Gray, Ginna (27 page)

Looking deep into her eyes, he rocked his hips against her, and
smiled when she gasped with pleasure. "Now. I want you to do exactly as I
say." He kissed his way up her neck and nibbled her earlobe, and in a
voice gone gravelly with passion, he whispered instructions in her ear that
made Lauren's face flame.

"Sam!"

He leaned back and chuckled as her shocked expression turned to
curiosity. "Can we really
do
that?"

"Why don't you try it and find out?"

Gnawing at her lower lip, shyly at first, then with growing
confidence and boldness, she did as he asked.

"Yes. Yes, that's the way," Sam grated between clenched
teeth. "That's it. Oh, God, yes!
Yes!"

"Ahhhh,
babe."

The weeks and months that followed were the happiest of Lauren's
life. She recognized the irony of that, given her situation, but it was true
nevertheless.

Though Sam would always be the strong, silent type, he was
gradually loosening up. In his own masterful way, he was affectionate and
attentive and a wonderful lover. He made love to her frequently and with a
depth of passion that never failed to rock her right down to her toes and leave
her so limp she felt boneless.

If their lovemaking had hurt him or inhibited his recovery in any
way, it wasn't apparent. As Sam had promised his father, he recovered quickly
from his wound and was up and around within a week of their wedding. After only
a month, he was as strong and agile as ever. Except for the puckered scar on
his shoulder, you'd never know he had been shot.

Five days after the wedding Augustus returned to the reservation.
Following along behind as he eased his pickup over the bumpy road was a large
delivery van, and in the cab were three men.

Sam, Lauren, Annie and Larry were sitting in lounge chairs on the
front porch when the two trucks rolled to a stop in front of Annie's house.

"What the devil is this?" Sam demanded.

"Don't get your shorts in a wad, son. I brought you that
cellphone you wanted."

"Cellphone? Hell, it looks to me like you brought a whole
microwave tower."

"What, this? Naw, this is for Lauren."

"Me?" Lauren said, surprised.

"Yeah. Just a little wedding gift. C'mon, I'll show you. Open
'er up, men," Augustus yelled.

Lauren rose, and the others did the same and followed Augustus
around to the back of the truck. When the workmen threw the double doors open
Augustus beamed and Lauren's jaw dropped.

"A piano?" Tears stung her eyes when she swung to face
Sam's father. "You bought me a
piano?"

"Yeah. My sister and Walter kept carrying on about how
talented you are, so I thought you might like to have one to play while you're
staying here."

"But...but they're so expensive! This is really too much, Mr.
Rawlins. I can't let you do this."

"Can't stop me," he declared. "And Mr. Rawlins
won't do, little girl. I'm your father-in-law now. You can call me Dad or Pappy
or Pops—whatever suits you. Anything but that Mr. Rawlins stuff. As to the
other, why, this is just a little bitty ol' piano. Probably not what you're
used to playing at all, but I figured this little spinet was all Annie's place
could hold. 'Course, if you don't like it..."

"I
love
it! Truly, I do. It's just that—"

"Now none of that. The piano is yours. I'm not taking it
back. Besides, the world's in a sorry state if a man can't give a simple gift
to his brand-new daughter.

"If it'll make you feel any better, when all this mess is
over, you can leave it with Annie. That way, her other grandchildren can have
the use of it and it'll be here for you when you come to visit. You won't be
needing it back at the Double R anyway. There's a big, brand-new grand piano
waiting for you in the parlor there."

"A grand..." Lauren gaped at him, at a loss for words.

"Okay, you men. Take 'er inside," Augustus barked.
"Annie, you mind showing 'um where you want this thing?"

"Damn, Dad, you got a little carried away, didn't you?"
Sam muttered.

"Nonsense. I've been waiting for years for you to get married
and give me a daughter. I intend to spoil her rotten, so just you be
warned."

Sam looked at Lauren. "You'll get no argument from me. If
there was ever a woman who deserved to be indulged, it's my wife."

Lauren heard the remark and it filled her heart with joy, but she
was too excited and too busy supervising the men to comment. She danced from
one foot to the other, barely able to contain herself.

As they followed the movers into the house, Sam shook his head.
"How the hell did you get this thing here without it splintering to
pieces? That road has more craters than the moon."

"We inched it in, that's how," his father replied.
"Took us four hours to get from the visitor's center to here. I was
determined that little gal was going to have a piano."

One of the three men who came with Augustus was a piano tuner. He
went to work on the instrument as soon as it was in place in Annie's living
room, while Lauren paced impatiently.

The instant he pronounced the job done, she slid onto the bench
and spread her fingers over the keyboard. After she'd played only a few notes,
every person in the room stood stock-still and listened with awe as the
beautiful music flowed from her fingertips and filled the room.

Soon, Larry's wife and two sons wandered over from their house
next door. A few minutes later, a car full of people who had heard the music as
they were driving by eased into the crowded living room. When Sam noticed more
people outside, he opened the windows so they could hear better. Over an hour
later, when Lauren finally took a break, the porch and area in front of the
house were full of people.

After that, word spread. Whenever passersby heard the music coming
from Annie's house, they parked their pickups out front and sat and listened.
Sometimes close family and friends slipped inside and sat quietly, absorbing
the soul-stirring music, then slipped out again when it ended.

The Navajos began referring to Lauren as the woman who makes music
for the gods, a name that touched her deeply.

It was a halcyon time for Lauren. She was in love, and though Sam
hadn't said the words, as the days passed she began to suspect—to hope—that he
loved her, too. His actions certainly said he did. Every touch, every kiss
spoke of a depth of feeling that sent her dreams soaring.

There were times when Lauren caught Sam watching her in that
intense way he had, and the proprietary gleam in his eyes always made her heart
give a little bump.

She had Sam, she had her music, she had the love of his family and
the admiration of his mother's people. Zeta and Annie were teaching her how to
cook, and Sam's grandmother told her endless Navajo stories and legends and
instructed her on their customs and culture.

There were problems on the reservation, to be sure. There was
poverty, unemployment, a lack of many services and amenities that were taken
for granted on the outside. And there was alcoholism among some, which often led
to abuse and hostilities. Yet, on the whole, life on the reservation was pleasant—slow
and simple and undemanding, and after that first frenetic week on the run with Sam,
Lauren took to the tranquility like a duck to water.

Carlo Giovessi's slick lawyers had gotten the trial postponed
twice—no doubt to give his henchmen more time to locate her. It was now
scheduled for the end of May.

Every time the trial was pushed back it seemed a little less real
to Lauren. So much so that she could sometimes go for hours, even whole days,
without remembering what had brought her to the reservation.

Only a handful of people had Sam's new cellphone number—his
father, his aunt and uncle, and Edward Stanhope. When the telephone chirped one
afternoon in late May, Sam instinctively knew who it was.

He had been helping Larry tune the engine on his pickup and had
just come inside to fetch them both something to drink when the call came
through. Sam put the cans of soft drink he had just pulled from the
refrigerator on the counter, fished the phone out of his shirt pocket and
flipped it open.

It wasn't unusual for Edward to call. He and Sam talked four or
five times a week, but even before Sam pressed the power button, a premonition
told him what was coming.

"Yeah?" Sam said without preamble.

"The trial is still set for Monday morning."

Wincing, Sam cupped the back of his neck and rubbed the tense
muscles there. He glanced toward the living room. Lauren was playing a dreamy
piece that floated on the air like elegant notes of purest gold. "You said
just yesterday that the defense was trying for another postponement," Sam
growled.

"The judge has had it with the constant postponements. All
systems are go. You need to have Lauren in Denver by eight Monday
morning."

"Yeah, I know."

Sam turned off the telephone and slipped it back into his pocket,
but for several moments after that he just stood there, his expression
thoughtful. Finally he ambled over to the door that led into the living room.
Leaning his shoulder against the frame, he watched Lauren play.

She was never more beautiful than when she was playing the piano.
The music seemed to give her an inner glow, as though it lit up her very soul.
She was totally absorbed, her nimble fingers dancing over the keys, her eyes
closed.

Damn, he hated to break the news to her.

The truth was, he was in love with her, and he had no idea what to
do about it.

Sam studied her elegant profile. He didn't want to lose her.
Maybe...maybe he just wouldn't tell her about Edward's call. Maybe they just
wouldn't show up for the trial. Why should they risk their lives?

Why not stay? he asked himself. For the first time in his life, he
was at peace. Finally, he and his father were coming to understand each other
and were developing a relationship. Lauren felt safe and she seemed happy. As
for him, he would prefer to return to the ranch, but he could adapt to this
life.

Sam was even certain that his father would understand, given the
circumstances. If they stayed put, no one would find them. They could just
disappear.

Lauren's piece ended. She opened her eyes, then jumped when she
saw Sam standing in the doorway, watching her. "Sam. I didn't know you
were there." Then she took a good look at his expression, and her smile
faded. "What? What is it?"

The group of twenty or so Native Americans approaching the Federal
Courthouse in their native dress drew only curious looks from others as they
passed on the street. The citizens of Denver were too sophisticated to gape.

"There are Federal Marshals on either side of the main
entrance. Stay calm and ignore them," Sam murmured under his breath from
the center of the group. He kept one arm around Lauren and the other hand near
the revolver in his hip holster, hidden beneath his shirt. His hair had grown
long during the last four months while they were on the reservation. It now
hung below his shoulders, and his skin was several shades darker from the sun.
He wore his moccasins and a felt hat with a silver-and-turquoise hatband and
the brim turned down all around. He doubted any of his old colleagues would
recognize him.

Lauren wore one of Zeta's velvet skirts, this one in royal blue,
and a print overblouse cinched in at the waist with a belt. Her auburn hair was
pinned up and covered with a dark scarf, and over that she wore a broad-brimmed
straw hat and kept her head down.

"When we reach the fourth floor there will be more lawmen,
probably FBI agents," Sam prompted again. "Just remember what I told
you. As soon as we get within earshot of those guards and I give the signal,
everyone start complaining. And keep it up until I tell you to stop."

"Hey, no problem, cousin," Larry replied. "Who
knows? We may even get something done while we're here."

The ploy worked. The men stationed outside the door barely spared
them a glance and the ones inside directed them to Judge Holloway's chambers when
they asked and warned them to keep it down.

Sam had been testifying in this courthouse for years and didn't
need any help finding Judge Holloway. His courtroom was directly across the
hall from Judge Bruno's, where the Giovessi case was being heard.

As Sam expected, two more Federal Marshals stood outside Judge
Bruno's doors, scanning the hall in both directions and eyeing every person who
stepped off the elevators or climbed the ornate stairs. Standing with them were
two FBI agents. One was Sam's old friend Todd Berringer; the other was John
Scudder, known around the bureau office as Scud.

Sam coughed twice, and on cue his companions began to grouse about
their water rights being stolen, and muttering that the judge had better come
up with a solution fast, or they were going to file suit against the
government.

It was the acid test, and Sam held his breath, but neither Todd's
nor Scud's eyes showed the slightest flicker of recognition when they trailed
over Sam and Lauren. They merely shook their heads and looked away, not
interested in a bunch of ragtag Native Americans.

The elevator doors opened and Augustus and Walter stepped into the
hall. As per the plan they'd worked out, Sam's father and uncle walked right
past him and the others without making eye contact. They were stopped and
questioned briefly by Todd, but a moment later were allowed to enter Judge
Bruno's courtroom.