Читать книгу The Warrior's Way - Jenna Kernan, Jenna Kernan - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Sophia stood on the porch of the little cabin and listened. The men sat in a circle around a huge drum, each with a leather-tipped drumstick, collectively beating the rhythm for the dance. She could see them all by firelight and recognized many; Ray sat next to Dylan, who was beside Kurt Bear Den. Then came three men she could not see because their backs were toward her. Adjacent to them, Jack Bear Den sat in profile. He was a full head taller than any of the others and that was while he was sitting down. His appearance raised all sorts of obvious questions. The investigator in her wanted answers. But the part of her that kept her own secrets did not.

Much of her childhood had been horrific and blocking it out just made sense. No different than blocking someone on social media. Except those drums. They brought back something she hadn’t remembered, the good part. Belonging to something bigger than herself. Walling herself off, avoiding going home, it was logical but now she felt a longing that made her weep.

So here she stood, leaning against the porch rail and watching the Turquoise Canyon tribe dance in unison around the central fire. Her head bobbed in time and her feet shuffled from side to side. She knew this dance, knew the meaning and the purpose.

There in the light of the fire went Morgan Hooke and beside her was the Anglo Meadow Wrangler. She did not seem to care that she was an outsider, as she matched her steps perfectly to the others. Sophia studied Meadow and how the other women reacted to her. From Sophia’s perspective, it seemed that this tribe accepted the heiress despite her outlandish ocean-blue hair and relations with the known head of BEAR. Sophia longed to join them but something kept her rooted to the porch. If she were similarly welcomed, it would be harder to leave.

She wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and straightened. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to move in slow harmony around the fire or sing the songs to earth and sky. But a prayer might help the outcome of the internal investigation. A song sung with so many voices was a powerful thing. Was it strong enough to give her back what was taken...her badge, her gun, her position?

She needed them. Needed to be away from here and back where she belonged. On the job.

Sophia sang softly to herself. The song was a prayer, her tiny voice mingling with the people. Their languages were different. She hoped it wouldn’t matter as she returned to the language of her youth, her terrible wonderful youth beside the high black-capped mountain. She sang the next song as well and was still there when the logs fell inward and the drums went silent. Still there clinging to the porch rail when the gathering broke and the engines of the cars and trucks started. She watched the vehicles cruise away. Saw Jack Bear Den lift the drum as big as a truck tire and carry it single-handed into the lodge.

She retreated to the shadows as his friends made their way to their cabins. Ray chased his new wife past her door as Morgan giggled like a girl.

Next came Dylan and Meadow, strolling arm in arm, their heads inclined so they touched. They paused at the river and shared a long kiss that was so full of love and desire that Sophia had to look away. She turned toward the lodge and saw Jack Bear Den standing before the steps leading to the cabin beside hers. His eyes were pinned on her. The shroud of darkness wasn’t cover enough to keep him from locating her.

“You didn’t come,” Jack said. His voice was low and only for her. Had he been watching for her? That thought made her tingle all over.

She glanced over at Dylan and Meadow and was surprised when Meadow kissed Dylan good-night and then retreated alone through the doorway. Sophia blinked in confusion as what she knew of Meadow’s wild reputation for men and parties clashed with the chaste kiss. Dylan walked alone to the next lodge and vanished inside.

“They don’t?” Sophia asked.

Jack shook his head. “Nope.”

“But why? They are clearly in love.”

“Because to marry her is to give Meadow federal protection from the local wants and warrants regarding the wildfire. Meadow won’t have the people thinking she married Dylan for that reason. Someday, she will marry him. When the matter is settled.”

“That could be years.” Sophia looked at the dark lodge. Beyond the window Sophia thought that Meadow must be preparing to sleep in her empty bed. “It could be never.”

“Her choice,” said Jack. “And a difficult one. But one that has earned her much respect here.”

Sophia returned her gaze to Jack, taking in the readiness of his stance and the way he was now angled away from his cabin and toward hers.

“I was hoping you would join us,” he said.

“I did not want to intrude.”

“We want you here, Sophia. Everyone. And they want to meet you.”

“I won’t be here that long.”

He nodded. “More reason.”

“You want to sit awhile?” He motioned to the bench beneath the single window on his porch.

Sophia knew with certainty what would happen if she crossed the distance between them. It wouldn’t be sitting.

“Detective Bear Den, I want you to know that I’m not in a relationship at present.”

His brows lifted at this change of direction.

“By choice. I like men, I just don’t like them encroaching, you know, on my space. I need privacy.”

“I wouldn’t think I’d be encroaching for long. Like you said, you’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“Just as well. I need my space, too.”

She was so tempted to walk right over to him and lace her hands behind his neck and kiss him with everything she had. That’s what she wanted. But it wasn’t wise.

“I’m not getting mixed up with you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He walked to her porch, placing one large foot on the bottom step as he gripped the rail and broke into her personal space.

“If you say so.”

She backed toward her door.

“If you change your mind on the encroachment thing, you know where to find me.”

Men were like that, just like stray cats. But they didn’t stay. Not for long, and a woman who was wise knew to take care of herself. Relying on a man was a lot like working with explosives. You kept clear if you could and if you couldn’t you wore protective gear.

“Good night, Detective.”

“Good night, Agent Rivas.” He followed her with his eyes. “Did you hear me singing to you?”

She had—his voice was low and deep and distinctive. He’d sung one full song alone. It had made her insides ache.