Eye of the Storm (21 page)

She dialed Mac's number. Before going any further, she wanted him to know what she'd found. She told him where in the system to look. Within seconds, they were scanning the same data and Zan was explaining the files' existence.

"Why didn't we find this when we searched five years ago?" he asked.

"I wanted to ensure that our bogus data could never find its way into agency files, so I fenced it off with a series of passwords and commands that only I knew. Or so I thought. Obviously, Dar was more computer literate than he let on. I think someone at the Agency did the work while he was in the field.

"If you look at his transmissions, you'll notice that some weeks after Stormwalker went to
Vlad
, their style and pattern changes from our standard format and frequency. I think someone rewrote
Stormwalker's
reports to mimic Dar's and passed them off as his."

"What's your next move?" Mac asked.

"Have you confirmed our suspicions about Ian?"

"We're almost there."

"Then I should continue going through the files, to make sure we haven't missed anything. Of course, you could put your people on it, but I'd like to finish what I started."

"Whatever you want is fine with me. I'd rather use my team elsewhere and you're doing a super job where you are."

"Thanks, but Mac, there's one more thing." The string of expletives that followed her report about Kenny nearly fried the wires. "I'm going after Stormwalker to warn him."

"You
be
careful,
y'hear
?" She heard both his frustration and his concern.

"I will."
 

She was glad she hadn't told Kenny she planned to look for Stormwalker, that her instincts had warned her to silence, but what she'd kept a secret from Kenny she had no trouble sharing with Mike. He could provide little help, except to suggest that Stormwalker might be with his grandmother, a possibility she'd considered.

"Are you familiar with his haunts?" Zan asked. "Any places he'd choose if he wanted to get away for awhile."

"There's only one I know of, a cabin he and his father used for hunting, but it's been years since anyone's been up there. I doubt if the place is still standing."

"It wouldn't be near Le Mirage, would it?"

"That'd be easy," Mike said with a shake of his head. "No, I'm afraid it's in the Black Hills, just outside the park."

"I'll need a map," Zan said. "Could you provide one?"

"I can," he said. "And company, too, if you want."

"Thanks, but I can't risk your safety. I'll take the map in the morning, if that's possible."

He nodded. "I'll have it by the time you're ready to leave. Do you want to use the pickup?"

"I'll use my RV. It has an extra gas tank and heavy duty suspension.
And a portable generator."
She shrugged. "I'd rather have four walls around me than camp out."

Zan left to purchase supplies for her trip. Although she wasn't sure she'd find Stormwalker, she bought steaks for two.

Early the next morning, Mike helped her decipher his lines and markings. He briefed her on key landmarks and the places where she would encounter rough going.

"Let me go with you. I know this country."

"Thanks for the concern. I'll be fine." She handed him the keys to her car. "Take her out on the road once or twice." He'd grinned. "It will be my pleasure."
 

As the powerful custom engine ate up the miles to Emma
Redfeather's
house, Zan began to experience a heady sense of enthusiasm. Her pulse quickened and she found it difficult to suppress a smile. She wasn't sure if the cause was the sense of an adventure about to begin or the anticipation of once again being with Stormwalker if she found him.
 

Rolling down the window, she let the early morning wind touch the side of her face as it rushed past. Still cool, it served to clear whatever cobwebs clung to her mind after the attack. She found herself reviewing what had happened, searching for some fact she'd initially missed or had forgotten, but by the time Emma's house came into view, she knew there was nothing.

Stormwalker's
grandmother was working in her garden and beckoned to Zan to join her. "Can I help?" Zan asked.

"I'm pulling weeds," Emma said.

Zan smiled at her. "I think I can handle that."

They knelt between neighboring rows of the summer's last crop of vegetables and worked in comfortable silence. Finally, Zan asked, "Has your grandson been here?"

Emma chuckled. "And I thought you came to see me."

Zan blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude, Grandmother."

"I'm glad you called me that," Emma said. "I hope it will mean more between us someday."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You have some feelings for my grandson, haven't you?"

"I sure haven't fooled anyone," Zan said, "except maybe
myself
."

Emma smiled warmly at her. "Just so you're not fooling yourself, any more."

"No, Grandmother, not anymore."

Emma shook her head once in satisfaction. "He stopped here on his way. Said he was going away to make things safer for everyone but didn't say where."

"How long ago was that?"

"Yesterday," Emma said.
"Just after the sun came up."

"Did he say how long he planned to be away?" Zan asked. When Emma shook her head, Zan began pulling idly at another patch of weeds, estimating traveling time to Le Mirage. She looked up, saw the mountains at the horizon line and silently wondered if her search would take her that far.

"Why does Billy Winter hate your grandson?"

"You got time?"

"For answers I do."

"When Stormwalker was a child, the other boys taunted him and called him 'White Eyes'. He came to me and asked why his eyes were not a warm, honest brown like everyone else's.
 
I knew that the white-man scientists had ideas about how such things could or could not happen.
But
I was not one of those and I said, 'Perhaps some long forgotten
wasichu
lived among us and left an echo of himself in our blood. Maybe this white man who should remain buried in time has come back to life in you as a sign from
Wakan
Tanka.'

"He wanted to know if I could make some medicine that would change him to be like everyone else. I told him no medicine exists to make a man into something he is not. Even Old Elk didn't have such power.

"'You are who you are meant to be,' I told him.
'
Your eyes are of the sky, the oceans,
the
four-legged who roams where he wishes. Ours' are of the earth. If you are made different, perhaps it is meant for you to see what we cannot, to go where we cannot. Your eyes, like your strength, are gifts to be used wisely and for the good of your people.'

"So he ran with the pack of boys, some older, some younger, all of them getting into this kind of mischief or that, most of the time managing to escape without doing damage to themselves or others.

"With patience, he endured the taunts and jokes about the difference that set him apart from the others, about the gentleness they saw as timidity, about the good mind that often guided them away from serious harm. He'd been taught never to use his physical strength in anger and he took no action, knowing he could put an end to the torment any time he'd had enough.

"One day he decided the time had come. He knew he didn't have to prove anything to himself, but he did have to prove himself to the others, or they would never leave him in peace.

He challenged each of the boys to a contest based not on strength but on skill. Each opponent chose the sport in which he excelled, but when it was finished, he had beaten them all, each at his own game.

"Now, instead of making him the butt of their teasing, they chose him to be their leader and never again called him anything but Stormwalker or Kola, which means friend. All except the one whose place he'd taken. His name was Billy Winter."

 
"Is it possible that what happened back then could have been enough to turn Billy against him forever?"

Emma shrugged. "Sometimes when the hurt is too deep to touch, a man will defend the pain he can reach. So a test of skill becomes more important than it should and the real hurt festers unseen until it can no longer be contained."

Zan considered her words. Although she wanted the facts behind Emma's cryptic message, intuition told her she would have to find them elsewhere.

Even so, Emma had said a lot. The animosity between Stormwalker and Billy Winter was old and ran deep, and such great anger often took the place of great love. That these bitter enemies had once been close friends made sense. She nodded and looked at the horizon again.

"Why do your eyes wander so far?" Emma asked.

Worry skittered along her nerve endings and the need to see
Stormwalker's
face tugged at her. "I have to find your grandson. I don't want to offend you, but it's necessary."

"I know, Granddaughter," the old woman said with a smile. "We will have time later on, when everything is settled."

Zan had the road to herself. The sky was a bright autumn blue and the breeze, though warm, had lost its blazing heat. The fields of grass bordering the highway had begun to fade from summer yellow to autumn brown. Within days, the aspen and cottonwood leaves would turn as well and the brief but potent Dakota summer would be over.

She had a feeling she would find Stormwalker at Le Mirage and made that her next stop. She followed the streambed as far as the woods bordering the meadow. After parking the camper beneath a rocky overhang, she entered the woods. When she broke through to the other side of the trees, she saw the vista stretched out before her, as breathtaking as it had been the first time she'd seen it.

She looked for signs of a campfire or footprints along the stream bank, but found nothing. That didn't surprise her. He always destroyed evidence of his visits, brushing away his tracks and packing out any refuse to preserve the unspoiled nature of the place.

She turned her back to the water and stared at the stately Ponderosa pines in silent frustration as an inner voice chided.
He's
a woodsman and a hunter, for heaven's sake!
And
he knows this country by heart. He could have been here and gone without your ever knowing.
Or
he could be somewhere else entirely
.

 
"This was a really stupid idea," she muttered in disgust.

"You got that right," Stormwalker said from behind.

Startled by his soundless approach, she nevertheless caught the anger beneath his even tone. It goaded her, stirring her, enabling her to ignore the wild beating of her heart and a jolt of pleasure that set her head spinning.

She turned. "Why did you leave the way you did?
Without any explanation?"

"After what happened in the barn, I wanted to keep you out of danger. Why did you follow me?"

"To tell you everything we know about your setup."

His eyes lit up. "You found my reports."

"And more.
Let's go to the RV and I'll show you."

"I'd prefer you just tell me and leave. You're in danger around me."

"Where's your campsite?"

"My horse is picketed in the trees. Why?"

She ducked behind him and pushed at the small of his back. "Get moving."

"No." He faced her. "Go back home."

"Listen to me. I ran from the Agency when Dar died. I ran from the police force when I got shot. I'm not running again."

"You don't have to prove anything to me."

"Only to myself."

He held her close. "I missed you."

"I missed you something fierce." She felt his lips warm on her skin and raised her mouth for a kiss. "So will the horse be okay overnight?"

He nodded. "I saw to her earlier."