Dakoda scrubbed her hands across her face as she met the chief's penetrating gaze with her own. “Strange doesn't even begin to describe what I've stumbled into this last week.”
The shit was hip deep.
And still rising
.
D
akoda watched as Kathryn Dayton-Clawfoot bustled around her kitchen, preparing the evening meal. She worked efficiently, gathering the items she wanted and putting them into an order that would produce enough bounty to feed a bevy of hungry people. She'd already refused any help, saying a guest should sit and relax.
As Kathryn tended to the food, Dakoda looked around the neat, cozy cabin. Oil-burning lamps were positioned throughout the room, providing a soft and welcoming glow, in addition to the fire crackling in the nearby hearth.
The kitchen and living room were an open arrangement, decorated with heavy old-style Americana furnishings, including a picnic table covered with a red-and-white checkered cloth, along with matching benches. The ancient stove shared space with a more modern cabinet and sink arrangement, an odd combination of old and new that somehow meshed together just fine. A bedroom and bathroom completed the cabin's space, an arrangement of perhaps six hundred square feet. It was small, but quite comfortable.
I could live in a place like this
, Dakoda thought approvingly.
It's nice. Very homey
.
Kathryn slid a pan of freshly mixed biscuits into the oven portion of a wood-burning stove. “My goodness,” she said, fanning a hand in front of her perspiring face. “If I'd have known we were going to have company, I would have made something better than plain old leftovers. Just give me about twenty minutes and the biscuits will be done. At least those will be fresh.” She gave the pot bubbling on top of the stove a stir with a big wooden ladle.
Dakoda drew in a deep breath, taking in the hearty scent of a rich meaty stew. She'd watched Kathryn peel extra potatoes, carrots, and onions to add to the leftover venison, as well as add a dash of salt and pepper. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't leftovers at all. An extra day's cooking usually tenderized the meat and thickened the broth, locking in the flavors.
“It smells great,” she complimented, taking another sip of hot black coffee laced with lashings of sugar and real cream. “You don't have to go through any special trouble for me.”
Setting the heavy iron pot to a side of the stove where the food would be kept warm but wouldn't cook anymore, Kathryn beamed. “Oh, but I do. You don't know how good it is to see a new face around here, especially another female. Even though our tribe has grown these last few years, I'm afraid the men still outnumber the women ten to one.” Wrapping a pot holder around the hot handle of the tin coffeepot brewing on the stove, she walked over to refill her own cup. “More?”
Covering the cup with a hand, Dakoda shook her head. “I think three cups is enough. One more and I'll be jittery all night.”
“Must have been tough spending a week out there with almost no supplies.” Tossing the pot holder aside, Kathryn sat down across from her. “I still can't believe those bastards were going to sell you and Jesse.”
Sipping her coffee, Dakoda nodded. “It's not an experience I want to repeat anytime soon,” she agreed.
“Nobody wants to see those lowlifes coming.” Kathryn curled a lip in disgust. “I had my own run-in with them, one I don't care to remember.”
Her words piqued Dakoda's interest. “Really?” By the look on the other woman's face, it hadn't been pleasant. But then again, Dakoda couldn't imagine a single pleasant thing about the Barnett brothers. If any men deserved to be behind bars, those two were prime candidates.
Kathryn shivered as if her skin were crawling with lice. “They caught me alone when I was working with a team from the Wildlife Resources Commission to verify sightings of cougar. I got separated from my group and had to spend a night alone. Of course, those sons of bitches came into my camp and made themselves welcome in a most undesirable way, if you know what I mean.”
Dakoda knew exactly what the other woman meant. No further details were required. She licked dry lips, nodding in concurrence. “Those sick fucks tried to rape me, too,” she said quietly. “Jesse stopped them.”
Kathryn briefly closed her eyes. “If it hadn't been for Joe, I probably wouldn't be here today.” Her admission carried enormous tension. “As shocking as it was, I have to admit seeing a pack of cougars arrive and tear hell out of those two was the best sight of my life.”
Dakoda's pulse started to pound. “Do you feel safe here now?” she asked. “I mean, don't you worry they'll come back?”
Kathryn shook her head. But her lips trembled a little before she pressed them together. As confident as she wanted to appear, it was clear the experience still brought back bad memories. “The boundaries of our land are pretty closely guarded. The Barnetts and their vermin cousins know not to venture onto reservation property.”
Dakoda nodded her understanding. “But when you venture out, it's a whole different ball game?”
“It's a war between them and us,” Kathryn admitted slowly.
Anticipation ratcheted up another notch. “Yet you don't go to the authorities?”
Kathryn sighed deeply. “It doesn't work that way, Dakoda. These are a separate people of a separate nation. As small as it is, they have the right to govern and protect themselves as they see fit. Just as the Barnetts hunt us, our men strike with their own retaliations. The law you represent doesn't exist in these mountains. It never will.” A roll of her shoulders indicated a shrug. “Though I don't always agree, that's just the way it is.”
Dakoda tapped her mug with a fingertip. “Another thing you've had to adapt to, I suppose.” She knew most law enforcement problems on the reservations stemmed from limited resources and jurisdictional confusion. The Tlvdatsi settlement was geographically remote and involved enormous tracts of land unmarked by any boundaries. Local authorities like her were also limited in their ability to effectively operate on tribal lands.
On the other hand, tribal law enforcement members were hampered by their limited authority over non-Indiansâthey could detain, but not arrest, non-Indians on their reservation, but they really couldn't pursue non-Indians off-reservation. As it was, the Tlvdatsi didn't appear to have anyone functioning as a peace officer.
It was a frustrating stalemate between the Indians and the outlaws, and even though she was stuck right in the middle, neither side welcomed her presence.
Kathryn made a strangling motion with her hands and laughed. “And still adapting every day. Sometimes the last few years have felt like centuries.” She reached for the coffeepot, refilling her own empty mug. “Anything else I can get you while we're waiting for the biscuits?”
Glancing down at the fresh clothes Kathryn had supplied, Dakoda shook her head. “No, thanks. You've been great.” Though Kathryn was a little taller, the two women were roughly the same size, allowing Dakoda to decently wear her borrowed jeans and blouse with comfort. “I do have to admit I wasn't expecting a real bathroom with running water. Soaking in a hot bath was heaven.” She'd been relieved when offered the chance to rest and clean up before dinner, spending at least half an hour just soaking in the old iron tub. It had taken at least half a bar of soap to remove the layers of grime and stink from her skin. With many good graces, the chief had recognized her fatigue and withdrawn to give the two women time to get to know each other. She already knew he'd want to talk further.
And she already knew what she'd say in return. She had a feeling the chief wasn't going to be pleased.
Neither would Jesse.
Brushing a stray blonde lock from her perspiring forehead, Kathryn laughed. “It wasn't quite so modern when I first came here,” she explained, her blue gaze twinkling with the memory. “When I agreed to marry Joe, I insisted on some comforts, and that included hot running water and better plumbing. The water is pumped from a nearby well house powered by an electric generator. We even have a freezer out there now for storing meat and other perishables. I can't tell you how good it's been to have.”
Dakoda nodded. “I can imagine it's been a godsend.”
Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Oh, you don't know what a fight it was to get these few concessions. Most of the men were against bringing in any sort of conveniences. They wanted to live in the old ways, like their ancestors.”
“Jesse mentioned their desire to stay close to the land several times,” Dakoda murmured.
Kathryn laughed and shook her head. “Having Tlvdatsi blood myself, I'm all for preserving our heritage. But I'm also a modern girl, raised in the city. And as much as I like camping out and living off the land, I do have my limits. As do other women, who I explained wouldn't be so willing to join this clan if they thought we were a bunch of treehuggers eating roots and berries and living in tents.”
Dakoda nodded. “I have to admit I see your point exactly. It's a lot to ask a woman to embrace something like, ah, like this. It's more than a whole different way of life, it's a whole different way of looking at yourself and your place in the world.”
Kathryn lifted her mug, taking a deep drink of her coffee. “It's tough,” she admitted. “Especially when it comes to the point when you realize you're either going to embrace it, or that you've got to let it go and walk away.”
Dakoda gazed at the woman sitting across from her. A tall, cool blonde with a sun-freckled face, Kathryn looked as if she'd be more at home sunning on a tropical beach than living the rough life of a pioneer woman in the mountains. Kathryn had obviously adapted. Long hair pulled back and braided down her back, her clear skin was untouched by any cosmetic, as were her hands. Her clothing was just as simpleâjeans and a man's flannel shirt and a pair of heavy leather boots. To make the shirt a bit more feminine, she'd tied it around her slender waist, revealing a beautifully flat abdomen.
“You adapted,” Dakoda said slowly, trying to feel her way along carefully.
Kathryn smiled. “It wasn't easy, but I pretty much knew what I wanted once I met Joseph.”
Dakoda fingered her empty mug, absently noting it was handmade and not store-bought. “Did you have any idea aboutâ¦what you were?”
“If you're asking if I knew about the shift, the answer is no. I didn't. I did know I had a little Cherokee in me; my father's people came off the reservation in Oklahoma some generations ago. But that was about as much as I knew about my own Native American heritage. I mean, who isn't a Heinz 57 now? I've got German, Irish, Scots, and some Russian in my family tree. It just so happens that one of my forefathers carried a gene stretching back to the beginning of creation.”
As a person not grounded in any firm religious instruction, Dakoda still had more than a little trouble believing some big entity in the heavens scooped up a handful of soil and created life. “You honestly believe it goes back to the creation of mankind on earth?” she asked.
“I do.” In her two simply spoken words, Kathryn seemed absolutely sincere.
“Why?”
Kathryn nodded, serious and unsmiling. “Because I've seen the truth during my mind walk.”
Dakoda's brow furrowed. “I remember Jesse saying something about it.” She shook her head. “He tried to explain the origins of his people, but I really wasn't into it at that exact moment. My brain was kind of blown at the time, you know?”
“Your mind wasn't blown,” Kathryn corrected. “Just closed. There was a time when all men's minds were open, and aware of all the gifts our creator granted to humankind. But as time and beliefs changed, our minds shut down and the faculties we used to shift became dull and blunted. Through time the ability to change our shape began to die out.”
“Obviously all of them didn't die off.”
Kathryn agreed. “Some few people were able to hang on to the old knowledge and pass it from generation to generation.”
“And the Tlvdatsi are such a people?”
Kathryn smiled. “Of course. You've seen the shift with your own eyes, so you know the truth. You're just not able to see it in yourself yet.” She reached across the table, patting Dakoda's arm. “Once you take the mind walk, you'll know without doubt.”
Dakoda resisted the urge to draw her arm away. For a moment she harbored a feeling of distrust. They way Kathryn spoke sounded much like the spiel one would give when trying to indoctrinate a new recruit into some kind of whacked-out cult. Desperate people, lonely people, lost people, were inclined to believe anythingâembrace anythingâin order to achieve a sense of belonging. Of the people she'd met so far, they appeared to be well educated and well spoken. They were obviously far removed from the dirt-poor superstitious country bumpkins living in rural areas of other sparsely populated states.
Dakoda didn't consider herself to be desperate or lonely. A little lost, perhaps, but she'd come to believe she was carving a place for herself in this world by following in Ash Jenkins's steps and entering law enforcement. It was entirely chance that she'd chosen to become a ranger and work in these mountains. Had her choice been chance, or some buried instinct bringing her back to the land of her father's ancestors?
She didn't know. And until she did, she wouldn't be making any firm decisions concerning Jesse Clawfoot unless she was absolutely and positively sure. At this point she wasn't willing to let a few rampant hormones rule her head, or stop her from her duty of pursuing Greg's killers and bringing them to justice. Whether or not the clan liked it, the white man's law was about to come down on the Barnetts' heads with full force. The Tlvdatsi might have their own way of handling the poachers, but she had another. And that was just the way it was going to have to be.