Chapter Six

Bronco did not enjoy the ride to the Hotel LaBelle with Marjorie Longjaw as much as he had the one with Emma. For one thing, Mrs. Longjaw had earned her name. From the minute he climbed into the van, the extremely nice, incredibly kind, and exceedingly excitable mother of Jimmy Two-toes maintained a non-stop stream of chatter peppered with questions that she didn’t let him answer. He’d met a lot of talkative people in his life, but this woman’s hot air was off the charts with wind gusts up to one-hundred miles per hour.

“Oh, so nice to meet you. My son, Jimmy, he has a motorcycle, too, and he just loves it. Scares me sometimes, but he’s my only son, had him when I was thirty-five and family is everything, you know.” She took a breath, then kept going, “What about you, how do you know Emma?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she talked over him.

“Oh, that’s right, Emma told me you know her brother. We’re all very proud of him. His work is important, but he never forgets his family and his people. You know, I can’t tell you how many times he’s bailed Jimmy out of scrapes.” She shook her head. “That boy. Anyhow, if Bert ever decided to move home permanently, give up that big job in Washington, he could run for office, be Mayor of Billings, he’s that well-known, you know? He’s quite the fisherman, too. Wins the big trout tournament every time he enters. We call him the fish whisperer.”

Bronco decided nodding was his best option in this one-sided conversation. Bert was so close-mouthed—except when it came to work related things—he was pleased to find out more about Bert’s virtues, like his boss’s love of fishing. Fish whisperer. He chuckled and tucked that little tidbit away in his mental file folder for use on a later date.

“Emma, on the other hand,” Marjorie rattled on, as she glanced in the rear-view mirror to change lanes, “she’s too shy to be mayor, you know.”

Emma and shy? In the same sentence? Now that was a shocker.

“I’ve known Emma ever since she was a little girl, hiding behind her grandmother’s skirts. Her great-grandmother was a powerful Medicine Woman and so was her grandmother. Lost her mother when she was just a little bit of a thing, but that’s another story. Anyway, being a grandmother’s grandchild, and all, everyone thought she’d be following in her grandmother’s ways, become another great Medicine Woman. Runs in families, you know. But she didn’t show a lot of interest in the herbs or healing ways.”

The cooler full of yarrow tea in the back of the van on his bike said otherwise, but he didn’t disagree. He grunted what he hoped was an “Oh really” sound.

“But, horses and dogs? You couldn’t keep her away from them.” She chuckled. “The dogs followed her wherever she went on the reservation. That girl was never alone, never afraid. She had her pack. And once she got her first horse? Well, let’s just say, she was all over the place.”

She sighed and turned on her blinker for the highway.

Oh, thank God, is that the sign for the turn off?

“That camping trip she took with her best friend her senior year in high school? I think that was a turning point in her life, you know. She joined the Marines right after graduation, after she healed up from the bear bites, and all.”

He finally got a word in edgewise. “Bear?”

“Oh yeah, we’ve got a lot of bears around here, black and Grizzly.” She nodded and for once on the entire trip, fell silent.

“How did Emma…?” He wanted to scream in frustration, but Gaucho shot him a warning growl from the back.

“Oh, so she and her best friend, Jessica, went out by the river, set up a teepee and were enjoying themselves—some say they were drinking, but I don’t believe that—anyway, a Grizzly bear shows up, sees them, and attacks Jessica.” She shook her head. “That Emma, who would have seen it coming, such a surprise.”

He ground his teeth in frustration. “What happened?”

“Well, the bear was gnawing on Jessica’s leg and according to Jessica, Emma went crazy, jumped on the bear’s back, stabbed its throat with her hunting knife. Got the bear off Jessica, but the crazed beast went after Emma with a vengeance. She got clawed up pretty bad. Jessica lost her leg.”

“How’d they get to the hospital?”

“Well, Emma must have been paying attention to her grandmother, after all. She tied a belt around Jessica’s leg, got both of them up into her grandmother’s pick-up truck—and drove the two of them back to the rez. EMTs rushed them to St. Vic’s.” As the sky turned from blue to gray, she nosed the van into the entryway to the LaBelle. “Well, here we are.”

Here we are, indeed. He didn’t just get a partner. He got a super heroine. Bronco stepped down from the van, and pulled the portable rear entry ramp down to the ground. Gaucho sat on the saddle of the bike, looking for all the world like an Egyptian statue of Bast waiting to be worshipped.

“Come on your highness.” Bronco unclipped the leash from the cat’s harness. “Go for a run, but don’t go far. Come back when it gets dark.”

Gaucho wasted no time leaping out of the back of the van and running into the long grasses while Bronco unloaded the bike and put the ramp back in the cargo space. As he walked the bike around the van and balanced it on the kickstand, he called to the driver, “Want some coffee? Lucius has a great machine.”

Marjorie leaned her head out the window. “Nah, gotta get to the store, grab a few things, you know, and then head home to ride herd on Jimmy and his homework.” She put the car in reverse and waved. “You take care, now.”

“Thank you for everything,” he shouted. As the van pulled out of the driveway, he said to himself in a normal tone of voice, “Especially the intel on my new partner.”

“That Marjorie.” Lucius’s voice made Bronco jump. “She’s a talker. Gave you all the deep dish on Emma, did she?”

“Couldn’t stop her if I’d wanted to.” Bronco shook his head. “The bear story. Is that true?”

“If you saw the scars on her back, you’d know it was.” Lucius glanced around. “Where’s your cat?”

Bronco closed his eyes and focused on finding his feline companion. He had a fat field mouse trapped under his paw. “Just grabbing a quick bite.”

“Speaking of which, time to put on the feed bag. The guests are in the bar, if you want to join them for a drink.”

“A shower first, then a cold one.” Bronco whistled for Gaucho who came bounding out of the darkness. “You look satisfied with yourself.” The cat chirped and head butted his leg. He clipped the leash on the harness. “No scaring the guests.”

Lucius smiled. “I sure appreciate that. We have two couples staying with us. They fished all day, caught their limit. Hope you like trout almondine.”

“My best recipe is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My second best recipe is drive through. This is a treat.”

Lucius led the way into the hotel. “Your room’s at the top of the stairs, to the right. We might have a few scraps of fish left for your friend. I’ll go check the kitchen.”

****

Bronco admired his room. The updated bathroom, king sized bed, and flat-screen TV brought the place into contemporary times, but the carved wood-paneled walls spoke of its rich history. Gaucho immediately leaped onto the four-poster, rolled onto his back, stretched his legs out and fell asleep. Never let anyone say that cat wasn’t pampered.

Every muscle in his body screamed for a long hot bath, but with a cold drink waiting for him in the bar, a quick shower would have to do. Bronco pulled the white cloth curtain around the tub, cranked on the faucets to let the hot water run, and stripped out of his denim cut, T-shirt and jeans. He’d blown out of Colorado so fast, all he had with him was one set of spare jeans and a T-shirt in the bottom pouch of his back pack. He’d forgotten to pack underwear. Perfect. Guess I’m going commando. He set the recycled mayonnaise jar of yarrow tea on the edge of the sink, along with the dry washcloths Emma had provided. He stepped into the shower, yelped, and adjusted the spray of hot water. Lathering shampoo into his hair, he put his head back under the flow of water, and sighed.

Clean at last.

The only thing that would make this perfect would be if Emma was in here with him. He’d be careful washing her back—and her front—and using slow gentle movements. He’d be happy to show her exactly why this bucking Bronco was a ride she’d never forget. Soap bubbles slid down his chest, and he slowly stroked his pecs and lower abdomen in a dreamy state of relaxation. As his hand headed toward his groin, the toilet flushed.

“Dammit, Gaucho! I’m going to kill you!”

He snatched the curtain back—and no one was there, not even the cat. He stepped out of the shower and stomped into the bedroom. Gaucho, still sprawled out on his back, was apparently deep in sleep because his feet were running in the air.

Shaking his head, he went back into the bathroom. The jar full of yarrow tea sat in the sink with the top off, a cloth soaking inside. “What the hell?”

He glanced up at the steam-covered mirror. A pair of dark brown eyes stared back at him. When he swiped at the condensation, they vanished.

****

Emma packed her coyote colored rucksack with enough clothing for a week. After stuffing the side pouches with travel sized toiletries, protein bars, nuts, dried fruit, and bison jerky packets, she took the Mossberg 500 out of its rack, slid it into her tactical shotgun scabbard, and placed everything by the front door. Her glove compartment was packed with ammo, as was the ammo reload carrier pouch attached to the scabbard. Hunting knife strapped to her hip, she pondered for a moment, tapping her chin, feeling like she was missing something.

Her olive drab first aid kit sat open on the kitchen table. She didn’t recall putting it there. Shaking her head, she said, “I must be losing my mind.” Along with the usual scissors, scalpel, compress dressings, adhesive bandages, adhesive cloth tape, hydrocortisone, antibiotic ointment, antiseptic wipes, aspirin, acetaminophen, gloves, roller bandages, gauze, triangular bandages, and tweezers, she also packed injectable lidocaine, suture, needles, syringes, and an assortment of plastic containers filled with medicinal herbs and compounds.

The now clean and less stinky canine patrol came bounding through the doggy door, yipping and dancing around the kitchen. “Hey, who said it was dinner time?”

Panting, Baaíishiialiche the Labrador mix threw herself on the floor in front of the refrigerator and gazed at the door as if in love. Hisshe, or Red, the rescue beagle, howled mournfully while Bishké, the German shepherd mix sat in front of the backpack and whined.

“The three of you can knock it off. I’m not going away forever.” A rap at the door set the dogs into a frenzy of barking, yowling, and yipping. She put her hand up. “Stop!”

Shaking, Hisshe stopped howling, but continued to whine.

Thinking her ranch hand, Hank, had decided to stop by for any last minute instructions, Emma yanked the door open.

Tommy Otterlegs stood on her front step in his black uniform, hat in hand. “Good evening.”

“What on earth are you doing here again?” She glanced at the moon halfway on its journey to the night sky. “And late, at that.”

He craned his neck, trying to peer around her. The dogs sat alongside her, forming a canine wall. “Just checking to see if everything’s okay.” He glanced down at the dogs, and his gaze snagged on her rucksack. “Going somewhere?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I’m going to be away for a while.”

“I’ll be sure to have a patrol car come by your house and keep an eye out.”

“My ranch hand will be here, no need for that.”

“He can’t be here twenty-four/seven. Don’t you have horses for him to look after, too?”

For the most part, Emma loved her tribe, but this was one member she could really do without—especially now. “I’m good, it’s all good. You want to send a cruiser, knock yourself out.” But no more than that, you officious twerp. “As you can see, I’m a little busy.”

“Happy to check all your windows, make sure everything is buttoned up.” He put one foot in the door, as if to come in, and Bishké growled. He pulled his foot back. “Or not.”

Smiling to herself, she sent a mental thank you to her protective canine.

“Where are you going?”

Damn, this guy just won’t take a hint.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going west, taking a friend to see the Lewis and Clark Caverns.” She knew that would provoke him, but she couldn’t help herself. “So, see you in a week or so.”

His lip curled with anger. “You mean that biker? Seriously, what do you see in him? He’s no good. I looked him up in ViCAP, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. He’s got a rap sheet as long as your arm. Assault, battery, auto theft, possession of dangerous drugs, possession of weapons, attempted murder—and that’s just the surface.” A smug expression crossed his face. “Yeah, I did my homework, that’s what I do. I find the bad guys and I Lock. Them. Up.”

Emma put her hand on her right hip, the one with the knife holster. “Well, if he’s so bad, why’s he out on the streets?”

“I—I’m—not sure. I’m trying to find that out.” He frowned. “His complete records are hard to access. I could only see the charges, not the details.”

“Hmmm.” She shrugged. “Unless you have more than that, I strongly suggest you leave him alone. You wouldn’t want your boss to find out you’ve been harassing someone, would you?” His radio crackled to life. “Who’s closest to the Hardin Burger Barn? We have a D and D—Owner says her husband’s drunk as a skunk and harassing the customers.”

“I’ve gotta get going. Duty calls!” Speaking into his radio, he spun on his heel and sprinted for his car.

Wheels squealing, Otterlegs’ car peeled away from the curb as if in a high-speed pursuit.

Chuckling, she returned to her packing. Bronco’s cover was so good, it even fooled the local Keystone cop. The next time she saw him, which would be very soon, she’d have to compliment him on his nice “resume.”

Another rap at the door, this time in code, told her Steph had arrived. She swept in, and the dogs wagged their tails and jumped on her in greeting. “Yes, yes, my loves. Good to see you, too.”

Throwing her arms around Emma, she lifted her off her feet in a breathtaking hug.

“Steph, I’m not going away forever, just a few weeks.”

“Well, I’m worried about you. I know you’re a powerful warrior woman and all that, but seriously, you don’t know who you’re up against.”

“My brother is going to send a detailed report to me shortly, and Bronco’s got his own investigative tools.”

Steph batted her eyes. “I’d love to see his tool, but I have a feeling you’ll see it before I do.”

Heat burned Emma’s face. “You have the dirtiest mind. If you weren’t my cousin—”

“Your life would be dull and boring!” Steph twirled her hair. “I do have a little bit more information on the brown-shirts.”

“What? Tell me!”

Steph pulled a kitchen chair out and seemingly floated into it. Her cousin was exceedingly graceful. Emma sat across the table from her.

“I saw my friend, Babs, you know the one they beat up. We were at the Garrett, having a drink, and we were talking—”

Emma covered her face with her hands and moaned. “You did not mention this investigation!”

“Give me some credit, girl! Trust me, I’m a regular Mata Hari.”

Emma grumbled under her breath, “Matted Hairy.”

Steph slapped her hand. “While I was talking to Babs, a really cute young blond guy with a crewcut came over to our table and asked us if we were from Billings and if we were looking for a good time.”

A lump formed in Emma’s throat. “No.”

“Yep.” Steph smiled like a Cheshire cat. “So, I said, maybe, maybe not, have a seat, we’ll talk about it.”

“And?”

“He was adorable, but way too young for me, so I told him we’d be like his big sisters, keep him out of trouble. He says, ‘Oh, I’ve been warned already’ and I said, ‘Do tell’ and he told us there’s a website with travel advisories for LGBT folks telling them to stay out of certain parts of the country.”

“I’m going to kill you. Spit it out.”

“He said, ‘A bunch of Neo-Nazis have been posting crap online about how they’re going to own Montana, make it a sovereign nation, make the state racially pure again, like it was back in the good old days,’” Steph wiped a tear away. “They’re here. In our state. Up north. I think that’s who attacked Babs.”

Emma’s head spun. Neo-Nazis trying to take over Montana? Were they really that widespread? She wasn’t totally naïve about the ultra-right-wing groups. In fact, for a short stint in the Marines, she’d spent some time as a recruiter. In preparation for the role, she’d been taught to be on the lookout for controversial tattoos and symbols. Some people, she’d been told, attempted to penetrate the military to try to recruit people for their extremist causes. Tattoo identification had been part of her training. Gang and prison tattoos were a red flag, as were any of the Aryan Nation, Skinhead, White Power Warheads, or any other White Supremacist or Neo-Nazi groups’ tattoos. Not only did these groups want to infiltrate to recruit members, but also to learn military and tactical training to take back to their paramilitary compounds to prepare for the coming war of the races.

What if a group decided just obtaining the usual military weapons training wasn’t enough? What if they went high tech, going after the latest technology, including unmanned weaponized drones that could attack without anyone seeing it coming? These Neo-Nazis had to be responsible for the drone attacks on the mustangs and the eagles. Killing the sacred animals had been symbolic—and probably practice for bigger targets. She and Bronco had to stop them before they moved onto attacking people.

Steph waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? You in there?”

Shaking her head to clear the black clouds lingering in her thoughts, Emma said, “Yeah, sorry. I had to process everything you said. Great job, Steph. You are Nancy Drew.”

“Mata Hari. I’m too exotic to be Nancy Drew.”

“You’ve got that right.” Emma stood. “Before I forget, here’s the arnica compound I promised you. Rub it in at bedtime. If you can put some heat on that, too, it will help.” She handed her a container of white ointment.

“Thank you, baby.” Steph stood and clutched Emma’s hand. “You know, I never used to believe in this stuff about us Two Spirit people having the gift of prophecy. But, just this once, baby, please, for the love of your family, your tribe—me—please, please, please be careful. I have a really bad feeling about what’s coming.”

Hugging her cousin, Emma tried to shake off a feeling of dread—with no luck.

“If I don’t do this, others will be hurt. I can’t let whoever is doing this kill any more horses or eagles—or buffalo.” She almost said people, but kept that fear to herself. Instead, she plastered a grin on her face, lightened her voice and threw out, “Listen. Tonight I have a meeting at the Hotel LaBelle with a guy named Bronco who has a smart bobcat and looks like hot sex on a stick. I’d be crazy not to chase that cute little butt, wouldn’t I? What could possibly go wrong?”