Holdin' On for a Hero Page 15

  Wyatt set his cup down and raked his hands back through his hair. “A tornado.”

  “That have anything to do with what happened at the cave?”

  Wyatt looked at him suddenly, wondering just how much he knew about what had gone on.

  “Tsa’li and I had a talk. I’d just like to know where things stand. You and Chance really come to terms with this?”

  “I love her, Dad. Guess I always have. But the anger was always in the way. I thought she betrayed me and I let that rage blind me. Knowing the truth makes everything different.”

  “Different enough that you and she can make a life together? She’s still white, Wyatt, and used to being rich. You think she can adapt to another kind of life?”

  “I want to think so. And she believes it can work. Besides, she’s really not what people think.”

  “Well, you’d know that better than anyone, I guess, so I’ll trust your judgment. There is something else, though. Tsa’li seems to think that your past is becoming a little clearer.”

  “Some. But it’s not exactly pleasant. In fact some of the things I’ve remembered scare the hell outta me. Like, for instance, what made you and Mom choose my name?”

  John got up abruptly and walked to the back door. He stared outside for a few moments. “We gave you the name Wyatt because Sarah liked it. Tsa’li chose your middle name.”

  “Why? Why not John or William? What made him choose Une’ga-dihi?”

  For a few moments John didn’t move or speak, then he turned and looked at Wyatt. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, son. Besides being Sarah’s father, Tsa’li is also…different—set apart. He sees things the rest of us can’t. When he told us what your name was we just accepted it.”

  Wyatt put his head in his hands and stared down at the tabletop. “He wants me to follow him, doesn’t he?”

  “You know he does.” John walked over and sat down beside him. “There isn’t anyone else. Sarah was his only child and she’s gone. You’re all that’s left. Wyatt, I know this is an old sore and I don’t want to reopen it, but I do think you should give it some thought.”

  “I know.” Wyatt looked up at him. “And I will. I just can’t make any promises. Right now, I just need to find out who I am for myself. I need to know if I’m the monster I’m afraid I am, Dad.”

  John put his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “You’re not a monster, son. I can guarantee that. You’re just a man who’s had a lot of trouble in his life. But you can overcome anything. I know that and I have faith in you.”

  Wyatt smiled. “Thanks.”

  John removed his hand. “Why don’t you run over and pick up Miss Waters for me.”

  “Sure.” Wyatt stood up. “Be back soon.”

  As he started down the road his mind turned to thoughts of Chance. Please don’t do anything stupid, he thought. If you get caught—

  A cold sweat broke out over his body at the thought of Holling doing something to Chance, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. A sudden rage took control of him and bloody visions of what he would do to Holling if he hurt Chance filled his mind. Trying to dispel the images, he turned on the radio. Music blared from the speakers, but the pounding beat only seemed to fuel the fury inside him. He looked up in the rearview mirror and froze. The face that looked back was that of a stranger. A stranger with his face.

  The black eyes seemed to blaze as if lit by some internal fire and the face itself seemed to be carved from living stone—there was a sense of power and unbridled menace in the expression.

  Jerking the steering wheel to one side, he pulled off the side of the road and stomped on the brake. He looked into the mirror again and panic seized him. He covered his face with his hands and for a few minutes he sat still with his hands over his face.

  The panic made the rage dissipate until at last he felt only a sense of fear and dread. He uncovered his face and looked at his eyes in the mirror. They appeared normal. He stared at his once-more familiar reflection. “What’s happening to me?” he whispered. “Dear God, what am I?”

  * * * * *

  Chance followed the hostess to a table by the window. A handsome blond man looked up at her and smiled. “Mr. Holling?” she asked. “I’m Daven Porter.”

  “Miss Porter.” He smiled as he stood and extended his hand. “Please, call me Greg.”

  “Greg.” She smiled, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  The hostess left and Chance took a seat across from Greg. He signaled the waitress over to their table. Chance looked up from collecting her recorder and notepad from her bag. “Just coffee please.”

  Greg ordered another bourbon on the rocks and the waitress left. “So, Miss Porter, you said on the phone you’re interested in doing a story concerning the Indians. Forgive me, but it seems to me you should be talking to one of them.”

  Chance put her attaché down on the table and cut a look over at him. “As a matter of fact I have spoken to a couple of them. But you see, Greg, the slant of my story is not so much on the proposed casino they want to build, but its effect on the community at large. That’s why I asked to see you. As a prominent member of the community, I thought you might have some insights to share with me.”

  Greg leaned back and smiled. “Well, I just might. What do you want to know?”

  “Do you mind if I tape this?” Chance set her recorder on the table.

  “I’d prefer not,” Greg replied. “At least not right now. Why don’t we get to know each other first.”

  Chance shrugged and picked up the recorder, surreptitiously turning it on and placing it inside her open attaché case. “Fine by me. Where do we start?”

  “To begin, I think it’s very important that we be honest,” Greg said. “And honestly, I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Chance smiled and lowered her eyes. “Well, thank you, Greg. I’m flattered.” She looked up at him again. “And I’ll admit that you’re not at all what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she laughed lightly. “A spoiled rich boy who only had his money going for him. Certainly not such a handsome and charming man.”

  Greg beamed at her compliment. The waitress returned with their drinks and Chance took a sip of the coffee. She thought it was time to throw out a little bait and see if he bit. “Since we’re being honest, I feel I should tell you that I am not entirely comfortable with the Indians. Something about them makes me uneasy and…well, don’t repeat this, but I’m not so sure I’d be thrilled about this gambling thing if I lived here. You know, alcoholism and crime has risen in other areas where gambling was started and in the long run, the entire community suffered.”

  “I agree completely,” he said as he leaned forward. “Not only that, but can you imagine what would happen around here if the Indians did finish that casino? There’s no telling what kind of people it would attract. Why we all know that organized crime would move in and what would that do for the people around here? Not to mention the businesses that would suffer because of labor losses. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

  Chance nodded thoughtfully. “I see your point and I would like to explore that in more detail. But right now I’d like to ask a couple of questions if I may.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Okay.” She looked straight at him. “I’ve heard a couple of rumors about some trouble that’s been going on around here—bar fights, fires, things like that. It seems like there’s two stories about that. One is that the Indians are causing the trouble and the other is that it’s the whites. So what’s the real story?”

  Greg’s face had noticeably paled and he took a stiff swallow of his drink before answering. “Daven—may I call you Daven?”

  At a nod from her he continued, “Good. Now, Daven, I have to tell you that if you had lived here as long as I have you wouldn’t even have had to ask what the cause of
the trouble is. But since you’re a stranger I feel it’s my duty to tell you the truth.”

  “And just what is the truth?” she asked in a low voice, giving him an inviting look.

  Greg reacted immediately to the look. He reached over and took her hand in his. “You can’t trust those Indians, Daven,” he said gravely. “They’re deceptive and misleading and very dangerous. You have no idea of how low they’ll stoop to try and make the whites around here look bad. They try to blame every misfortune they bring on themselves on us.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yes, and not only that, there are some of the Indians who will go so far as to physically hurt people.”

  “You mean like the fights and things I’ve heard about?” she asked innocently. “Well, why don’t you report them or have them arrested or something?”

  Greg released her hand and took another sip of his drink. “That’s another problem. They pick their times carefully, always making sure they’re on reservation property. That way the whites don’t have a chance. We try to report them and we have to go through their law enforcement. And, well, you can imagine how far that goes.”

  Chance studied him for a moment. “Isn’t there some way of legally dealing with these people? Perhaps if you sat down and talked with whoever is in charge some kind of compromise could be reached.”

  Greg laughed. “Nice thought but it’d never work. Daven, since we’re off the record I’m going to give it to you straight. These people are still the bloodthirsty savages they’ve always been. The only way of dealing with them is a gun.”

  Chance pretended to be shocked by his words. “You mean like some kind of war? But surely there are people on the tribal council who are willing to listen to reason.”

  “It’s not the council that’s the whole problem,” Greg said. “See, there’s this one family on the reservation. The Wolfes. Old man Wolfe has had it in for the whites as long as I can remember. So he keeps the council turned against us. That’s been hard enough to deal with but now his crazy son has shown back up. He’s the real problem.”

  “Who is this man?”

  “Wyatt Wolfe.” Greg spat his name like it was dirty. “The meanest, most cold-blooded son of a whore you’ll ever meet. He’s the one causing the trouble. I tell you, Daven, that man’s some kind of lunatic. He lives to cause trouble. If we could get rid of him and his family then maybe things would change.”

  Chance wanted to reach over the table and slap Greg’s smug face. Instead she looked down at her coffee cup until she regained her composure. “Well, this is not what I expected at all. In fact, it looks like my story has taken on a new twist.”

  She forced herself to look at him, reached over and took his hand. “Listen, I know we don’t know one another well and you have no reason to trust me. But I’d like to help—bring all this out so the truth will be exposed. Only I can’t do it alone. I’ll need your help. Now, I know you probably think I’m only doing this for my own sake and that’s partly true. It’d be a feather in my cap to break this story. But it’d help you and the people around here, too.”

  Greg was silent for a moment then he squeezed her hand. “You mean you want to expose the Wolfes and the trouble they’re causing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then I guess you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.” Greg’s hand tightened around hers. “’Cause I’m the man that can lead you to the truth.”

  Chance smiled and withdrew her hand. “Well, I have to admit that the idea of getting to know you better does have its appeal, Greg. So, if you’re agreeing to help then here’s what I need. I need to see firsthand this Wolfe person in action. In fact, if there’s any way possible, I need to document it. Do you have any way of finding out if something’s going to happen?”

  Greg smiled and leaned back in his chair, signaling the waitress for another drink. “Don’t you worry about that. You just leave everything to me.”

  Chance smiled and took a sip of her cold coffee. The fish had taken the bait.

  Chapter Six

  Sylva, North Carolina

  Wyatt pulled up in front of the hotel and got out to go into the lobby. As he walked inside the front door a woman with auburn hair stepped up to him. “Wyatt Wolfe?”

  He stopped and looked at her. She was very beautiful. “Yes. Miss Waters?”

  “Please, call me Iris.” She smiled seductively and extended her hand.

  Wyatt took her hand in his, noticing how she clasped his a little longer than normal and how her dark eyes looked directly into his own. He released her hand, feeling a little uncomfortable at the way she was looking at him and the way it was making him feel.

  “My Jeep’s outside,” he gestured. “You ready?”

  “Actually, I’d like to take a look around first. That is, if you don’t mind. Then we can meet with your father and the others.”

  “Sure,” Wyatt agreed. “Let me give him a call.”

  Iris pulled a cell phone from her pocket. “Here, use mine.”

  Wyatt took the phone and called his father to tell him they would be a little late then returned the phone to her. “So, what would you like to see?”

  Iris took his arm and turned him toward the door. “Everything.”

  They got in the Jeep and pulled out onto the road. Iris turned in her seat toward him. “So, tell me, Wyatt, what do you do?”

  “I’m just here on leave. On my own time I do a little illustrating,” he replied, trying not to look at the way her skirt had risen high on her thighs.

  “Really?” she breathed, moving so that the skirt rose even higher, high enough he could see she had on no underwear. “How interesting. Do you have a studio?”

  “At home.”

  “I’d love to see it,” she suggested huskily.

  Wyatt turned and looked at her with a puzzled expression. “I thought you were here to help the council deal with the construction and all that.”

  “I am. But you have to understand, Wyatt. I need to know all I can about the people in order to do the best possible job I can for them. And since you’re my—let’s say—unofficial escort, then what better way to get to know about the people than through your eyes?”

  “I don’t think the council will be willing to pay you to look at my artwork.”

  Iris surprised him by laughing. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. My fee’s already been paid.”

  He looked at her again. “Mind if I ask how much that is?”

  “Not at all.” She smiled. “In fact I’d like to think that we can be totally honest with one another, Wyatt. My base fee is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That covers my being here and doing the preliminary work.”

  Wyatt raised his eyebrows and whistled. “That’s a nice chunk of change.”

  “But I’m worth it,” she said and put her hand on his arm. “Now, how about you show me some of your artwork.”

  Wyatt considered it for a moment then decided that there would be no harm in it. After all, it wasn’t like he was on a date with Iris or something. He was just doing what the attorney they had hired wanted.

  “Sure. But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not that good.”

  Iris’ hand tightened slightly on his arm. “Oh, I don’t believe that, Wyatt. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that you’re very good—very, very good.”

  Wyatt shifted uncomfortably and cut her a quick look. Something about Iris was compelling. She was beautiful and intelligent and he got the idea that she was accustomed to getting exactly what she wanted.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” he said in reply. “I’m really nothing special.”

  Iris’ eyes locked with his and her voice deepened to a lusty growl. “You won’t disappoint me, Wyatt. I guarantee it.”

  * * * * *

  Chance closed her attaché case and stood. “Greg, I really appreciate you taking the time to talk with me. You’ve certainly opened my eyes.”

&nbs
p; Greg stood and took her hand in his. “When can I see you again?”

  Chance hesitated for a moment. “Well, are you busy tomorrow? I have to contact my office and get some preliminary things done so we can move on this story, so I’ll be tied up tonight.”

  “Tomorrow’s just fine. Say around two in the afternoon. We can meet at my lake house. I’ll have Cook whip us up something special and we can talk in private.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Chance agreed, thinking that she was not looking forward to spending any private time with him. But she had to find a way to get him to admit that he and his family were behind the trouble. “Where shall I meet you?”

  “Why don’t I pick you up at your hotel? Where are you staying?”

  “Actually, I don’t have a place yet,” she lied. “I just got here. Listen, why don’t you give me directions and I’ll meet you there. Write down your phone number and if I get lost I’ll call.”

  Greg wrote down the directions to the lake house along with his phone number on a pad she pulled from her attaché case. Chance read over it then returned the pad to the attaché and they walked outside together.

  “Thanks again, Greg. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m looking forward to it. See you at two.”

  She nodded and watched him walk to his car. As soon as the Jaguar pulled away, she got in her Jeep and picked up the phone, dialing John’s number.

  “Hello,” he answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, it’s Chance. Is Wyatt there?”

  “No, he went to pick up the lawyer. She asked him to show her around and they’re supposed to be here in an hour or so.”

  “Oh, okay.” She checked her watch. “Well, I guess I’ll come on over. Is that okay?”

  “Always. See you soon.”

  Severing the connection, Chance started the Jeep. As she pulled out onto the road she took the recorder from her attaché case. She rewound the tape and listened to the conversation she had recorded between her and Greg. With any luck the next tape would contain something she could use to put him and his groupies away.