Follow the Sun (37 page)

The look on Travis’s face told Erica that he had never expected to hear those words from James. Slowly his gaze slid thoughtfully to her, then after a moment returned to James.

“Welcome home, little brother,” he murmured, then turned and left the room.

J
AMES AWOKE WITH
a painful ache in his bad knee and a delicious ache in other areas. He had slept lightly, dreaming about the long bath he and Erica had taken together, the way she’d licked the burn mark on his arm, the way she’d risked drowning to do incredible things to him while he lay in the tub smiling helplessly.

Later, in bed, he’d curled on his side and snuggled her against his body, with her legs draped lazily over his hips. He put his mouth next to her ear and told her more of the ancient Cherokee stories, while he kept one hand moving patiently between her thighs.

When he finished, the praises she moaned with such breathless emotion had nothing to do with his story-telling ability.

What now? Could he bring himself to leave for Washington?
No
. He’d simply tell her the truth—that he loved her and hoped that she was willing to love him too. If she wanted to try, somehow they’d make the situation work even if they lived apart.

James sighed with anticipation and reached out to draw her to him. When he couldn’t locate her he sat up quickly and looked around. Morning sunlight filtered through the living-room curtains; he heard birds singing outside, but the house was terribly silent.

James rolled to the edge of the bed and reached for his watch on the nightstand. He wasn’t human until he knew the time, an old discipline from all the years when he’d had to get up early every morning for foot
ball practice. When he moved back to the reservation for good he intended to quit wearing a watch.

Under the timepiece was a slip of notebook paper. James squinted, then grabbed it and read the uncaring lines bitterly. “I’ve gone exploring for the day. Have a good flight to D.C. See you in two weeks.
Kamama egwa.
”

E
RICA WAS IN
the kitchen making construction estimates on a house for Travis when she heard a car door slam. Thinking that one of the Tall Wolfs had dropped by to visit, she kept working.

But when she heard the thump, ka-thump of someone hobbling up the porch steps she thought,
James! And he’s hurt his knee again
.

Erica ran to the front door. Lord, had he really been gone only six days? She didn’t care why he’d come back, she was just glad—

Kat Gallatin stood there, looking like a little Cherokee princess except for the fact that she wore baggy hiking shorts and a T-shirt that read “
WOW
. Women Of Wrestling.”

Above a pink Reebok her right ankle was wrapped in tape, and she held a crutch up as if she’d been about to rap on the door with it.

Kat took one look at Erica’s startled expression, clasped her chest dramatically, and said, “Don’t open your door so quickly! I’ve heard there are Indians around here!”

Erica gave a sputtering laugh and grabbed her arm. “Come in! What are you doing here? How did you get hurt?” As she guided her cousin to the couch she glanced out the window at Kat’s car, a souped-up old Mustang with mag wheels. It was appropriate.

“I got squashed defending a guy from the audience!” Kat settled on the couch, flipped back her waist-length hair, and propped her foot on the end of her crutch. “I was wrestling a monster named Lady Savage over in South Carolina two nights ago, and I
got thrown out of the ring—but it was planned, you dig?

“But I landed in this guy’s lap and he thought I was really hurt. So when Lady Savage comes after me, he gets between us, and she doesn’t like men, ‘cause her husband just ran off with her sister, so she
tries to kill this guy.
”

Erica stared at her cousin in amazement. “What did he do?”

“He wouldn’t hit back! I guess he didn’t want to hit a woman, even a big hulk like Lady Savage. So I had to punch her in the chops before she brained him, and she kicked me in the ankle!”

Kat sighed. “So now ‘I have a fracture and I can’t work for two months. I’d like to find that guy and twist his moustache off.” She paused, looking pensive. “But he had a great moustache. And he tried to protect me.”

“Oh, Kat. Do you need money?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not broke yet. I heard from the lawyer that you were hanging out over here in Cherokee land, so I thought I’d hop by and okay my plan with you. I’m going back to Gold Ridge to camp on our property for a while. You know, back to nature, and all that.”

“Of course I don’t mind. And I’m sure Tess won’t, either.”

“I tried to call Tess, but she’s vamoosed somewhere.”

Erica explained what she knew about Tess’s situation. When she finished Kat was wide-eyed.

“Nothing that exciting ever happens to me!”

“Somebody named Lady Savage throws you out of the ring and a spectator risks a beating to rescue you? That’s not exciting?”

Kat laughed, and the two of them started a companionable conversation about all the things Erica had learned regarding her branch of the Gallatin family and Dove. Kat gave her the third medallion to show to Grandpa Sam, and by the time Kat left for Gold Ridge
she had an armload of history books and was calling herself
Wis-sah
, for cat.

She roared away in the Mustang, spinning gravel, one small hand brandishing a rubber tomahawk out the window. She’d brought it at one of the tourist shops in Cherokee town.

Erica laughed in affectionate disbelief and wondered if Gold Ridge was ready for Wis-sah Gallatin.

O
NE OF THE
tribe’s councilmen came to the door of the Tall Wolf house that night as everyone was finishing dinner. Travis looked surprised to see him, but made no comment about the visit. He introduced the man to Erica as Jack Brown and gave him a beer.

Everyone gathered in the den. Brown, who was one-quarter Cherokee, ran a hand through a head of thinning red hair and told Travis bluntly, “James hired me to build you a house. He’s already paid me.”

Becky gasped. Grandpa nodded with satisfaction. Echo wiped tears from her eyes. Erica knotted her hands together and hoped that Travis would accept.

“I can’t take it,” Travis said. “I already told him that Erica was going over my old blueprints to see how much the house would cost now. I can pay for it myself.”

Erica found the councilman looking at her curiously. “I’ve heard about you,” he said. “You fixed the roof on Sally Turtlehead’s cabin the other day.”

“She brought me some apples. It was a fair trade.”

That wasn’t true, and he knew it. The roof had taken all day and cost fifty dollars in new materials. But he just smiled politely and looked at her with approval.

“I can’t take James’s offer,” Travis repeated grimly.

There was no arguing with him. Brown shrugged, finished his beer, and told Travis to call him if he changed his mind. After Brown left Echo said in soft rebuke. “Oh, Trav. You know it’s not a handout. This is a family thing. Take it.”
“No. All those years when he wouldn’t come home, he sent money. I never took it then, and I’m not takin’ it now. He’s not proud of being one of us, and this is how he buys off his guilt.”

“You’re wrong,” Erica replied. “You’re still his idol. And all he’s ever wanted was to make his family and his people proud of him. Do you know that he took steroids for years, just to be able to keep playing football, because he thought he had to be a symbol of what Indians could accomplish?”

Everyone looked at her blankly. No, they hadn’t known, it was obvious. Travis’s eyes narrowed in distress, and he cursed softly.

“Steroids?” Grandpa Sam asked, bewildered. As Becky explained what they were, Sam grew mournful. “He didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, he did,” Erica said gently. “Because he has so much pride in being a Cherokee that he wanted to represent the tribe the best way he knew how.” She went on in a low voice, telling them some of the horror stories from James’s football career.

When she finished, Travis was sitting with his head in his hands. Becky and Echo were crying. Grandpa Sam was fumbling with his pipe, his hands shaking.

“I’m telling you these private things because he won’t say them himself,” Erica murmured. “He doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him.” She looked at Travis. “Travis, let him build a house for you. Nothing would make him happier.”

Becky went over and stroked her brother’s hair. “Go call him. Tell him you’ll accept his gift.”

Travis got up and went to the phone on the kitchen wall. There weren’t many private conversations in the Tall Wolf family. Erica had learned. So everyone followed him, including her.

She sat at the kitchen table between Grandpa and Echo, while Becky sat on the counter by the sink. Travis called a hotel number James had left.

When the hotel operator put him through Travis
said, “James? Hmmm, sorry. Is James Tall Wolf there?”

Erica straightened slowly, her breath shallow. Who was in James’s room? Travis frowned, glanced at her, then glanced away, frowning harder. His reaction alarmed her more.

“It’s Travis. So you want to build me a house? Hmmm, yes. All right. Then I accept.” Suddenly Travis grew very still and calm, as if having made a decision. “James, is there a woman in your room?” he asked sternly. “Stephen’s friend. Where’s Stephen?”

Travis looked at Erica and nodded solemnly. “When’s Stephen coming back? Oh? Oh? Say, little brother, any messages for Erica? Yes, she’s
right here. “
Travis held out the phone to her.

James had a woman in his room, and his whole family knew it. Dammit, it wasn’t fair. Now they felt sorry for her.

Erica was determined to sound normal. She got up, took the phone, and asked cheerfully, “Hi, Wolfman. Are you being naughty?”

He must have been embarrassed and annoyed by the whole situation, because it was a second before he managed to say anything. “I’m doing my best.”

In the background Erica heard a television playing. Something with lots of car chases and guns, apparently. A woman laughed—one of those high-pitched, girlish, cute laughs.

This woman was definitely not part of the sound track.

Erica shut her eyes. If she got through this conversation without crying it would be because the shock hadn’t worn off yet. “Well, I’m staying busy too. Sally Turtlehead is going to teach me how to make baskets.”

“Good.”

The woman laughed again. Erica dug her fingernails into her palms. To hell with being polite.

“You should have just told me about her, James.
You didn’t have to make up an excuse for going to Washington.”

“She’s my partner’s friend,” he said in a low, taut voice. “She’s drunk. They stopped by here after a concert because she was threatening to throw up in his Porsche. He’s gone downstairs to get a room for her.”

“Ah. Okay.” She simply didn’t know what else to say. He was probably telling the truth.
No promises, no regrets
, he’d offered, and she’d accepted. So she didn’t have the right to pry.

“Listen,” he said, his voice hard. “You’ve got your deal back. The deal with George Gibson. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I might as well do it now.”

Erica grasped the countertop for support. “How did you know about that?”

“Stephen told me a few days ago. I talked to Gibson. He hired your old pal to take your place. Harold Brumby. But Brumby’s in hot water with one of the unions, and Gibson doesn’t like controversy, as you know.”

James paused. “Stephen and I have some business deals with Gibson. We pressured him to take you back. If you want to accuse me of pimping for you, go ahead.”

“No.” Erica’s shoulder slumped. He was simply trying to get her out of North Carolina as quickly and as honorably as possible.

“So take the job, okay? I’ve seen your work—I checked out the project that won the award for you. You won’t have any trouble with Gibson, now that he’s going to give you a chance. You’re good. Damned good.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t have cared less about her work at that moment. “So I need to haul my fanny back to D.C. right away?”

“You got it.”

“This ruins our bargain.”

“No. You win. I’ll get Dove’s papers for you, and you can have her place.”

“No. Only the papers. Not the home.”
“Erica,” he warned, the word full of tension.

But she was furious and heartbroken. She’d at least wanted to end their relationship in person, with kind, thoughtful words and a final kiss. Instead it was ending over a long-distance telephone connection, while some bimbo chortled in the background in sync with a cops-and-robbers show.

“Thank you for helping me with the Gibson deal,” she said, and wondered how her straining throat could produce such calm tones. “When you get home to North Carolina just ask Grandpa Sam to interpret Dove’s papers for me. We’ll be square then.”

There was a long pause on his end of the line. “Sounds like you’re not coming back.”

“Not for a while. The Gibson deal will take a lot of supervision. That shouldn’t surprise you.”

“No,” he said softly. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Well, I’ve gotta go. Stop by my office in D.C. sometime before you leave for home. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Lunch.” He sounded bored, or exhausted, or both.

“Well, here’s Travis again.” Erica planted the phone in Travis’s surprised hands and walked stiffly out of the room without looking back.

She went out the front door, crossed the yard, and leaned against the trunk of an old oak tree. Echo and Becky traipsed after her without the least bit of hesitation.

“What in the world was that all about?”

“You can’t tell us that you don’t love James.”

Erica stared into the darkness of the mountains around them, thinking. “Let him be sorrowing as he goes along, and not for one night alone. Let him become an aimless wanderer, whose trail may never be followed.”

She’d made a mistake by meddling with a Cherokee love formula, because it had worked only on her.

CHAPTER 10