Hawk Moon (4 page)

"But, coach . . ."

Boorman
walked away and turned his attention back to the field. Will knew that
Boorman
was always cautious about allowing injured players into the game and especially wary about head injuries. Will felt better already, but he knew his chances of getting back into the game were slim.

After a few moments, he turned toward the stands and gave a thumbs-up sign to his mother and grandfather, who were seated behind the bench several rows up. He searched for his father but didn't see him. Then he saw a man sitting alone with no one on either side of him. His head was bald and painted gray.

Masau
.

He was smiling, but then his features shifted, his lips turned down, and his face dripped blood.

"Will!"

He turned around and saw the trainer standing over him. He felt Will's head as he asked more questions, testing his memory. Will tried to concentrate on what the trainer was saying, but now bits and pieces of what had happened in the kiva came back to him. Some kind of ceremony . . . ending in darkness and chaos . . .
Masau
in front of him . . . Myra killed.

"How would you describe the pain?" the trainer was saying.

"It's like a little headache. That's all."

"Take these aspirins. We'll see if that does any good. Don't jump up or even walk around. Just stay right here."

Will nodded, and when the trainer walked away, he turned back toward the stands and searched for

Masau
. Three girls were sitting in the space where he'd seen the mysterious being from his dream. But now he wasn't so sure what he'd seen.

The game continued on without Will, and in spite of his repeated comments to the coach and trainer that he felt fine, he remained on the bench. Without Will on the field, the team struggled, then faltered. With less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter, Leadville had the ball on the Hawks' twenty-eight-yard line and the score was tied at 14-14.

Then the ball popped free on a running play, and a half dozen players scrambled to recover it. Several Hawks leaped up in the air and pointed in the direction of the Leadville goal line. The Hawks had recovered the ball on their own twenty-five-yard line.

"
Lansa
, come here,"
Boorman
shouted. Will grabbed his helmet in the hopes he'd have another chance. "Are you ready to go out there?"

"I've been ready since the first quarter," he said, his heart suddenly pounding.

"Okay, you're going in after this play. But before you get too excited, listen closely. I'm going to use you as a decoy for two plays. The defense will be focusing on you, but Thomas is going to pass."

Will's spirits sank. But he told himself he'd
alrey
conceded he wasn't going to get another chance at the record, that he'd have to wait until his senior year. He watched Aaron Thomas complete a screen pass for eight yards as the coach gave him the two plays.

"Now go out there and do your part. We're going to win this one,"
Boorman
said.

Will raced onto the field. In spite of what he knew, it felt great just to be in the game. It was as if he'd been out of action for weeks. Then a cheer went up as his number was spotted by the crowd.

"I don't like it," Aaron said as Will told him the plays. "You should run at least one of them."

"There's not enough time for running plays," Will said. "Coach is right. Call the play."

Aaron faked a handoff to Will and faded for a pass as Will raced around the right end. He looked up to see four or five defenders just as they realized their mistake. They all pulled up short, except for a linebacker who hit him across the thighs. Will dropped to the ground, then rose up just in time to see the left end catch a fifteen-yard pass and break away for twenty more yards. Now they were on the Leadville thirty-two-yard line, but the clock was ticking.

With less than a minute left, the players raced into the huddle. Aaron called the play, but it was the wrong one. Instead of a fake handoff and a rollout pass, Aaron was going to give the ball to Will on a slant play off the right tackle. It was Will's favorite play, but it wasn't what the coach had called.

There was no time to argue. Will quickly lined up; Aaron took the snap, turned, and pressed the ball into Will's midsection.

He darted toward the line, certain the play was a big mistake. He bounced off one tackler, spun around, and then he heard a crack inside his head and everything shifted. He moved with a fluid motion and a lightness that made him feel as if he could fly. Everyone else seemed stuck in slow motion. He could see the gaping holes opening in front of him as he glided ahead. A wind whispered in his ears and seemed to propel him forward.

Tacklers and blockers fell away, and he was alone on the fifteen-yard line, the ten, the five, and then a hawk swept down in front of him, and soared away just as he crossed into the end zone. The roar of the crowd filled his ears. He held the ball up and was mobbed by his teammates.

"Did you see that hawk?" he gasped as Claude Kirkpatrick pulled him to his feet. "It almost hit me in the head."

"You're the only hawk I saw," he shouted back. "And you were flying. You flew away from everyone."

On the sidelines, Will saw Aaron run up to
Boorman
and shout, "Hey, coach. Great call. I thought a running play was suicide, but it worked."

Boorman
didn't answer.

So Aaron had helped him get the record, but then he'd placed the blame for changing the call on Will. That was just like Aaron. He'd take chances, but if he could put the blame on someone else, he'd do it.

The players were all congratulating Will as the remaining seconds ticked off the clock. Leadville desperately tried for a comeback, but after two futile plays it was over. As his team headed to the locker room, the victory and Will's personal triumph were overshadowed by an urgent thought. He had to find out what had happened to Myra. He couldn't enjoy the victory until he knew she was okay.

S
heriff Kirkpatrick was talking to Coach
Boorman
outside his office as Will walked out of the shower. He stopped a few feet away, his towel wrapped around his waist.

"Will, come over here." Kirkpatrick motioned him over and slapped Will on the shoulder. "Nice run there at the end. I guess you recovered from that knock on the head."

"I guess so."

Coach
Boorman
walked away. He hadn't said a word to Will since the game had ended.

"Is Myra back home yet?" Will asked.

"As a matter of fact, she's not. We've got an APB out on the minivan, so hopefully something will turn up soon."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless there's something more you can tell me about last night. Did she give you any hint that she might be going somewhere other than Taylor Wong's house?"

"No. Not a word."

Kirkpatrick shook his head. "It's a puzzler. She's not the type to run off."

Will was about to tell the sheriff that he and Myra had decided to break up, when Kirkpatrick excused himself and walked over to Claude, who'd just come out of the shower.

It didn't matter what had happened between him and Myra, Will decided. Their relationship had been faltering for several weeks and he doubted that his decision was a big surprise to Myra. Certainly it wouldn't cause her to drive off in her mother's minivan and abandon her life. It didn't make sense.

After Will dressed, he saw Tom Burke, his mother's boyfriend, waiting for him near the door of the locker room. Burke was a tall blond ski instructor and actor who possessed the good looks of a leading man. He'd had a few minor roles, mostly in skiing movies, but he was still waiting for his big break.

Burke smiled, clasped a hand on Will's neck. "Hey, great run. I got there about the middle of the fourth quarter, so I saw the best part of the game."

"Thanks."

Burke was always friendly toward Will, but he suspected it was a performance for his mother more than a genuine interest in Will. Showing up for the game at the last minute was just the sort of thing Burke would do. He could say he was there, but he didn't have to waste his entire afternoon. But Will didn't blame him. After all, Burke wasn't his father or even his stepfather.

"Your mother nearly had a heart attack when you went back in the game. She thought you should've been taken to the emergency room in the first quarter."

"That's Mom. Where is she?"

"Right outside the door, waiting for you. She wants to take you to Dr. Franks."

"That figures." Will groaned.

"I told her you'd probably want to party tonight with your friends," Burke said with a laugh.

"Yeah. I'll be right with you." Will walked over to his locker to get his equipment bag.

The burly center looked at Will, grinned, and shook his head. "I couldn't believe the coach called a running play with forty seconds left. No way, I said."

"I was lucky." Will responded, but he was watching Aaron Thomas, who had just closed his locker door a few feet away. Aaron walked away without commenting.
I'll talk to him later,
Will thought as he left.

Marion Connors beamed when she saw him. She wore jeans and a Hawks' sweatshirt, and her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, making her look younger than thirty-eight.

She gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. Her green eyes sparkled. "Oh, Will, I'm so proud of you. You were great. Just great. And you got your record, too." Then she frowned and lightly ran her fingers through his short hair. "Does that hurt? How does it feel?"

"It's okay, Mom. Really, I'm all right."

"I've already called Dr. Franks. He said to come right over to his office. He'll meet us there."

"I heard," Will muttered.

"C'mon. Grandpa's got the car out front."

"Do you know if Dad was here?"

"I got a call from him earlier today," she said as they climbed the stairs from the locker room. "He apologized. He got tied up and couldn't get away. He said he'd make it up to you."

She did her best to relay the information without adding her own feelings, but Will could tell his mother was disgusted with her ex-husband for not keeping his word—and she'd probably told him so.

"Mrs. Hodges also called," Marion said with a frown. "It was about Myra."

"I know. I've talked to her and Sheriff Kirkpatrick."

"And?"

"And I don't know where she is."

"You don't sound too concerned," Burke said.

"Of course, I'm concerned. As soon as we get my head examined, I want to see what I can find out."

Burke laughed. "I hope you got time for dinner. It's on me tonight. Your choice of restaurants."

"Don't worry, Will. When we get to Dr.
Franks's
office, I'll call Laura Hodges and see if Myra's come home," Marion said.

The visit to the doctor and dinner swallowed most of the evening. It was nearly nine o'clock when Will's grandfather finally pulled his Land Rover into the driveway of the three-story house on Ute Street. Will went immediately to his room on the lower level and picked up the phone.

Dr. Franks had said Will might have suffered a minor concussion, but as long as he didn't start throwing up there wasn't anything to worry about. The trainer had already told him as much. Will didn't tell the doctor or the trainer about the peculiar dream he'd had in the short time he was unconscious. They'd only been interested in how he felt and how clear his thinking was. If he told anyone about the dream, it would be his father. But it didn't look like Will would be seeing him for a while.

He called Taylor to see if she'd heard anything new about Myra, but her mother answered the phone and said Taylor had gone to a party at Paige Davis's house.

What party?
he wondered as he hung up. Then he remembered that right after he'd told Myra his decision, she'd said something about not going to Paige's place together. She must have been talking about the party.