Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (15 page)

Jenny had heard stories similar to his many times in her office. No one left a war zone unscarred.

“Then I met my wife, Sally. She’s Lakota. I don’t know why or how, but she agreed to marry me on the condition that I stop drinking and get a job.” Sam stopped in the middle of the room and stared out of one of the windows for a moment. A small smile played on his face. “I did quit, and I got a job. That woman saved my life. That’s all.”

Though he’d begun slowly, he ended abruptly as he shuffled back to his seat. A round of “hoh” accompanied the end of his story with more camp attendees joining in and echoing the sound. Auntie Martha held up a discreet hand for the stick, and Sam handed it to her.

Jenny looked at Clint, who finally raised his eyes from the floor. He caught her eyes and smiled. She tried to return his grin but felt completely disconnected from him, and her face must have reflected it because she saw his eyes narrow and the smile leave his face. She turned her attention to Auntie Martha, who stood and began to pace the room in a delicate fashion, her moccasined feet making swishing noises on the old linoleum floor.

Auntie Martha spoke of some of her tribe’s customs and traditions, the enjoyment and fulfillment she gained every year she came to the camp and worked with veterans. With a beatific smile, she touched on the healing powers of fellow veterans, the mountain, and the prayers in the sweat lodges.

The morning passed quickly, and the group was released for lunch a few moments before the bell rang. Jenny tucked up close to Kate, trying to exit through the door opposite Clint, but he called to her as soon as they were outside.

“Jenny, wait.”

Jenny caught her breath and turned beseeching eyes on Kate before turning around to meet Clint.

Clint approached with a tentative smile. “Hey, Kate. Can I talk to Jenny for just a second?”

Kate’s probing eyes traveled from Clint to Jenny. With a raised brow, she murmured an assent and wandered off to the community area to wait for Jenny.

Jenny watched her progress, unwilling to meet Clint’s eyes.

“Hey,” he exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

With a racing heart and cold hands, Jenny turned toward him. She stared at the pulse beating in the hollow of his throat.

“I-I don’t know.” She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets.

“Are you okay? You looked kind of spooked in there. Did Sam’s story upset you?”

Jenny caught several curious glances directed toward them by passersby, and she wished herself elsewhere.

“No, no. I’ve heard stories like his before. Always sad,” she said. “But no, not him.”

Clint bent his knees and dipped his head to meet Jenny’s eyes. She blinked and looked away.

“Not him,” he repeated. “Who then? Me?”

“Yes, you,” she said, but wished the words back almost immediately. “Not you, but...”

“What then, Jenny? Tell me what’s wrong.” Clint reached out to touch her arm, and Jenny backed away. She threw a harried glance over her shoulder toward Kate, who lounged on the edge of a picnic table bench while she watched the couple.

“I don’t know. I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you. This is all so
foreign
to me.” She pulled a hand from her pocket to gesture toward the camp in a general way. “All of a sudden, in the group, I felt like you were a complete stranger to me.”

Jenny raised troubled eyes to Clint’s suddenly withdrawn face. He pulled his hand back and shoved it in his own jeans pocket.

“Because I’m an Indian?” His deep voice took on a harsh note.

Jenny dropped her eyes again and nodded. How could she explain that she suddenly felt so removed from him...so different...so white?

“But isn’t that what you’re here for?” A bitter tone hardened his voice. “Aren’t you here to get to know Native Americans, our customs and traditions?”

Jenny looked up again. His unyielding expression alarmed her. What had she done?

Chapter Eleven

“Yes, I am. We are. I don’t know how to explain it, Clint. One minute, you’re just a modern regular guy. And then the next minute, you’re the epitome of a traditional Native American man. So different from me, so different from anyone I know.”

Clint was silent for a moment. He dropped his eyes and shuffled dirt with his boots. Jenny threw another look at Kate who waggled her eyebrows. Clint’s voice brought Jenny’s eyes back to him.

“I think I understand what you’re saying, Jenny.” His cheeks bronzed, and he tilted his head and smiled once again. “Just give me a chance. Give us a chance.” He looked around the campground. “Don’t turn from me because you don’t understand our ways.”

Jenny searched his earnest eyes. It was so easy at the moment to feel close to him, when he was in his modern, social-worker-about-town persona. She mentally kicked herself.

“You’re right, Clint. I’m sorry. I’ll try to open myself up more to new experiences. I don’t know what I’m afraid of.” Jenny’s face burned, and she shook her head in confusion.

“Maybe you’re just afraid of me.” Clint chuckled, laughing at the stricken expression in Jenny’s eyes. “I’m teasing. Come on. Let’s go get some lunch. Kate has been waiting long enough.”

Jenny followed him toward Kate. The bell rang, and they fell into line at the dining hall. Jenny studied Clint from under veiled eyes while he and Kate carried on a lively conversation about the elements and traditions involved in making a talking stick. Though he spoke of his tribe’s spiritual customs, he seemed somehow approachable once again and far removed from the solemn-faced Native American man in the group room.

Jenny avoided the continuing narrow-eyed stares of the female Native American servers, and she followed Kate and Clint toward a table where Brad and Tim sat. Kate slid onto the bench next to Brad, while Jenny sat across the table next to Tim. Clint took a seat next to her.

“Can we join you?” Steve appeared at Kate’s side with a tentative smile on his face. Celia followed him with a tray.

“Sure,” Kate answered with a quick glance in Jenny’s direction. Steve and Celia placed their trays on the table and sat down. Jenny noticed Celia was quick to take the seat next to Clint, and Steve sat across from her.

Jenny slid a pointed look toward Kate before she dropped her eyes and applied her wholehearted attention to food. Well, at least as much as she could until she heard Celia’s wispy voice.

“Clint, I’m enjoying your group immensely. I just want you to know that. I’m so glad I was able to request your family this year.”

“Em...thank you, Celia. I’m glad you like it.” Water sloshed over the edge of Clint’s cup as he set it down quickly.

Jenny threw Kate a quick glance before they both turned to stare at Celia.

“Can you do that?” Kate asked curiously.

Celia gave the dark-haired woman a chilly look.

“Yes, of course, I can...could. Well, I did...”

Jenny’s eyes slid toward Clint, whose high cheekbones shone a dull red. He said nothing but reached for his water once again.

“I didn’t know that,” said Steve, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents running through the table. “Well, you’ll enjoy the family, Celia. Clint is running a great group. Very traditional.”

“I know,” Celia said. “I was in his family last year. Wasn’t I, Clint?”

Clint cleared his throat. “Yes, you were, Celia. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather experience another family under a different Interpreter? It would do you good to broaden your horizons.”

“My horizons are broadening already, Clint.”

Jenny choked down an unexpected wayward laugh and hastily grabbed her own cup of water to busy her twitching lips. She tried not to meet Kate’s eyes but couldn’t keep herself from peeking. Kate quirked her left eyebrow and eyed Celia as if she were a strange specimen in a lab.

Celia ignored Kate. “Besides, I feel safer in your family. I can’t explain it, but I just don’t think I could open up in another family.”

“Well, yes, of course. Certainly.” Clint continued to struggle for inane words, and Jenny took pity on him, but she resisted the urge to help him. He was a big boy. She returned her attention to her food.

“So, how are you enjoying your first day in group, Jenny? Kate?” Steve threw his two cents into the fray.

“Oh, well, I—” Jenny struggled to respond, acutely aware Clint sat next to her.

“It’s great. Isn’t it, Jenny?” Kate chimed in. “Of course, our Interpreter is right here, so we can’t say much else, can we?” Her laugh was infectious, and Jenny smiled.

“Oh, no, feel free to say anything you want. I’m always open to feedback.” Clint’s heightened color had hardly faded before it flared up again. He cast Jenny a quick glance and looked over toward Kate with a raised brow.

“Well, so far...” Kate paused dramatically for a moment as she scanned the attentive faces at the table. “I love it. I think it’s wonderful. I find it informative, spiritual, relevant, solemn, humorous, fascinating, and utterly enjoyable.”

Jenny was taken aback to hear the often acerbic Kate speak in such glowing terms. She glanced at Clint to gauge his reaction.

Clint blinked and smiled. He dipped his head in Kate’s direction.

“Well, thank you, Kate. High praise, indeed.”

“So, now you know why I want to be in Clint’s family again,” Celia interjected.

“I never doubted it,” Kate said as she grinned and took a bite of her food. The conversation turned to general matters, and Jenny relaxed and ate. She was aware of a slight movement to her left.

“Thanks for not throwing in your two cents,” Clint said in a low voice near her ear. “Frankly, I’d be terrified to hear what you think of the group.”

Jenny’s cheeks flooded with color, and she searched the faces at the table to see if anyone had overheard. No one looked in her direction. She could not see Celia on the other side of Clint.

“Well, I wouldn’t criticize your group, if that’s what you mean. That’s not my place.” Unable to meet Clint’s eyes only inches from her face, Jenny kept her gaze on her food.

“Are you saying if you had any comment at all, it would be criticism?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenny could see his fork stilled in midair.

“No, no. I think your group is great. I look forward to more of it.”

“That sounds like a pat answer.”

“It is,” Jenny hissed, feeling suddenly pressured as she looked around at the sea of faces, hoping no one was listening to their conversation...especially Celia. “I told you, I’m not going to critique your group.” How could she possibly tell him she worshiped the ground he walked on as he strode back and forth across the group room like a bronzed Native American god?

Clint straightened. By doing so, he moved away, and Jenny felt suddenly bereft.

“I see,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you for comment. That was rude...and unprofessional.” He didn’t look in her direction again, and Jenny chewed the inside of her lip, her appetite suddenly gone. Within moments, Clint stood abruptly.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got some things to do before group. I’ll see you all in a bit.” He picked up his tray without looking in her direction and moved away.

Jenny watched his retreating back and fought against the lump in her throat. Across the empty expanse where Clint had sat, she met Celia’s violet gaze. Celia’s lips curled into a half smile which didn’t reach her eyes. She turned away to speak to Steve, leaving Jenny staring at her profile.

Jenny averted her eyes and listened in on the innocuous conversation between Kate, Tim, and Brad. She’d been on a discouraging emotional rollercoaster ever since meeting Clint yesterday. One moment, she was elated and the next she was down in the dumps. Maybe it was more a merry-go-round of emotions. Why was she finding it so hard to talk to him? It wasn’t like she was going to be seeing him again after camp was over.

****

Well, drat the woman, Clint thought. It wasn’t like he was going to be seeing her after camp was over. Who cared what she thought about the group? He’d been doing this for almost five years. He had no concerns about his competency.

Clint strode up the dusty hill to his cabin and threw open the door to his small room. The darn thing was getting smaller all the time, he thought, as he dropped into the chair. He stuck his booted feet out and lodged them against the wooden windowsill as he clasped his hands behind his head and stared out the window unseeingly.

Confusing woman! She was as mercurial as the weather up here in the mountains. Sunny one minute and cloudy the next, blowing warm and cold, often in the same five-minute span. He didn’t know whether he was coming or going with her. She’d be a handful to live with, that’s for sure. But always an interesting handful!

Clint dropped his feet from the ledge and sat up. Where did that thought come from?

He heard a knock at his door and then a female voice.

“Clint?”

Celia! What the heck? What did she want? He contemplated not answering the door.

“Clint, are you in there?”

Clint rose with a sigh. He had a job to do, and a camp attendee needed something. He couldn’t turn away. He moved softly to the door, pulled it open and quickly stepped onto the porch.

Celia blinked for a moment and stepped back as Clint came outside.

“Oh, hi. I-I was wondering...”

“Yes, Celia? What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering...” Celia gave him a tentative smile. “Did I make you mad at lunch or something? You got up so quickly, I thought...I thought I might have said something wrong.”

Clint, who’d been scanning the community area, returned startled eyes to her face.

“Me? Mad? I don’t think so,” he said. Had he shown anger? What would Jenny think? He looked over the top of Celia’s head toward the picnic area once again. Jenny rested on a bench, her back to him...luckily...but Kate, across from her, could see his cabin if she looked up.

Clint put a hand on Celia’s arm and propelled her across the wooden porch and down the steps.

“No, Celia. I’m not mad at anyone. I just had a few things to do.”