Tallchief: The Hunter (3 page)

She slowly opened a desk drawer and removed a small box. The ring he’d given her the night of the prom was tarnished, just as was the image of how she had later flung it at him. The small silver circle had bounced off his cheek and had fallen untended to the floor. She remembered the pain in those gray eyes, the stiffening of his tall, rawboned body, the clenching of his fists at his sides as she had slashed at him, “I hate you, Adam. If you don’t want me, all I’m asking is that you don’t testify against Tom.”

“You don’t believe me,” he’d stated softly, as if she’d just knocked the wind out of him with a physical blow.

“Absolutely not. My brother is not a thief, and I believe him. He says he didn’t do any of those things,” she’d hurled at him.

Now, with the silence quivering after Adam’s departure from her home, Jillian settled into her thoughts. The silver ring on the tip of her finger was not costly, and represented just one dreamy month with Adam Tallchief. He’d been so tender and protective, and she’d dated him, despite her parents’ objections—that had been her first rebellion.

Looking back, she suspected that Kevin O’Malley was a handy fix-up for her parents’ shaky finances, and a rebound for her broken heart. Unfortunately, Adam’s tender treatment hadn’t prepared her for the rough marital sex that Kevin preferred. With a five-year marriage ending in di
vorce, Jillian believed that she was frigid, as he had claimed.

Twenty-two years ago she’d been a girl, loving Adam. Now she was a divorced, successful sales executive turned graphic artist, and she hated him. But not enough to hurt the Tallchiefs. Resting in the box was the reason Adam’s aunt Sarah had called her: two feathers—one each from a dove and a hawk. “Give these to him when he’s not fighting to survive,” Sarah had said. The old woman’s trembling fingers had smoothed the feathers lovingly, as though they’d reminded her of someone long ago, dear to her heart. Jillian had not been able to refuse the dying woman’s request to safeguard the feathers for Adam.

Jillian touched the two feathers bound by an old ribbon, strange things for Adam’s aunt to give her for safekeeping. Adam had loved Sarah and she had loved him in return.

“He’s a drifter and he’s probably lost everything of her, or sold it. I will send them to him after I leave. Or to Elspeth, if he’s gone by then.” Jillian turned to the computer screen again, critically studying her layout for Silver’s advertisement. She had just gotten started as a freelance graphic artist, her experience as a sales executive useful. The Silver account was the largest she’d had; she hoped it would lead into even bigger ones as she created a niche in advertising. She had a knack for photography and for editing the images she produced; they were unique, not “canned”—shots produced by a photography mill. The cabbage roses had been photographed last summer in a perfect sunset to bring out the lush color and contrast of the shadows.

The different layers of the images could be arranged and the photography altered to her creative notions. Life was like that—arranged in different layers, some bright and good, and others shadowed like the petals of the roses. Though the photographs could be changed to her liking,
her past with Adam remained painful. Still, their future was uncertain, open to manipulation, like the layouts. Jillian turned away from her computer screen. In another time, another place, she just might have revenge.

A

“Thanks for the use of the pickup truck. I’m sorry I left the fitting. I forgot something in town.” He served her the lame excuse while his mind coursed through the slash-slash meeting with Jillian. He had no right to bring his anger into Elspeth’s home, filled with life and happiness.

“Come in. Whatever you’ve lost will come back to you. It’s only waiting for the right time to be born as it should be.” Her quiet gray eyes searched his face as the shy toddler on her hip toyed with the heavy black braid crossing her shoulder.

Caught by her tone, and the furious moment that had just passed with Jillian, Adam entered Elspeth’s home. She couldn’t know of his past with Jillian. Yet the certainty was
there, as though she sensed the future. He took in the scents of baking bread, of children and the farmhouse warmed by Elspeth’s work. His gaze slid to the large room where Elspeth wove in the quiet hours. The enormous, ancient, wooden loom threaded with the Tallchief plaid had belonged to Una, a Scots bondwoman captured by the chieftain. A quilting rack, much like the one his brother’s wife used, hugged the ceiling, waiting until it was needed. In the air hung the same serenity that Adam had noticed at Jillian’s, the feminine peace he had shredded with his anger.

Jillian’s eyes were still as gold as he remembered, still brilliant and burning with her fury….

“You’ve been hunting a long time, Adam,” Elspeth said as he hovered between clashing with Jillian and the serenity of the Petrovna home. “Perhaps it’s time for you.”

“The kilt is a bit breezy up the backside in cold weather,” he said in an effort to waylay the uneasiness prowling through him. He sensed that soon he would be coming to Elspeth for answers that had eluded him for years.
She couldn’t know his past and yet somehow—

“So my brothers say. Would you like to stay and have lunch with us?” She nuzzled the black hair of her son, a close replica of Adam’s nephew, J.T., but with the curling hair of his father, Alek Petrovna. The boy hugged the shiny new Sam the Truck that Adam had given him, a plastic, rounded model designed for a toddler. “Your jeans are mended, but it will soon be nap time and we can talk without curious little ears. But then, you’re not ready yet, and you’re set on another course, aren’t you?”

Surprised that she could read him so easily, Adam shot her a wary look. There it was, that nagging suspicion that Elspeth’s gray eyes saw beyond what she knew for fact. Her smile changed into warm laughter. “I grew up in a houseful of brothers, and my husband wears that same brooding look when he’s stalking a new problem. Stay or leave, it’s your choice. But it’s better to stand and fight.”

Slightly uncomfortable now, Adam shook his head. He was certain that Elspeth referred to something other than her hospitality. “Liam expects me at the station. It seems he needs to iron out another dent that Michelle gifted to his favorite truck.”

“I’m glad you’re staying for a while,” Liam said later in the garage. He ran a loving hand over the dent his wife had just placed in his treasured pickup truck. Michelle’s determination to drive a stick shift was both endearing and dangerous. “You think that by hiring Jillian as a graphic designer for your Sam the Truck ads you can keep her here, too? Without her knowing who you really are?”

The spacious garage was neat, a collection of little-boy toys resting on the cot J.T. used when he came to the gas station. Adam picked up a tiny metal truck marked by a Sam the Truck logo. “I’m not done with her. I don’t want anyone else to know that I own the company…or that Jilly—Jillian O’Malley and I have a past.”

“Be careful. Revenge can boomerang in a bad way. Elspeth will know. She may not know the particulars, but she’ll know more than what you think. They say she has the seer talents inherited from her Scots ancestor, and the shaman insight from Tallchief’s side. When their parents were killed in a convenience store robbery, Elspeth took the place of her mother. She has Una’s journals, and Elizabeth Montclair’s. Elizabeth was an Englishwoman who married Una’s and Tallchief’s son, Liam—my namesake. After our parents died in that car wreck, the woman who raised me insisted on keeping the name Liam. I brought my son here after my first wife died, after I discovered my real identity, because I wanted J.T. to have more than I had. And then I met Michelle. I have a feeling that Elspeth knew or sensed what lay ahead of me. And what was inside me, though I kept to myself back then.”

“We’ve lost a lifetime together. I had no idea you were alive. Aunt Sarah moved from Iota to take a better paying
job in New Pony, and I grew up there. Now I’ve got a brother, a sister-in-law, a nephew and another one on the way. I’ve much to learn about the rest of our Tallchief family. You’re comfortable here, with them?”

Liam’s smile was warm. “I’m home. ‘Aye,’ as they say, I’m home. I’m a lucky man. You’ve traveled the world. If you’re thinking of settling down, we’d be glad to have you around.”

Adam lifted a wary eyebrow and smiled. “A built-in baby-sitter? Uncle Adam?”

Liam chuckled, a rich, full sound. “We’ve got plenty of built-in baby-sitters. But you need a few of J.T.’s mind-blowing questions and a little drool on your shoulder and diaper changing to get the real texture of life.”

“I’ve never felt the call of drool and diapers.” Or maybe he had…Maybe, in just that one month when he was eighteen he had dreamed of Jillian and himself with a bright new future. Before he’d seen her brother running from the dead woman’s apartment. Before he’d discovered Tom’s auto theft ring, and seen it in action. Before honor had demanded that he testify, despite the pressure of the families in New Pony.

Liam studied Adam with those cool gray eyes so much like his own. “You’re brooding about what happened in New Pony…how you testified because you had to, and how the town threatened you and made life difficult for Aunt Sarah. I wonder why the Tallchiefs didn’t recognize your name on the news media and come to help. New Pony is only a few hundred miles away. They would have—”

“The case was shut up. Power in a small town can do more than it has a right to. Jobs were threatened. Records were sealed and pressure placed on key people to keep silent.”

Adam tossed the toy truck onto his nephew’s cot. He’d left New Pony as soon as he’d graduated, glad to be away from the pain the town had caused. And Jillian. He’d been
so young and certain that she would believe him—but she hadn’t.

Liam was silent, then asked quietly, “Have you ever wondered why Sarah never said our parents were on their way to see the Tallchiefs, here in Amen Flats? It seems logical that our mother—her sister—might have told her since she was keeping you.”

Adam had asked himself the same question many times through the years. Sarah had steadfastly ignored his questions about his parents’ destination. Parents usually left telephone numbers and information when they left children with a sitter; according to Sarah, she had expected a call that never came—only news of the parents’ and Liam’s deaths arrived, and soon after Sarah had taken a new job away from Iota.

The absence of that telephone call from his parents had sliced away thirty-six years that could never be recovered. Sarah and he wouldn’t have had to struggle alone—the Tallchiefs would have helped….

“I’ve thought about it. But Sarah didn’t know, and it seemed too painful to her every time I pressed. She loved our mother deeply. Apparently, it was a pop-up chance to visit long-lost relatives and they were going to call when they arrived. They never called. There wasn’t much of an inheritance from Aunt Sarah. She was ill for a long time and medical expenses were high. But our parents’ will provided for both of us and it’s been gathering interest all these years. With your share of the inheritance, you should be able to build a nice house on that ranch you just bought…By the way, Jillian thinks I’m a professional drifter, and maybe I am. With a laptop and modems and infrequent business meetings, I’ve managed to build Sam the Truck into a nice little company.”

Adam ran his thumb over the new dent in Liam’s beloved pickup truck. “I’ve got to find a place to work. I’m developing a new line of accessories and need to take care of regular business decisions.”

Liam grinned and finished, “J.T. has almost the entire line of plastic cups and plates and friends of Sam the Truck. If he knew you were Sam’s creator, he’d be a preschool star.”

“I ordered him the complete highway set. I hope you don’t mind.”

“J.T. has been wanting that.” Liam studied Adam. “I know how difficult it is to fit into a family, to get the rhythm and the warmth of it, to be comfortable. I was overwhelmed at first, but there is nothing like family, Adam. There’s an old cabin on the ranch we bought and you can find some quiet there to work, if you want. We’re just finishing the house plans now and will start building soon. You’re going to have a rancher for a brother.”

Liam glanced at Adam’s mobile telephone and laptop batteries charging on a workbench. “You have what you need to work, I guess, and the old wood cookstove keeps it warm. You’re welcome to the cabin, or staying with us. I’ve got an idea that the Tallchief family—and it’s a big one—is giving us time to reacquaint, but they’ll be having a dinner at the old house soon for a gathering of the clan. Later, when you’re more comfortable with them, you’ll be expected in full plaid and kilt—my wife finds me quite adorable in them.”

Adam grinned. “‘Adorable.’ You look just like me. A little younger, a little less worn, but the same.”

Liam lightly punched Adam’s shoulder, an affectionate play he’d learned from the Tallchief brothers. “Aye, we’re a handsome pair we are. Swaggering, manly—”

His grin widened when Adam gave him a sturdy shoulder shove, but not enough to hurt. He’d seen brothers jostling in fun, and a thread of sorrow ran through him—he and Liam had missed so much. “Lay off. I’ll take you up on that offer of the cabin. Where is it?”

Liam’s gray eyes had a definite gleam. “Well, now. That will cost you. Please use my pickup truck. It’s safer in your hands than in my wife’s. The way she strips the gears tears
at my heart. By the way, Michelle is all set to pamper you. In fact, all the Tallchief women are probably warming up their ovens now to spoil you. Calum’s wife, Talia, just may enlist you into her plays.”

His hand rested on Adam’s shoulder, then slid to take Adam’s in a handshake. They were men now, their boyhood together torn from them. It would take time for the bond that had already started to grow. “I’ll keep your secret, Adam. Do what you have to do. I’ve found a home here that I’ve never had. I hope you’ll find peace here, too.”

“Not with Jillian in the neighborhood,” Adam said brooding darkly. “I’m not finished with her.”

Liam chuckled and grinned. “Maybe you won’t ever be,” he teased.

“Lay off. That was a long time ago.”

Just then, four-year-old J.T. burst into the station, carrying story books. At the door, Michelle’s smile was happy as the boy leaped into his father’s arms. “Daddy! Uncle Adam! Guess what? A big box came on a truck today, and someone gave me the whole Sam the Truck set of storybooks and gas station and railroad crossing signs and Irma the Flatbed and Mr. Mechanic and—Daddy, the whole Sam the Truck Highway Happy Set is at our house.”

Adam leaned back against the counter, enjoying the little boy’s delight. He’d worked hard to build Sam the Truck products, but the real joy wasn’t in financial returns—it was in moments such as this, a little boy’s or girl’s excitement. The toys were designed to give lessons in safety, in crossing railroad tracks and watching street signs. The books demonstrated kindness to others and were inspired by his childhood with Aunt Sarah. She’d often used his old toy trucks to demonstrate all the life lessons that Adam now used in his products.

“Liam, you could have told me,” Michelle said, coming to kiss her husband. “That was a pretty extravagant gift from you—but appreciated, as you can see.”

“A friend gave me a good discount,” Liam returned lightly, and winked at Adam.

By noon, Adam sat on top of the cabin’s shingled roof, repairing it. He was used to “making do” in primitive conditions; he enjoyed the physical work while he thought of Jillian and the simmering past between them. Then through the rain and mist, trucks came prowling, stopping in front of the isolated cabin. He hadn’t expected his relatives so soon, yet they stood, emerging from the mist and staring up at him. Their features, so like his own, stunned him.

“I’m Birk Tallchief,” said the man strapping on a carpenter’s tool belt. “These are my brothers, Duncan the Defender and Calum the Cool.” He motioned to three men not bearing the Tallchief black hair and gray eyes, but just as tall. “These are my brothers-in-law. The curly haired one is Alek, Elspeth’s husband, and he’s Talia’s brother. That’s Joel Palladin, Fiona’s husband. That’s his brother Nick, married to a cousin, Silver. Their brother Rafe married Demi, another Tallchief cousin, and they’ll be along when they can.”

“Nice to meet you. I’d invite you in for dinner, but a sandwich from the grocery store’s deli isn’t going to serve all of you.” Adam studied the Tallchiefs’ features. Jillian had been right; they were a match to him—tall, lean, with dark complexions complementing their black hair and gray eyes. The Palladins were a different matter, with brown wavy hair and one looking like the other. According to Elspeth, the five Tallchief children had fought to stay together, but the three Palladins had had a rougher course—their father had tried to rob the convenience store and instead had killed the Tallchiefs’ parents, who had stopped for pizza for their hungry brood. With their father in prison, the Palladins had managed to keep their honor, despite a few minor teenage scrapes.

“Elspeth said you’d be staying,” Duncan said as he began helping Calum unload boards from the back of the
truck. “Some of the flooring needs replacing before the furniture arrives. It’s an odd assortment—just old things we’re not using—but it should serve. We’ll have plenty of food soon enough, but the orders were to get a proper floor laid and to sturdy up the old porch.”