Wild Inferno (25 page)

“No, I'm okay. I needed to move a little anyway. And it's not far.”

“You're a tough cookie,” he said from behind me. “You know how you kept getting calls on your satellite phone and no one was there?”

“Oh, yeah. You traced that?”

“Yes. It was Elaine Oldham.”

I paused a moment at the door of the kitchenette. “Oh, now I get it,” I said, reaching for the coffeepot. “See, in the incident action plan, they had Frank McDaniel's number listed as mine, had them crossed.”

“So she was trying to call McDaniel, her boss.”

“Yeah. And she kept getting me. She was going to turn her hours for the morning of the murder in to him so he would submit them as a unit for payment from the fire, rather than fill out a crew time sheet here. That way, no one on the team would know she was even
on
the fire that morning.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

I handed him a cup of coffee.

He looked down at the cup. “When was this made?” he said, sniffing the black, oily liquid.

“I couldn't say,” I said. “Sorry.”

He set the cup on the counter. “Yeah, I did quite a bit of checking on Oldham. She was a pretty tough gal herself. Found out that when she was working out in Hovenweep she was all by herself nine months of the year out there. Only had folks working with her during the summer months when the students from the universities came to intern. A guy who does the road grading out there said she used to do all the repairs and maintenance on her own truck—had to. The nearest town was miles away and they didn't have roads straight through back then, like they do now. Even now, those roads aren't so good—they're dirt and gravel for the most part.”

“Hey, watch what you say about those dirt and gravel roads. Those are practically highways in my neck of the woods. In northern New Mexico, they'll call a goat path a road.”

He laughed. “Anyway, the guy told me she helped patch a split radiator hose one time when he was stranded, said she knew all about engines. I figure she's the one who cut your brake lines. Had to be.”

I felt anger rising in my chest, and I dropped my head. Part of me wanted to hate Elaine Oldham for what she had done, nearly killing me. And Mountain. But another part of me pitied her deeply, even felt compassion. And I remembered what Momma Anna had said to me when she called me unclean, and I knew that I wanted my drum to sound as clear and proud and full of life and story as the drum I had danced to at the powwow. “You want me to make a fresh pot of coffee?” I asked.

Crane shook his head. “No, thanks, I can get some back in Durango.”

“So that's the two things?” I asked as I started limping back to my files.

“No, that was the Elaine Oldham thing.”

“Oh. And?”

“And there's the Jamaica Wild thing.”

I stopped in the doorway of the war room and turned to look at Agent Ron Crane.

“I'd like to see you join us at the FBI,” he said. “We could use someone like you. And I think you'd prefer the work—and the pay—to that little backwater job you have at Tanoah Pueblo. I'm going to recommend you to Quantico for training.”

“Not so fast,” Roy called as he came down the hall toward us. We both looked as he tipped his cowboy hat back on his head and strode toward the door. “I think I know Jamaica a little better than you do, Agent Crane, with all due respect. She's an earth girl. She'd rather be with a mountain than a man,” he went on. “She lives with a wolf in a rustic cabin in the woods where there's no phones and no TV. And the happiest I've ever seen her is when she's just come in from a week of riding range, sleeping alone out under the stars. You try to put her in an office and she'll wilt and possibly die. I know you get to solve crimes and catch bad guys, but you also spend a fair amount of time on the phone, in the lab, and in those little carpet-covered cubicles.”

I smiled. Roy understood me better than I thought.

“But you're also right,” the Boss said, “that she needs to do something different.”

Now I crinkled my brow.

“I think I got the answer, though, and I think it will suit her better than going to work for the FBI. I'm going to recommend Jamaica for training as a BLM ranger. I'm tired of looking out for her hide, so she's going to learn all the skills she needs at federal law enforcement school and then she can look out for mine. It'll keep her on the land, and that's where she belongs. But I swear,” he said, “this gal can find trouble where they haven't even heard the word.”

“Yeah?” Crane said.

“You're safer without her.” Roy winked at me. “Hey, Crane, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I'm dying for one,” the agent said.

Roy turned around and led the way down the hall “Let's see if we can find some joe someplace else. That stuff in there”—he said as they passed the kitchenette—“was made around the end of last week.”

“You must be glad the monsoons finally came,” I heard Crane say.

“Yeah, that's how it usually happens. We work to contain the fires, but it's Mother Nature that always puts them out.”

Later, Kerry and I carefully loaded Mountain into the back of a rental SUV I'd been allocated for the drive home. The wolf was afraid of the new vehicle and wriggled and fought us, squeaking in fear as we lifted him in. I had to hold him and comfort him for several minutes afterward to settle him down. “Easy there, buddy,” I said. “It's all right, we're going home.” I sat on the rear deck of the vehicle and stroked the wolf as he lay across my spread-out sleeping bag in the cargo area, his cast extending straight out from his body. I stroked his chest and felt his racing heart slow. I rubbed his head and neck until his breathing leveled out. Mountain and I sat side by side in the back of the vehicle and watched as Kerry said good-bye to his crew, who drove away in the brush truck, headed back for Taos.

When I felt the wolf had calmed enough, I slipped down onto the pavement and turned and kissed his head. He gave me a pleading look. “It'll be all right,” I told him.

Kerry closed the hatch and helped me around to the passenger side. “Thanks for driving us,” I said.

“You couldn't have done it with your leg hurt like that. Besides, I drove up here in that brush truck with a bunch of stinky guys, and believe me, I'd rather drive home with a beautiful blonde any day.” He pulled open the door.

I started to get in but there was something on the seat. “My blanket! I know I put that on top of my red bag on the floor of the backseat,” I said, pulling out the Cheyenne Horse Legend blanket that Nuni had given me. Something was wrapped within it.

“What's in there?” Kerry asked.

I unfolded the soft wool layers and looked inside. Nestled within was the round drum Momma Anna's father had made for her.

“What a beautiful drum,” Kerry said.

“Yes,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment and clutching the drum and its blanket wrapper to my chest. Suddenly, I heard my own heartbeat in my ears:
bom-bom-bom-bom, bom-bom-bom-bom.
I opened my eyes again. “Yes, what a beautiful drum,” I said.