Montana Midwife (10 page)

Chapter Nine

“Good morning, Aiden.”

Gazing down at him from the porch, Tab combined her memories with the current version of Aiden Gabriel and decided that, in the past, he might have been a little too pretty. Maturity suited him. He was one of those men who would get more chiseled and sexy as he aged, the lucky duck.

“Same to you.” After a wink at her, he touched the brim of his hat and nodded to her grandmother. “Good morning, Maria Spotted Bear.”

“I had a good sleep,” Grandma announced.

“I always like to have you visit. When you’re here, my mom opens up like a sunflower.”

“I’m glad.” She treated Aiden to one of her Buddha smiles. “Tab and I will stay here until I’m sure that Misty is safe.”

Tab sucked in her cheeks to keep her embarrassment from showing. Who plopped themselves down on somebody else’s porch and announced that they were moving in? Apparently, her grandma did. “That’s a huge imposition. We really can’t—”

“Your family is always welcome at the Gabriel ranch.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

If she hadn’t known the real history of Grandma and the Gabriel family, she would have been perplexed by Aiden’s invitation. She was glad Grandma had told her about the deep, close relationship between her and Sylvia. Tragedies had brought them together. Friendship sealed their connection. The next logical step, she supposed, was the matchmaking.

With a glance at Aiden, she wondered about his remembrances of her mother. He’d been a teenager when she passed away, old enough to form an opinion. He might be able to reveal a different aspect of the past.

“Go now.” Her grandma shooed them away. “You two young people should walk in the sunlight of a new day.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Aiden took Tab’s hand and led her down the porch steps. As he escorted her along the sidewalk that led away from the front door, he asked, “Do you know what she means? Walking in the new sunlight?”

“It sounds cryptic and wise, doesn’t it? Like something that might be said at a Sun Dance ritual. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean anything more than Grandma wants to sit alone on the porch and relax.”

“Have you ever seen a Sun Dance?”

“Once.” The ceremony was no longer practiced on a regular basis. Few outsiders were invited to attend.

“I’ve heard it can be brutal.”

His comment touched a nerve. “Don’t you mean savage? As in those savages on the rez are doing their weird dances?”

“I didn’t mean that at all.”

“What have you heard?”

“Young men in the tribe are pierced at the breastbone and attached by a leather thong to a tall pole. Sometimes, they get hoisted off their feet. It’s a rite of manhood.”

With his thumbs hitched in his pockets and his dusty boots shuffling in a casual saunter, Aiden was every inch the cowboy. She couldn’t expect him to understand the ways of her people. It was her heritage, and she barely understood. Hoping to dismiss the topic, she said, “Great weather, huh?”

“What does the Sun Dance mean to you?”

A fair question. Maybe he was sincerely interested, but years of prejudice had taught her to keep her guard up. She didn’t want him to think of her as an exotic Crow princess, which she definitely was not. Her inclination was to shut down, but if she ever expected to have a
real
connection with the
real
Aiden, the flesh-and-blood man who walked beside her, she needed to open up.

“The Sun Dance isn’t about macho or magic,” she said. “The suffering of the young men is a form of prayer, like a sweat lodge or a vision quest. Their silent endurance brings blessings to their families. And, I assure you, their lives are never in danger. In the day-long ritual, we give thanks to the earth and ask for wisdom. Even as a kid, I was moved by the powerful sense of community.”

“I appreciate the explanation.”

“And it’s not more brutal than rodeo bull riding.”

At the end of the sidewalk, he leaned against a split-rail fence and turned his face up to catch the light. “Growing up, it must have been strange for you, moving back and forth between Billings and the rez. Did you feel like you belonged in the tribal community?”

“I could never choose between my home with my dad and my mother’s people. I’m not totally one or the other.” She took a sip from the coffee mug she’d carried with her. “When I was a kid on the rez, I got teased for my blue eyes. In Billings, people gave me a hard time about being Crow. Now, I enjoy having a foot in each world.”

“Could be an asset in your midwife work.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Right now, I have only six clients, and they’re evenly divided between the rez and the people of Henley.”

“You can make that seven clients,” he said. “Misty wants you to deliver her baby.”

“Did you talk to her last night?”

He nodded. “And you were right about her holding back something from the sheriff. The truth is that Misty didn’t go to that party, but Clinton did. Misty sent him with the express purpose of getting the wristwatch back from Ellen Jessop.”

Sending Clinton to the party didn’t seem unreasonable, but she feared there was more to the story. “I’m guessing that Clinton argued with Ellen.”

“Right,” he said. “With Ellen ending up murdered, it looks bad for Clinton. I sure as hell don’t want to think he had anything to do with her death, but he seems to be on the spot when people get killed. First, Ellen. Then, David.”

“David?”

“Clinton is the most likely person to have picked up Misty’s rifle and killed David.”

“But he didn’t,” she said. “When I rode over the hill, Clinton was unconscious, sprawled in the back of the Jeep. I saw him. I’m his alibi.”

“Was there enough time between when you heard the shots and when you rode over the hill for him to climb into the back of the Jeep?”

“Five or six minutes,” she said quickly. Misty’s story about the disappearing shooter made her very conscious of the time lapse. “Why would Clinton pretend to be unconscious?”

“You said it yourself. The concussion gave him an alibi.”

After taking another sip, she stared down into her mug and swirled the remains of her coffee. Aiden had drawn a fairly logical conclusion, except for one thing. If Clinton had fired the shots that killed David Welling, Misty would have seen what happened. “Do you think Misty is lying to protect him?”

“If she is, she’s not going to admit it. No matter how many times I ask, she keeps sticking to her story about the mysterious gunman.”

“Maybe we should talk to Clinton,” she suggested. “Not that I expect him to confess.”

“Not at all.” Aiden’s hostility toward his sister’s boyfriend showed in his body language. His eyebrows tensed in a scowl, and he folded his arms across his lean torso.

“He can’t be that bad,” she said. “Misty loves him.”

“She also loves three-legged dogs, skunks and anybody with a sad story. My sister is a lousy judge of character.”

“Still,” she said, “it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Clinton.”

“He’s not likely to open up to me. But you might get him to answer a couple of questions.” He warmed to the idea. “You could start by asking him about the party and what happened when he tried to get the watch. Then, you’d ease the conversation around to what really happened when David Welling was killed.”

“I could do that.” She liked the direction Aiden was headed. Casually, she leaned against the fence beside him. “It almost sounds like you’re asking me to help.”

“Does it now?”

“You bet it does. It’s almost like we’re investigating. Both of us. Together.” She covered her smug grin by draining the last of her coffee. “I seem to recall something you said about not wanting my help because it was too… What was it you said? It was too dangerous for a delicate flower like me.”

“I’m real damn sure I never called you a flower.”

“I added that part,” she said. “You know what you said.”

He shoved away from the fence and stood tall before her. “If you’re done with your I-told-you-so, I’d like to put things into motion. Clinton is in the horse barn.”

“And you want me to talk to him.” She looked up through her eyelashes. “You want me to help you investigate.”

“I reckon I do.”

“Consider it done.” She handed him her coffee mug. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

* * *

L
OCATING
C
LINTON
wasn’t difficult. All Tab had to do was follow the smell. As the lowest employee on the totem pole, he had the most boring assignment—mucking out the stalls in the horse barn. He was more than happy to abandon his shaving fork and follow her outside to the corral where the horses were at the troughs.

Tab used the most obvious excuse to get their conversation started. “I wanted to see how you were doing after your head injury. Looks like somebody changed the dressing.”

“My mom,” he said as he pulled off his rubber gloves and flexed his fingers. “Just like you, she wanted me to go to the doctor.”

“But you didn’t go.”

“I’m fine.” When she reached toward the bandages, he jerked his head back and settled his baseball cap more firmly on the top of his head. “Really, I’m okay.”

“How did you sleep?”

“Good.”

She tugged his arm and pulled him closer to the corral gate. “Step over here into the sunlight and let me look at your eyes. I want to see if your pupils are dilated.”

Reluctantly, he stared at her. Up close and quiet, he was more appealing than when he was strutting around, trying to impress Misty. Not a bad-looking kid, but he was young, so very young to be taking on the responsibilities of fatherhood.

“You need to be careful with a concussion,” she said. “Have you noticed double vision or dizziness?”

He shook his head.

“Ringing in your ears? Persistent headache? Are you having any trouble focusing or remembering?”

“No, no and no.”

“If any of those things crop up, I advise you to see a doctor. You’re fortunate not to have any serious problem, at least not a physical problem.” She studied him with a calm, measured stare. “In other ways, you’re very unlucky.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She remembered Aiden’s accusation.
First, Ellen. Then, David.
“What happened when you went to the party and talked to Ellen Jessop?”

“Misty wanted me to get her gold watch. She said she’d pay Ellen to get it back, but I knew that wouldn’t work. Ellen’s family might have lost all their money, but she’s still got her pride.”

“How well did you know Ellen?”

“We had a couple of dates. She was pretty and blonde, tall with long legs. But, damn, she had a temper. She’d get so angry that I thought she’d bite my head off. And jealous.”

And now she was dead, horribly murdered. He didn’t seem too concerned about her death. “Did you like her?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I’ve got nothing else to say.”

As a midwife, Tab was accustomed to working with obstinate young people who were confused and scared. When it was time for the baby to be born, the fathers were usually more freaked out than the mothers. She’d learned how to talk them down.

“I want to help you, Clinton. Believe me when I say that I know what you’re going through. You’re trying to take care of Misty, but there’s nobody for you to lean on.”

His mouth pinched in a tight knot. “Especially not Aiden.”

“I understand.” She knew better than to get sidetracked by a discussion of Aiden. “Here’s the deal, Clinton. Misty wants me to be her midwife, and that means you need to trust me. We have to work together. Okay?”

“I guess.”

“I want the whole story about what’s been going on with you and Misty and these terrible crimes,” she said. “You can start by telling me about what happened between you and Ellen.”

“She acted like she owned every minute of my time. We only went out two times and I never slept with her, but she got mad when I talked to other girls.”

“Did she blame Misty for your breakup?”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “Misty and me didn’t get together until three or four months after I ended things with Ellen, but somehow she thought Misty stole me away from her.”

Once his barriers were down, Clinton had a lot to say. He couldn’t stop his mouth from running as he described typical teenage incidents of two girls fighting over one guy. Though his story was mostly a boost for his own ego, he seemed truly perplexed about these two women.

Though he had a motive for disliking Ellen, the love triangle didn’t seem like enough for murder. In an attempt to rein him in, she said, “What about the party?”

“I tried to talk nice to her, but she got louder and louder. She said mean things about Misty, and it made me so mad that I made a grab for the watch. Ellen drew back her hand, slapped me hard and threw her beer in my face.”

“Did you threaten her?”

“No, ma’am. My mom and dad taught me never to hit a woman. I turned around and walked away. Last time I saw her. Now, she’s dead.” His mouth got tight again. “Was it the serial killer?”

Though the sheriff had avoided labeling the murders as a serial killing, Tab knew the gossip train would race toward the most sensational theory. One dead girl was an event. Two pointed to a serial killer. “I don’t know.”

“That’s what people in town are saying.”

“Those folks aren’t always right. Did you hear about Woody and Chuck?”

“Misty called me and told me what they did last night. Damn, it makes me mad. How could they think that Misty was a murderer?”

“Some people think you’re the one who shot David Welling.” Offering him an easy out, she continued, “In self-defense.”

“Even if I’d been awake and I saw him threaten Misty, I wouldn’t need a gun to take him.” He raised both fists. “I’d use these.”

“You didn’t like David.”

“He was always sniffing around, acting like Misty was his secret lover. Well, she wasn’t. She’s my girl.”

His anger sounded like the ravings of a seventeen-year-old, but Tab sensed something deeper and perhaps more sinister. “What are you hiding, Clinton?”

“Nothing.”