In the Enemy's Sights Page 9

He picked one up. The intricate design seemed to be either a snake or a lightning strike, or maybe a combination of the two. “This is very—”

  “Not that one!” Juli’s voice was sharp, her eyes wide and haunted. “Don’t give that to Holly.”

  “Juli—” Her grandmother began.

  Juli shook her head. She swallowed, her throat working, and attempted a smile. It wasn’t very successful. “I’m sorry. Grandmother will help you choose. I think I need something cold to drink.”

  She turned away and disappeared into the crowd before he could find a word to say.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. He put the silver bracelet down gently. “I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t know what.”

  “It’s nothing,” Juli’s grandmother said smoothly. “If you like the worked silver, why not this hummingbird bracelet? The hummingbird is a symbol for joy and thankfulness. That would be good for a pregnant woman, I think.”

  The hummingbird was set with the tiniest fragments of colored stones in work so intricate he couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it was. “She’ll love it.” He reached for his wallet.

  “I’ll put it in a box for you.” She smiled, removing the tiny price tag. “And of course there’s a fifteen percent discount for being Juli’s friend.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” Admittedly the bracelet was expensive, but it was nothing he couldn’t afford for the sake of making Holly smile.

  “I want to.” Her simple courtesy made it impossible to argue. She slipped the bracelet into a box and wrapped the box in tissue paper, her hands moving deftly.

  He tried to forget it, but Juli’s reaction to the first bracelet haunted him. “You said the hummingbird was a symbol of joy and thankfulness. What does the snake symbolize?”

  Her serene expression didn’t change, but she hesitated. “The old ones saw a relationship between the strike of lightning and the strike of a snake, so the two symbols are linked. Usually the snake stands for energy and change.”

  There didn’t seem anything in that to cause Juli’s reaction. “Why did Juli react so strongly to that bracelet, then?”

  She eyed him for a moment, and he could feel her weighing whether or not to tell him. Finally she sighed, looking down at her hands, tying a bow on the small package.

  “Juli’s mother, my daughter—she always wore a bracelet with the zigzag symbol of the snake. Juli was very young when her mother died—somehow she always associated that symbol with her mother’s death.”

  There was more to it than that. He could sense it. For some reason he couldn’t understand, he had to know.

  “How did Juli’s mother die?”

  Her fingers stilled on the package—strong, capable hands lax for an instant. Would she tell him? Only if she chose to, and if she did, it would mean something about her measure of him as a person.

  After a long moment, she spoke. “She went out alone in a storm, and her car had a flat. She was trying to change a tire when lightning struck. She was killed instantly.”

  “We’d better get over to the arena if we’re going to see the Grand Entry.”

  Julianna hadn’t really been thirsty, but getting the cup of iced tea had given her time to regroup. Now she could smile at Ken in what she hoped was a natural manner.

  “Sure thing.” Ken turned away from the booth, sliding the small package into his pocket. “Thank you, Mrs. Red Feather. I hope we’ll meet again.”

  “We will.” Grandmother gave them both that enigmatic smile that never failed to nettle Julianna.

  Well, if her grandmother was matchmaking, she’d be doomed to failure, just as Holly was. Ken wasn’t interested in anything other than getting back to his interrupted life.

  “Your grandmother is an impressive woman,” he said. “And I don’t just mean as an artist. She looks like someone to reckon with.”

  She nodded. He’d assessed her grandmother accurately after a brief meeting. “In Pueblo culture, women have always held a high position and had considerable independence. They often pass on their names, their property, their position, to the children.”

  “A very enlightened attitude—it’s easy to see where you get your independence.” He smiled. “A quality I admire, by the way.”

  Unsure how to respond to that, she hastened her steps. Ken kept pace with her. The arena wasn’t really that—just an open circular space where the grass was tamped down. The watchers had already begun to gather in a loose group around the area, listening to the drums and talking in soft voices. Although it wasn’t dark yet, torches had been lit around the perimeter.

  “Do you want to go across to—”

  She caught Ken before he had a chance to step into the arena. “Not that way.” She started around the crowd, nodding to people she knew.

  Ken stayed on her heels, as close as Angel would. “Obviously I almost made my first blunder. What was it?”

  “I guess I didn’t do a very good job of orienting you.” She’d been too prickly, just because it was Ken. Had any other friend been with her, she wouldn’t have hesitated to explain the traditions to him or her. “The arena is considered—well, it’s sacred in the sense of being set apart from ordinary use. No one goes into the arena except under the direction of the master of ceremonies.”

  He took her hand, swinging it lightly between them as they walked. “Thanks for saving me from looking ignorant, then.”

  Too aware of the warmth of his hand on hers, she found a place with a good view of the entry to the arena. More people greeted her, good-naturedly pushing her and Ken to the front when they saw she had brought a guest.

  “Looks as if you know everyone here.”

  “I should. Grandfather started bringing me when I was just a baby.” A spurt of affection went through her. These were her people, gathered to celebrate their traditions in a way that went back perhaps thousands of years.

  “Are they all Zuni, like your family?”

  She hadn’t realized he remembered which Pueblo her family belonged to. “No. Once, maybe, that would have been true, but now many powwows are like this one—All Nations. You’ll see a lot of different types of dances and different regalia. What Grandfather wears is traditional Zuni.”

  Ken smiled. “He’s a pretty impressive person. I’m looking forward to seeing him dance.” He paused, as if there was something he wanted to say.

  “What?” She nudged him with her elbow. “You can ask anything about the powwow.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Even if it’s personal?”

  “Try me.”

  “I assume you wouldn’t be coming to Bible study unless you’re a Christian. So how do the Native American traditions fit into that?”

  It was a fair question, and coming from anyone else, she wouldn’t hesitate to answer. For some reason, the fact that it came from Ken seemed to raise her hackles a bit.

  She tried to keep her tone neutral. “There was a time when the dances were considered—well, pagan, I guess you’d say. Many Christian Native Americans feared it was wrong to participate, and some outsiders even tried to stop the dances.”

  “I take it they didn’t succeed.”

  Her smile flickered. “For once, the courts came down on our side. My grandfather is probably the most devout Christian I know, and he says participating in the dances is a way of preserving our heritage, not a matter of religion. That’s probably true of most of the people here. We find it possible to be Christians without giving up our identity as a people.”

  “You explain it very well, Juli.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Even to an outsider like me.”

  The words startled her. She was so used to seeing herself as the outsider and Ken as the ultimate insider. He’d given her another way of looking at their roles.

  The drums, which had been silent, began their insistent beat again, and her pulse seemed to throb in time with them. The crowd turned as one toward the entry space that had been left in the circle. Footsteps in time with the
drums, the jingle of small bells, the rustle of expectancy in the crowd—all this announced the entry of the dancers.

  She put her hand on Ken’s arm, nodding toward the entry. Did he feel any of what she did—the sense that here, under the darkening sky, high above their ordinary lives, they were in touch with the divine? She looked toward the mountain, looming above them in pristine majesty.

  “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills; from whence cometh my help. My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.”

  A splash of color, the ripple of flags, the murmur of the crowd, and the dancers entered the arena, feet moving on the rough ground in time to the drums. “Flag bearers come first,” she murmured to Ken. “The head dancers will be next—that’s where you’ll see Grandfather.”

  He nodded, smiling, and clasped her hand again. His was warm and strong, and a frisson of tenderness went through her. If Ken were ever ready to love, if he found the right woman, he would have so much to offer.

  It wouldn’t be her. She knew that. But for the moment she didn’t ask anything more than to stand here next to him, holding hands, sharing something that was precious to her. Whether Ken knew it or not, this evening was one she’d remember for a long time.

  The dances proceeded through their progression. Children’s groups, men, women—all had their part. The Hopi family next to them offered a blanket, and she sat next to Ken, aware of the warmth that emanated from him as the evening grew cooler. Once in a while he asked a question or she explained a dance, but for the most part they were quiet, watching. Contented.

  Or at least, she had been contented. A shiver went through her suddenly, and the hair on the back of her neck rose like Angel’s when she sensed something wrong.

  “What is it? Are you cold?” Ken put his arm around her shoulders, and she had to resist the longing to lean into his strength.

  “No, it’s not that.” She rubbed the back of her neck, as if she could rub away the feeling. “I just felt as if someone were watching me. Watching us.”

  He studied her face, smiling a little. “They probably are. Probably wondering what bright, accomplished Julianna Red Feather is doing here with a washed up pilot.”

  “Not that kind of feeling.”

  How could she explain that sense of inimical eyes fixed on them? She shivered again. She was imagining things, wasn’t she? But she’d learned, during her years of search-and-rescue, to trust her instincts, and those instincts told her this was no idle curiosity.

  She stretched and turned, casually scanning the crowd behind them. No one seemed to be watching them. No face stood out as not belonging there. Still, she couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling.

  “Okay?” The gaze he turned on her was troubled.

  She shrugged, trying to smile. “I guess. The men’s dances are about over. Maybe we ought to greet Grandfather and then head back down the mountain.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  She nodded. She was being silly, she supposed, but—

  Instinct. The word echoed in her mind. She ought to trust her instinct.

  It didn’t take more than a few minutes to find Grandfather in the crowd. He was flushed with exertion and the success of his dance, and clearly delighted that they’d come.

  “Kenneth.” He pumped Ken’s hand. “So what do you think of your first powwow?”

  “Impressive, very impressive. And Julianna was right—you were the best.”

  “I told you so.” Julianna stretched on tiptoe to kiss her grandfather’s leathery cheek, careful not to touch the intricate turquoise beadwork that trimmed his black blouse. “You’ll have to retire sometime, just to give some of the younger men a chance to shine.”

  “Did you introduce Ken to your grandmother?”

  “Of course.” She kept her smile in place with an effort, remembering her foolish weakness. “He even bought a bracelet for Holly.”

  “It’s a work of art,” Ken said. “I’m ashamed to admit that all this was going on and I hadn’t even noticed.”

  “Well, now you know.” Grandfather patted his shoulder. “And you’ll come back again. You’re always welcome.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Julianna gave her grandfather a quick hug. “We’re heading back now.”

  “Drive carefully.” Grandfather kissed her cheek, and then he turned away with a last nod as one of the other dancers came up to speak to him.

  Her feet found the path back to the parking area, even in the dark. Ken, close behind her, didn’t speak until they’d reached the car.

  “I meant what I said to your grandfather, you know.” He unlocked the door. “It embarrasses me that this rich cultural tradition is going on in our midst and I never noticed.”

  “That’s not so unusual,” she said, sliding into the passenger’s side. “Things have started to change now, but for a long time, we preferred to keep our traditions quiet. Maybe it was a way of ensuring that they didn’t slip away.”

  “I can understand that.” He pulled out of the lot. “But I’m glad you agreed to bring me tonight, Juli. It’s an evening I won’t forget.”

  Odd, his echoing what she’d been thinking, too. But their reasons were different. Her mind had been on Ken, while his was preoccupied with the cultural tradition he’d met tonight.

  “Turn right out of the park entrance.” She hesitated, smiling. “I don’t mean to be a backseat driver. I just thought you might not remember these mountain roads after being away for so long.”

  “It’s coming back to me.”

  The road swept downhill almost immediately, and the darkness was complete once they’d left the park behind. The peak loomed to their left, a darker shadow against the darkening sky.

  The headlights picked up the S-shaped warning sign for the hairpin curves that were coming up, and a shiver went through her at its similarity to the snake symbol. She suppressed it angrily.

  How could she have betrayed her feelings so clearly, and in front of Ken, of all people? If he knew what was behind her reaction, he’d think her ridiculously superstitious.

  She wasn’t. She just didn’t want Holly wearing something she associated with her mother’s death. That wasn’t unreasonable, was it?

  Ken’s capable hands moved on the steering wheel as they approached the first curve. He put his foot lightly on the brake pedal to slow the car.

  Nothing happened. She saw his face tense, sensed his grip tighten as he pressed harder.

  Nothing. They hurtled down the dark mountain, gathering speed.

  She grabbed the arm rest, gripping tightly. “What is it? What’s happening?”

  Ken swerved, tires screaming. “The brakes are gone. Hold on.”

  EIGHT

  Ken pumped the brakes, his mind and body totally focused on the task at hand. Block everything else out—that was what you did when you faced an emergency.

  Pump the brakes. Nothing. The pedal went straight to the floor, and another S curve was coming up, with its sheer drop-off to the right, to the valley floor.

  The emergency brake—but it went straight to the floor, too.

  He hugged the left side as if the mountain would protect them, yanking the shift into low, praying nothing would come barreling toward them around the curve. He fought the wheel, hearing the tires shriek as they clung to the road.

  Out of the curve, but they were picking up speed, hurtling down the mountain at a terrifying rate. Concentrate, think what else might work, don’t think about anything else. Don’t think about Julianna, clinging to the armrest, her other hand braced against the dash. Letting anything else in was a useless distraction.

  But he heard, through the roaring in his ears, the soft murmur of her voice. Praying.

  Another curve—how many were there before the road straightened out to that long level stretch before it dipped down for the last time?

  Too many. They’d never make it.

  Never make it. For an instant he was back in the cockpit, screaming t
hrough the air, knowing he was hit, he was going down—

  No. That was then, this was now. Julianna’s life depended on his cool head.

  He’d gone too far to the right. The car scraped the guardrail, metal shrieking, slowing slightly. He pulled to the left, fighting the wheel.

  “I’m going to steer onto the left berm. Hold on.”

  “Right.” She sounded remarkably calm.

  Better to risk running into the side of the mountain than off the edge. The scraggly bushes that overgrew the berm screamed along the driver’s side door, slowing them, giving him hope. If he could slow a bit more, find a sloping bank, they might yet get out of this in one piece.

  His luck, if he had any, ran out. The front wheel hit a rain-washed gully along the side of the road, grinding them to a jarring halt. With a muffled explosion the airbags deployed, thrusting him back against the seat. His head spun, and for an instant he couldn’t breathe.

  Julianna—he gasped for breath, fighting his way out of the entangling folds of the airbag.

  “Juli! Are you all right?” He grasped for her, his vision blurring in the uptilted glare of their headlights.

  Her hand clasped his, warm and strong. “I’m okay.” Incredibly, she managed a shaky laugh. “I just can’t seem to get out of the seatbelt.”

  “Easy. Are you sure you’re okay?” His vision seemed to clear. He reached for the dome light, switching it on. In the dim glow Juli smiled at him from behind the muffling folds of the airbag.

  “Fine. You?”

  “In one piece, surprisingly enough.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and slid over, pushing the airbag out of the way. He couldn’t open his door—it had smacked against the bank.

  Fumbling, he found the buckle of her seatbelt and undid it. Juli, released, slid against him.

  “Sorry.” Her breath was soft against his cheek. “We seem to have landed on a slant.”

  “We’re lucky we didn’t land smashed into a million pieces at the foot of the mountain,” he growled. His arms went around her without thought, and he pulled her even closer. “You could have been killed. I shouldn’t—”