Desert of the Damned (22 page)

Jake looked over his shoulder then leapt to his feet. “Jesus, don’t worry, I used to be a fireman.” He ran out the door, grabbing tongs and a plate as he passed the kitchen.

Amy followed.

“Fireman? When were you a fireman?” Amy stood beside him on the deck as he scooped up the chicken breasts.

“In college when I was training for the forest service. I was a Hot Shot. Fought fires for the National Park Service.” He brought the plate of chicken into the house, started slicing and took a bite. “Not too bad. I’ll cut off the burned parts.”

“It looks fine. Can I help? It smells great,” she said.

He pointed to a platter of grated cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, warmed tortillas and guacamole. “You can take that to the table.”

As she carried the platter she imagined him in the dangerous job of fighting fires.

“Were people injured or killed in the fires you fought? Homes destroyed?”

His face tightened as if remembering some painful experience. “Let’s sit and eat.”

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She hesitated about asking him again. Silence filled the room and the golden light from the setting sun vanished and the room grew dark. Jake stood and turned on the dimmer switch for the light over the table. He struck a match and lit a candle in the center.

“A number of houses were destroyed by the fires I fought. Fortunately only one civilian death—a man who wouldn’t leave his home. The largest causalities are rarely mentioned in the news.”

It took Amy a second to understand where he was going. “The animals.”

Jake nodded. “They become trapped. I once saw an elk and a bear standing in a shallow creek staring up at a mountain engulfed in flames.” He stopped to take a gulp of beer. Blue eyes lit with emotion as he described the incident.

She placed a hand on his. “What happened?”

“They just stood there, standing side by side, no longer enemies. Their common foe now the fire.”

“Do you think they made it out?” Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer.

Jake’s expression looked grim. “Probably not.”

“Have there been forest fires out here?”

“Not like the ones in California or Montana.”

“Still, animals are dying here,” she said, remembering the coyote in her house, Dante and her dream.

“We’re working on that,” he said, cutting into his fajita.

“Do you miss fighting fires?”

“I miss the people, the teamwork, the experience. I don’t miss the fire,” he said, not looking up.

“I understand.”

Jake studied her for a moment, then took a sip of beer. “Have you thought about giving Arizona a chance?” he asked.

Taking in a deep breath, she stared at him, unsure of how to answer. “My family lives in Florida. I don’t know. How long do you give a place until it feels like home?”

“I don’t know.” He took her hand and squeezed. “I understand about family. Bill’s not a blood relative but he might as well be. My mother left my brother and me with Bill when I was nine. Brad was eleven. Bill would never leave this area and he has no one. He’s getting up in years and needs someone to keep an eye on him but he won’t admit it.”

She was tempted to ask what happened to his mother but they hadn’t known each other that long. When he was ready, he would tell her. There, it was all laid out.

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more. Wanted to get a lot closer to him. No emotional ties. Keeping emotional ties out of the picture wouldn’t be that easy with Jake.

Silence hovered over the dining table. “How is Bill?”

Jake’s mouth tightened for second. “He’ll be okay. Giving the nurses a hard time.

He wanted to go home tonight but the doctor wouldn’t release him until all the tests were back. He’ll be going home tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief.” She sipped her beer, then held the glass tightly between both hands. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

He poked at his fajita but didn’t eat it. “They’re not sure. They thought it was a heart attack but the tests don’t confirm that.”

Amy placed both hands in her lap and gripped them tightly. “He’s going to be okay though?”

Jake put down his fork and rubbed his face. “Sure. Thanks for asking.”

“Will you be staying with him when he comes out?”

Jake chuckled. “That’s unlikely. He’s too damn stubborn for that. I’ve tried to get him to move in with me but he won’t hear of it. He won’t even let me buy him a new mobile home. ‘Nothin’ wrong with this one,’ he says.”

“Sounds like he likes his independence.”

“Just stubborn,” Jake said with a smile and a hint of pride. “He’s respected as a medicine man. Still participates in the ceremonies. He did that sand painting over the fireplace.” Jake pointed to a three-foot-square drawing in black, red, yellow, white and turquoise blue colors above the mantle. A stick figure of a man was embellished with feathers and other designs around him.

“It’s beautiful. The detail is amazing. I can’t believe it’s made out of sand. It looks like it’s painted. Does the design represent anything?”

“Sand paintings are created to restore balance for healing or to summon spirits. The Navajo word for sand painting
iikaah
means the place where the Holy People come and go. The objects within this picture are symbolic of the four elements, the four seasons and four directions.”

Amy got up from the table, leaving her unfinished dinner aside to examine the painting up close. “Who’s the man? An Indian?”

“He’s Big Thunder.” Jake got up and stood beside her, gazing up at the picture.

“People in these painting are called
Yeis
, the Holy People. During a ceremony while the painting is made, everything must be done perfectly or harm could result.”

“What kind of ceremonies?”

“Healing ceremonies, religious rituals. There are more advanced ceremonies, secret to only shamans.”

“Secret, huh? Intriguing.” She took a few steps back, observing the painting from a different perspective. With the early evening light and the flickering candlelight from the dining room, the painting almost appeared to move. “Do you know the secrets?”

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A smile twitched at the sides of Jake’s mouth. “After the ceremony is over, the painting is destroyed. Permanent paintings like this one are altered in design or color because the original ones are considered sacred and magical.”

Amy knew if she asked him how he felt about the supernatural truth of Coyote, she was taking a chance, crossing a line that could change how he felt about her professionally and personally. But she had to ask. That was what she came there for.

“Don’t you want to finish your dinner?” he asked. “Were the fajitas okay?”

“Great. They were very good.” She lingered staring up at the painting, feeling his presence next to her. Was she making a mistake? Why should she care? She wouldn’t be getting serious with Jake anyway. But damn it, she wanted him bad. Her hands trembled as heat rushed through her veins.

“Something wrong, Amy?” Jake put a hand on her shoulder.

She took in a slow breath and turned toward him, not backing away. “This coyote has me worried.”

Jake suspected she was upset about something but he had no idea what. Sliding his hand down to the small of her back, he led her to the couch. “Sit. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Remember Lupi, my neighbor Betty’s friend?”

“From the restaurant. I remember, vaguely.” The hairs on his arms prickled. He glanced at the mountain lion skin draped over a rocking chair. Last night he had gone into animal form and some of the heightened animal senses still lingered. He could smell her desire for him, even feel the heat rising from her skin. And he wanted her, wanted to stroke her and explore her with his mouth. But beneath her desire was fear—

he tasted it—bitter and metallic. What was she afraid of?

Was it his own attraction or was it the animal side of him commanding his desire?

Either way the pressure in his groin sent a clear message to his brain on how much he craved to be inside her.

“Lupi was the hiker who died today.”

“I hadn’t heard the name. I’m so sorry.” He took her hand. “Was Betty with him?”

She shook her head, then walked over to the couch and sat down. Her body tensed as she gripped her hands together in her lap, then she glanced around the room as if she was looking for an escape. “Jake, I know this is going to sound crazy but after what your grandfather said about the coyote, I think Lupi’s death is connected.”

“Connected how?”

“The coyote has been around Betty’s house. What if he attacked Lupi?”

Jake stood up and strode toward the fireplace and glanced up at the sand painting.

“It wasn’t an animal attack. Heart attack, they think.” Same thing they said about Bill.

For God’s sake.

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“That coyote keeps coming around my house too. And last night something strange happened.” She held his gaze but didn’t continue. The hesitancy in her voice was obvious.

“Just say it.” He tried to stay calm but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what he heard.

“I had a lucid dream last night, but it was more than a dream, and it scared me.”

“How so?”

She met his gaze, and he saw the hesitancy in her eyes. “Jake.” She sighed. “In my dream, you were making love to me.”

“That’s the scary part?” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

She smiled. “No. That was kind of nice.”

Jake sat beside her and grasped her hand. “Go on.”

“Then the dream, or whatever it was, changed. Your eyes changed, and the room became cold as if time passed. Then Dante was standing in the middle of the room and you were gone.”

Jake shifted in his seat. “Was that the end of the dream? Dreams can seem real—”

“No. I wasn’t dreaming at this point. I was awake, and Dante was in my house.”

Eyes wide in angry defiance, she yanked her hand away.

Nodding, he waited for her to continue, realizing if he pushed her too much, she’d back off, or worse, leave.

Amy rubbed her arms and glanced around the room as if expecting her old boyfriend to suddenly reappear. “I told him to get out.”

“Good.”

She opened her mouth to continue, then stopped. Her body tensed, and she turned and looked at him. “Then Dante changed into the coyote and walked straight through the glass door.” When she finished speaking she crossed her arms as if waiting for Jake to condemn her words.

He knew better than to say she was imagining it, or dreaming. She seemed logical and not prone to an overactive imagination. He couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

Coyote was not a myth. This was real. “Where did he go after he left?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m not. My grandfather believes the man who died today had his life energy stolen by Coyote. He claims Coyote would’ve done the same to him if it wasn’t for his own shaman powers.”

“The coyote attacked your grandfather?”

“That’s what he said.” Jake wasn’t sure if he believed his grandfather or not. Didn’t he see the coyote change into a man when he was in mountain lion form? But he was under the influence of peyote and in animal form. How could he trust what he thought 122

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while in that state? Unlike his brother, Jake rarely shifted into animal form and didn’t know the range of his abilities.

She sighed as if relieved. “Now I’m worried about my friend Truly because Dante started dating her. If Lupi died and Bill’s in the hospital, maybe Betty and Truly are in danger. Should I do something?”

“I don’t think you have to worry. I’ll arrange for a humane trap to remove the coyote from the area. I’m sure Betty and Truly will be fine.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just know.” Jake didn’t know but once the coyote was gone, he believed the trouble would end. He stood and finished cleaning up the dinner dishes.
Coyote can take
many forms. He’s a trickster. Maybe he stole the image of Dante from her dreams.
Jake didn’t want to overwhelm her with more mystical details.

Amy got up and helped put food away. “So you don’t believe the Coyote legend.

You think what I said was crazy.”

He grimaced and turned to her. “I’m not sure yet. It’s not any crazier than most of the stories my grandfather has told me.” But with what Amy and Bill had told him, Jake was convinced he would have to use his powers to fight this creature.

Bill was right about one thing. This wasn’t the original Coyote legend. He wished it was. Something supernatural was using that myth in a perverted way for some unknown reason.

Amy gazed out across the desert. “So I’m just having nightmares.”

Jake didn’t answer. Fisting his hands, he searched the plains for the menacing creature. Yes, she was in danger. He had to stop Coyote but he wasn’t sure how. “I don’t have an explanation, Amy. Just stay away from the coyote.”

Obviously Coyote chose her for some ominous purpose. Jake had to stop him.

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Chapter Fourteen

Jake stood at his window, staring out into the desert night for several minutes without saying a word, his hands fisted at his sides. She felt as frustrated and angry as he looked. She moved beside him and peered outside in the direction of his gaze. The twilight cast a muted glow over patches of red earth and sage-colored grass. Purple-gray clouds hovered over the distant mountains and a few silver specks of stars pierced the darkening sky. The air was still, without the slightest breeze to move a branch or a blade of grass, as if the desert was frozen in time. Was he looking for the coyote?

Taking his fist, Amy pulled him away from the window, away from the view of the desert night for the moment. “You don’t think I’m crazy then?” she asked.

Jake walked over to the mountain lion fur draped in the rocking chair, picked it up, glanced at Amy with a pained look, then dropped it over the back of the chair again.