A Time of Change Page 11

  As they walked down the steps of the loading dock together, Ben glanced over at her. “Tell me something, Jo. If you become a medicine woman, what’ll happen to the trading post?”

  “First, becoming a Singer takes years and years, so that’s not going to happen anytime soon. When it finally does, I’m hoping The Outpost will also be running on track and providing me with a steady income. That way I’ll be able to hold Sings for patients who can’t afford the regular fees. Many of our people just don’t have the means to pay a Singer anymore, even in trade,” she said. “When my dad was sick, he really wanted to have a Sing done, but we never had any money left after paying for medicines and food. I could have worked something out with my teacher, but Dad wouldn’t allow it. It was pride, but at the time, that was all he had left.”

  “Sometimes that, and honor, are enough.”

  His simple words touched her. “Who are you these days, Ben?” she said in a soft voice. “It’s been so long, but from what I can see, the boy I knew is gone.”

  “Yes, he is,” Ben answered in a low, deep voice. “Fighting a war changes a man. It pulls you apart piece by piece, and if you’re lucky, time puts you back together again. But you’re never the same afterwards.”

  She waited for him to continue, but he never did.

  Before long, they arrived at the roadside restaurant in the old farming community of Kirtland. The parking lot was about half full and they found a parking space up close when a patron pulled out. As they walked inside, Jo hoped that over dinner he’d tell her more about himself, maybe talk about what his life had been like as a soldier. Yet balance was part of walking in beauty. If she wanted to know more about him, she’d have to share something in return.

  There was no hostess at the moment, so Ben led them to a seat toward the back of the dining area, facing the window and main entrance. “Most people like seats by the window,” she said. “Why did you choose this spot?”

  “Habit,” he replied, checking out the room and the diners. “Overseas I learned the hard way not to make myself an easy target. Since we don’t know what the situation is regarding my father and the trading post, I’m keeping my guard up. From this spot we can see what’s going on outside, and check out whoever’s about to come inside.” He paused, then smiled at her and continued. “It’s all part of the new me, but from what I’ve seen so far, you haven’t changed much. You’re still the most organized person I know.”

  “It’s up to me to get everything done, but I don’t make as many lists as I used to,” she said, and smiled. “You used to hate that.”

  “I was a jerk back then. I hated a lot of things—including myself.”

  She was surprised by the comment. “I never knew that. You were always so sure of yourself.”

  “I was being defensive. It was the exact opposite of the way I felt inside.”

  “And now?”

  “I outgrew all that. What you see is what you get, pretty much, at least while I’m in civilian clothes.”

  His quiet confidence appealed to her on a multitude of levels. Ben was all tension and hard edges that softened only when he smiled. That hint of danger that had always drawn her to him was still there, but it was kept under tight control now. It teased her imagination, making her yearn to touch him, to go past all those walls and see the unguarded side of the man she was just beginning to know.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, they were enjoying a really nice dinner, and she took advantage of the moment to try to get him to open up. “After all you’ve experienced as a soldier, normal life must seem unspeakably boring,” she said, enjoying the mesquite-grilled steak she’d ordered with broccoli and a side of fries.

  “Back in high school, I thought living an ordinary life would be like dying one inch at a time. Now, the side of me that was looking for adventure found all it could handle and was laid to rest out there in the mountains of Afghanistan. Normal—even downright boring—appeals a lot to me these days.”

  “For a while, or for the duration?” she asked quietly. “You’re going back into combat within a few months, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I don’t like making long-term plans. When you focus on tomorrow, you can lose track of today, and that’s all we really have. We kid ourselves, thinking we’ll be around forever, and try to plan for every contingency, but that’s just a waste of the time we do have.”

  “I have to plan ahead. Becoming a medicine woman will take time and effort, but it’s my way of connecting my tribe’s past to my own future. That circle will someday complete and define me,” she said. “That’s how I’ll run the trading post, too. I’ll build on your father’s dream with an eye on tomorrow.”

  “From what I’ve seen of the bottom line, you have your work cut out for you. It’s not going to be easy.”

  “Speaking of that, you really helped me out today by nailing down that special order.”

  “Have you considered cutting staff to stay afloat? Businesses do that all the time. Those who want to keep their jobs will pick up the slack,” he said. “Or you can reduce salaries or hours.”

  “Never happen. Once you get to know the others, you’ll understand why neither of those is an option. Look at what happened today. Esther, Leigh Ann, and I stood together and that helped us face the danger. It’s not company loyalty. It goes beyond that. What I will do is cut my own pay.”

  “Will you have enough to meet your own expenses?”

  “Not if you’re not going to pick up the tab tonight.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

  As they were finishing their meal, Jo told him more about her plans for the trading post. “I want to phase out the tourist-type trinkets and specialize in Native American crafts.” She leaned back and sipped the last of her coffee. “For years, your father has ordered cotton Navajo look-alike rugs from Mexico. There’s another big order scheduled pretty soon, but after those sell out, I’m thinking of cutting them out completely, or at least way back.”

  “Why? Do they take forever to sell?”

  “No, actually it’s just the opposite, at least for the past six months or so. The last order was gone in a few days and, this time, all the rugs woven in the Chinle style have already been presold. As soon as I get word they’re ready, I’ll be going to Juárez to pick them up,” Jo said.

  “Chinle. Those are the rugs with repeating geometric designs and alternating bands of solid earthtones. Am I right?”

  “Yes, you’ve got a good memory. The rugs can also use natural wool and come in red, white, and black. They’re very popular and usually don’t take a lot of time to weave.”

  “So, if they sell like hotcakes and you’re making money, what’s the problem?”

  “It undermines the work of our local weavers,” she said, then paused and smiled sheepishly. “Hey, I’ve been doing all the talking. There has to be balance between us, so why don’t you tell me about what’s going on in your life? Your father told me once that you’d become an exceptional marksman in an infantry company. Then, more recently, he said you’d transferred to a medical unit. Why the change? Seen enough combat?”

  “Sniper school was something that appealed to me at first,” he said. “Dad had taught me how to shoot, and when I enlisted, I figured that getting the bad guys should be at the top of my list. I wanted my contribution to count.”

  She recalled the medals he’d worn on his uniform at the funeral, then later in the lawyer’s office. “I have a feeling you did just that.”

  “I accomplished my missions.”

  As the waitress refilled their coffee cups, Jo noted the tiny scars on the back of his hands, and the way he was gripping his cup. Although Ben had lapsed into a long silence, waiting for his response wasn’t hard for her. She was used to long pauses. It was part of the way Navajos normally spoke.

  “Snipers usually work in two-man teams except in urban combat,” he said at last. “One day my spotter and I ran in
to some trouble.” He stared at his coffee, lost in thought. “Things got bad in a hurry, and some that shouldn’t have died, did. The army conducted a full investigation and my partner and I were cleared, but I requested a new mission after that. Eventually I transferred out and ended up working with a medevac unit.”

  His words had been simple, but the total absence of emotion in his voice told her a different story. Whatever horror he’d lived through still haunted him.

  Uncertain of what else to say, she waited, finishing her second cup of coffee. “Did your partner transfer out with you?”

  “No. After that deployment, Paul and I returned stateside with our unit. He went home to his family and a month later ate a bullet,” he said quietly.

  She sucked in her breath.

  “I faced my own crisis, too, but at least I came out of it with a pulse. Dad helped me, mostly by being himself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He told me to man up and learn to deal.” Ben gave her a wry smile. “It was a far cry from all the psychobabble I was hearing, and precisely what I needed.”

  “You two had your ups and downs, but he was very proud of who you’d become.”

  “Did he say that to you?”

  “In his own way,” she said. “It was a while back, but I remember him telling me that the army was starting to make a man out of you. He then said that it was too bad you hadn’t signed up as a marine, ’cause the job would have already been done.”

  Ben laughed. “Thanks for sharing that.”

  She wanted to see him laugh more, to soothe the pain that lay just beyond her reach. Suddenly realizing the direction her thoughts had taken, she sat up straight. “I’ve got work to do. I better be getting back to the office.”

  “Are you sure you have to go now?” He placed his hand on hers.

  His palm was rough, his gaze compelling. It drew her to him, tempting her to lean on him, to surrender control, if only for a little while. Knowing the danger and the heartbreak that would inevitably follow if she yielded to those emotions, she pulled her hand back. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “That look, that voice. Your hand on mine. You’re hoping I’ll turn into a puddle of goo, but you’re wasting your time. I’m not sixteen anymore.”

  “So let’s act like adults. The evening is still young and you’re the absolute center of my attention.”

  She glared at him, though it took an incredible amount of effort to even appear mad. Out of all the emotions raging inside her, anger wasn’t even in the running. “Forget the line, it won’t work. Let’s get going.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “A snappy salute would be nice,” she said, noting his tone.

  “So, you’re into discipline now.…”

  She ignored his comment, hiding her smile as they walked toward the exit.

  As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, his playfulness suddenly vanished and his attention shifted away from her. She could feel the tension thrumming through him, and in his strides the coiled edge of a trained soldier.

  EIGHT

  Ben looked in the side mirror of a parked car as they walked past, studying the reflection of a dark-colored sedan at the outside row of the parking lot. That same sedan had remained several car lengths behind him all the way to the restaurant.

  It could be nothing more than coincidence, and his wariness a leftover knee-jerk reaction from his days overseas. Just the other day, his heart started pumping overtime when he’d seen a vehicle with an upraised hood parked by the side of the road. His first thought had been suicide bomber; then he realized it was just a guy with a split radiator hose.

  He had to start thinking stateside, but some habits were too ingrained into him now, and he couldn’t afford to lose his edge. Two months from now, he’d be back in a combat zone, watching for insurgents, IEDs, and ambushes. Even a dead animal beside the road could conceal a bomb.

  Throughout dinner, he’d kept looking out the window, but he never saw anyone exit the dark sedan. Had the guy who’d arrived just after them changed his mind, or maybe gotten involved in a long conversation on his cell phone?

  “I don’t think you’re listening to me, so let’s test it out,” she said as they reached the truck. “I’m going to join the Marine Corps and offer to become a medicine woman for them. Think it’ll work?”

  “Huh?” he asked, the last part sinking in.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  “I was distracted,” he said. “Sorry. I think we may have been followed.”

  “You mean from the restaurant, or from The Outpost?” She turned and looked back toward the entrance, which was only fifty feet away. “Maybe it’s the same guy who robbed us.”

  “It’s possible. Just don’t make a show of looking around like that. I don’t want him to know we’re on to him. If I’m right, he followed us all the way from The Outpost.”

  “Where is he?”

  “On your right, out toward the highway in the last row of parking spaces, is a dark-colored Chevy. The driver is still in his car and looks to be talking on a cell phone. He never came in, but he drove down the highway behind us for several miles.”

  Jo forced herself not to look. “Maybe he just pulled over to have a long talk with his wife or whomever—a salesman far from home. Driving and talking on the phone at the same time can be distracting,” she said. “Not to mention illegal in some places.”

  “Too coincidental for me. He could have pulled over a dozen places farther back, or at that gas station,” Ben said, gesturing with his head to the business a few hundred yards down the road.

  “I’m going to call the sheriff’s department.”

  “Call if you want, but I’m going over to see what he wants.”

  “No, don’t. What if he pulls a gun?”

  “If this guy wanted to kill us, he would have been hiding somewhere close to our ride, knowing we’d be coming back after dinner. My guess is that once he sees me heading his way, he’ll stay cool and drive away as casually as possible, pretending nothing’s going on. If that happens, we’ll follow, get his license plate, and turn that over to the cops.”

  “I was told by the sheriff’s department that the plates on the green pickup at The Outpost were stolen. These could be, too.”

  “At least I can get a closer look.” He handed her the keys. “Stay here, but if he drives off, be ready to move.” Before she could argue, he strode confidently toward the sedan.

  The man, who’d been looking their way, started his engine and pulled out of the slot, heading straight for the highway and never looking back.

  Ben broke into a run, wanting to look at the plates, and spotted the tag just as the sedan raced out into traffic. He’d just finished keying it into his cell phone when Jo pulled up next to him in the Chevy.

  “Jump in,” she said.

  “No, let him go. We’ve got his license plate. The cops need to take it from here,” he said, unwilling to expose her to additional danger. “The fact that he was watching and wouldn’t let me get close makes me think he was up to something.”

  “Or maybe he thought you were,” she said after he’d phoned in all the information. “You can be pretty intimidating at times, and you were obviously going straight toward him.”

  “Nah. He followed us and made it a point not to get too close, like he’d done it before. That’s what a pro would do.”

  “When did you spot him?” she asked as they waited for the police.

  “Over by Waterflow, more or less.”

  “And you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me?”

  “At that point, I wasn’t sure. What’s a signal of danger overseas isn’t necessarily one away from the war zone,” he said.

  “For whatever the reason, The Outpost has become the center of a war zone right now. And we’ve already lost a man,” she added in a whisper.

  Just then, Detective Wells’s car pulled into the lot. Ben got out and walk
ed over to her open window. He filled her in quickly, then pointed east. “Let me ride with you. I can spot him,” he said.

  “No. This is a police matter. I’ll handle it.”

  He stepped back and she shot out onto the highway, her tires squealing on the asphalt.

  When Ben returned to his dad’s Chevy, Jo had turned off the engine and slid over to the passenger side. “All things considered, I’d say this is turning out to be a pretty interesting dinner date,” he said.

  “I thought you said it wasn’t a date,” she said.

  “I lied,” he answered, cracking a smile.

  As they headed back, he glanced over at her. “You’re good company, Jo.”

  “So are you.”

  He saw the interest in her eyes as she watched him a second longer than was necessary. He’d always been able to sense when a woman was attracted to him, and that was the case now. Then again, maybe she was playing him. It couldn’t have been easy to get under his dad’s thick skin. Yet Jo had a way about her, a softness that called to a man.

  Ben found himself wanting to know more about her, but he was no longer sure that his motives were as straightforward as he needed them to be. Jo was a complex, fascinating woman, and most of all, a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  * * *

  Jo walked around the trading post, stretching her legs. She’d come back to work, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Ben. Electricity had sparked the air between them. She’d felt it every time those world-weary hazel eyes had focused on her.

  He’d lived several lifetimes to her one, but as much as Ben intrigued her, she was also wary of him. The boy who’d believed that the ends justified the means was still there, buried under the trappings of a man. He’d apologized for what he asked Regina about her, but the fact that he’d asked at all cast a long shadow of doubt. Then there was his interest in overturning his dad’s trust. That topic hadn’t come up tonight, but if he’d decided against it, she hadn’t heard.