DESI'S RESCUE Page 9

  Now that would be a crime.

  Rineheart was on his way back down the hall, his hat pushed back on his high forehead. Desi stood. "How is he?"

  "He's awake. Groggy, furious, but awake."

  Desi pressed her palm to the hollow of her throat. "Thank God."

  "Looks like he's going to be all right, but sounds like they're gonna have to send him into Denver for observation, make sure nothing's wrong."

  She nodded, but her heart sunk. "Poor kid."

  "He says he didn't see anything. He heard something—though he keeps saying the word in Indian, so I don't know what he means—and went out to see what was going on. Never saw a thing."

  "And you didn't find anything?"

  Jimmy looked apologetic. "There's so many footprints up there, Desdemona. Can't tell what's yours and what's an outsider's, particularly with all the melt and tromping yesterday with the fencing."

  "Maybe I will put in some cameras."

  "It would be a good idea." He touched his hat, in preparation for leaving. "There's more to this than I'm currently understanding, but I'm thinking these folks aren't playing games. You're in pretty serious danger."

  "I can't leave the wolves."

  "I know. Maybe you can hire some more bodyguards or something."

  Desi found a wry smile. "Wolf guards. Hahaha."

  He smiled, too. "That's right, sweetheart, never lose your sense of humor."

  "I'll do my best."

  * * *

  Desi had already alerted Helene that she'd be late. Once she spoke to Alex, and made sure he had family to fly with him to Denver, she headed out into the mild winter morning. The streets were thronged with the ski set in their brightly colored clothes and hats. The omnipresent sound of the lifts swinging their way uphill and back down, over and over and over, rumbled beneath everything, a sound Desi noticed only now and again.

  She crossed the street near the Black Crown and headed up the hill to Helene's house, thinking she hadn't thought of a way to tell Tam to reach her. Surely he'd just take her phone to the pub and she could go get it later. She didn't have his cell phone number.

  But—maybe Lisa had arrived at the center by now and she could reach him that way. She'd call from Helene's.

  And call the judge. Wincing, she rubbed her forehead. Too much to do. Way too much. How could she keep going like this?

  Helene, a Mariposa Ute, opened the door before Desi could knock. A lean, rangy woman with hard-carved features and the large, all-seeing eyes of a sage, she and Desi had been friends nearly from the time she'd arrived in Mariposa.

  "Come in and tell me how my nephew is doing. Is he okay?"

  Desi recounted what she knew. "His mother was there when I left."

  "Good." Helene waved her into the kitchen at the back of the house, which smelled of oranges and fresh pancakes toasting on a grill. "Come in, sweetheart. I made a plate for Glory, who insisted she was going to die if she didn't eat, but I waited for you."

  Desi smiled. Touched Helene's shoulder in thanks. Soon she would be Juliet's mother-in-law, technically a relative of Desi's, as well. And Josh, gentle Josh, who was so good to her sister, would be Desi's brother.

  Sitting at the table, her feet swinging in pink tennis shoes, was Glory, Josh's five-year-old daughter. A stunning child with soft walnut-colored skin and a black braid falling to her hips, she was direct, eccentric and absolutely adorable. "Hi, Auntie Dez!" she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you. I just got too hungry."

  Desi bent and kissed the part in her hair. "That's all right, sweetheart." She sat down at the table. "Have you seen my sister this morning?"

  "She had to work," Glory said. "But she's supposed to come get me after lunch."

  Juliet had been working on creating a shelter and legal office for immigrant women who came, mostly with husbands or boyfriends, to work in the service industry in the ski areas. Housing, food, child care and the social ills of struggle were ongoing problems, and Juliet had proven to be very good at negotiating solutions. One of the hotels had been convinced it would be to their benefit to set up a child-care facility for the hotel maids.

  Helene said, "Finish up your breakfast, baby, and you can go play."

  "I know, I know," Glory said with a sing-song tone. "Adults have important things to talk about."

  "You are just too old for your age, you know it?" Desi said.

  "Well, I'm not stupid, you know."

  "You're precocious," Helene said as she tossed droplets of water on the grill. They sizzled off, and she ladled pancake mix on the griddle. The scent of baking dough sent long fingers into Desi's empty tummy, and it growled.

  Glory shoveled a last forkful of pancakes into her mouth, drank her milk and wiped her face clean with a cloth napkin. "I'm done."

  "What do you say?"

  "May I be excused?"

  "You may."

  When she'd left the room, Desi said, "I need to hire some people to guard the perimeter of the land and especially the wolves."

  Helene settled across the table, her long fingers covering Desi's hands for a moment. "You look tired."

  A clutch of tears caught in Desi's throat, and she looked down to hide it. Helene's hands tightened gently, her fingers cool and strong. "I am tired," Desi said. "It's been one thing after another."

  "What have you been doing to rest, hmm? To take care of yourself?"

  Desi shook her head and had to admit the truth. "Nothing."

  "This is the season in which we are meant to rest, go underground, sleep more, so we can be ready for the spring when it comes."

  "I know," Desi said, and raised her eyes. "You're right."

  Helene reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of Desi's eyes, a motherly gesture that made Desi's chest ache with the honor of it. She'd had little kind attention from her own mother, and Helene's abundance of nurturing felt like falling out of a gloomy, dark day into a sunny one.

  She'd originally met Helene within a month of arriving seven years ago, when the Ute woman approached Desi in the grocery store and asked if they could share a pot of tea—Helene's modern-day version of offering a pipe to a stranger. Desi had agreed. Helene had explained that for many years, she had been holding sacred sweats for women on what was now Desi's property. It was a very special place, with clear, cold water running in a stream to the east, the hot springs in the south, the mountain to the north and the old burial ground to the west. Without hesitation, Desi had agreed to allow her to continue. In time they had become friends. In time Helene had taught Desi the traditions associated with sweats and invited her to join the small band of women.

  One of the teachings Helene tried to impress on the women who—no matter their background—tried to do too much, was to respect natural seasons and cycles, in nature, in life, in the body. Winter was meant to be a time of rest and quiet. Which was hardly how Desi had been spending it.

  Sitting in Helene's kitchen, all the pressure of the outside world dropped away, and Desi felt as if she could be herself with the figure of the great mother that Helene embodied, mortal hands and mortal brown eyes and warm, husky mortal voice giving body to Mother Earth.

  "I feel so lost," Desi admitted quietly. "I don't know how to keep fighting this. I don't know why I should have to—how did I offend the universe to bring so much down on my head?"

  "There is a lesson in everything," Helene said. "We do not always know why things come to us to be addressed, but we usually do know what is required."

  Desi bowed her head.

  Helene tightened her hand on Desi's. "It must feel overwhelming, with so much at stake. The land, the wolves, your freedom, the life you have worked to create."

  "Yes." The word was a whisper.

  "I know you are tired, child, but you have been honored to be chosen to protect that special land and those special creatures and that holy ground. You are a powerful warrior, and the ancestors will help you."

  Humbled, Desi could only grip Helene's hand.


  "Now," Helene said, "let's eat and you can keep up your strength." She stood up. "And I'm going to call my brother to see if he can find some strong young men to come help you protect that land." She punched numbers into the phone and held the receiver to her ear. "Can you pay?"

  "Sure. The going rate. No problem."

  Helene winked, and said into the phone, "Paul, I need about five strong young men to help patrol the wolf center and make sure nothing more happens up there for a while." She listened for a minute and gave Desi a thumbs-up.

  * * *

  There was one errand that absolutely could not be neglected this morning, no matter what else was going on, and that was Desi's trip to see the judge. She stopped by the pub to see if Tam had come down the mountain yet, but no one had heard from him. She considered asking one of the employees who were curiously eyeing her to call Tam's cell phone and was—suddenly—too shy to do it.

  Which meant she was sans phone and sans transportation and the judge wouldn't care. If something mattered, he always said, it mattered.

  So she tromped over to the building that housed Juliet's offices, a square, cinder block office building from the fifties, with white paint on the outside that needed freshening and tiny rectangular windows tucked high under the roof. Inside the waiting room was not as packed as usual. Only a handful of women, ranging in age from about 16 to 60, sat dully waiting in the chairs that lined the room. Spanish language television played from a small set on a rotating stand in the corner. Children played with a table full of Legos.

  Desi stopped by the receptionist desk. "Hi, Delores. Is my sister in?"

  Delores, a plump woman in her late twenties, with hair as shiny and thick and long as ribbons, nodded. "She doesn't have anybody with her. You can go back."

  Juliet looked harried, sitting behind a gunmetal-gray desk, her hair twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck, wisps sticking out at all angles. "Hey, Desi. What's up?"

  "Where is everybody?" Desi asked.

  "Commodities day."

  "Ah." Monthly, the county gave away foodstuffs like cheese and peanut butter and cornmeal to anyone who could prove they lived below the poverty line. "I came to see if you'd let me borrow your car for a few hours." She explained the situation, and before she finished, Juliet pulled the keys from her purse.

  "I promised Glory I'd pick her up after lunch, so be sure you get back by one at the latest."

  "Of course." Desi bent and kissed her sister's forehead. "You okay? You look tired."

  Juliet widened her eyes. "I am tired, but that's all it is. Don't worry."

  Desi hesitated. She wanted to ask Juliet's legal advice, but she didn't want to burden her, either. Juliet was planning a wedding, starting a practice and going to counseling for a rape she'd experienced two years ago. And now she was worried about Desi's murder charge. It seemed like a lot for her sister to deal with, and Desi didn't want to add to it.

  Juliet caught the expression on Desi's face. "What?"

  "What?"

  "C'mon, Desi, don't be coy. You want a favor and you're worried about burdening me."

  "How do you always know what I'm thinking?"

  "Hmm." Juliet put her finger to her pretty red mouth and rolled her eyes. "Maybe because I've known you your entire life?"

  "Right. Here's the deal—I need to get an injunction against the people who just bought the land next to mine. They want to open a spa, and for obvious reasons, that's not going to be good for the wolves."

  Juliet raised her eyebrows. "Or the Mariposa Trail," she added. It was a pilgrimage route that attracted thousands every year.

  "Good point!" She nodded enthusiastically. "I think the main angle is the hot springs flow. They want to use the springs to build a pool and sauna and all of that, and it will compromise the flow to the hot springs in town and all up and down the mountains."

  Juliet pursed her lips. "Is that a true concern? And if it is, how did you get away with building a pool?"

  "My pool was already there—Nature built it. Or at least the Indians did, a long time ago. It wasn't as elaborate as it is now—we put in the grotto and the rocks, but it was the same basic size."

  Juliet pulled over a pad of paper and jotted down several notes. "Okay. I'll have to do some research, maybe pull some county documents, but once I know anything, I'll get back to you."

  "Thanks, sis."

  "No problem. Now get out of here and let me get my work done so I can have the honeymoon I dream of."

  "Done." Desi dashed out of the office, feeling a little more cheerful. Maybe things would work out after all. One step at a time.

  * * *

  Desi drove east, away from town and into the wider end of the valley, where the judge had his farm. It was a miracle of ecology. Alexander Yancy had been raised on a farm in Mississippi in the forties, and he'd used the model of the old-fashioned fields to create a self-sustaining organic landscape. Every year, only about half the fields were planted with fresh crops, which were themselves highly diverse, including herbs that replenished minerals and were then sold to high-end organic distributors. The same field was never planted twice with the same crop. Cows and goats grazed on fallow fields. They fertilized the fields they grazed. Chickens ran free and fertilized their areas and were fed natural grain from the fields the cows had fertilized. Orchards with apples and peaches boasted some of the sweetest fruit on the western slope and the organic honey taken from the beehives the judge maintained on rocky ground that could be used for nothing else was highly prized.

  In all, it was a business that grossed millions every year and was growing exponentially as mainstream grocery stores and other suppliers embraced organic products.

  The judge, a lean man with grizzled white through his remaining hair, was carrying a bucket of something from the barn when Desi arrived. He looked up curiously and waved when he realized it was she behind the wheel of the little four-wheel drive Juliet had purchased when she decided to sell her Hollywood condo and stay here.

  "Hey, girl," he said happily in his thick, drawling accent. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to make it."

  She kissed his weathered, nutmeg cheek. "Sorry. If I told you everything that's happened over the past twenty-four hours, you'd never believe it."

  "That's all right. You're here now. Want something to eat? Or maybe some coffee?"

  Desi felt as if she'd been doing nothing but eating the whole day. "I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. I just had some breakfast with Helene." She glanced surreptitiously at her watch. "Let's take a look at Lacey, shall we?"

  The judge's nose twitched. "Well, I might have told a fib about that, Desdemona."

  "A fib?"

  "You want to come sit with me for a minute, on the porch over there?" He pointed to an enclosed sunroom surrounded with snow and looking inviting with pink geraniums blooming within. "I've got something I'd like to talk to you about."

  "Sure." She grinned and punched his arm lightly. "You didn't have to fib to get me out here, Judge. I'm always happy to come see you."

  "I appreciate that." He gestured with a large hand for her to go in front of him. When they were both settled in the warm, humid room, he said, "This'll be a bit of a surprise, I reckon, but just hear me out, all fight?"

  A sudden ripple of worry moved through her. Uh-oh. What was this about?

  "I've been doing some research, Desdemona, to see if we can get you off on a technicality of some kind. The case is circumstantial, of course, except that little problem of Claude's blood on your clothes."

  "We had a fight that morning! I mean, a knockdown, drag-out fight. I had to have stitches, and he got a split lip. Half the town saw it."

  "I know that. The trouble is, half the town also heard you tell him you were going to kill him."

  The tight pain in Desi's temples, born of too much stress the past two days, rolled into a hammering slam. "What are you saying?"

  "There are three things you need, to make a case
for murder—motive, weapon, opportunity. You have all three. Blood ties you to the victim and it's well-known you had opportunity. I think you're in trouble if this goes to trial."

  "But how can they convict me?" Desi protested. "I'm innocent."

  He spread his hands. "Unfortunately, it happens all the time."

  Panic rose in Desi's throat as she imagined herself behind bars for the rest of her life. She thought of herself pacing, pacing, pacing, her hair going gray as she yearned for the forest, for a place to run—

  She put her face in her hands. "I can't stand that."

  "I know."

  "And what about the wolves and the land?" She gritted her teeth. "No. That's not going to happen. I won't let it."

  "I have a suggestion," the judge said, and cleared his throat.

  "I'm listening."

  "Marry me."

  Desi wasn't sure if she heard correctly. "Pardon me?"

  "Marry me," he repeated.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  "Marry you?" Desi echoed. "Like a wedding?"

  "I know it sounds crazy, but that would mean together we own nearly half the western slope of the valley. Very few Mariposa citizens—from which the jury would have to be drawn—would want to challenge that."

  A wave of seasickness moved in Desi's chest. "Judge, that's a very sweet offer, but I—"

  He waved a hand, scowling. "Don't dismiss it just yet."

  She snapped her jaw closed. Looked at him.

  "I know I'm an old man—"

  "It's not that!"

  "—and you haven't been widowed that long, but a man gets lonely, Desdemona. And there aren't so many women I'd be able to put up with, or who would put up with me. I reckon we're a good match."

  "Judge, I—" she began.

  "Oh, we don't have be intimate right off, though I expect I'd hope we could come to a mutual agreement in time."

  Desi's cheekbones felt suddenly burning hot. For the second time today, she focused on her hands, her palms, the lines for love and life and children. The air grew thick and she struggled with some answer that would not offend him.