaucrat—their clothing told their stories—and willed herself fly-on-the-wall status.

Seated on three sides of a square made up of folding tables at the far end on the room were the decision makers. There were three women and two men besides Logan. “Interested parties” occupied a row of folding chairs facing the table. Hank Night Horse sat with Sally and Ann Drexler at one end of the row, and the opposition sat midrow, one man at the center of his own stage. Even with his back to her, Mary could see her father's ruddy face. She could hear his bluster, loud and clear.

“It's about the way we make a living around here,” he was saying. “It's not just me. It's a whole way of life. So I've asked Tim Perry—
Senator
Perry—I've asked him to put a hold on transferring the BLM land.”

“He can't do that,” said one of the committee members. The clerk was circling around behind the participants and handing out papers. “That deal has already been signed, sealed and delivered.”

“That's not the way things work in Washington,” Tutan said. “You know all that. Tim's been sitting on that crazy ROAM Act for how long now? That piece of legislation would favor the kind of sanctuary you're pushing here. Wide open spaces for a bunch
of animals that really don't serve much purpose. I'm not saying get rid of all of them, but let's be sensible. These animals are not indigenous. Not really. And they're not domestic. Can't live with 'em, can't eat 'em.” Tutan laughed alone.

“You keep saying
animals,
” Logan said without looking up from the paper he'd been handed. “Is there something wrong with the word
horse?
”

“I like horses. I'm a rancher. The horse is part of my heritage, too.”

“He transports you and he does your chores, but he's not a piece of machinery.” Logan looked up at Tutan. “And he eats grass.”

“That he does.” Tutan shifted in his squeaky chair. “My father had a team and wagon. My grandfather used horse-drawn machinery. It's all part of the history books now.”

“Along with Indians and cowboys,” Logan said.

“It's going to take federal money to keep the Drexlers in business. Nonprofit is business, and they can't tell me otherwise. The way the market is now, that adoption deal has just about priced those horses beyond what anybody with any sense is willing to pay.” Tutan wagged a finger. “All it takes is one senator. And I've got mine.”

“I don't see any reason to modify the Drexlers' lease at this time,” Logan said.

“What about my daughter?”

Logan frowned. “I'm not aware of any Indian land being leased to—”

“She's in on this horse training contest the Drexlers are running. And so are you, Mr. Wolf Track. In fact, you and Mary are in on it together. Partners, right?” Tutan had a couple of committee members' full attention now. “And more. A hell of a lot more. You're
involved
up to your eyeteeth. And that means you have a very personal—”

“I don't know what kind of
personal
relationship you have with Senator Perry, and I don't care. My friendship with Mary has—”

“Careful, Mr. Wolf Track,” Tutan said. “Politics is the bread we're feeding on here, and scandal makes the best butter. You know what I'm talking about.”

“Don't threaten me, Tutan.” Logan's voice was deceptively calm. His eyes would have frozen beer. “This meeting is about lease land, and that's all I intend to discuss with you.”

“I increased my bid. In the interest of your own people, you should not have turned it down. I know tribal policy, and I know federal policy. The BIA exists to look after the interests of you Indians.”

“The BIA exists to look after the interests of bureaucrats and people like you, Mr. Tutan. But we Indians persevere, and we even try to get along with you. It isn't easy.” Logan rose from his chair, his ire bearing down on Mary's father. “Because you have no shame.”

The man in charge of the proceedings started up from his chair. “Logan…”

Logan made a palms-up gesture. “Mr. Chairman, I recuse myself from any decision taken today. I don't see any reason to change our position on the leases. Not today, anyway.”

“You won't get any argument from me,” the chairman said.

“And you haven't heard the last from me,” Tutan warned.

Logan spared Mary an angry glance as he left the meeting room. The participants were still talking, but the subject was the next meeting, the next step, the remaining options.
Moving on
was the general sentiment. Tutan wasn't moving, and Mary knew the look on his face without seeing it. He was fuming.

Mary slipped out and found Logan standing outside the front of the building. He gave a nod toward the street corner, and she took his marching orders. They hit the corner shoulder to shoulder, wheeled right and headed for out-of-sight, out-of-mind territory.

“You heard?” he said finally.

“I'm sorry, Logan. I didn't see that coming.”

“You could've gotten your story straight with me first.”

“Logan…” Keep walking, she told herself. There was no such thing as a good excuse. “There was only the
beginning
of the story and the big leap to
conclusions. You don't have to worry, Logan. I'll set the record straight.”

“Did I sound worried?” He stopped and turned to her. “Do I look worried?”

“Not at all.” She realized they had reached his parked pickup. “You handled it beautifully.”

“I can handle any horse they bring me, Mary. A horse's ass is no contest.”

Without so much as a fare-thee-well, he got into his pickup and drove away.

 

Mary read the names on the sides of the boxcars as they rumbled past the front of the pickup. Burlington, Soo, DM&E, Soo, Soo, Soo.

Having no place to go was definitely a downer. She had driven through a major crossroads miles back, watched it shrink appropriately in the rearview mirror. A good turn would have taken her to her best friend's place. A terrible turn would have led to the house she'd grown up in and most of the clothes she'd brought with her. A hundred and eighty degree turn would have headed her toward the home of the man she loved.
Yes, loved.
But she'd kept right on gunning her internal and external engines, tooling down the road, imagining a clean bed in a small-town motel and telling herself everything would be fine. Another week and she would be a plane ride away from a life in good order. She'd have her calendar on the wall
and a clock in every room. She would get back to work with her dogs, and she would be fine.