Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (4 page)

“Oh,” Jenny said. She knew the feeling...of wanting to follow him around. She’d have to watch herself at camp to make sure she didn’t fawn all over him. He obviously didn’t like to be chased by women. “She’s very attractive. Are you married or in a relationship? I don’t see a wedding ring.”

“No, no. I’m not married.” He threw her a quick look and grinned. His teeth glowed white against his dark skin. “I just wasn’t...you know...”

“Yes?” she prompted. She knew how to get information from recalcitrant men. She did it for a living, as a therapist.

“You know...I wasn’t interested.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “She’s a nice woman and everything, but...just not my type.”

“Hmmm...” Jenny stared at him for a moment, realization suddenly dawning. Her heart dropped to her stomach. How could she have been so stupid? Of course! “Oh, you probably only date Native American women. I see. Well, that explains it.” She found herself rambling nervously while she tried to dampen her budding crush.

She looked out the window to her right, but not before she saw Clint swing his head in her direction.

“I...uh...” Clint began.

“This scenery is so beautiful, isn’t it?” Jenny interrupted, schooling her expression into her best look of admiration as she stared at a fixed spot on the landscape—the majestic view of snow-capped Mount Adams as it rose in the distance.

“It is, isn’t it? I missed it when I went away to college.” Though Jenny refused to turn her head to look at him, she heard a pensive note in his voice.

“College? What college did you go to?” she asked.

“Washington State University in southeastern Washington. I went on the GI Bill after I got out of the Army.”

She turned back to him, startled. “You were in the Army?”

He threw her a puzzled look. “Yes. You sound surprised.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to. I never thought...” She bit her lip. “Well, that must have been a long time ago. You look like you’ve been growing your hair for a while.” She could help admiring the mid-back length of his ponytail.

Clint broke out into a laugh. “My hair? It grows fast. I’ve cut it more than once. It’s just hair, to me. Though I have some Lakota friends who have some pretty significant spiritual beliefs about their hair.”

Resisting the urge to reach out and touch his hair, Jenny didn’t reply, and Clint continued.

“I’ve been out of the Army for sixteen years now. Went to college after that. Came back to the reservation to work when I was twenty-eight...after grad school.”

“What was your major?”

“I’m a social worker. I work for the Indian Health Service.” He flashed her another quick grin, and she steeled herself against his charm.

“Really?” A social worker?

“What do you do, Jenny Cussler?”

She smiled at the use of her last name. It seemed intimate in some strange way.

“I’m a mental health counselor. I work at the VA in Boise, Idaho.”

“I’ve been to Boise,” he announced.

“Have you?”
Did you like it? Do you want to come there and live with me? We could live happily ever after, I’m sure of it.
She pressed her lips firmly against the chaotic words threatening to burst forth. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, sure. Nice town. I wouldn’t want to live there, though. Too crowded.”

Jenny turned to look at the mountain once again, his words hurting somehow.
I wouldn’t want to live there...
Not even if she begged him, she thought forlornly.

“I’m not
from
Boise,” she said in a small voice. “I moved there to take the job four years ago. I’m from the Portland area, actually.”

“No jobs at the Portland VA?” His voice held a note of curiosity that seemed more than just casual interest.

She turned to him and gave him a tight smile. “No, not at the time. I haven’t seen any job openings there since I’ve been in Boise, either. Otherwise, I’d move back. I miss the rain and the gray skies.”

“You wouldn’t be happy here, then. It’s hot, dry, and windy in the summer, and cold, dry, and windy in the winter.” Clint eyed her for a moment and then turned his attention back toward the road.

Jenny had the distinct impression they’d settled something between them. She suspected it was all in her head, but it seemed as if there was an unspoken agreement—that she would not like the land of his birth, and he would never live in hers. She shook her head and looked away, hoping he couldn’t read minds and would never know the wild abandon of her foolish, star-struck thoughts. She bit her lip to bring her thoughts back to reality.

His next words caught her by surprise.

“And by the way, Jenny, I don’t date just Native American women. Apparently, I like red-headed European-American women, too. You’re not married, are you?”

Chapter Four

Jenny colored, hoping her face wasn’t as red as her hair. “What?” She darted a glance in his direction.

“I asked if you were married.” He turned and eyed her for longer than was necessary for a man who was driving a moving vehicle. She hastened to answer so he would return his attention to the road.

“No! No, I’m not married.” Somehow, Jenny felt she’d lost the upper hand. The conversation had turned too intimate for her comfort. She turned to humor once again. “Nope, I just haven’t found a man I can put up with for that long.” She relaxed into her seat and affected a world-weary pose.

“Ouch.” Clint eyed her from under narrowed lids.

“I know,” she said with a smirk on her face. Now she was back in comfortable territory. “Sounds grim, doesn’t it?” She chuckled. “How about you, Clint? Why aren’t you married? It’s not for lack of women chasing you, that’s for sure.” She turned to enjoy his expected discomfort, which was not long in coming.

“Me?” His long, brown fingers began a rhythmic tapping on the steering wheel. “Well, I guess I could say the same. I haven’t found a woman who I think I can put up with for a lifetime.” He kept his eyes on the road.

Jenny’s smirk faltered, but she recovered. “I know what you mean. Forever is a long time, isn’t it? I should be honest, though. I was married for eighteen years. Long years, I might add.”

“I wondered about that. I found it hard to believe that someone like you would be single all these years.”

The convoy had begun a gradual climb on a well-paved road, leaving “civilization” and entering an isolated area with virtually no other traffic.

“Someone like me? What does that mean?” Jenny crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, nothing bad. Just that...”

“Yes?” she prompted, with rising curiosity. Would he say something flattering? She hoped so.

“Just that—” He leaned forward and pointed. “Look, deer.”

Jenny swung her gaze in that direction. Two beautiful does stood at the edge of the road, large brown eyes alertly surveying the motley assortment of cars and vans proceeding up the mountain.

“Aww, look at them. They’re so beautiful,” Jenny said. She craned her neck to continue watching as their vehicle passed on by and wondered if hunting was allowed on the reservation. She suspected it was...by Native Americans, of course. The deer stared after them and took a hesitant step into the road once they’d passed. Jenny turned around and faced forward.

“You all have deer in Idaho, don’t you? I’m pretty sure you do. As a matter of fact, don’t they have some wandering the grounds of the VA hospital? I’ve been there.”

She nodded. “They do. It’s so peaceful there. No one can hunt them. I love it. The grounds are exquisite, green and lush, bounding with squirrels and bunny rabbits.”

“I remember.”

“When were you there?” she asked curiously. Surely not since she’d been there. She would have seen him a mile away.

“Oh, back when I was in college. I did my internship there. Long time ago.”

“I see. But you didn’t like it?” Jenny fought to keep the disappointment from her voice. The man was just a stranger and likely to stay that way.

He nodded thoughtfully. “No, I did. I liked it. It’s a beautiful little city. But, like I said, I don’t think I could live there. Too crowded.”

Her heart dropped again. She had a momentary fantasy of Clint turning to her and saying, “But I’ll move there for you.” She sighed.

“We’re almost there. Anxious to get out of the car?” He flashed her one of his straight, white-toothed smiles, so charming against his dark skin.

“Oh, no. I’m fine. Well, yes, I’m anxious to get there. Sure.” She clasped her hands together and twiddled her thumbs.

“Are you divorced or...?”

“Yes,” she replied in a monotone. She hardly wanted to discuss her dull marriage with this handsome and exotic man.

“I see.”

“Soooo...are you working up at the camp in some capacity?” She hoped she sounded neutral while she attempted to dampen her growing crush.

“I guess you could call it work. I’m a volunteer, though. I’ll be running one of the groups up there.”

“Really! What are these groups? People who’ve been to the camp before have mentioned them, but I didn’t quite understand.”

“All the attendees will be separated into groups called families. Each family will be hosted by an elder of the tribe and several Indian veterans, one of whom will be called an Interpreter. Many of our veterans are of the Vietnam era, but we’ve got a few younger ones coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan now.”

“What about you?”

“Desert Storm.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Jenny said, looking at him with fresh eyes. She tried to imagine him with short hair, in fatigues, lying face down in the sand as Scud missiles flew overhead.

Clint shrugged. “It’s no big thing. We didn’t have it half as bad as the Marines.”

She nodded slowly. “So I’ve heard.”

“It was a long time ago. I’m glad I’m not in the service now.”

Jenny nodded again. “I wonder if I’ll be in your group. That would be nice.”

“I hope not,” he said though his voice deepened, and she wasn’t sure she heard right.

“Did you say you hope not? What does that mean? Have I made myself so obnoxious already?”

Clint gave a short, husky laugh.

“No, no.”

“Then why not?” she pouted.

He hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Oh,” she said nonplussed at the enigmatic answer. “Well, that’s okay. I tend to keep to myself anyway.” Was that true? Was she a loner? Or just alone?

“Really? Why? You seem very social.” He turned to survey her with a quirked brow.

“Do I? Thanks. I work hard at it. Three years of psychology taught me everything I needed to know about being normal.” Jenny laughed. Her college classmates had been the most dysfunctional, neurotic group she’d ever met...and she had fit right in with them.

Clint joined in her laughter. She reveled in the sound of his deep timbre.

“Why do I think your classmates were probably like mine? Everybody was sure they could be classified as “mentally ill.”

Jenny burst into a paroxysm of laughter. Tears streamed down her face, and she wiped at them.

“Oh, don’t I know it? Didn’t you wonder? When you were reading about the various personality disorders? Didn’t you wonder if you had one of them...or two...or three? I know I did.” She gasped for air.

“Oh, yeah. My favorite one back in the day, before they got rid of it, was “Inadequate Personality Disorder.” I was pretty sure that one applied to me. As a teenager, I was as inadequate as they come. All the girls ignored me.”

“You’re kidding!” Jenny could not mask the disbelief in her voice.

Clint’s high cheekbones bronzed and he blinked. “Oh, yeah. I was quite a mutt.”

Jenny shook her head and stared at him. “I find
that
hard to believe.”

“Oh, stop now. You’ll give me a big head.” He turned a curious look on her. “Don’t tell me. You’re not one of those women who have a thing for Indian guys, are you? Like...Celia?”

Jenny’s face flamed and she jabbed a thumb toward her chest.

“Me? Oh, no. Pffttt... Don’t be silly,” she snorted. “No, no. I don’t have fantasies about Native American men...or any men, for that matter.” She hunched a shoulder and turned to stare out the window, hoping the tips of her ears weren’t bright red.

“I didn’t say that right, did I? What I meant was—”

“I know what you meant. I’m sure it’s not easy being an American icon,” she snipped. The road turned into gravel, and dust began to swirl about the SUV.

“Well, frankly, it’s not,” he muttered. “I just meant there are some women who are so in love with the
idea
of being in love with a Native American...” He paused, and Jenny turned to look at him with her best bored look. “Well, it’s just you never know if someone is interested in
you
or interested in some romantic notion of who you should be.”

“You mean you, don’t you? Use the “I” word when you’re talking about yourself, Clint. You know better.” Jenny cursed the chip on her shoulder. Her comment seemed unnecessarily curt.

His jaw tightened for a moment, and he glared at her. “Okay,
I
never know if someone is really interested in me or just the fact that I’m an Indian.”

“And has that been a problem for you in the past, Clint?” Even to her ears, she sounded petty.

“Well, yes, actually, it has...a couple of times, when I was younger. In college.” He chewed on his full lower lip for a moment. “I’ve learned to be wary of women.”

“Especially white women, right?” Jenny could have smacked herself. How insufferably rude of her. She couldn’t stop herself if she wanted. She crossed her arms.

He swung his head in her direction. A small tic in his jaw muscle should have warned her.

“Yeah, okay, especially white women! It’s not like Indian women have any silly romantic ideas about Native American men. They know better.”

“Well, don’t worry about me, Mr. Hastings. I have no desire to align myself with someone whose culture is completely foreign to me. Really!”