Speak to the Wind (28 page)

She sighed and slumped back in the chair. A weak smile of apology crossed her face. "Sorry, David. I didn't mean to doubt you. I guess I had my hopes up too much."

"I warned you on the phone, Maria."

"I know, but I'm just so..."

"Disturbed." He smiled sympathetically. "But
it's under
standable."

"I was going to say des
perate." Actually, she felt dis
traught as David crushed her hopes.

"Look, Maria. I would love the challenge of a case like this, if I felt there were sufficient grounds for winning. But there aren't. I'd only make a fool of myself and cost you a lot of money. The facts are that the Indians own the land. And they want it back. In the letter they're giving you the option of taking what you own, which is the cabin. If you refuse that option, the cabin becomes theirs when your lease expires in one year. And they can do with it what they wish. Use it or tear it down."

"That's not fair!"

"But they're giving you fair warning. They're giving you the opti
on. They're saying, in effect,
P
lease take your cabin. We don't want it.'"

Maria swallowed hard. "You're sure, David?"

The young lawyer adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. "I'm sure, Maria. Plain and clear."

"Only if you underst
and legal doublespeak," she mum
bled, feeling herself sink into a bottomless abyss. "So I'm caught?"

"Not entirely. If I were you, Maria, I'd move the cabin to another property. And make sure you own it outright this time."

"Move it?" She sighed
and considered the thought seri
ously for the first time. "Move it. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll have the cabin moved." Sh
e stood and shook hands with re
newed determination. "Thanks, David. I'll move it."

A week later,
Maria donned a yellow hard hat and hiked over clods of dry, freshly grated earth. "Mr. Baumbauer, I got your message, but I wanted to speak to you in person about this."

The heavyset man wearing a matching yellow hard hat and dirt-streaked khaki shirt stared at her. "What're you doing out here, lady?"

"I'm Maria Eden," she amended, thinking this was no way to conduct business. But when one was desperate, one didn't think about protocol. "We talked on the phone several times. I'm the one who called to see if you could move my cabin from High Meadow."

"Oh, yes." He grinned. "Nice cabin,
Ms.
Eden. Real sturdy."

"Did you actually go up there and inspect everything, Mr. Baumbauer—"

"Look, nobody calls me mister. You call me
Butch
."

"
Butch
, then." She looked at him impatiently. "I'm very distressed that you think it's too much of a risk."

"My foreman and I inspected that place personally. It's solid as a mountain."

"Apparently you don't understand,
Butch
. I must have that cabin moved. Must." She f
elt as though she was
hyperven
tilating, but maybe it was just the wind
at
the construction site. "I have to have it moved. If I don't, the Indians are going to destroy it."

"Real sorry. Can't."

"What do you mean, can't? It's impossible?"

"Naw, it ain't that. Nothing's impossible. But it's gonna cost you a pretty penny. Other problem is, I can't guarantee the whole damned thing wouldn't fall apart if I tried to take it. My insurance won't cover such a risk. If it was mine, I wouldn't take the chance."

"But you're moving
the
Banks’
cabin
, and the Fredericks’
. They
both
recom
mended you
highly
." Maria's voice was a whine picked up by the wind and whisked away.

"Theirs is made different. Here, let me show you,"
Butch
said, putting a pencil to the page on his clipboard. He started to draw, and Maria could tell right away it was a crude sketch of her cabin. "Here's the problem. That damned thing—uh, excuse me, ma'am—that cabin is made so well that if we tried to move it, why it might just crack right down the middle. Here—" he drew arrows "—or
here. It's constructed of a va
riety of materials, mostly logs and rocks, which won't hang together when we start messing around with 'em. Now you could move it log by log, but that's gonna cost you what two cabins are worth."

"I... I can't afford that."

"Most of us can't. Anyway, that fireplace is built to last forever. It has to stay where it's planted."

Maria gazed bleakly at the sketches. She blinked back tears.
Butch
's company had been recommended as one of the best movers. His was the third to tell her the same thing. She had to believe them, had to accept their evaluations. But it hurt. "So the fireplace is there forever, unless someone comes along and tears it down."

"Yep."
Butch
nodded matter-of-factly.

"Dammit,
Butch
!"

He gave her a quick look of surprise. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry about that. I was hoping we could do business. Now if you have anything else that needs—" He halted when Maria wheeled around. Shoving his hard hat back with his thumb, he watched her hike out of the construction site.

Maria swatted blindly at her tears. Now what? She knew. When one was desp
erate, it called for desperate
action.

Maria
jerked
her blue Honda to a stop beside the shiny
, apple-
red
SUV
in the parking lot. There was no other alternative, no one else to turn to. She had tried working within the system. When all her attempts failed, she felt defeated. Now she was willing to do anything. She would try one final appeal. Swallowing her pride, she stomped up the steps to the High Meadow Apache Tribal Building.

“I’
m Maria Eden," she said to the woman at the front desk. "I have an appointment with J—, er, with Mr. Quintero."

"Right this way."

Maria followed the dark-haired woman and squared her shoulders just before entering the office at the end of the hallway. She thought she was prepared for seeing Joe again, but the sight of him was like a
punch in the stomach
, a whirlwind that took her breath. She stared at him
for a moment, gathering her re
sources, reaching deep inside for her anger. She thought she'd discarded her emotional attachment to him long ago, but it clouded her vision again.

"Joe..."

"Maria..."

Joe stood up behind the large desk when she entered the room. He looked devastating in a white dress shirt with the collar open and the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. His copper skin and dark hair matched those
people
around him now. He seemed to belong in this office filled with artifacts and remnants of his
Apache
ancestry. A large burden basket hung in the corner,
a group of coiled baskets deco
rated one wall near a praye
r stick with eagle feathers. Re
minders of his past and of the future.

Yet there was something different in his sharp, ebony eyes that caught her attention. Something poignant and grave. And as her eyes inadvertently traveled over him, she thought he seemed a little slimmer than when they were in Mexico
where she'd seen—and felt—his bare body on a daily basis. The memory sent a flush through her.

He licked his lips and spoke in a hushed voice. "Please have a seat. It's good to see you. You look... beautiful, as always, Maria."

She ignored his attempt at dredging up old feelings and strode into the room, assuming an air of indifference. But it was all part of an act because she certainly didn't feel it. She wanted to ask if he'd lost weight, but instead said, "You seem to have taken your job as
chairman seriously. Already mov
ing and shaking, I see."

"I take my position very seriously, Maria. I thought you understood that all along."

"If I didn't realize your dedication before, you've made it perfectly clear now."

"Right." He pursed his lips and nodded. "Would you like coffee or
something to drink
?"

"No, thank you. I'm here on business. Nothing more."

"I see." He dropped back down into his chair and kept his gaze steadily on her. "How... how are you?"

Her face tightened. "As if you care."

"I do."

"Do you really care what happens to me?"

"Of course!" He leaned forward urgently, his forearms resting on the desk. "Maria
, some things haven't changed. My f
eelings—"

"Then prove it by helping me." She gripped her purse as the words tumbled out. "Help me save my cabin, Joe. You're the only one I can turn to
. And you're in a position to do some
thing."

"Maria, the council voted—"

"I've heard that before," she said, interrupting with a wave of her hand. Leaning forward, she continued her barrage of
words. "You can do something if you will. You are my last resort, Joe. I've been to my lawyer. Yes, I considered suing," she said bitterly when he looked surprised. "Oh, God, how I wanted to. It would have given me great pleasure to see you back down." She thought it would give her pleasure to see him squirm. But there was no pleasure in this. He wasn't squirming.
And s
he was begging.

"Are you going to sue?"

"Unfortunately, no. My lawyer says you're covered in the original contract. So that idea went down the tubes."

“
Too bad your pleasure was foiled," Joe muttered, leaning back in his chair.
“But, a relief, too.”

"Next I talked to three different contractors about moving the cabin, like you suggested in your damned eviction letter. Some of my neighbors are already making such plans."

"Unfortunately it's the only way."

"I even picked out a lot near Show Low and was on the verge of buying it," she recounted with a mocking chuckle. "But they can't move my ca
bin because of the way it's con
structed. Too sturdy, wouldn't you know? I could do more harm than good trying to move it. The best they could do would be to dismantle the whole thing and reconstruct it on another lot for a fee well above its actual worth." She paused for a breath. "But that's far beyond my funding ability. Piles of rocks and logs would proba
bly lie on the lot for years be
fore I could make them into a cabin again. So I'm asking for your help."

"Would you like to borrow money, Maria? I'll be glad—"

"No, I don't want your money! I want you to change the plans. Set your project somewhere else. Do something to preserve the lake residences."

He spread his hands. "Maria, I can't."

"You mean you won't."

"No. I can't. The project has been drawn up into a formal proposal, complete with goals and functions, a schedule of constructing each stage and projections for the future. It's out of my hands. Other people a
re working on it. We have a pro
ject director. The architect is working on a mock-up now. The first drawings are complete."

"My house will be destroyed, Joe." She paused and choked down a sob. "Don't you care about that?"

"Yes, of course."

"You helped fight the fire to save it last year! And now you're going to stand by and let it be demolished?"

"I had no idea it would come to this. I thought you would be able to move it."

"How could you let this happen so fast? Why, you weren't in office a month when your secretary efficiently sent out the eviction notices."

"Those letters weren't e
viction notices. They were care
fully worded so as to ease this process as much as possible.
And give you a year’s time to get it done.
"

"How considerate of you. At any rate, you've lost no time in getting right to work on thi
s. The sooner the better, I sup
pose."

"I did not try to rush this, Maria. Things were happening with McAndrew. We had to do something. Now was just the time."

"I don't know why I thought you would help me, Joe."

"Maria,
you're thinking of one person, y
ourself. I have to think of a whole community of people. I'm concerned with their welfare, with their future. That's what this is all about."

"Obviously you don't give a damn about my future. Or ours."

"Yes, I do. I hoped you'd listen. Because you've lived up here, I thought you'd understand. I want to work this out."