The Prodigal Cowboy

Her face was hidden in the shadows, but her hands were steady, her shoulders squared and her long black hair shone blue-white under the streetlight. He didn’t know who she thought she was talking to, but she wasn’t bluffing.

And he loved it.

He was thinking, I’ve got your back. Not that she needed him, but he was there, just in case.

Hell of a woman, he told himself as he watched her stand her ground. She was on TV, but that was just a job. It wasn’t her life. Pretty cool. Cool enough to get the message without some big explanation to go with it. Whatever her interest was in Senator Perry Garth—the man who’d helped put Ethan away for two years—it was of no interest to him. Neither was any rivalry between neighbors, nor tribal politics. Ethan was looking for a new life. He wanted the kind of freedom Bella had—the opportunity to chart her own course, to do a job and then some, and that some could be more than what somebody else was willing to pay for.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a sweet young girl with a big brain. He’d assigned her brain a role, but the girl was sweet and young, and she’d had that straight body and those big ideas. Sure, she’d had the hots for him, but back then she’d been more appealing walking away from him in a huff than looking up at him all wide-eyed and innocent. She’d had some growing up to do.

She turned and mounted the steps to the front door.

I’ve still got your back, Bella, but I can appreciate your front now, too. Turn around. Let me see those pretty eyes.

No such luck. She pushed the door open and disappeared.

Ethan grinned as he shifted out of neutral. Yes, sir, little Bella Primeaux had grown up just fine.

Chapter Two

The tiny reservation town of Sinte, South Dakota, hadn’t changed much, but the house Bella had grown up in looked different. In only five years weeds had taken over Ladonna Primeaux’s flower beds. A swing set occupied what had been the vegetable garden, and an old Jeep had muscled in on the shrub roses that still more or less lined the driveway. Mom had fussed over that yard the way some women gravitated toward babies. With her gone, it looked like most of the other yards in the neighborhood—a cottonwood tree or two, a bunch of kids’ toys, maybe a deck and some struggling grass.

Bella could hear her mother now. Don’t ever let your yard go, Bella. All it takes is a little interest. People who take an interest, those are the interesting people. They’re the ones you always want to talk to.

Ladonna Primeaux was an interesting person. Everyone thought so. Bella had been certain of it. Her mother was as knowledgeable as she was opinionated, which was fine by Bella. Nothing wrong with having opinions if you had the knowledge to back them up. Mom was also dependable, practical and psychic. It wasn’t always easy being the only child of a woman who was constantly one step ahead of the one Bella was about to take. But she’d followed the deep imprints of her mother’s footsteps until there were no more.

The home they’d shared wasn’t there anymore, and the house alone gave no comfort. No point in lingering, hoping for more than memories. Bella didn’t need guidance or approval anymore—she knew who she was and where she was going—but with her mother’s death she’d been cut off at the roots. She was growing as a journalist, but every time she looked at her résumé, she felt like a fraud. Maybe not on the outside—she had the look, totally—but deep down she was missing something.

Her KOZY-TV News assignments rarely touched on Indian issues, so she’d started blogging as Warrior Woman, and her site was gaining followers. But the comments from people who claimed to be Native were few and far between. Maybe they were out there but just weren’t saying so. Or maybe they weren’t even there. Maybe what was missing was new growth. Her interest in Lakota issues was real, but what about Lakota life? What about the home she’d left as quickly as she could and the mother who’d encouraged her daughter to fly while she’d remained in the nest? What about the remnants of those severed roots? Deep down they were still there, like shorn whiskers creating an itch that needed attention.

Guess what, Bella, you’re not a kid anymore. You need to touch up your roots or grow some new ones.

A stop sign and two right-hand turns took her to Agency Avenue. The old Bureau of Indian Affairs building with its spacious offices had been turned over to the Tribal government, and the BIA had moved into the building once occupied by the Tribe. Sign of the times, Bella thought as she took in all the changes. There were more windows, fewer walls, and the colors of the four directions—red, white, black and yellow—had replaced BIA green and tan. There were new names on the directory. Indian names. But there were no office numbers, and so she asked the receptionist whether Councilman Logan Wolf Track was in the house. He’s around here somewhere was the old familiar answer. Monday-through-Friday casual.

“Of course I remember you.” Logan greeted her with a handshake when he came out to greet her. He was lankier than his son but not as tall, not quite as handsome. “Full scholarship to a fine college on the East Coast, right?”

“University of California at Berkley.”

“I meant West Coast.” He smiled easily. “I remembered the important stuff. Full scholarship, terrific college and Bella Primeaux. Your mother was so proud of you we could hardly stand it.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, just kidding. We’re all proud of you.” He glanced through the plate glass that separated the sparsely furnished lounge from a small parking lot. “And we sure miss your mother. She was something else, wasn’t she?” He turned back to Bella, assuring her with a nod. “In a good way.”

“She was the best nurse Indian Health ever had.”

“She sure was.”

“She could have been a doctor.” It was something she’d always thought, but she couldn’t remember saying it out loud before, giving due credit, open admiration. She’d felt it, but she hadn’t said it within range of her mother’s ear. What kind of range did Ladonna Primeaux’s hearing have now?

“She was a damn good nurse.”

“Yes, she was.” But she could have been a doctor. She’d said so herself, many times. What she’d never said was that she’d had a child to feed. “I ran into Ethan the other night.”

“Where?”

“In a bar,” Bella said, an answer that clearly surprised Logan. “Rapid City. I live there now.”

“I watch you all the time on TV.” He lifted one shoulder. “Well, not every day, but whenever I watch the news.”

She smiled. It was good to be watched and even better to be acknowledged. She owed him something in return. “Ethan’s following in your footsteps.”

“How’s that?”

“Training horses. He mentioned the wild horse training competition. He says he’s going to win the big prize.”

“I hope he does. Help him make a fresh start. Hope he’s not spending too much time in the bars.” He glanced away. “I haven’t seen much of Ethan since, uh …”

“Since he went to prison?”

“He told you about that?”

“He didn’t have to,” she said quietly.

Logan gave a mirthless chuckle. “Made the news all the way out to California, did it?”

“The news is what the media makes it, and I’m part of the media now. I know these things.” She smiled. “All we talked about was high school and what we’re doing these days. He gives you credit for raising him to be a cowboy.”

“A cowboy? That’s down to his older brother, Trace. Although outside the rodeo, I’d say Ethan’s the better hand when he’s of a mind to be. They’re both good, mind you, but Trace goes in for a wild ride, and Ethan … well, he’s wild enough on his own.”

“He was drinking iced tea.”

“In a bar?” Apparently even more surprising.

Bella nodded. “Straight iced tea.”

“I saw him at the Double D earlier this summer,” Logan recalled. “First time in two years. Said he was entering the training competition. Said he was working for a rehab program.”

“He told me he was a ranch hand. Square One Ranch. Something like that.”

“Square One?” His tone put the news on par with tea in a bar. “That’s a program for kids in trouble. Hell, that’s right outside Rapid City. I didn’t know he was living that close by. He didn’t, uh …” Logan’s wan smile spoke of a father’s discomfort with being the last to know. “He didn’t say.”

“I thought it was a cattle ranch. That’s interesting.” What was left out was always more interesting than what was said. Bella added it to her mental file marked Ethan. Also interesting was the way she’d filed him under his first name.

Maybe because it was an old file. She was just realizing how far back it went and how carefully she’d kept it up. No surprise that he’d joined the army after he graduated. No surprise that he’d been gone awhile and come back home. No word of his military experiences, which was also no surprise. The return to Indian Country was never questioned. But he hadn’t stayed around long, and the next Ethan Wolf Track news flash had been surprising. Dirt sells, he’d said, and if she’d been a little further along in her career, she might have tried to track him down. Not because he was in trouble—no surprise there, either. Not because the story involved a woman—most of Ethan’s stories undoubtedly involved women. But there was an odd political connection.

Ethan Wolf Track and a senator’s daughter? Now that was interesting. And Bella would have bet her new mobile phone that what was left out was far more interesting than what was reported.

“He’s pretty sensitive about Senator Garth, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Couldn’t say.” Staring out the window at a young couple getting into a pickup with a washing machine in the bed, Logan didn’t blink. No sensitivity there. “Ethan spent two years in prison for taking Garth’s car. His daughter was the one who took it, but she wouldn’t stand up for him. I’d say he was sensitive about her, but I’d just be guessing.” He turned to give Bella a what’re-you-gonna-do look. “Too damn stubborn for his own good.”

“He said he worked over at the Double D when he was a kid.”

“Couple of summers, yeah. Like I say, Ethan’s a good worker. I’ll bet he’s real good with those kids in the Square One program.”

Bella wondered why Logan seemed so clueless about his son. If she were still alive, Ladonna Primeaux wouldn’t be betting or guessing, she would be asking. On the other hand, Bella herself wasn’t exactly being subtle about fishing for clues about the man’s family, and he was trusting her with what few he had.

A twinge of guilt pushed her to switch tracks.

“The Double D took some grazing land away from a neighboring rancher, didn’t they? I know some of it was public land, but wasn’t there a Tribal lease, too?”

“Yep.” Logan smiled. He liked this topic. “We decided the Wild Horse Sanctuary took precedence. The Lakota are horse people.”

“But Senator Garth has a longstanding friendship with Dan Tutan, who is—”

“My wife’s father.” His smile broadened. “We just got married. Haven’t told Ethan yet.”

“So, uh …”

“Whose side am I on? The horses’ side. So’s my wife. I haven’t heard any objections from the senator. What’s he gonna do? The Tribal Council determines how the land will be used nowadays. It’s called self-determination.”

“That term is so twentieth century,” Bella teased.

“Yeah, well, some of us go back that far.”

“All of us do. The whole relocation program and termination of reservations policy in the 1950s, and then the switch to Indian self-determination in the 1970s, seems like it was only yesterday.” She smiled. “We studied it in our high school history class. Ethan sat behind me.”

He laughed. “Now that must’ve been interesting.”

“It was unsettling.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and held on tight as she glanced away. “What was interesting was twentieth-century American Indian history and how we’re supposed to finally have a say over what we do with our lives. And our land.” And the fact that Ethan remembered the mole on the back of her shoulder.

Bella shifted her stance, cleared her throat and her thoughts, and turned back to the Lakota leader. “So you don’t think the senator can interfere with the Wild Horse Sanctuary? He sits on a couple of key committees.”

“Let him sit.”

“I was thinking of doing a story.” He gave her a look that that reinforced his suggestion. If the story had to do with Garth, she was wasting her time. She gave a diffident shrug. “Maybe a series on the Tribe’s involvement with the Wild Horse Sanctuary.”

“Involvement?”

“In a good way,” she added hastily.

“Kind of a feel-good story about Indians and horses? That always works. Sally’ll take all the TV spots she can get. You know Sally Drexler—I mean Sally Night Horse—is the woman behind the whole program. You talk about a white tornado…” He chuckled. “That’s from an old TV commercial. White tornado.”

“Must’ve been before my time.”

“Mine, too. Even before self-determination, but around here some things are as timeless as Indians on horses. Especially now that you’ve got YouTube.” He grinned. “So I say go for it. If you need me, I’m in.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Actually, it wouldn’t be for KOZY-TV News. My suggestions there fall on deaf ears. They hand me an assignment, and I make it happen. Whether it means anything to anyone …” She glanced away, gave her head a little shake and turned back to a man who was known for having good ears. “That’s what I was doing at the bar the other night. I was looking for different types of singles’ hangouts. The place is called the Hitching Post. Doesn’t that sound like a place to connect?”

“Depends on your idea of hitching, I guess. Never really got the hang of hangin’ out. But Ethan …” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Bella. If you’re asking me about—”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. But she had asked, and she shouldn’t have. “I only meant to say that I’d run into him. You know, just saying.”

“Not telling.” He smiled indulgently. “Just saying.”

“Do you know anything about Square One? Is it a good program?”

“It’s pretty new, but they’re building a good reputation. We’ve had some kids placed there through Tribal Court.”

“Why don’t we go out there and take a look? You haven’t seen much of Ethan lately, and I’m looking for connections.”

“I’m not much of a connection, Bella. I don’t think Square One qualifies as a singles’ hangout, and I don’t qualify as a single. My wife’s coming home for good pretty soon. The army’s letting her go.”

“Her choice?”

“Yeah.” Again he grinned, but this time it was purely for personal pleasure. “I’m gonna be a father again.”

“Congratulations. Wow.” Apparently he’d wasted no time. “So how about it? Do you have some time today?”

“I do, but if Ethan’s there, I’m not gonna show up uninvited. He only let me visit him once when he was in prison. Took me off his visitors list after that.”

“Why would he do that?”

Logan shook his head. “I married his mother, and he took to me right away. After she left, he was different. For a while we thought sure she’d come back. His brother and I did, anyway, but Ethan never asked about her. Never jumped for the phone the way Trace did, never expected any more from her. He kinda became his own little man, you know? He got a little older, he tried to find his father. We didn’t have much to go on, so it didn’t pan out. Far as I know.”

“You helped him?”

“Did what I could. He had a picture and the little bit his mother told him. The guy was part Indian. Don’t know where he was from, though. Ethan looks a lot like the guy in the picture. I don’t know what would’ve happened if we’d found him.”

“Ethan didn’t seem like one to dwell on the past. History didn’t interest him all that much.”

Logan smiled wistfully. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s as smart as they come.” He punctuated a cocked finger with the cluck of his tongue. “Ethan’s your connection to Square One.”

Without a GPS Bella would have missed the turnoff to Square One Ranch. The sign stood so low to the ground that the dancing heads of the tall crested wheat grass obscured the small print. Rebuilding Our Lives From the Ground Up. The two visible roofs turned out to be a hulking old barn and a spanking-new two-story box. It wasn’t until the access road took a dip that she saw the small ranch-style house that had to be a good place to start searching for someone in charge of the operation.

An attractive young blonde opened the front door before Bella mounted the steps. Bella knew the routine. Country dwellers saw visitors coming a mile off. At half a mile they had the vehicle categorized—known or unknown, in- or out-of-state, on target or gone astray. In good weather they met you outside. In bad weather they opened the door just enough to check you out with eyes that challenged your motivation, not to mention your common sense.

But Bella had an advantage. “I’ve seen you on TV.” The woman offered a handshake. “Shelly Jamison.”

“Bella—”

“Primeaux, right? You’re even prettier in person.”

“Thank you. I’m aiming for professional.”

“You’ve hit that target, too, but my observation stands.” Shelly tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “What can I do for you?”

“Show me around and tell me about your program.”

“You think we might be newsworthy?”

“I met with a councilman from my reservation. He suggested I come out and take a look.”

“Tribal Courts have sent us a few kids since we started the program.” The hands came out of the back pockets and the arms were quickly folded up front. “We haven’t had any complaints.”

“And you still don’t.” Bella shaded her eyes with one hand so she could offer an unsquinty smile. “Councilman Wolf Track said you were doing a good job here.”

“Wolf Track? We’ve got a Wolf Track on the payroll here.” Shelly glanced toward the weathered barn as her shoulders relaxed and dropped a full two inches. “Hell of a good worker.”

“Ethan,” Bella supplied. “I went to school with him.”

“He can’t be on the Tribal Council, can he? He hasn’t been … I mean, he keeps busy around here, like, 24/7.”

“His father’s the councilman.”

“He never mentioned that. You don’t think that’s why we get … I mean, we didn’t hire Ethan as a favor to any—”

“His father didn’t know he was working here. Really, I’m not here to, um, dig up any dirt.” Recalling Ethan’s words, Bella almost smiled. “KOZY loves a feel-good story, and I thought we might find one here. Ethan has been—”

“I know where he’s been.” Shelly grabbed a chunk of hair that had strayed from her low ponytail and hooked it behind her unadorned ear. “You tell anyone who asks, Ethan Wolf Track is doing just fine. The boys really look up to him. Tell the truth, he’s quickly becoming indispensable around here.”

“I’m not here on any kind of assignment. I’ve heard only good things.” Bella followed the direction of Shelly’s gaze toward the hulking barn. Noisy swallows darted in and out the tiny doors of the clay row houses tucked under the edge of the gambrel roof. “I’m interested in the wild horse part of your program, and I thought maybe I could take a tour.” She lifted her shoulder. “And if Ethan’s around, I’d like to say hello.”

“Oh, he’s around. Dependable as they come, that guy.”

Bella smiled. “If anyone asks, I’ll relay the message.”

“I don’t know anything about Ethan’s family.” Shelly stepped down to ground level, putting them on par, height-wise. “It’s just that good help is hard to find when you’re paying in hot dogs and beans.”

“There must be other rewards,” Bella prompted.

“You get to be around wild things. Wild kids, wild horses and what’s left of wild country.” Shelly moved into the shade of a tall cottonwood, and Bella followed suit. “Wild hearts attract each other.”

“How’s yours?”

Shelly grinned. “I’m the maypole they all get to dance around. I have to crunch the numbers and find the wherewithal.”

“I like that image. This could be a good story, and KOZY isn’t the only media outlet I can access.” Bella smiled. She didn’t mind throwing her TV connection into her pitch. Most people—local people, anyway—were dazzled by it. If they had nothing to hide they eventually opened their doors. Sometimes they couldn’t resist even if they did have something to hide. Besides, everything she was saying was true. “Do you have time to show me around?”

Of course Shelly did.

She led the way with a “follow me,” and they started toward the barn. “The bunkhouse is new.” She pointed toward what might have passed for a truncated no-name roadside motel—plain white, no-frills. “Kitchen and commons area downstairs, bunks upstairs. You wanna see inside? Nobody’s there now except the cook.”

Bella shook her head. “Another time. Who paid for the improvements?”

“We qualified for a government grant and scored some private funding, as well. We get community support, too. People come in and teach whatever skills they have to offer.” Shelly glanced over her shoulder. “TV reporting must require all kinds of skills.”

“You mean, besides talking to the camera?”

“Are you kidding? You’re talking to thousands of people.”

“I don’t think of it that way,” Bella said absently as they rounded the corner of the bunkhouse and headed toward the barn.

“I’d be shaking in my boots and tripping over my tongue,” Shelly said.

“You get used to it. The scary part can be trying to get information out of people who don’t want to talk or pictures of things they don’t want you to see.”

“We tell the kids, once you find out what a relief it is to come clean, you’ll never want to—” They turned another corner and ran into an old flatbed farm truck with its hood up, one guy standing and another guy squatting next to the front tire, and one pair of boots sticking out from under the orange cab.

“Did you guys run over somebody?” Shelly called out. She glanced back at Bella and nodded toward the two faces now turned their way. “There’s your man.” She raised her voice. “You’ve got a visitor, Wolf Track.”

“You patted her down, didn’t you?” Ethan wiped his hands on a rag as he rose to his feet. “Was she packin’?”

“Packing what?” Shelly asked.

“A .38.” Grinning at Bella, he touched the brim of his straw cowboy hat in salutation. “Smith & Wesson, right?”

Bella’s eyes widened as she and Shelly approached the truck. “That was you?”

“You saw the pickup that cruised past? That was trouble.”

“You followed me?”

“Trouble followed you. I followed them.” Beneath the bent brim of his hat a smile danced in his dark eyes. “You don’t wanna tip your hand out on the street like that, Bella. Some people might find a Smith & Wesson even more tempting than a Bella Primeaux.”

She returned a level stare. “Neither one was there for the taking. As I said, I know how to use it.”

“If you really knew how to use it, you wouldn’t be giving away your advantage by broadcasting it.”

“This sounds like an interesting reunion,” Shelly injected, amused. “I’m guessing high school sweethearts.”

“No. Never.” Bella laughed. “I was a lowly underclassman when Ethan was the cock of the walk.”

“The what?” Ethan said.

“You were the captain of everything except the cheerleading squad.”

“And our little two-man history team.” He winked at her, and she wondered whether the gesture had become pure reflex. “I dropped the ball on that one. It was your leadership that got us on the A list.”

“Well played, captain. Credit your teammates. We’d love to hear a play-by-play. Sounds like the makings of an excellent lesson in humility.” Shelly slipped an arm around Bella’s waist. “Please stay for supper so the boys can watch their hero recover whatever he’s fumbled.”