Rainsinger (22 page)

But as he walked toward the trees, he realized it had become an impossible situation. There was no way the two of them could continue to live under the same roof and not expect the chemistry between them to keep flaring. One or the other of them had to find another place to live.

Him. He was the one who had to give up.

A sharp, bright voice within him cried out in protest at the thought. Over the past year, he’d grown deep roots here. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he belonged, as if he’d come home. He thought of his great-great-grandmother fighting to save the trees for the ones who would come after her, and of how proud he felt to at last reclaim the orchard for her.

And he knew he couldn’t let go so easily. The peach trees in and of themselves were not as important as what they represented to him. They were a symbol of a way of life that had been repeatedly put under siege, and almost extinguished. If he left here now, he didn’t know what would happen to him.

Winona only loved the trees because of something they’d given her as a child, something she still had. She was a strong, centered woman who’d been able to travel the world in complete confidence, at home wherever she was. Her need for the land was not like his. Not at all. He thought of the letters on the table. No doubt job offers.

A little swell of hope touched him. Maybe one of the offers would be so good she wouldn’t be able to resist, and she’d give him some time to pay off the ranch in increments. Once this big job for the craftsmen in Albuquerque was finished, he’d have a sizable down payment to give her, in addition to the back taxes he’d paid.

The details worked in his mind and lightened his step. He stopped short when he found Winona, sweaty and covered with mud, with the wheelbarrow full of water nearby her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She glanced up and wiped her face with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of watery dirt along her check. For one instant, Daniel forgot everything he’d been thinking, in the glory of looking at her. Water soaked the front of her blouse, making the pale calico print stick to her breasts and waist. The airy wisps of silvery hair were caught in a tousled ponytail, leaving work-loosened tendrils to curl at her neck and ears. Her arms and legs were streaked with mud, and she seemed only to become aware of it as he regarded her.

“Messy work,” she said, brushing at the streaks ineffectually. She dipped a bucket into the wheelbarrow, then poured the contents around the roots of the tree.

“Where did you get the water?” He frowned. “You aren’t hauling it from the house, are you? That’s way too far.”

She shook her head. “I would have if necessary.” She straightened and gave him a purely impish smile. “The strangest thing happened. There’s a leak in the irrigation pipe.”

“You didn’t—”

She grinned, holding up three fingers in a Girl Scout promise. “No. I swear. That would be stealing. I guess the pipe just rusted. It has a hole about two inches wide. Evidently it’s been leaking for quite awhile.”

“How’d you find it?”

“I came out here with Joleen this morning, after you guys left. I kept noticing how the fruit was falling off the trees, and decided to check how widespread the drop was. I walked to the far end of the orchard, and noticed all the trees in the northwest quadrant were as green and healthy as if it were full spring.” She put her hands on her hips proudly. “I remembered the irrigation nozzle was over there and went to check it, and there was the hole.”

“So you’ve been filling the wheelbarrow and dumping water around the roots of the other trees.”

She nodded. “We’ll have to report the leak, but I figure one good watering might help all the trees last a little longer.”

“And what then?”

“I don’t know.” She smiled. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

He hated the way her obvious dedication to the welfare of the trees made him feel. Maybe he did have a longer claim, but hers went deep. Maybe the trees were as much a symbol of something to her as they were to him. “Let me get a bucket and I’ll help you.”

“Do that.”

They worked hard. The water poured from the hole in a steady stream, but only heaven knew how long it would last. Over and over, they filled the wheelbarrow and buckets and carried them to trees farther and farther from the source. Ironically, overhead the sky grew darker and darker, and over the mountains Daniel could see the fuzzy gray line that meant rain was falling somewhere.

Breathing heavily, his limbs tingling with the hard work, he pointed to it. “Look at that.”

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” She dipped her hands in the bucket Daniel held under the leak and splashed it on her face. “Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s hitting the ground, but we can sure hope, huh?”

“It’s better than blue sky,” he agreed. “Thanks for doing this, Winona.”

She inclined her head. “You sound as if I did you a favor.”

He lifted a shoulder, determined to say nothing else until she read the letter. When he moved out of the way, she shoved the wheelbarrow under the stream of water. “You aren’t still clinging to that notion that the land is more yours than mine just because it belonged to your ancestors, are you?”

“I never gave it up.”

She sighed. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I love it just as much as you do? That these trees are as important in my life as they are in yours?”

“You can’t,” he said, eyeing the sky, where brittle flashes of lightning crackled along the horizon. “It’s Indian land, plain and simple, and beyond that, it was my ancestor who saved the trees at all for any of us. They are my legacy.”

The plump lips thinned to a tight line. “You are the most singularly arrogant, anal-retentive man I’ve ever met.”

“I am not.” The words offended him. “I’m open-minded on most things.”

“Oh, really.” She planted a hand on one broad hip. “Name one.”

“Food,” he said, grabbing the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve eaten every single thing you’ve cooked, even the weird things, and you haven’t heard me say a word about them, have you?”

“No, but you’re not stupid, either—as long as I cook, at least you eat something. In fact, I think your stubbornness about learning to cook is ridiculous.”

He blinked. “Well, that fit right into the conversation.”

“It goes along with the arrogance. You think you’re too good to cook. Either that, or you don’t want to make a mess.”

“Well, after seeing how you destroy a kitchen, can you blame me?”

“I haven’t destroyed your kitchen once since I’ve been here. I even line up the glasses in that ridiculous order you have in the cupboard.”

“No, you don’t. You always mix the small, blue ones in with the tall, blue ones. And the cups should go handle out, so they fit in the cupboard.”

“There! That’s what I mean. When you leave your computer, do you know you line up the keyboard with the edge of the desk every single time?”

“I like things neat. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing is wrong with neat—not that I even have a glancing acquaintance with it, you understand.” She gestured with her whole body now, pacing, her arms and hands making emphatic motions to underline her words. “It’s not neatness that bothers me. It’s the Dewey decimal system in a home library, for heaven’s sake. Towels lined up so neatly I’m afraid to take one out of the cupboard, your damned pencils all sharpened to exactly the same point, all the time.”

Daniel felt fury—whole, overwhelming anger—blast through him. “What the hell does all this have to do with the land, Winona? We weren’t talking about household habits—we were talking about the land.”

“It’s all the same, don’t you see that?”

“No. I don’t see anything at all the same.”

She yanked on the wheelbarrow, sloshing water over her feet. “You’re dogmatic about this land, about the whole moral imperative. I don’t give a damn about the moral imperatives. I only know I love this land, this orchard, this place in the universe, more than any other place I’ve been.”

“Moral imperatives?” he echoed dangerously. “Let me tell you about moral imperatives.” He grabbed her arms and saw the fury in her clear, light eyes.

“The moral imperative that killed my great-great-grandmother, the moral imperatives of planned extinction. Think about that, Winona.
Planned extinction.”
He shook her arms a little. “Think about moral imperatives to remove all traces of Indian vermin from the face of this country.” He clenched his teeth, fighting wild waves of emotion. “Moral imperatives.” He spat on the ground, and was pleased when she winced.

“This isn’t about political correctness and saying the right thing or doing the right thing,” he said. “It’s about trying to save a nation—not a tribe, not just more Indians. My nation. I’m fighting on economic levels, and social levels, and even as many political levels as I can stomach.”

He watched tears well up in her pale, moon-colored eyes and spill over her cheeks. He didn’t let her go. He couldn’t.

“But this land isn’t even about the nation. It’s about me. It’s mine. The same blood that runs in my veins was spilled here, and nourished these trees. And all these years, she’s been waiting for someone to come and take it back. Well, I did. And you aren’t taking it from me now.”

With a fierce cry, she yanked out of his grip. For a moment, she stared at him, the tears streaming over her face, making clean streaks in the dust and dirt of her labors. Her breath came hard, and he felt a painful thrust of sorrow move through him. He’d tried to drive her away and he could see in her face that he had succeeded.

“You used me, didn’t you?” Her voice was appallingly calm. “You thought that if you could make me love you I’d sell the land cheap and you’d hang on to it.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall for it. I should have known better.”

With a furious cry, she grabbed the wheelbarrow and wrenched it, dumping the water it contained on Daniel. “You water your precious trees, then, Mr. Holier-than-Thou.”

The water, cold and shocking, caught him across the knees and thighs, and he jumped back. The wheelbarrow fell on its side as she stalked away, and for a split second, he thought about letting her believe all that. It would be the simplest way—they could just put all this behind them. She’d leave the ranch, and he’d have to fight in court just as if he’d never met her.

But the line of her spine was almost rigidly straight with pain and he couldn’t bear it. Those shards of exploded heart that had splintered through his body last night now needled him, as if someone were brushing a torturous hand over the invisible spine of cactus in his skin.

“Winona!” he cried.

She kept walking, ducking under a tree, then another, her long stride carrying her away from him too fast. He yanked his muddy foot out from under the wheelbarrow and ran after her.

A low-hanging branch caught him across the face, momentarily blinding him, and he staggered. “Winona, wait!” Blinking furiously, he ran after her, and caught her beside the mother tree. She fought his hands, and he heard her breath catch in a little sob, and before she could mount all her defenses, he caught her close to him, enfolding her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her fists were balled against his chest. Murmuring words he didn’t understand, he took one and smoothed it, feeling the other open on his chest. And she collapsed against him, weeping. “Damn you. I’ve done just fine all these years, and you come along looking like a dream, and I fall apart.”

He rocked her against him, feeling the shards stop aching and a strange, soft peace fill him. Maybe it was the mother tree, shading them with her ancient wisdom. Maybe his emotions were spent.

Maybe it was just Winona, so strong and warm against him. He smoothed her hair, putting his chin on top of her head. “I didn’t use you, Winona. I swear it.”

“I know,” she whispered, then eased herself away from him. She wiped ineffectually at her tears, then looked at her dusty wrist and sighed. He saw her swallow. “But the fact is, we can’t go on like this. I can’t. It’s too hard.”

A brush of that invisible hand made his veins ache. He crossed his arms. “I can’t give up, Winona;”

“You know, in all of this, the most painful part of it is that you keep making a competition of the past and who loves the land more, who deserves it more.” She shook her head slowly, sadly. “That creates a relationship that doesn’t solve anything. It isn’t either/or. It’s how can we make everyone happy?”

Standing there next to the mother tree, with thunder beginning to roll over the sky, Daniel recognized what she said to be true. It was startling. In his quest to find his own place, he’d objectified the trees and all they meant to him. He frowned, trying to work his way through the maze of conflicts before he spoke.

All at once, a sizzling flash of lightning seared the sky almost directly overhead, and before Daniel could begin to count, a hard crack of thunder followed. A sharp scent of ozone filled the air.

“Get inside!” he yelled, starting to run. “The girls are on the bluff.”

B
y the time Winona reached the house, a hard wind was blowing, whipping through the cottonwoods, slamming into the windows with clanging rattles. Lightning split the sky twice more before she reached the safety of the back door. Percival met her, whining low in his throat, his little body trembling. She picked him up, cooing softly. Poor thing. It hadn’t stormed since he’d been born—he probably thought the world was coming to an end.

She peered toward the bluff, and saw Daniel herding the girls down the slope in front of him like a pair of lost sheep. They reached level ground and started to run, just as the first enormous drops of rain began to hit the ground.

Winona put the puppy down and tore downstairs to check the basement windows, then raced back upstairs to close the windows there. Daniel and the girls burst through the back door already soaking wet.

“Go down and unplug the phone and the VCR,” he barked, moving toward the living room, where he pulled out one big cord that hooked the computer to its energy source, then got down on his knees and reached under the desk to unplug the phone line. His back was splattered with enormous splotches of rain, and when he stood up, Winona saw his face was wet, too.