Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (8 page)

“Nine o’clock.” Clint turned and met Jenny’s gaze. She smiled quickly and looked away, wondering if he felt trapped between the enraptured Celia on one side and her own ardent gaze on the other. She nodded at Auntie Martha and moved away from the group to study the rest of the camp attendees. She kept her back to the group...and Clint. Anything to keep herself from mooning over the handsome Native American guy like just one more groupie. She hadn’t forgotten his words.

You’re not one of those women who have a thing for Indian guys, are you? Like...Celia?

Oh, no, she most definitely was not one of those women who had a thing for Indian guys! No, no, no... She would have to be absolutely sure he didn’t get that idea.

“So, we’re going to be in the same family.” So deep in denial was she that Jenny jumped at the male voice behind her. She swung around to look up into the eyes of a tall, attractive blond man with a broad grin. He put out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Steve Carlton. I work at the Portland VA.”

Jenny wiped her hand on her shorts and shook his hand.

“Jenny Cussler. Boise.” She looked past him quickly toward Clint, who seemed preoccupied by a talking Celia.

“Is this your first time at camp?” Although he looked as European-American as apple pie, he seemed to blend into his surroundings well. He wore tan cotton hiking shorts, a faded forest green T-shirt, and well-worn, gray hiking boots. The quintessential nature lover.

“Yes, it is. And you?” She peeked around him again to look at Clint, who continued to nod pleasantly at Celia. Jenny pursed her lips.

“No, I was here last year. I’d be happy to show you around the camp when we’re done here.” He raised a tanned arm and checked his watch. “The dinner bell will ring in half an hour. We’ve got time.”

Jenny raised startled eyes to his bronzed face. Friendly bright blue eyes framed by blond lashes met hers. Even white teeth flashed an agreeable grin.

“Ummm...sure,” she replied with a last peek at Clint. “That sounds good.” She turned to survey the crowd as it dispersed. Kate was deep in conversation with Auntie Martha. “Are we done here then?”

“It looks like it,” Steve said. “Come on, I’ll show you where the sweat lodges will be. I think they’re building them now.” He put an unobtrusive hand behind her elbow and guided her out of the crowd and up the small hill toward the cabins.

“Why did you come back to camp this year? I thought spots were at a premium.”

Steve looked down at her and grinned. The late afternoon sunlight caught the golden glints in his blond hair.

“I know they are. I fought long and hard to get back here. I imagine it’s my last time for a while. I just loved it up here. I don’t know how to explain it.” He opened his arms expansively as they strolled past the cabins. “Smell the air. It’s so fresh and clean, free of all the pollution down below that we don’t even know we’re inhaling.”

Jenny followed suit and breathed in deeply. He was right. The soft tangy scent of massive pines filled the air. Absent was the smell of industry, traffic, and garbage. A cool breeze whistled through the needles of the evergreen trees. Most of the crowd remained behind in the community area. Their voices died away to a hum.

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” Jenny said, ensnared by his infectious enthusiasm.

“That’s why I came back. Don’t get me wrong.” He chuckled, a charmingly all-American sound. “I enjoyed camp tremendously. The groups were great, but I love being outdoors, and I get antsy sitting inside all day.”

Jenny surveyed him from heel to toe and nodded with a playful smile.

“I can see that.”

He followed her eyes and looked down at his clothing.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “You can take the boy off the trail, but you can’t take the hiker out of the boy.”

Jenny laughed at his play on words. Steve joined in. By now, they had passed the last of the cabins, and Steve pointed to a break in the trees to the left.

“We’re almost there,” he said. They rounded a set of bushes and followed a small dirt path for a few hundred yards before Steve paused. “That’s where they’re setting the sweat lodges up.”

Jenny looked up at him in surprise as he halted, and then she let her gaze follow his toward a clearing in the forest up ahead. Several Native American men carried six-foot lengths of the surrounding lodge pole pines toward another man who worked on one of the small structures dotting the clearing. They dropped the timber at his feet and moved in to help the tall gray-haired man as he bent the tip of one pine toward a center point to form the wooden skeleton of a dome. While they held down the bent pines in the middle, he grabbed a length of rope and lashed the adjoining ends together tightly. He straightened and put his hands to his lower back as if it pained him. The three men surveyed their handiwork and nodded.

“That’s Sam Johnson. He’s Lakota. I think he comes up here every year,” Steve whispered. Wondering why he lowered his voice, Jenny dragged her eyes away from the scene to study Steve’s face. His expression had taken on a reverence as he watched the men.

“Why are you whispering?” Jenny said in matching hushed tones. “Aren’t we supposed to be here?” She threw a glance behind her. “I don’t see anyone else around.”

Steve tore his eyes from the sight and gazed down at her with a beatific smile. “Oh, no, I’m sure it’s okay. I’m just whispering because...” He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure why. It’s a spiritual place here, kind of like a church.”

“Oh, really?” Jenny directed her eyes forward once again. The men had begun throwing some sort of covering over the small domed structure, like the others. Jenny identified them as burlap bags such as one might see potatoes stored in. Piles of rocks lined the edge of a huge hole dug in the middle of the clearing.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

Jenny followed Steve as they moved down the path. A small wooden bridge spanned the short five-foot length of a gurgling creek that emptied into a small pond on the left.

“Jenny!” A sharp voice from the rear turned her around.

Clint strode toward them briskly and came to a halt just in front. He threw Steve a withering look, which put Jenny instantly on the defensive.

“You can’t be here right now. What did you bring her up here for, Steve?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenny was mortified to see the three Native American men look up and watch them with interest.

“I’m sorry, Clint. Why can’t she come up here? We were just going to watch.”

Clint shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to jump you, man. It’s just that this isn’t like home. It’s different up here. We have different customs. Women can’t be up here at the sweat lodges when men are. Not even when they’re building the lodges.”

“What?” Jenny squeaked, the feminist in her soul jumping at any mention of unequal treatment. “What does that mean? I understand if we aren’t supposed to be here at all, but I can’t believe you’re telling me I can’t be here because I’m a woman.”

Clint sighed heavily and shook his head. He put one hand on his slim hip and ran the other carelessly over his hair.

“I’m sorry, Jenny. That’s what I’m saying. Your rules don’t apply here. This is a spiritual place, and women and men don’t mix here at the sweat lodges.”

“But they’re just building them, Clint. Surely that doesn’t matter,” Steve interceded.

“I’m afraid it does matter,” Sam Johnson said in a slow, laid-back, sing-song rhythm. “
I
don’t care if she’s here, but if one of the elders comes by and sees her here, we’re all in trouble.”

Jenny swung around at the unexpected voice. She looked past him to see the other two men resting on a large boulder while they watched the encounter with expressions of amusement. Her humiliation grew tenfold at their smiles. She felt completely and utterly out of place.

“I-I...” She looked up at Sam and stuttered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She dropped her eyes and wished she were miles away from the camp at the moment.

“No problem,” Sam said softly in his melodious voice. “The ladies will sweat tomorrow afternoon...right before dinner. Only the men sweat tonight.”

With virtually no idea what the tall Indian was talking about, Jenny was pretty sure she never wanted to
sweat
anyway, not if it meant feeling as awful as she did at the moment.

“I’m not... That’s good. We were just looking around. I’m sorry to intrude. I have to go,” Jenny said. She turned away, ignoring everyone, and marched up the path, knowing every pair of male eyes followed her progress. She took the bend at an accelerated pace and hustled back to her cabin as fast as she could.

She entered the small building only to find it filled with people. Kate wasn’t there, and Jenny stood in the doorway wondering where she could go for solace. She needed to be alone to pull herself together. She walked back out of the cabin and stood on the porch, surveying the camp, now teeming with people. Where could she go? A quick glance to the left showed Clint and Steve coming back down the hill, deep in conversation. Jenny took action before they passed her cabin.

She tripped down the short steps and strode around the side of the building. Earlier, she had spied a field of tall grass in a clearing behind the cabins. It seemed somewhat isolated, given that it was so close to the camp. She clambered over a downed tree and moved through the grass in the direction of the far tree line. Every step she made took her further from the camp and closer to a feeling of peace. She literally felt her humiliation drain away as she approached the stump of an old tree. A quick look over her shoulder revealed the camp in the distance, and she felt well hidden by the tall grass.

With her back to the camp, Jenny sat down on the flat surface of the sawed tree stump and pulled her knees to her chest. She surveyed the swaying golden grass before her and breathed in deeply. The sweet smell of pine in the air soothed her, and she closed her eyes and listened to the wind in the nearby pines.

She ignored the nagging at the edge of her subconscious that told her she was in a place and culture she could not understand. For now, it was enough she had found this hideaway, albeit in plain view, to escape from the confusion and humiliation she felt under Clint’s eyes.

She heard a squeak and opened her eyes to see a chipmunk sitting on another tree stump several yards in front of her. The small creature with the racing stripe down his back regarded her for a moment before seemingly chiding her for trespassing. Then he leapt off his perch and disappeared into the grass.

“I’m sorry, Jenny.” A shadow from behind her blocked the afternoon sun on her back.

She gripped her knees tightly to her and sighed. She kept her eyes forward.

“That’s okay, Clint. I shouldn’t have been there. It’s my fault.”

He stepped around to face her and dropped on one knee in front of her. He rested an elbow on his other knee and cocked his head.

Jenny resisted meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. If anything, I was trying to prevent it. I didn’t want one of the elders to see you there and scold you.”

He reached out and ran a light finger along her clasped hands. Jenny startled at the touch and met his eyes. She searched their depths, afraid she would drown in their mysterious almond shape. For all that he seemed to be open and worldly, he came from a place she would never understand. His people had been here for thousands of years. She didn’t even know where her ancestors had been two hundred years ago.

“It’s almost time to go in for supper,” he said as he pulled his hand back.

Jenny’s stomach took that ignominious moment to rumble loudly. Her face flamed...again. She clutched her noisy stomach in embarrassment.

Clint’s shoulders began to shake though he tried to hold his laughter in. A burst of laughter escaped Jenny’s lips, and she covered her mouth. Her stomach growled yet again.

“Oh, my word,” she panted as she tried to choke down her laughter. “I’m so hungry.”

The distinctive sound of a cowbell clanked in the distance with a steady rhythm.

Clint rose to his feet and extended a hand to pull Jenny to her feet.

“Just in time, I’d say.” He chuckled. “It doesn’t sound like you can make it much longer. That’s quite a tiger you’ve got in your tank there.”

“Oh, please,” Jenny begged as she clutched her stomach. “Don’t make me laugh any more. It’s only making it worse.”

Clint grinned and began to walk, and Jenny fell into step beside him, now mollified and no longer embarrassed. Whatever he’d said, it had been the right thing. She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and tried to bring her breathing under control.

“This used to happen to me in high school right before lunch. The room would be quiet, and my stomach would start growling. It was humiliating.”

Clint tossed her a quick grin. “Yeah, I remember that. Me, too. Eleven-thirty every day.”

“Really?” she gasped. “Same with me! Exactly the same time. Eleven-thirty. Lunch was at eleven-forty-five. We had literature that period. It was so quiet everyone could hear my stomach. They laughed at me. I thought I’d die.” They stepped out of the grass field and onto the gravel path leading back toward the dining hall, where lines of people were forming on the west side of the building.

“Yeah, I think I had history or something. Not a very lively class. Between falling asleep and starving before lunch, I don’t know how I managed to graduate.” Clint chuckled as he led the way to the end of the line.

Jenny self-consciously noted several appraising stares directed toward them. She looked up at Clint to see if he noticed, but he nodded pleasantly at several people and seemed unconcerned.

“Why are those people waiting?” Jenny indicated several Native American men at the head of the line who seemed to pull back as Auntie Sis and John Glover approached. Steve’s tall golden head was visible somewhere near the front, and she could see Kate and Tim in the middle. She couldn’t see Brad.