Love's Dream Song (4 page)

“On the contrary, it has made the situation worse.”

Waiting for further explanation, Connie quirked a brow. Resigned, Autumn gave it. “When I applied to work with Dr. Davidson, I’d hoped the proximity would be a positive factor. But I’ve since learned that my digging around in the ruins gives them further evidence that I’m a witch. They believe that the dead do not want their belongings disturbed and they will cause evil to happen to those who touch the artifacts.”

Autumn put off the questions she could see forming in Connie’s head. “I have some work I need to finish.”

Connie snapped shut her tablet. “I’d also like to know about Jess Barron.”

Connie’s feline smile annoyed Autumn, but she didn’t let her feelings show. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

Connie tilted her head and studied Autumn. “Why do I get the feeling you could tell me a lot? Surely close proximity to that hunk has led to some interesting situations?”

“Afraid not. I’ve really got to tend to business.” Determined to end the conversation, she swung away and resumed her walk to the corral.

* * *

Jess saw Autumn’s frown as she turned away from Connie Turner. He checked to make sure his stallion was still tethered to the cottonwood before he started in the direction Autumn had taken. Before he reached her, Enrique Valdez came up beside him.

Surprised, Jess turned and asked, “What are you doing, man?” His friend and associate would not be here unless he had uncovered some new information. He pulled the Mexican aside. “What’s up?”

“More info on Autumn. Her brother’s in my country—on business in Mexico City. Our unit there discovered some ties in the drug trade to Hong Kong.”

Jess rubbed his jaw. “Her parents are in Hong Kong. This could be bigger than we thought. We’ll have to continue to keep a close eye on her. With all of this activity with the professor it is going to be easy for her to slip past us.”

“That’ll be my job,” Jess reminded him.

Enrique laughed. “One you don’t mind, no?”

Yes, he minded. It was torture to see her and be reminded of what they had had together. “We’ll get the evidence this time.”

“I understand.” Enrique dropped the teasing and became serious. “She may be innocent, my friend. Then you can settle the unfinished business between you.”

If only it were true. “If she’s even remotely connected with that ring, I don’t want any part of her personally.”

His hostile tone stopped Enrique and he swung around. “It’s been years since my sister died, Barron. You can’t live with hate forever.”

Enrique’s words struck like a blow. He’d loved Enrique’s sister, Maria Valdez. They’d been engaged to marry. But the violence of drug smugglers had put an end to their dreams.

He’d been at war ever since.

“It’s more than that. Her phony attitude toward Hasteen Nez and…”

Enrique laughed. “Excuses, my friend. You think you’re fooling me?”

Jess eyed the dark features of the man beside him. They’d known each other since childhood. Their fathers had been business associates, trading stock across the border. Valdez would transport cattle to the feed lots, where they’d be fattened for market. With the railroad crossing through Eagle Heights Ranch, it made for a profitable exchange. In return, Valdez would take the prize stock horses that were a Barron specialty with him to Mexico.

Their family business relationship still flourished, but it was also a cover for their collaboration on cracking dangerous drug rings that plagued both of their countries.

Jess clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Watching O’Neill won’t be as hard on me as that blonde you tailed last spring.”

“
Aaiii!
” Don’t remind me. She was one mean barracuda.”

Enrique had almost lost his life in their last assignment. The blonde’s ex-boyfriend hadn’t been pleased that she was feeding information to Valdez. Especially when he observed how the blonde flirted with the lean and handsome agent.

“Almost convinced me to turn in my resignation.” Enrique slicked back the dark hair dropping across his forehead.

Surprised, Jess eyed his friend. It never occurred to him that Valdez might quit. “There has to be more to it.”

“Has it occurred to you how much time we spend traveling, how little we know people—other than those in our government files? I’m getting old,
compadre
. I want a wife and kids.”

“We’re only in our early thirties. You sound like we’re over the hill.” Jess kicked at the gravel underfoot and shifted his weight. He didn’t want to explore this sudden wave of edginess because it had taken seed when he’d met Autumn.

He understood what the man was saying, but he didn’t want to hear it. Enrique was a good friend. Without him, the international task force wouldn’t be the same.

Enrique must have sensed Jess’s discomfiture because he changed the subject back to their present case. “Have there been any more shipments?”

“A big load hit Phoenix yesterday and they found connections to the reservation.”

Enrique let out a long whistle as Jess rattled off the figures. “Someone’s making good use of this dig as a cover-up. Most of the law in the area is here. They could be landing planes anywhere in this expanse of country.”

“Which gives our man—or woman—a big break.”

“You still think O’Neill’s the likeliest candidate?”

“So far. She’s got connections with the outside. And it seems strange that she never had contact with her Navajo relatives until a year ago. She arrives on the scene and the drugs begin to appear.”

“Makes sense, but how about the ranger, Riker? He could be in on this.”

“He doesn’t have the brains for it.”

“I like that about you, Barron.” Enrique slapped Jess on the shoulder. “You never mince words. Always to the point.”

“Come on,
amigo
.” Jess ignored the compliment, if indeed it was one. “We have work to do.” He cast a mock grin. “I, for one, am going to dedicate myself to my job.”

“Such bull.” Enrique howled.

“You going to stay the night?” Jess shrugged.

Enrique shook his head. “I’m flying home this evening.”

Jess waved Enrique off and set out to find Autumn O’Neill.

* * *

What a morning
, Autumn thought, as she hiked down the wash toward the saltbush where Arlo Ross and his team were unloading the mules.
First Real Tall Man and now Arlo
. It was unusual to see either relative, let alone talk to both on the same day.

Grandfather had ridden in with Arlo. She wished Real Tall Man had stayed until Arlo and his cousins returned home later that afternoon. It would have given her more time to visit with him. She understood. But Real Tall Man rarely rode with his son anymore. Autumn knew he’d made the trip especially for her.

Her feet sunk into the sandy wash as she dodged the assortment of ocher and yellow rock littering the creek bed. Near the saltbush, the mules nickered. The sun’s rays heated up the animals lending an earthy smell to the air.

As she approached the three men beside the mules, she studied Arlo Ross. In attire, he reminded her of her grandfather. He wore a silver belt over his red flannel shirt and a battered Stetson. But similarities ended with a closer look at his features. The brown tints in his dark hair, the straight nose, high cheekbones, and thin lips reminded Autumn of the one photo she’d seen of her mother. They affirmed his Anglo heritage from Autumn’s grandmother, Emma Ross, the white schoolteacher Real Tall Man had married.

Gravel crunched beneath Autumn’s shoes and Arlo looked up. With a wave of his hand he signaled the other two. They stared with stoic hardness. None stepped forward to extend a welcome or even to ask why she had come.

“
Yaá át ééh
, Uncle,” she greeted the tall man in the Navajo manner.

He didn’t speak, but continued to glare.

Bracing herself, she spoke again. “What do you have left to unpack?”

He ignored her question and spoke with bitterness. “It is typical that the
bilagáana
digs up our sacred lands—again.”

Autumn inwardly flinched at the hate in his voice when he said the word for white man. She refused to let him see that his tone had upset her.

“The relics are priceless, Arlo Ross. They need to be recorded. That’s what the scientists are doing—nothing more.”

She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond. Arlo was like Autumn’s mother in that he had renounced one of the cultures that was his heritage. The difference was that Dora had left The People and claimed her Anglo blood. Arlo hated anyone connected with the Anglo world.

She wished Dr. Davidson had hired another outfit to pack in the equipment. “We’re doing everything we can to protect the site, Arlo.”

“It proves you are not
Dineh
when you dig in the graves of the ancient ones,” he said.

“And what about your part in this? I’m sure you’re enjoying the profits of this contract.” She gestured to the mules and gear.

Instead of reacting defensively, her uncle grinned. There was nothing amiable about it. Cold glints of humorless mockery radiated from his eyes.

“We do what must be done. The spirits will protect the home of the ancient ones, and they will haunt you and these people.”

“That’s right. No harm will come to the ruins,” Autumn readily agreed. She ignored the threat.

Grandfather’s words came to mind and she clasped the turquoise between her fingers. Arlo’s stare followed her gesture and hardened when he saw the nugget.

“Go home,
bilagáana
. Go back to your family life in the city.”

“Never. I’m as much
máii deeshghizhnii
, Arlo Ross, as you are. You can deny it all you want, but the fact remains. I’m here in the desert to stay.”

“We shall see.” He effectively dismissed her when he motioned to the others and they turned their backs. The only sounds in the silent heat were the faint grunts as they hoisted heavy packs, and the muffled stamp of hooves as the mules struck at the sand to shake off the flies.

For several seconds Autumn remained, willing the frustration to subside. She longed to lash out at their stubbornness and hatred, but her temper would only serve to prove them right. Their way was to accept the situation in silence. Her patient determination alone would win their respect.

Just as she was about to leave, Frank Riker strode down from the plateau where they’d set up the tents. “Well, well—Miss High and Mighty. Don’t tell me you’re going to help us unpack the gear.”

“Looks like you’re doing fine.” Autumn refused to let him goad her. If it had been anyone else, she would offer to help. The ranger didn’t need her assistance; he only wanted the opportunity to harass her.

Riker strode to where she stood and stopped inches away. Autumn wanted to back up, but doing so would acknowledge his insult by invading her space. Taller than Riker by an inch, she stared unmoving into his eyes.

Without breaking visual contact, he reached for the turquoise nugget, his knuckles brushing her breasts. The touch made her skin crawl, but she stood her ground.

“Still kissing up to the clan?” he yanked on the necklace.

Autumn gripped his wrist and pressed hard on the nerve, forcing his fingers to loosed their hold. When she felt the nugget swing free she tossed his hand away, resisting the urge to dig in her nails. “Mind your own business, Riker.”

His laugh was more like a grunt as he reached for her face.

Autumn did back up this time. “Don’t touch me.”

Frank’s expression turned ugly. “What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for me?”

Autumn stilled, ready for his verbal attack.

His lip curled. “Or maybe you prefer some red meat. Does Injun blood turn you on?”

To her surprise, her uncle stepped forward. Riker backed away as darts of hatred flew from Arlo’s stare.

“Get back to work, government man.” Arlo’s accent thickened as he spoke. “She is not worth the insults.”

So much for familial togetherness. Riker’s outspoken prejudice had caused Arlo’s reaction, not any latent feelings of protection.

“You’re right about that,” Riker sneered. “Who’d want a breed, anyway?”

Autumn shot a glance at Arlo. He stood immobile. No emotion showed, but Autumn felt it. Like a snake, hatred slithered around them.

Frank ignored the danger, or maybe he was too dense to take heed. “Can’t figure you out, Ross. You don’t look Injun. Why ask for trouble you don’t need when you can pass for white?”

“You’re showing your ignorance,” Autumn spoke, each word clipped as she strained to remain in control of her temper.

“Don’t speak for me.” Arlo glared at Autumn. “You couldn’t begin to understand.”

“Sure she could, Ross. She’s a breed, like you—or so she claims. In fact, she wants to be an Injun so bad you could probably do her a favor by taking her into the bush and…”

Her slap snapped Frank’s head around and echoed in the silence. She gripped her fingers and ignored the sting. Slowly, he swiveled to face her. Already, red welts streaked across his cheek. The angry part of her rejoiced at the sight.