Gray, Ginna (25 page)

"I'll have to remove the bullet. Ideally I should take him to
the clinic and X ray his shoulder before I operate, but I don't think Sam would
want to risk that. The clinic is in an unrestricted area of the reservation.
The people looking for you would have access if they managed to track you this
far."

"Do it here, doc," Larry urged.

The doctor probed the wound, and Sam bucked and cried out. Willow
stroked his back and murmured soothing words, but he continued to thrash.

"Lau-Lauren? Where is...Lauren?"

Willow looked as though she'd been slapped. Her head came up and
her hurt gaze sought Lauren, who was already moving. Quickly skirting the end
of the bed, she elbowed the doctor's sister away and took Sam's hand in both of
hers. "I'm here, Sam. I'm here."

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Dr. Sani asked.

His patient made an unintelligible sound, which could have been a
yes, and the doctor went on. "I'm going to remove a bullet from your back.
I'm going to inject a local anesthetic, but you'll feel some pain. I'm afraid
that's the best I can do here. I want you to lie as still as you can,
okay?"

"O...kay," Sam gasped.

The doctor looked around at the others. "I'm sorry, but I'm
going to have to ask you all to leave—everyone but Willow. She'll assist
me."

Sam's hand tightened on Lauren's. "S-stay.
D-don't...go."

"I won't. I promise," she murmured. "I'll be here
as long as you need me."

She looked at Dr. Sani. "I'm staying."

He studied her implacable stare for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well."

At first Sam bore the probing stoically, gritting his teeth and
squeezing Lauren's hand so tight her bones nearly snapped, but when the doctor
began to dig deep it took the combined strength of Lauren and Willow to hold
him down. Mercifully, after only a few seconds, he passed out again.

Damn. His right shoulder hurt like hell. Emerging from the
drug-induced sleep, Sam forced his heavy eyelids open. The first thing he saw
was Lauren. She sat in a chair beside his bed, bent forward with her upper body
resting on the mattress beside him, sound asleep.

As always, her beauty struck him like a runaway freight train. She
lay with her face turned toward him, her auburn hair spread out on the blanket,
her eyelashes like tiny fans against her skin.

Gradually it occurred to him that she looked exhausted. Her
flawless skin was paler than usual and there were circles under her eyes again.
And what was she doing sleeping sitting in a chair?

Sam cast a quick glance around, and he knew at once that he was in
the boys' room at his cousin Larry's house.

Then bits and pieces came back to him—the chase, being shot,
Lauren driving the pickup like an Indy driver, staggering into a motel room.
After that it was all pretty much a feverish blur of pain and disjointed images
and sounds.

He looked at Lauren again, and his chest tightened with so much
emotion it was painful. Somehow, she'd managed to get them here. And apparently
she had watched over him during the night, as well.

Sam picked up a handful of Lauren's hair. He rubbed the silky
strands between his thumb and fingers, let it slither between them and puddle
on the blanket again. Without conscious thought, he trailed the backs of his
knuckles over her cheek.

Lauren's eyes fluttered and opened. "Sam." She blinked
and smiled sleepily then jerked upright. "Sam! You're awake!"

"Yeah," he replied in a husky voice.

"How do you feel? Are you in much pain? The doctor left some
pain relievers in case you needed them."

"I'm okay."

"Can I get you something? A glass of water? Something to eat?
You must be starving by now. I'll just go get—"

Lauren started to rise, but Sam manacled her wrist with his
fingers and held her back, ignoring the stab of pain the movement brought to
his shoulder. "Take it easy. I'm okay."

She didn't look convinced, and before he could stop her she placed
her palm against his forehead. "Your fever does seem to have broken."

Sam reached up and removed her hand but he did not release it.
"Will you relax? I told you, I'm okay."

He studied her intently, his gaze running over her pale face, the
sleep marks on her left cheek, the inviting softness of her mouth. Her hair
framed her face in artful disarray.

Rubbing his thumb in a slow circle over the back of her hand, he
looked into her eyes. "Every day, you amaze me more," he said quietly.
"You have from the start."

Lauren gave an uneasy chuckle. "Now I know you're still
feverish."

"I'm serious. All your life you were wrapped in cotton and
insulated from life's day-to-day struggles. Yet, now that you're on your own,
you stick out that delicate little chin and stand up to whatever life throws at
you, tackle any problem, any obstacle. I've never known a woman with that kind
of grit and determination."

A rueful half smile twisted his mouth. "Even when I thought
you were Carlo's mistress I was amazed at your strength."

A flush crept over her face, and she dropped her gaze to their
joined hands. "Don't give me too much credit. I didn't have much
choice."

"Sure you did. There are always choices. We all make them
every day. Lauren, listen to me." Sam crooked his forefinger beneath her
chin and tipped her head up until her gaze met his again. "You're a
special woman." His thumb caressed her jaw. "A very special
woman."

"Sam, I—"

"And just who is this special woman you have brought onto our
land?" a strange voice snapped.

Lauren jumped up guiltily and twisted around, backing away from
the bed. A plump, gray-haired Native American woman stood in the doorway, her
brown, lined face as hard as the sandstone formations that dominated the arid
landscape outside the window.

Sam turned his gaze on the old woman with remarkable calm.
"Hello, Grandma. It's nice to see you, too. This is Lauren Brownley.
Lauren, this little whirlwind is my grandmother, Annie Zah."

Lauren opened her mouth to greet the other woman but before she
could utter a sound Annie Zah switched to the Navajo language and cut her off.

"Don't get smart with me, boy. You haven't come to see your
family in over a year, and now you show up in the middle of the night all shot
up. That is bad enough, but you have offended our people by bringing this white
woman with you. You know that only our people are allowed here."

"I'm sorry, Grandma, but it was necessary," Sam replied,
switching to his grandmother's native tongue as well. "Lauren is a witness
in an important case, and I was assigned to protect her. There are men in the
white man's world who are trying to kill us both. Last night, had it not been
for Lauren, they would have succeeded. She saved my life."

Surprise flashed across Annie's wrinkled face. Previously she had
barely spared Lauren a glance, but now her dark eyes zeroed in on her,
assessing intently. When she turned back to Sam, however, she shook her head.
"For that I am grateful, but it does not change things. She must go,
before others know of her presence."

Confused and curious, Lauren looked back and forth between Sam and
Annie, but they continued arguing in Navajo and paid no attention to her.

"If she goes, I go with her."

"Do not be foolish, my grandson. I have spoken to Dr. Sani.
You are in no condition to go anywhere. You must stay here and rest and let
your body heal."

Sam's unwavering gaze never left the old woman. "Not without
Lauren."

"She cannot stay."

"If she becomes my wife she can."

Annie's eyes widened. She looked at Lauren with new interest.
"She means that much to you, this woman?"

"Yes."

He expected an argument and braced for it, but to his surprise his
grandmother nodded. "I will arrange it."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "That's it? You don't object?"

"Why should I object?"

"I thought you wanted me to marry a Navajo woman. Willow
Sani, to be exact. You've been pushing her at me since she was about
fourteen."

"I merely put her in your path so that you might notice
her." Annie declared with the haughty dignity of a matriarch. She crossed
the room and sat down on the side of the bed beside Sam and took his hand.
"I admit, I would not object if you chose a wife from among our people,
but more important to me is that you are happy.

"All of your life, I have watched you struggling to find your
place, moving back and forth between your father's world and this one, never
quite belonging to either. What? Did you think I did not know? That I am
blind?" she demanded when she saw his startled look.

"You never said anything."

"It wasn't my place. You had to decide for yourself in which
world your spirit truly belonged."

Annie sighed heavily. "It is past time that you took a wife,
my grandson, but I always knew that you would not do so until you found your
place. I think Augustus knew that, too." She glanced at Lauren, and when
her gaze met Sam's again, she smiled. "I think now you have."

Sam looked at Lauren, too, staring at her for so long that she
began to fidget. "I think you're right."

He met his grandmother's gaze again and was surprised to see her
wrinkled face stretched in a smile. "You don't mind?"

"No, I do not mind." She patted his hand. "It is
probably for the best. The difference between our worlds are not so great now
as they were when your parents met. Our people are picking up more and more of
the white man's ways all the time. It saddens me, but what can an old woman do?
Still there are differences. Important ones that will never change. In the end,
those things destroyed your parents' marriage.

"Your father is a good man. He loved my daughter very much,
and she loved him, but not even a love that strong was enough to overcome her
need to be with her own people. I don't want that to happen to you. If your
spirit belongs in the white man's world, that is where you should be." She
patted his hand again and smiled. "But no matter which you choose, you
will always be my grandson, and as long as the sun rises you and your wife will
be welcomed here."

Sam stared at her, his chest tight, so tight he forgot about his
aching shoulder. He knew that this conversation marked a momentous turning
point, that what he said next would alter the course of his life and in some
ways change forever his relationships with the people who lived here. A part of
him wanted to take it back, to say he'd changed his mind and cling to the
familiar. But in his heart, he knew his grandmother was right. He had to make a
choice.

"You're a wise woman, Grandma," he said quietly.

She nodded, and if there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, it
only made him love her more.

Bending forward, Annie kissed his cheek. "I will go now and
make the arrangements."

"What was that about?" Lauren asked when she had gone.
"Do I have to leave?"

"No."

"Oh, thank goodness." Lauren exhaled a long sigh and put
her hand over her heart. "That's a relief. What did you say to change her
mind? And what about the others? Won't they object?"

"No. In a few days, there won't be any reason. We're getting
married."

"We're
what?"

"I said we're getting married."

Lauren stared at Sam. He'd made the statement so matter-of-factly
she thought surely she'd heard him wrong, but apparently not.

She couldn't breathe. Shock, excitement, hope and a host of other
emotions careened through her, threatened to overwhelm her. "You... you're
asking me to marry you?"

"It's the best solution. I'm in no shape to leave here right
now and I doubt that Annie would let me if I tried. And I'm sure as hell not
going to let you leave without me. If you're my wife, no one will complain. Nor
will anyone be tempted to notify the authorities that we're here. Navajo people
protect their own.

"Anyway, this is the safest place for us to hide out until
the trial."

"I...I see. Then you, uh...you don't intend for this marriage
to last?" She did her best to keep her expression neutral and her tone
merely curious, but inside she felt as though a giant hand were squeezing her
heart.

For several seconds Sam stared at her in that intent way he had.
Finally he shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "It doesn't have to be."

What did that mean? Lauren wondered. That he was willing to give
marriage a try if she was? Or that it didn't matter to him, one way or the
other? She didn't know whether to be insulted or hopeful.

"What about Willow?"

"What about her?"

"She's in love with you."

"She may think she is, but that's only because she's been
pointed in that direction by my grandmother. I've never encouraged her."

Lauren sighed. "It will still break her heart."

"I'm sorry for that, but she'll get over it. She's just a
girl." He waited a beat, then asked, "So? Are we getting married or
not?"

"I..."

"Look, the way I see it, we don't have much choice," he
insisted in a voice edged with impatience. "Even if we could stay here a
few days while I healed without anyone objecting, I guarantee you that as soon
as we left the reservation those guys would be on us like a duck on a June
bug."

"You think they know we're here?"

Sam hesitated. "Maybe. Maybe not. Not yet, anyway. They'll
eventually put two and two together and get suspicious, but without a court
order they won't force their way into this area."

"What makes you think that?"

"The Bureau has received a lot of bad press in recent years.
The last thing they want is more. You need evidence, or at least strong
probable cause, to get a search warrant. No judge is going to issue one on an
agent's hunch.

"Actually I doubt they'd even try for one. They know that to
search an area of this size would take an all-out army invasion, and that's not
going to happen."

"How can you be so sure?" Lauren asked. "We've been
the target of a full-scale manhunt for a week. Why would they back off
now?"

"A couple of reasons. First of all, we're no longer in the
wilderness with no witnesses around. I'd bet good money that every one of those
guys who flew to the crash site were on the take from Carlo. That's why their
ringleader picked them for the assignment.

"It should've been easy. They fly in and verify the kill. If
we'd survived the crash they take us out however they can, and no one's the
wiser. Now that we're back among people, they have to watch their step.

"Second, up until now the handful of agents on Giovessi's
payroll have been agitating the brass and feeding them false information so
that they could keep up a full-scale hunt for us, but I think my friend Edward
has enough clout to put an end to that. He's given his personal guarantee to
the brass that I'll have you at that courthouse for the trial."

"I hope you're right," Lauren said, though she did not
sound convinced.

"I won't lie to you, babe. Giovessi's guys will keep looking on
their own. You can count on it. They have no choice. If they don't shut us up,
they go to prison. But at least with Edward vouching for us they won't have the
full might of the Bureau behind them anymore.

"So you see, if we get married we can just lay low here until
you have to show up for the trial."

Lauren twisted her hands together, and gazed at Sam, torn.

Though they hadn't known each other but a short while, the time
she and Sam had shared had been packed with more intensity and horrendous
experiences than most people go through in a lifetime together. Under such
conditions, with all the polite veneer of civilization stripped away, you
learned more about a person in one week than in a year of socializing.

Yes, Sam was tough and taciturn, a remote loner who guarded his
heart by keeping his thoughts to himself and his emotions under wrap. She
suspected that was the result of a lifetime of being torn between two cultures,
of never feeling completely accepted by either, never sure of exactly who he
was or where he belonged. In spite of all that, as Lauren had learned firsthand,
he was a man of strength and character, dedicated, honest and absolutely
reliable.

In the beginning she had bitterly resented being dependent on Sam,
but during the past week he'd taught her the true meaning of self-reliance, and
that some situations required cooperation and trust.

Gradually she had come to realize that behind that remote,
sometimes forbidding face he presented to the world, Sam Rawlins was a man with
a surprising capacity for tenderness and caring, a man of unshakable loyalty.
Sam would never use a woman to gain social status and wealth, then abandon her
when she was no longer of any use to him—the way Collin had. Lauren was sure of
that.

She knew with absolute certainty that she loved this difficult,
complicated man. Deeply and irrevocably. She would like nothing better than to
marry him and spend the remainder of her life with him...but not this way.

Still, what choice did she have? She took a deep breath and let it
out slowly. "All right, Sam. I'll marry you."

Lauren thought she saw something flash in Sam's eyes, but then he
blinked, and it was gone, and she told herself that she had probably imagined
it.

Sam nodded matter-of-factly, as though they had just decided something
as mundane as what to order for dinner or what movie to see. "Good. Now,
if you don't mind, I think I will take some breakfast."

"Oh. Yes, of course. You must be starving. I'll be right
back."

She hurried from the room, but when she stepped out into the
narrow hallway she came face-to-face with Willow Sani. The young woman's
expression revealed that she had been eavesdropping and stopped Lauren in her
tracks. Her heart clinched at the pain in the girl's eyes. "Oh, Willow,
I'm so sorry."

"No, do not be." Willow met Lauren's gaze. "You are
the one he wants."

"Oh, but you're wrong. You heard him. He's just trying to
protect me. Really."

A small, sad smile curved Willow's mouth. "No, it is you who
are wrong. Sam would never marry a woman he did not love. If all he wanted was
to keep you safe, he would find another way."

Lauren's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible...? No, of course
not. It couldn't be. Yet...he
had
told her that he loved her, but she
had chalked that up to feverish delirium.

Willow turned to leave. "I must go now. I just stopped by to
see how Sam was doing."

"Willow—"

Lauren and Sam were married at sunset the next day. Sam was still
weak, and she worried that he was in no condition to be out of bed, but he
brushed aside her concerns. Though unsteady on his feet, with the help of his
cousin Larry, he walked the hundred feet or so to the spot beside a spectacular
sandstone formation that his grandmother had chosen for the ceremony.

Twenty or so of Sam's Navajo family and friends had already
gathered there by the time the wedding party arrived, including Willow Sani and
her brother. Sam was shocked when his father emerged from the group, followed
by Eunice and Walter.

"Dad! What are you doing here?"

"You're my son. Where else would I be?"

"That goes for your aunt and me, too," Walter said as
Eunice hugged Lauren.

Augustus gave Sam a quick once-over, frowning as he took in his
son's pallor and the sling that held his right arm immobile. "Anyway, I
wanted to see for myself how you were doing. Larry telephoned and told me what
happened, and assured me that you'd live, but ever since I picked up my truck,
all shot to hell and gone, I've been worried sick."

"I'm sorry about the truck. I'll pay to have it
repaired."

"To hell with the damned truck!" Augustus thundered.
"It's you that I'm worried about. Dammit, son, don't you have any idea how
much you mean to me?"

Sam's face remained immobile, but as he and his father regarded
each other Lauren saw his throat work, and she knew he was fighting to control
his emotions.

Finally he muttered a "Thanks, Dad" and reached out with
his good arm to initiate an embrace. Augustus reciprocated with alacrity,
wrapping his son in a bear hug, his eyes squeezed shut.

When the two parted, Augustus gave Sam another once-over.
"How are you really doing, son?"

"I'm fine. Give me a week, and I'll be good as new. But how
did you know Lauren and I were getting married?"

"Your grandmother sent a message through mutual friends,
bless her."

Sam, who seldom showed a reaction to anything, looked so shocked
his expression was almost comical. "You're kidding.
Grandma Zah
invited
you?"

"That's right. She knew we'd want to be here."

"But this area is off-limits to everyone but Navajos."

"Do not concern yourself. Your father and aunt and uncle are
here as my guests."

Sam turned to find his grandmother standing behind him, dressed in
her best, red-velvet gathered tiered skirt and hip-length blue overblouse,
cinched at the waist with a belt made of silver discs. Around her shoulders was
a brightly colored blanket.

He shook his head. "I didn't even know you were on speaking
terms with Dad and his family."

"Our paths no longer cross, but your father and I are not
enemies. Why would we be? We both loved my daughter."

Sam cast a worried look around. "Look, I'm happy you came,
Dad. I really am. But I'm not sure it was such a good idea. You may have led
Carlo's men to us. I'm sure they've got both ranches staked out."

"Oh, they do indeed. But give me some credit, son. Those guys
are watching the entrances to the ranches right now, sitting in their cars
drinking bad coffee out of a thermos and freezing their arses off. There are
more ways in and out of there than through the gates. We drove out through the
back pastures onto federal land, then took a series of Forest Service roads to
the highway. We'll go back the same way. Trust me, they'll never know we were
gone.

"Now step aside and let me see my soon-to-be
daughter-in-law."

Augustus took both of Lauren's hands in his and looked at her
admiringly. "Welcome to the family, Lauren."

"Thank you, sir."

"No sir. Call me Dad."

He looked her up and down. Dressed much as Annie was, in a
borrowed, swirly green velvet skirt, white, full-sleeved blouse with a colorful
Navajo blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Lauren felt self-conscious and not
in the least bridelike. However, when Augustus's gaze met hers once again his
eyes were misty and his craggy face, so much like Sam's, had softened.
"Ah, just look at you. Child, if you aren't a sight for these tired old
eyes. You remind me of my own beautiful bride."

Though touched by the compliment, his obvious delight made her
feel incredibly guilty. "That's very sweet of you, Mr. Rawlins, but I feel
I should tell you—"

Sam clamped his hand around her elbow. "Let's get this over
with, shall we?"

The following few minutes seemed surreal to Lauren. Just a little
over a week ago her life had been so predictable. Monday through Friday she
taught music to bored college students, Wednesday nights she gave a private
concert for her boss and Friday and Saturday evenings she played piano at Club
Classico. It was ordinary and uneventful, and not at all the life for which, up
until two years ago, she had seemed destined, but she had adapted.

Now, here she stood, feeling like an insignificant speck in this
vast land of harsh, untamed beauty, surrounded by people she didn't know, whose
culture was foreign to her, pledging her life to a man who hadn't even said he
loved her. Not when he was awake and coherent, anyway.

A light snow had fallen the previous night, and it covered the
desert in a veil of white and lay on the red sandstone formations like frosting
on a cake, adding to the unreal feeling that enveloped her.