Thunder In Her Body (39 page)

Blaze sat down with Alberto, the general contractor and construction foreman, going over the next phase of construction on the house.  Inspectors must come in at certain points to make sure everything is being built to specification and safety codes.  Inspections, as much as anything, can slow the construction process.  There was no rush.  Blaze just wanted everything done right the first time.

“I’m building this log home for my wife,” he mentioned to Alberto several times.  “I want it to be right.”

While the newlyweds waited for their sailing date to arrive, Blaze busied himself with the ranch and his business transactions; Lynette worked tirelessly with Alberto to select certain styles and types of materials to be used in the construction while they were gone.  She even selected alternate items, should the first choices go out of stock, or not come in sufficient quantities.  Neither Blaze nor she wanted to get a call in the middle of Alaska from the site saying this thing or that was not available.  The only decisions they wanted to make were when to crawl out of bed and what was next on their sightseeing itinerary!

There were discussions about various types of slate flooring, and Lynette wanted an inlaid teepee placed into the floor in front of the Great Room fire place.  That design had to be drawn, cut, and inset.  As a couple, they agreed that the entrance doors, which faced the East, should be recycled from other old,
New Mexico homes.  And if found, they wanted pieces cut out of each side of the two doors, and the shape of hands cut in, backed by heavy glass.  The idea was that when the doors were closed, the two hands would appear to clasp together, not like a religious depiction, but as warmth, comfort and security.  It was a symbol of their relationship.

Lynette took Blaze with her the next time she had any information for the young black workman.  He was pleased to meet Blaze and complimented him on his wife.  “Don’t too many strangers just step in and try to help,” he said earnestly.  “I’m gettin’ a court date in Lubbock soon.  I’ve filed my paperwork for a hearing and blood tests.  All I have to do is scrape the $800 together.  It’s a shame I have to do this, but I can’t go on much longer with all this hanging over my head, paying out almost everything I get, for them that ain’t mine,” he admitted. “I love all those kids, but most of ‘em ain’t mine,” he said woefully.  Blaze reached in his back jeans pocket and pulled out his check book.  He wrote the man a check for a thousand dollars.

“No sir, I cain’t take that from you,” he said instantly, holding his hand up in the stop position.  “I’m a workin’ man.  I’ve got a good job with this company.  I can pay my way,” he insisted.

“Yes you can,” Blaze insisted.  “You go get your business straight, then buy yourself some protection,” he said, joking, but only a little bit.

The young man stared long at the check.

“I’ll pay you back, sir,” the young man promised.  “I will.”

Lynette gave the young man a big hug and said, “Y’all build us a good house now, ya’ here,” in her feigned
Texas accent.

Lynette knew why Blaze did what he did.  It was kindness, pure generosity.  He wanted to loose that young man from the pain he, himself, had suffered all these years.  He made sure Alberto and some of the other work crew observed the interaction, and instead of shaking his hand, as they left, he bent over and hugged the young man!  And that put a stop to all the gossip.

Aaron planned to be at the ranches most of the time, with Clare flying in each weekend.  They’d have the house to themselves and get a real feel for what married life would be like there.  Clare would serve as mistress of the manor, a task for which she was more than suited.  And she could check on the puppies.

“Aaron,” Blaze called out from the entryway of the house.  “I’m heading down to Arapaho County land office.  I’d like you to come with me if you can spare the time.

“Hell, I ain’t doing nothing special right now.  What’s up?” he replied jovially.

“You know what I told you Lynette overheard about some sort of land deal that probably affects me, well it can’t be about anything other than that strip of land near the tribal lands you and I have had our eye on.  I wanna get a handle on what’s going on there before we leave on our honeymoon.  With Izzard and Tomahawk Mason buddied up together, there’s something we don’t know about that strip.  We need to sniff around and figure out if we’re about to be screwed.  Neither one of them is worth shootin’ and I don’t like what Lynette heard.

Aaron and Blaze pulled into the parking lot of the City County Offices of Arapaho County around 10:30 that morning and went directly to the Land and Tax Assessor’s Office where they visited with Mr. Hardisty, the County Clerk, who knew them well.

“Come on in my office,” he beckoned to the men.  After he shut the half-glass door, he turned around abruptly
.

“There’s sure been a lot of inquirin’ about that piece of land here lately.  Why are you all so interested
, he inquired?”

Before Aaron could answer, Blaze asked, “Who are the other people who’ve been so interested?”

“Do you know a P.P. Izzard?” the clerk asked with a distrustful tone in his voice.

“I’ve met him.  You might say his reputation proceeds him,” Blaze laughed quietly.

“Then you are aware that some of his business, shall we say,
deals
did not bear the mark of the highest of business practices,” the clerk said slyly, with an eyebrow raised.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Aaron interrupted.  “Hardisty, between just us, he’s as crooked as the trail a sidewinder rattlesnake leaves in the sand.”

“Well, in my position I have to be careful about characterizing citizens, but I believe you do have the measure of the man,” the clerk replied.  “It seems that Mr. Izzard is one of only a small number of people who know why that strip of land has no one’s name on it, at least none legally.”

“What does that mean,” Blaze asked with a frown on his brow.

“Mr. Snowdown, some of the oldest records we have in the courthouse show that piece of land to be an ancient Indian burial site, and on top of that there is a small cave with incredible ancient artifacts that the State and University don’t want disturbed.  When asked, they hesitate to admit that the cave even exists.  In addition to all that, there is a hidden opening to a small underground acquifer which could furnish fresh water to a large part of the northern area of our county if ever we come under enemy attack.  The United States government, the Arapaho County government, the Tribal government, two universities and individual citizens who claim Spanish land grant rights – everyone has tried legally to get that piece of land.”

“Then where the hell are the records,” Aaron demanded.

There was a long, embarrassed pause before Mr. Hardisty, red faced, responded.  He cleared his throat.  “We have been unable to relocate most of those documents since shortly after Mr. Izzard began his, shall we say, inquiries.”

“Are you sayin’ that some son-of-a-bitch just walked in here and walked back out with valuable court documents?” Aaron said, clearly angry.

“Well, Mr. Whitehall, we do not know for sure that the documents are missing.  We only know that they cannot be found at this time, and because there is an element of national security involved, I have been instructed not to make public the
misplacement
of these records, nor to openly accuse anyone.  Do you understand what I mean?” the clerk said, looking at both Aaron and Blaze with a telling glare.

“So, if I found some way to purchase that strip in good faith, I’d spend the rest of my life tied up in litigation, trying to use it or ever sell it again.  Moreover, I would risk having it taken away from me, without compensation.  Is that what you’re telling me,” Blaze asked, sucking his bottom lip.

“Yes sir, and as I see that you are a Native-American, if your intent was to deed it over to the Tribal Government, the other interested entities would drain every dollar from the coffers of the reservation, if they tried to hold on to it.  This piece of land could bankrupt the tribe.  I cannot, gentlemen, impress on you how valuable that piece of land is in terms of its historical significance, or its National Security relevance.  It is, in my opinion, not worth owning.  Oh, and by the way, we have never had this conversation.  For the record, this visit had to do with the property you already own around Timberon, Mr. Snowdown, nothing more!  You are here to check on your property, I believe,” he said with a stony face.  After an awkward pause, Mr. Hardisty concluded the conversation.

“I bid you good day gentlemen, and if anything more comes of the documents, you will receive my only telephone call on the subject,” and he stepped to the door, opening it courteously.

“Blaze, you know I’m a thorough researcher.  I know my craft.  Now I understand why I couldn’t find anything detrimental to the purchase of that property,” Aaron apologized as they drove back to the ranch.

“So Izzard figured that he’d tie me up in red tape, or the tribe, if I donated it, for the rest of our lives,” Blaze opined.  “I can understand Tomahawk wanting to get back at me because of the trial, but what the hell is Izzard to me?  Why would he want to hurt me?” Blaze asked.

“There’s got to be something mighty important in it for each of them,” Aaron replied with certainty.

“Well, they won’t get whatever sick satisfaction they were planning from us.  But just for the hell of it, let’s fuck with them a little bit and let them keep thinking we’re interested in the property,” Blaze suggested with a wicked laugh.  “With luck, maybe we can turn the tables on their sorry asses.  You can bet your bottom dollar that the
y’re profiting from this is somehow.  Money’s got to be at the crux of their intent.”

C
HAPTER 27

¤

The Honeymoon

F
inally, on the 22
nd
of July, the honeymoon that would include the Canadian Yukon and major parts of Alaska, officially began.  Blaze and Lynette flew off to Vancouver, British Columbia, for a three day stay until embarkation.  They used the days to visit Whistler, a marvelous ski resort during the winter, which overlooks the city.  They shopped on Granville Island, which isn’t really an island at all, but an extension of Vancouver, and shipped items they found for the new house, back home by UPS.  They walked through Stanley Park and admired the painted totem poles, but Lynette assured Blaze that the best ones were yet to be experienced.  As their journey continued northward they would see real ones, the old ones, carved by indigenous people almost 150 years ago.

The next day they took a ferry over to Victoria, the capital of British Columbia, toured museums, the parliament building and Blaze gallantly suffered through high tea at the Empress Hotel.  He laughed quietly at the tiny sweets, and the quaint ritual passed across a vast ocean from the British Empire to the new world.

On the morning of the 25
th
, this delightfully happy couple took a cab from the hotel to the embarkation site, called Canada Place, and after presenting their pre-registration papers and passports to the ship’s staff, they boarded with the first group of passengers.  Being on a ship was
old hat
and welcomingly familiar to Blaze after spending more than twenty years in the Navy.  Lynette was a cruise enthusiast.  This would be her sixth cruise and fourth trip to Alaska.  Blaze hadn’t been exposed to the luxury of a cruise ship, so it was both excitement and pleasure for them both.  The best thing about this cruise tour was that they didn’t have to spend seven days on ship – only four, and then they would begin the land portion of the cruise tour.

“Are you happy
Lynn?” Blaze asked his bride, holding her around the waist as the ship  passed slowly under the Lions Gate Bridge out of Vancouver harbor.

“Deliriously so, Sweetie,” she cooed, pulling his arms even tighter around her.

Once at sea, the honeymooners were treated to elegance and unparalleled service.  They could spend time alone in their suite, with the big picture window and balcony, watching the glacier-carved, snow-streaked mountains pass before them, or they could mingle freely with the other passengers.  The meals were culinary extravagances. Blaze got to sample a variety of European beers, and Lynette, try as she might, could not resist an occasional splurge at the dessert bar.  Not to worry Blaze guaranteed.  He’d
work
the calories off her!  And he did his damndest.  He’d jokingly told her he’d worked out an algarhythmic formula for how many calories the average act of love-making burned, their kind of lovemaking, so he decided how many times a day he should bed his wife, to help her keep that slim figure.  In fact, he urged her to indulge, because it would cause him to work harder, and he was a hard workin’ man!

On the night of the Captain’s Dinner, a tradition on cruise ships, the captain invited all of those newly married and others celebrating wedding anniversaries to take the dance floor for their special dance.  Toward the end of the dance a spotlight for some reason trained itself only on them.  Now, one has to get a vision of what Blaze looked like.  Six feet tall, straight as an arrow, wearing a finely tailored black silk tuxedo, laying over a blindingly white pleated shirt and black bow tie.  His black dress boots gleamed in the light.  All of that set against that shiny black hair, surrounding a golden tanned face which displayed straight white teeth.  And a smile that knocked half the women in the room off their feet.  Blaze was almost indescribably handsome.  He held his lady, dazzling in white satin and sequins, out at arms length and bowed; she curtsied to her husband like the regal being she was.  He directed her into a smooth and graceful waltz, showing her off to the world.  She beamed.  They could have been contestants on Dancing With The Stars.  The other guests applauded.  It was a stellar moment in the life of Mr. and Mrs. Blaze Snow Comes Down.  Back in their suite, out of their finery and, as Lynette joked, “with all the spackle scraped off her face,” Blaze took her into his arms and danced her over to the bed.