Eagle Warrior

“I’m glad you know how to fight. Do you have a little girl, too?”

Ray glanced at Morgan whose expression told her that Lisa had gone off script.

“No. I don’t.”

“A wife?”

“Not one of those either.”

Lisa’s smile seemed satisfied and her eyes glittered with devilment. Ray knew when he was being set up. Normally he’d be saying good-night, which he was, but this time he’d be staying under the same roof with Morgan right across the hall.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Lisa strode forward and offered her hand.

Ray hesitated. She was thin and tiny and her hand was so very small. But he shook hers as if sealing some deal.

Then she surprised him again by thanking him formally in perfect Tonto Apache.

“My grandfather taught me that,” she said.

He watched Lisa pad from the room on bare feet and wondered what else Karl had taught her.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING Ray woke to the sound of a shovel rasping against gravel and earth. He headed for the window that faced the backyard. The sun wasn’t even up and there was Guy Heron digging up the tire planter in the backyard. The ceramic toad lay on its side next him, one eye staring up at the sky. Ray swore and then tugged on his jeans. He hoped the guy didn’t have a job that required him to see out of both eyes.

Ray was out the door a moment later. The day was gray and the air temperature lower than crisp. Heron took another shovelful of earth and dumped it on the ceramic frog. Then he knelt to check inside the hole.

Ray’s approach was soundless, not just because of his bare feet whispering over the ground but because of his training here on the reservation and with the US Marines. But still Heron spotted him before he reached him. The man sprang to his feet, gripped his shovel and ran across the driveway that separated the Hooke territory from the Herons’, but there was no distinction as all land here was communal. There Heron stopped as if protected by some invisible boundary, the kind that Anglos drew all over the earth. He expected better from a member of his own tribe.

“I didn’t find anything.”

Ray kept coming. Heron made his second mistake of the day. He held his ground.

“This here is my property.” He motioned with the shovel at a line that was not there and then lifted the shovel as if he intended to use it like an ax.

Third mistake, thought Ray as he came to a stop.

“This here?” he asked, marking the line that didn’t exist with an index finger.

Heron nodded.

Ray did a fair impression of a mime meeting an invisible wall. Heron’s brow knit as Ray seemed flummoxed by the barrier. His big finale was jabbing Heron in the eye.

Heron’s knees buckled but Ray grabbed him by the collar before he fell to his face. Then he dragged him back across the driveway and to the hole he had been digging.

“You taking up horticulture?” asked Ray.

Heron struggled, choked and dropped his shovel.

Ray threw him onto the freshly dug soil.

“He just planted these,” said Heron. “Right before the shooting.”

Ray placed his fists on his hips and admired the speed with which Heron’s eye swelled shut.

“Last night I told you that you should stay away from Morgan and her girl.”

“And I didn’t go near them.”

Ray pointed at the ground. “This counts.”

“I just thought, you know, maybe I could help her find it.” He motioned toward the hole.

Ray grabbed Heron’s wrist. A moment later he had that wrist behind Heron’s back and the man’s cheek pressed into the earth to the edge of the hole.

“Don’t help her anymore because if you do, I’m going to use your shovel to bury you in this hole.” He forcibly turned Heron’s head so he got a mouthful of the dirt. “Do we understand each other?”

Heron spat and wiggled but stopped when Ray increased the pressure on his wrist and shoulder.

“All right!”

Ray held him a breath longer by pressing his knee in his back, using it to stand back up. Then he offered his hand to Heron who ignored it as he drew himself up, glared at Ray and moved toward his home in a gait that was as close as a man can come to a jog without jogging.

Ray followed him to the driveway, carrying the shovel Guy had abandoned in his haste. When Guy turned back, Ray sent his shovel after him. The man made a squeak of alarm and broke into a run. There was nothing like the satisfaction that comes from doing what you love, thought Ray.

When he turned toward the house, he saw the shocked faces of both Morgan and Lisa in the window of Lisa’s bedroom. He dusted off his hands and headed toward the house. He tried not to let their looks of shock and horror affect him. He was doing what he’d been sent here to do, but frightening Lisa didn’t sit well and Morgan now looked at him as if someone had let a wild animal loose in her home.

In fact that was exactly what had happened, but until someone found that money that was just the way it was going to be.

Chapter Eight

Morgan gasped as Ray pursued Guy to the driveway and tossed his shovel after her neighbor like a spear. The blade bit deep into the earth and the handle vibrated. Morgan blinked at the bunching muscles of Ray’s back and the ease with which he tossed his captive aside.

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