Aimée Thurlo - Restless Wind

“But you’re taking me…out of necessity, or choice?”

“A little of both,” he answered after a brief pause. “But I could have chosen other places. I…wanted you to see it.” He gave her a quirky half smile. “An act of faith, if you will.”

“In me, or in our journey to find justice for a mutual friend?” she asked, then regretted it instantly.

“If you have to ask, then you won’t believe my answer.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so hard and analytical. Speaking about the past always makes me uncomfortable. For the most part, my own memories are something I’m saddled with, not ones I cherish. The only thing I learned back then is that I can survive almost anything.” Including the loss of…possibilities, she added to herself, still looking at him.

It was two in the morning by the time they arrived. The small log cabin lay within a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees, and mostly hidden from view.

“Is someone here?” she asked quickly, seeing the back end of a vehicle parked by the side.

“No. My brother and I keep that truck here for the times when the rain or snow takes out the roads. That old Chevy has a low gear we call Granny, and it never gets stuck in the mud. The more modern trucks and cars can have some real problems out here when it rains.”

The cabin didn’t look nearly large enough to fit four people, but even from outside, it gave off a welcoming feel, and she said so.

“My dad, my brother, and I built this place practically from scratch using the trees we had to clear away to protect us from forest fires. There was just enough space for all of us. With only a few rooms, it was a lot easier to heat in winter, and much more airtight than a traditional hogan. My mother grew vegetables in the back and canned as much as she could, and our water came from a spring up against the hillside. There’s a small lake just a mile from here, so we had fish when we needed them. There was always food on our table.”

Reading her expression, he added, “We never thought of ourselves as poor. In all the years we lived here, we never lacked anything important.”

“What happened to your parents?”

Ranger’s voice grew hard. “My father…worked for the tribe. He was killed on the job.”

She wondered if his father might have been in the Brotherhood of Warriors, but for obvious reasons, it wasn’t something she could bring up. Before she could ask anything more, Ranger continued.

“My mother passed away six months later. She drove away one day, left the car parked on the side of the road and walked off into the desert, like our traditionalists often do.”

She stared at him, stunned, trying to understand what he’d just said. “She…walked off?”

He nodded. “She’d been diagnosed with an advanced form of cancer. Traditionalists don’t want to die at home. That would taint the house for the family. They go off someplace by themselves where their chindi can’t harm anyone. It’s our way, and Mom was ready. She wanted to be with my father.”

Dana tried to understand the mind-set of someone choosing to die alone out in the middle of nowhere. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the concept.

“It’s a final act of love…and sacrifice,” he added, as if guessing her thoughts.

She suddenly understood. His mother’s last act had been one meant to safeguard her sons, allowing them to keep their home. “That took a lot of courage,” she said at last.

Ranger parked and stepped out of the car. “Yes, but she always had more than her share of that.”

There were stones arranged in a circle around an outside campfire site, and he reached beneath one, bringing out a key that had been sealed inside a plastic sandwich bag. Ranger went over to the sturdy-looking door and used the key to unlock both brass locks.

Dana checked the door trim, but there was no circular design here like the one she’d seen on the other house near Farmington. If her suspicions were right and the marking indicated a Brotherhood of Warriors’ or police safe house, this building wasn’t included.

She followed him in, then, curious, studied the room carefully. The living area was sparsely furnished, with an old handmade wooden table constructed of pine planks, and several wooden chairs. The fireplace was big, made of stone, and looked like it could take off any chill on a cold evening. There was one simple wood-framed futon with a thick cushion in the center of the room. “That’s modern,” she said, surprised to see it there.

“The raccoons have a habit of breaking in and tearing up the furniture so we bought something that was comfortable and cheap.”

“You and your brother?”

“Yes. We’re twins.”

Two men like Ranger? She couldn’t even imagine it. “Are you identical?”

“Women always ask me that. Makes me wonder what they’re thinking,” he said, laughing. “But to answer your question, Hunter’s my fraternal twin. There’s a family resemblance, I suppose, but I don’t think we look that much alike, nor do we act and think alike. But despite all that, we’re close. I’ll introduce you someday.”

“I’d like that.” Aware of how cold it was in the cabin, she rubbed her hands together for warmth and wished she’d brought a warmer jacket.

“I’ve got a better way of staying warm,” he said, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around her. “I guarantee results.”

The promise swept over her like a slow, hot wind and her heart began thumping wildly. Taking a steadying breath, she forced her tone to stay cool and detached. “Of course you’re talking about putting logs in the fireplace.”

“Not really. That’ll do the trick, too, I suppose, but it’s not nearly as much fun,” he added in her ear, then stepped away. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go bring in some wood.”

As he went through the small kitchen and out the back door, Dana breathed a sigh. The sparks between them practically made the air sizzle. The big difference was that, to her, those sparks were simply first steps down the path to something deeper. Yet, from what she’d learned about him, Ranger loved the sparks for their own sake.

She pushed back the thought. It was useless speculation. They had no future together. Soon, she’d be leaving him behind and setting out on her own to go find Hastiin Dííl. She’d already come up with a plan. All she needed now was the chance to put it into motion.

Dana sat alone on the hearth in front of a roaring fire. Nights in New Mexico could get very cold and tonight was no exception.

Ranger took a seat on the futon after placing more firewood on a cast-iron rack that looked homemade.

“I can’t get that last evening with my friend out of my mind,” she said quietly, staring into the fire. “If only I’d have seen what was going down sooner, or if I’d just reacted faster…”

“Stop. That’s exactly what you should not do. Second-guessing yourself is only going to make you crazy. Believe me.”

It was the way his voice dropped when he’d spoken those last two words that instantly captured her attention. “You have your own nightmares to deal with, don’t you?” she asked in a whisper, her heart going out to him. No matter what else was in play, they’d both lost someone who mattered to them.

He nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I chose to come here. This cabin, to me, is a place of healing,” he said, then added, “grab your jacket. There’s something I’d like you to see.”

Once outside, it took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but the moonlight was bright. He led her to the side of the fence that bordered the back and pointed to a small climbing vine.