The Quadrant Mountains
Pairing: Chris/Vin, all Seven present
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: slash, m/m sex, angst
Alternate Universe Yellowstone
Summary: Bad weather leads to an archaeological discovery that leads Chris to Vin's history - whether Vin wants it to be known or not.
Beta-ed by: Sara, our wonderful universe founder and primary creator, Jill (yes, I saved the darned dog, even though she really wanted to go home with Josiah!), Marnie, and Kim - they have all suffered through this monstrosity with me, and I take all blame for anything that doesn't work! These guys are awesome, but mine, mine, all mine!!
Size: Approx. 315K
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"Dammit - careful, Buck, you're gonna slide - " Chris leaned back, using his weight to pull on the rope that reached from him to Buck, then, below them, Nathan. He was leaning against a tree, the rope resting around it as though it were a pivot; they would need it more when they started moving the two hikers over the boggy ground. The incline wasn't steep, but with the constant rains of the past two weeks, the ground here was treacherous; the rivers were overfull as well, the run-off saturating the ground and making mud.Added to that was a small earthquake two nights ago - not enough to shake things up badly, but enough to create a small rifts, one of which was right here where they were digging out two errant hikers who had been trapped in a groundswell that had ended in a new trench opening at the bottom of the long hill. One of the hikers had either sprained or broken his ankle, which was why Nathan was at the bottom of the incline with Vin, in the trench.
Chris' radio squawked at that moment, the sound just loud enough to be heard over the background of the rushing water and the steady, driving rain. He wondered if he would ever be dry again, then wondered if the equipment they were carrying would live up to is reputation. Good thing JD had been bored last week; he'd taken the time to double check all the radios and receivers, finding that both Chris and Vin's were just at the point of failing.
"701," he called into the receiver, wiping at his face with his free hand. It didn't matter; the drizzle had it soaked again, despite his hat.
"701, this is base," JD's voice blared at him, making him wince. "Chris, you get 'em out yet?" His excitement made Chris' head pound.
"Nathan's with them now, JD, I'm waiting on a status report - "
"You gotta get out of there now," the youngest member of their team interrupted. "We just got word from 'quake guys - they think there's gonna be another tremor coming soon and with all this rain, they think it could be trouble out there!"
"Great, just great," Chris spat. "All right, let me get the others moving, 701 clear."
He flipped channels, knowing that Buck had probably heard JD's announcement, but that Vin would have his radio off the main com channel and Nathan would have his turned down while dealing with the hikers.
"701 to 704 - Vin, come in."
"704," Vin answered, his voice quiet. "Nate's working on it now, Chris, thinks it's a pretty bad sprain. Woman says they were looking for their dog."
Chris could hear the annoyance in the other man's voice; Vin hadn't been happy with this call-out.
"Tell Nathan we're gonna have to rush this along; got a warning of another tremor coming, just like you said." Chris smiled despite himself, remembering the way Vin had been restless that morning, pacing Chris' kitchen as the coffee brewed and Chris himself had been trying to wake up.
"Dammit," Vin swore, and Chris' smile widened. "All right, I'm gonna go ahead and get the girl out - you and Buck look for us. 704 out."
He signed off before Chris had a chance to chastise him about language - not that it would do any good; Vin barely spoke at all, so it was always a toss-up whether it was a good thing or not that at least he spoke once in a while.
As if on cue, two figures appeared, more or less, at the bottom of the incline. The one wearing the uniform hat should have been Vin, but despite the distance, Chris knew it wasn't; the movements were all wrong, and the person was struggling on the muddy ground. The second person, barely visible in the fading daylight, was steadier and calmer, and even though it was plastered to his head and darkened in its wetness, Chris recognized the long blond-brown hair that he had come to know so well.
The woman slipped several times as she started up the slope, and most times, Vin caught her and steadied her. By the time she reached Buck, Vin was as muddy as if he had fallen, the green of his pants barely showing under the dark splotches and streaks of wet dirt.
In the minutes it took Buck to get her to Chris, Vin was gone, back into the recess that had been created at the side of the base of the mountain.
"We can't find Sadie," the woman was crying as Buck handed her off to him. "She's got to be here somewhere - she came this way - oh, God, I hope she's didn't get caught in the flood - you are looking for her? She's a terrier, white with brown spots - "
"Yes, ma'am," Chris agreed, pushing her up the last few yards to the flat plain of the trail at the top of the incline. He dropped the rope, hoping that it wouldn't get too mired with mud before they needed it again.
When the first report of the lost hikers had come in, prompted by a phone call from the girl's mother who had gotten part of a cell-phone message, they had started looking along the path the hikers had announced they were taking. With the weather worsening, the rain intensifying, Chris had called out the horses. They animals stood on the trail at the top of the ridge, unbothered by the rain.
But Chris noticed that Peso was a little more skittish than usual, his head jerking up every so often. Even though he was a Park Service horse, for all intents and purposes, he's was Vin's; the horse and ranger had bonded almost as quickly as Chris and Vin had bonded.
Like Vin, the horse had a sixth sense about all things wild, and right now, it was working.
As if on cue, he felt a slight vibration in the ground under his feet. The horses whinnied and stirred, and the woman he was helping turned, her fingers clawing into his rain coat as her body slammed hard into his, almost knocking him down and jarring his hat off his head.
"You've got to get him out!" she cried, her words hysterical. "You've got to get Brian out - and find Sadie - "
"Calm down," he ordered, trying to pry her hands off of him. "We're doing everything we can - "
The chirp of his radio was almost a relief, but he had a hard time getting around her clinging to claim it. "701," he snapped, pulling his hat back on as he got the radio up.
"Gonna need help," Vin's voice came back hard and quick. "That last rumble moved some dirt around - too much. Sides are falling in - we're gonna need y'all to pull."
"On our way - Vin, you and Nathan - "
"704 out," Vin cut him off before he could finish. He knew why - his friend didn't want to hear the order.
"Goddammit," Chris snarled, forgetting the woman - and the prohibition on cursing in uniform.
"You've got to get Brian - "
"You've got to get hold of yourself," he snapped back, pushing her hands away from him.
She stepped back as if he had struck her, but he was already moving to the side of the hill and looking down, his radio still in hand. "702," he spat, not surprised when Buck looked straight up at him. He let his radio fall away and called instead, "We gotta get 'em out of there. Vin says the walls are falling in - we're gonna have to pull 'em out!"
Buck nodded. "Get the horses - we'll use them."
Chris held up a hand in acknowledgment, turning to round up their mounts. The woman was still standing there, staring at him. He had to move around her, which was difficult as she stepped into his path.
"What are you going to do? What can I do? You've got to get them - "
"Ma'am, I need for you to stay here and stay out of the way -" Another tremor hit, this one stronger.
The horses edged more, all four of them grumbling their unease and prancing about, and the woman again reached for the reassurance of Chris' body. But he was past her, catching up reins and lead ropes and guiding the large beasts haphazardly down the slippery embankment.
Buck was at the edge of the crevasse pulling on the hiker that Nathan and Vin were struggling to lift to him. The ground was giving way and Buck was trying to get a hold on the hiker - Brian - while still keeping his footing. Chris arrived just in time to see Vin and Nathan launch the man into Buck's arms, the tall Ranger managing to pull them both back just before the area under his feet gave way as another shudder shifted the earth. They went down in a tangle of limbs, with Buck on bottom, but Chris' concern was on the wave of mud that dropped onto the men left below.
"Vin!" he screamed, dropping the horses' reins and running as close as he could to the side. "Nathan!"
A wet haze that was partly water, partly dirt, and partly other lightweight debris was still ghosting around in the aftermath of the shift of soil, and he couldn't see much of anything at first. Slowly, the silt began to settle in the onslaught of the constant drizzle and the temporary stilling of the tremors, and he thought he saw movement under the disturbed soil.
Then a hand, dark and sluggish, clawed through the mire followed by a face - Nathan, gasping for air.
Buck, thank goodness, had gotten to his feet and kept his head - he was there with the rope, tossing a large coil of it toward Nathan even as he moved back toward the horses with the other end.
Chris forced himself to move, refusing to think of anything but the immediate - getting Nathan and Vin out.
Nathan was gasping for air, so covered in mud that he was virtually unrecognizable. He floundered around, trying to pull free from the mire - then his shoulder broke the roiling surface and he extended enough to catch the coil and twist his wrist and upper arm into it.
Rope burn, Chris thought passingly, but right now it was a far lesser worry.
"Vin!" he yelled even as he watched the rope pull taut, "where's - "
"I got him!" Nathan yelled back, "but hurry, he ain't movin'!" The rope pulled tighter, and Chris could hear Buck urging Steele, and knew the horse was pulling.
Too fast, at first; Nathan gasped as the rope jerked and pulled, tearing at his skin and at his shoulder. But half his body came free before Chris yelled for Buck to slow down - and Vin's head was out, hanging past Nathan's other arm, both dripping mud and water.
Time slowed as Chris watched, helpless, feeling the world shake anew, watching more mud slide down toward his two men, watching the rope break Nathan's skin and crimson mix into the dreary brown and green tableaux, hearing Nathan try not to cry out as he bore his weight and Vin's, muffled curses mixing into the resistant whining of the mountain as its very foundation shifted.
Another mudslide, Nathan almost buried once more, the rope holding him just clear of the flood.
As the shaking slowed Chris stepped to the edge, thinking to jump in himself even as he knew better.
"No, Chris," Buck yelled, "he's coming - wait!"
Buck was right, he knew Buck was right, but Nathan was hurting, losing his grip on Vin, Vin was again beneath the mud -
The rope moved, another hard jerk and this time Nathan actually screamed. But he was free, and Vin was almost clear, and Chris could almost reach them -
He was holding onto the rope himself, not feeling it blister the palms of his hand, not thinking of the extra tension he had put on Nathan, thinking only of reaching out as far as he could.
He caught the edge of Nathan's arm, pulling as hard as he could, then he had Nathan's collar, then an arm around Nathan's waist -
Suction caught them just as they were almost free, the mountain not ready to surrender its sacrifice. Only Steele's accidental bolt forward kept them all from going back in when Nathan lost his hold on Vin's collar and both he and Chris scrambled to catch the unconscious man.
They landed in a heap, Nathan gasping in pain and Chris silent on the bottom, the air knocked from his lungs. Nathan rolled off of him, tears streaming down his face, leaving tracks in the mud, and Chris was gasping himself - but he was heaving himself into a sitting position, then crawling to kneel beside Vin. Behind him, Buck was off Steele and moving forward, his boots slogging through the thick ground.
Vin was on his back, so still that Chris froze, panicked.
"Get the mud out of his mouth and nose!" Nathan's voice was sharp in his ears, and he found himself moving, wiping the dense sludge from the familiar features, turning Vin's head and sticking his own dirty fingers into the unresisting mouth, gagging despite himself as he pulled wet dirt and God knew what else from inside, until Vin struggled against him, pulling away enough to spit and cough and finally vomit, purging a small mess of dirt and bile onto the ground. He was breathing hard, but he was breathing, and Chris thought perhaps he might be breathing himself.
Buck knelt beside them, his eyes moving from Vin to Nathan, clearly unsure about what to do and who to do it for.
"My pack's gone," Nathan rasped out, cradling his arm against his chest. Tears still leaked from the outer corners of his eyes, but he was under control. "Buck, gimme that rope -I need a sling. My shoulder's dislocated, maybe broken - can't feel it yet. Get some water, rinse Vin's mouth out. We need an ambulance at the trail head - need to get going soon."
It wasn't like Nathan to issue orders except in medical emergencies, so Chris and Buck both responded instantly, and, Chris thought later, thankfully. Buck moved to Nathan's side, pulling his long knife free of its sheath to cut the rope and help Nathan fashion a sling.
Chris was on his feet, reaching for his radio even as he moved to Pony, his horse, to pull a water bottle from his saddle bag. He was back at Vin's side, pushing matted hair from the other man's face even as he clicked off his radio in the middle of JD's frantic questions about who was hurt and how bad.
Vin was still breathing heavy, but it was evening out. He rubbed at his own face, managing to clear off some of the dirt and grime even as he pushed himself shakily to a sitting position.
"Easy," Chris said, leaning in close, his hands on Vin's shoulders for support. "Don't rush it."
Vin drank water, rolling it around in his mouth before spitting it out. He did it again, then a third time before actually swallowing any. Afterwards, he sat for a minute, letting himself rest against Chris' hands, his eyes closed. It was as close to a public demonstration of trust as he had come yet, and Chris was both relieved and worried.
"Need to get out of here," Buck called, helping Nathan to rise. "Get Nate and Vin back - and our hikers, too."
It was then that Chris even remembered the reason they were here. Looking around, he spotted Brian over near the horses, leaning heavily on a tree. The woman was with him, having made her way back down the hill, and even though he was the one injured, Brian was holding her up, his arms around her, one hand stroking down her back as she sobbed.
"We'll have to double up," he said, climbing to his own feet, then helping Vin stumble to his. He held the other man as he swayed, one arm sliding familiarly around Vin's slender waist, heedless of the mud they were sharing. "You're riding with me." Those words were softer, murmured against Vin's ear as rain fell harder on them.
"Can you ride?" Buck was calling to the hikers as he helped Nathan over to Steele.
Surprisingly, the woman could, and after a few minutes of coddling from Buck and Brian, she calmed enough for Buck to get her into a saddle, then to get Brian behind her. It took both him and Chris to get Nathan mounted on Steele, where Buck would ride behind him, holding him on. Chris mounted Peso next, so that Buck could help get Vin up behind him, then Buck was up on Steele and leading the way, the woman and Brian right behind him. Chris brought up the rear, leading Pony who was riderless; he worried about the fading light and the increasing rain, so it took him a few seconds to realize that Vin was tugging on his rain coat and trying to get his attention.
"What?" he asked, looking over his shoulder as he pulled the reins just enough to make Peso side step irritably.
"There," Vin said, or he thought Vin said; his words were unclear and his voice a bare whisper. But he was pointing as well, back toward the crevasse - which was now shifting again as water seemed to be mixing in from somewhere, probably an underground spring or stream feeding into the river. Chris looked, squinting; he couldn't see anything, not at first, all the mud and silt and debris looking as brown and wet as it had all along.
Then little colors began to appear in the brown plateau, and some vague shapes.
He urged Peso closer - but not too close, staring into the bog.
Something whitish lay close to the surface, long and narrow and too familiar.
Behind him, Vin shifted, and Chris reached back, catching him above the knee. "Stay put," he said, "you ain't in no shape to get down, I ain't in no shape to getcha back up here, and I sure as hell ain't letting you anywhere near that mudhole again."
"Bones," Vin said succinctly. "Thought was what they were when we was down there." The last was harder to understand, and Chris rather hoped he hadn't heard it correctly.
"Doesn't matter," Chris said, pulling Peso's reins. "We can't check it out now. It'll have to wait until after the rain stops and the quakes settle." He clucked, and Peso balked for a second before he responded, turning.
"Burial ground," he thought Vin said against his back.
He didn't want to think about how true that had almost been.
Friday, 10:18 a.m.
Chris rubbed at his temple, trying to control the urge to laugh - or yell. How Orrin handled these things always amazed him, but the Park Supervisor had a talent for it. Even now, as Dr. Harold Van Atta droned on about the necessity of protecting the integrity of the archaeological find, Travis seemed sincerely interested in what the man said - for the third time."This find is outstanding - do you have any idea how important it is? We know so little about the Sheepeaters and their communities - this gravesite must be a central location of some sort, much larger than one small Sheepeater community!" The academic was literally twisting his hands with excitement and Chris managed to keep himself to a smile that he hid behind his hand. It was good that he was sitting across from his immediate supervisor and to the good doctor's left; only Orrin could actually see his amusement and he pointedly ignored it. Chris would pay for it later, he knew, but it was almost worth it.
"Yes, Doctor Van Atta, I have read your report, listened to all of the voice messages you have left for me - both at the office and at my home - my wife, by the way, sends her regards - "
"You simply must give us access to the site as soon as possible! We should begin excavations just as soon as weather permits - "
"Dr. Van Atta," Travis' voice was cold now, and very definite.
Chris found himself sitting up straighter as well - he knew that tone. Orrin had reached the end of his considerable patience.
Van Atta seemed to have realized it as well; he took a step back, almost tripping over the chair behind him.
Travis took a deep breath. "As I have tried to explain to you - repeatedly - there are processes that you must go through - applications, permits, requests for permission to excavate - I assume that you are more than slightly familiar with the problems of working on National Park Service lands, right? You do control several of the excavations near Obsidian Cliff, do you not?"
"I do, I do, as you know," the man rushed, leaning from one foot to the other. "That's why I assumed that we could waive some of this - "
"Dr. Van Atta," Travis held up a hand, "you are not the only person interested in that excavation. I have been in touch with Washington several times in the past two days - as I gather you have been - and my instructions on this matter are clear: while every effort will be made to expedite any requests on this matter, it will be handled through official channels and means. You, like every one else, must make the proper applications and requests."
Chris saw the other man stiffen and knew it was going to get ugly.
"Now see here, Travis, we have worked very hard over the past decade - "
"Seven years, Dr. Van Atta," Orrin interrupted as he rose to his feet. "Your organization has been granted specific rights for specific locations in the Yellowstone National Park for the past seven years." He reached down and picked up a large manila folder, holding it up. "This is a copy of everything that you have requested, applied for, been given permission for, and done in this Park for the past seven years."
It thudded heavily onto the desk as Travis continued. "Among the things it has in it are your letters objecting to anything and everything that you deem to be objectionable or obstructive to your work or what you perceive to be your rights to this Park as well, Dr. Van Atta, including your opinion that that we should not allow citizens of this country - the taxpayers who maintain and protect it - to visit it!"
Chris blinked; he couldn't remember the last time he had heard Travis raise his voice to anyone other than Chris himself.
Van Atta glared back, his own voice rising in temper as well. "These sites are among the very few links we have to a people long dead, to a history that may well vanish in the very near future. These burial grounds - any of these ruins - are over a thousand years old - maybe even older! We don't have time to wait for the slow wheels of government bureaucracy to decide who can and can't do what needs to be done. My teams are already here, with equipment and trained personnel - hell, we're in a better position to handle this than almost any other institution! The previous Park administration understood the importance of this, Travis."
They glared at each other over the space of the large desk, and Chris actually felt sympathy for them both; they were both right, in their own way.
Then Van Atta broke the moment. "You're telling those damned Indians, aren't you? They'll be all over this - we'll be up to our asses in litigation to protect their religious beliefs - which aren't even theirs! The people of these ruins are as far removed from the modern Indian as we are from the Celts! Jesus, Travis, if we wait for them to work through the politics of the local tribes, we'll never get to that site! It'll be years - "
"We are not contacting anyone specifically, Dr. Van Atta," Travis said coldly. "But the National Parks Service is issuing a statement about the possible find - we are under obligation to do so, as you well know. I will repeat, for the last time, that Washington has advised me to handle this with standard procedure. You may file your applications and your permits and any other necessary documents following the directives that you admittedly know so well. Now, sir, I have other matters demanding my attention. Good day."
It was a dismissal that Chris found himself envying. He'd have to work on that.
But then again, maybe not; Van Atta made no move to leave, still glaring at Travis. "I would think that you would want to work with us, Superintendent. The sooner this is decided, the quicker your Park will be free of all of these complications."
Travis looked at the other man, his face impassive. "Part of the function of this Park, Dr. Van Atta, is to protect and ensure the continuance of our planet's wilderness areas - and the history that's included in them. These 'complications' as you deem them are a part of what we are here for. Perhaps that's the part of all of this you seem unable to understand. The only person in a rush to get to those ruins is you. As you so succinctly put, they've been here for over a thousand years. Mother Nature has chosen to return them to the surface and we have the opportunity to study them. I don't believe that she issued an expiration date with them."
Van Atta stared at him, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words for an argument. Eventually, he turned on his heel and marched out, taking some revenge in slamming Travis' door.
Travis sighed, rubbing at his temple, too. "Sorry you had to see that," he said, dropping tiredly back into his chair. "But then again, maybe I'm not. He's part of why I called you in."
Chris nodded; he'd expected as much, given the calls they'd been getting in the Visitor's Center, Reception, and even in his own offices. "Trouble?"
Travis sighed. "Not yet, but better safe than sorry. We're going to have to protect the site. We need all access to it closed - close the barriers and post signs. But we're also going to have to assign details, especially at night. Washington wants me to hire a security company to handle it, but as it's coming up on late September and we're already downsizing, I thought I'd let you think about offering the option to some of the seasonals. I'd rather keep it in the family if possible, and Washington allowed me the option to work it out. Sanchez is strictly a volunteer, but you might ask if he'd like to work this one - I'd feel better if he were handling the coordination. As he's retired from the NPS, he's got standing to be brought back in - wish to hell he'd never retired, to be honest; he was one of the best we ever had. He's got experience with these sorts of things and he'll probably be a better liaison with you than most others."
Chris nodded, making a mental note to ask Josiah about his previous experience; he'd known the man three years now, but he was still learning things about him. And the rest of his team, as it happened.
"Van Atta will make trouble," Travis continued, leaning back in his chair tiredly. "But if it's like other times, he won't be the worst of it. We'll get everything from kids on dares to steal bones to professional treasure hunters, and they'll be all over the place just as soon as the news gets it. I was hoping to delay that until next week, give us more time to get prepared for the onslaught, but Standish has been spreading the word through the Yellowstone Foundation in hopes of encouraging donations. Mary heard about it last night and I've managed to get her to hold off on it until tomorrow. So you've pretty much got today to get that area sealed off. By tomorrow night, we'll need a detail of some sort in place. If Sanchez can't get it done - or, like a sane man, doesn't want it, you need to let me know by this afternoon so I can start making some calls."
Chris nodded, rising as he heard the dismissal in those words himself. "I'll talk to him now," he said, "let you know something by - " he checked his watch - "noon?"
"Good man," Travis acknowledged. "Let me tell you, Chris, if you think the bear-parades are bad, you're going to discover a new low in human nature. The closest I've ever come to quitting was when they found that site over near Sheepeater Cliff four years ago. 3 a.m. one morning in a snowstorm, we were digging three idiots out of an ice well. Treasure hunters who hadn't done their homework on the varying elevations of the Park. We got them out but then had to deal with the media, the outraged public, and, unfortunately, a very angry Bureau of Land Management team who had been working with the local tribes to get them to release the site for excavation. As much as I hate to say it, Van Atta's right about that; the local tribes are tenacious and unforgiving, and you'll find them outside the door just as soon as this hits the press."
"Well, they gotta right, don't they?" Chris frowned, confused.
Travis shrugged. "Van Atta's argument isn't the only one claiming that these sites are only loosely related to the tribes that are settled on the local reservations - or any of the tribes currently existing. I'd rather let the Courts sort it out, myself, but that isn't going to help with the problems that public opinion will throw at us just as soon as this is out. Batten down the hatches, this ride's going to get bumpy." He looked at his paper-laden desk and sighed. "Noon, Chris. Thanks. Oh - how's Ranger Jackson? He operational yet?"
Chris smiled; this was one of the reasons he liked working for Travis. The man kept up with his people. "It was a bad sprain," he answered. "He's in a sling and relegated to desk duty for the next several days, but he's okay."
"And Tanner? He okay?"
Chris' grinned broadened, despite himself. "He's good," he said, "very good."
As Chris left the office, he allowed himself the brief luxury of thinking that Travis was exaggerating. It was a bunch of old bones, maybe some artifacts - but, really, could it get to be as bad as his boss expected?
Yeah, the cynic in him spoke up clearly, it could get that bad.
Wednesday, 6:42 p.m.
"Where are you?" Josiah's voice was unusually tense, and Chris glanced to his right, catching Vin's eyes across the Explorer's console."Vin and I were on our way out - how bad is it?" he asked into his cell phone. Even though the road in front of them was clear, he remained still, glancing in the rear view mirror from habit. There were a couple of cars behind him, but they could wait for a minute.
"We're gonna need back-up," Josiah reported, and the tension was stronger. "These damned college kids are looking for trouble, and I suspect they plan to find it."
"We'll be right there," Chris said, closing the phone and changing the direction of his turn signal.
He waited for one car to pass, pulling out behind it and heading back into the park instead of towards the North Entrance.
"Bad?" Vin asked, and Chris wondered if he was actually feeling tension from the other man or if it as just a residual from the quick conversation with Josiah.
"Confrontation," he answered. "Since we caught those kids sneaking out the other night with things they had taken from the site, the Wind River Reservation representatives have been watching everything closely. Josiah said yesterday that it looked like they were sending a contingent of their own to provide back-up as well. Unfortunately, Van Atta's archeologists haven't taken well to it."
Vin shifted in his seat, and Chris glanced over; no matter what it had been before, it was definitely tension now.
"You okay?" he asked, reaching over and touching Vin's hand where it rested on his thigh.
Vin startled at the contact, which told Chris more than any words. Especially the words that Vin said. "Yeah, just ready to get out of here."
Chris frowned. Those were words he'd never heard from Vin before; usually it was the exact opposite. Vin loved the Park, loved being outdoors and in the wilds. Chris had already figured out that his only competition for his lover's affections would be Mother Nature, and he suspected he didn't want to force that choice. Ever.
He squeezed the hand he held, a little hurt when Vin gave no response.
The trail to the area in dispute had been closed, but Travis had - reluctantly - sanctioned the creation of a road parallel to the trail so that vehicles - Park vehicles particularly, could come and go. They hadn't yet posted a guard at the closed gate, but the way things were going, they might have to. As they grew closer to the site, the road veered downhill, the trail continuing up the hill and along the ridge.
The going was slow, the road still mostly a track made by off-road vehicles. The rains had continued - not as constant, but making up for the periodic sunshine with bouts of thunder storms that drenched everything to stillness. The ground was still soft enough to demand attention, and in places, rocks and gravel had been spread to give enough traction for tires to turn. Chris needed both hands on the wheel and on the gear shift, so he didn't get the chance to touch Vin again. For the first time since the start of their relationship, he felt Vin slipping away from him, and he worried.
By the time they arrived at the site, things had deteriorated; Chris could see Josiah standing tall and angry between two groups, his arms wide and his hands held palm-out, as if holding back a floodtide. Several of his people stood on either side of him, a couple holding long walking sticks in defensive postures - never a good sign.
From long habit, he touched the butt of his revolver, making certain it was ready, as he climbed out of the Explorer and started the long walk toward the group; the site was cordoned off to keep people away from the softer ground and the mud bog, but the students and the Shoshone representatives had taken up presence close to the barriers, requiring that the Rangers themselves move into positions there. Even though it was safe to walk, there was some wariness about rolling heavy vehicles too close to the shifting ground, so the vehicles went no farther than the boundary of the tree-line.
As he started away from the Explorer, Chris glanced back over his shoulder. Vin was sighing, but he got out of the vehicle as well. Chris was aware of the other man behind him, even though there was reluctance in the step. Vin had been wary since being pulled out of the mud, and Chris had written it off to the natural caution one developed after a near-death experience. He himself was still cautious, finding that he checked on Vin often, needing the reassurance of his lover's presence more often than usual.
"Problems, Josiah?" he called out loudly as he approached. The anger was palpable between the two groups, and Chris knew he would take little to set it off. Or set it off again; as he neared, he saw that several people on both sides of the 'no man's land' Josiah had managed to create were bloodied and bruised and being contained by their own associates.
"Seems there's a remarkable lack of trust in our abilities," Josiah answered, but his voice was a rumble, deep and bass and angry. "Mr. Trahart here," he gestured to his left, toward a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes, "and Mr. Taylor," he indicated a young blond man with hazel eyes, to his right, "seem to have a difference of opinion on who should be allowed closest to the barricade."
Chris walked straight through the crowd, pleased when it parted for him even more; he had been told he could be intimidating, and it was a quality he worked on.
"Superintendent Travis has decided for the moment to allow access to this area as far as the barricade, right?" He didn't really have to ask, he knew; but he was actually building up to a point, and Josiah - as did all of his men - understood the method.
"So far," the big man answered, a slight smile casting over his face.
"But that's tenuous, and based entirely on the assumption that everyone here respects the Park's authority and rules, right?" He looked from Trahart to Taylor, then back to Josiah.
"That's what he said to me," Josiah agreed, his voice less rumbling and more amiable. He had dropped his arms to his side, and relaxed his posture just a bit.
"So a problem like this, if reported to Supervisor Travis, could well close this area of the Park to everyone, isn't that the way you understand it?" Chris smiled up at his friend, knowing that his smile was anything but pleasant.
"It is, indeed," Josiah agreed, smiling himself. He reached to his belt and pulled out his radio. "You want to call Superintendent Travis or shall - "
"We apologize," a new voice spoke up, interrupting Josiah's question. "But we have a sacred duty to protect this gravesite."
Chris looked over to where Trahart had taken a step forward. "And I'm certain that fist fights with students go a long way towards that duty."
The tall man, almost as tall as Josiah, blinked. "I will see that the men who were involved in this are removed from the premises and suitably punished for their offense."
Chris almost laughed at the grim words and tone. It didn't seem politic, though, so instead, he turned his attention to Taylor.
The young man - didn't look to be much older than his early 20's - was glaring at Trahart as if he were responsible for every bad thing in his life. "We just want what's rightfully ours," he snapped. "This find - these artifacts are no more the property and right of these Native Americans than they are Chinese! We - tax-paying Americans - have more right to these remains than these people do - "
"Which gives you more right to attack and assault?" Chris interjected, pitching his voice just loud enough to cut through the tirade.
"They wouldn't let us near the barrier!" Taylor yelled. "And your people let them keep us away!"
"My people," Chris snapped, "are here to protect this site, not referee a dispute that's already in the courts. So here's the deal, Mr. Taylor - if I have any more trouble here, access will be refused to everyone who is not an official employee of this Park. Is that clear?"
Taylor actually opened his mouth to retort, but at that exact moment, Josiah's radio beeped, interrupting.
"MR90 Base to 705, Base to 705 - you there, Josiah?" JD - who was supposed to be off duty, but knowing him, he had been checking on something, then gotten the call from Josiah and stayed - just to make sure Josiah had back-up.
"I'm here, JD," Josiah smiled as he answered, probably thinking the same thing as Chris.
"Supervisor Travis is here. He wants to know if you want him to shut down access to the site - as he originally wanted." JD's tone was a little breathless, as it always was when he was dealing with an authority figure.
Josiah looked to Chris, then extended the radio to him. "This is your job," he said with a smile.
Chris rolled his eyes, but took the radio. "JD, let me speak to Orrin."
While he waited for his boss, he took a second to make eye contact with both Taylor and Trahart. The Shoshone leader was calm, his gaze level as he met Chris'. The kid - the kid was less calm, his anger clear on his face.
"What do you want to do, Chris?" Travis came on with no preamble.
Chris clicked the send button and answered, "For the moment, let's hold off on closing the access. I don't think Josiah's going to have too much trouble tonight. If he does, we close off this entire area - hell even, detour around the main road if we have to."
"I've already got Maintenance working on contingency plans," Travis answered, and Chris wondered if Josiah had set the volume on the radio as loud as possible or if Travis knew there was an audience and was preaching to them. "MR90 Base out."
Chris handed the radio back to Josiah, who nodded his thanks and smiled. Taylor and his disgruntled companions were grumbling but they had started moving away. Trahart and his people were silent, but also stepping back.
Chris stepped a few steps closer to Josiah and said quietly, "What do you think?"
The big man glanced around, taking account of the combatants and of his own people, then answered, "Don't think we'll have any trouble tonight, maybe not even tomorrow. But I suspect that by the weekend, tempers will be back to a low boil. You might want to plan to close off the road at 5:00 Friday evening - just go ahead and call in more troops for the weekend. Seems the students have more free time to agitate then, and these kids are dedicated to Van Atta and his 'message'." The last was said with a disdain uncommon for Josiah. He was one of the most tolerant and patient people Chris had ever met, which had made him perfect for this particular job.
"You think he's using them to cover for something?" Chris asked, feeling his own stir of annoyance.
"I think he's got more than just the history of the Sheepeaters as a motivation," Josiah said quietly. "And from what I've heard him say and what I've seen him do over the past decade, I wouldn't put it past him to use the enthusiasm and passion of these kids to try something stupid that he could use politically. You do know that he's pushing to get Travis removed as Superintendent, don't you?"
Chris blinked. "What? How can he - "
"The Superintendent before Travis gave Van Atta free rein over all the archaeology sites - even the ones that were granted to other institutions. It was a common understanding that if you wanted cooperation from the Rangers and the Park administration, you worked with Van Atta - which meant acknowledging him and his university in every article that was written, in every grant that was applied for - et cetera." Josiah took a breath, then continued calmly. "Supervisor Atkins didn't want to be bothered with - well, with anything, truth be told. He . . had his own concerns."
Chris nodded; he'd heard rumors that the previous Park administration had been lax and that one of the first things Travis had had to do was clean house. His own appointment had been one of the last in a long line, and he had understood that his predecessor had been asked to take early retirement. He hadn't liked the man, but had had little personal quarrel with him. As the third-shift supervisor, he had had little contact with him.
It had come as a complete surprise to him when Travis had asked him if he had any interest in taking the man's place.
"Supervisor Travis not only read the rulebook, but he keeps a copy on his desk," Josiah continued with a smile. "I've heard that the first time Van Atta went into his office to explain the . . . . situation of the dig sites to him, Travis had already interviewed the men who were supposed to be in charge of the sites - all of them. He knew the score and he let Van Atta know it. They've been at odds since then."
"And this is a perfect opportunity for him to undermine Orrin," Chris sighed, seeing all the problems his boss was facing.
"Maybe," Josiah said. "It could also be a good opportunity for Travis to undermine Van Atta. But those kids are the ones who are gonna be hurt if Van Atta talks them into doing something stupid, and to be honest, that's what I'm most worried about. They're young and impressionable, and they honestly believe in him. He's managed to grow a cult of a sort, and I don't think he has any self-restraint or sense of responsibility for what he can cause."
Chris nodded; Josiah had been with the Park longer than anyone else he knew. On top of that, Chris had learned to value the man's opinions. They tended to coincide with his own too much to be discounted.
"What about Trahart and his people?"
Josiah frowned at that, his grey eyes roaming over the crowd. "I've known the Wind River people a long time, spent a lot of time with them. I won't lie to you about my respect for them and their beliefs." He looked back to meet Chris' eyes. "Trahart is a good man. But many of his people can be hotheads as well - there's a lot of acrimony there, not just to Van Atta and his asinine idea that there's no real link between these sites and the Shoshone, but also to the Park Administration because of Superintendent Atkins and his administration. The local tribes lost a lot of heritage due to the mismanagement of the sites over the past decade, and Superintendent Travis has had to work very hard to get them to accept that he's not Atkins and that he's aware of the injustices. Trahart is a good man and he's giving Travis the benefit of the doubt. But the little stunt several nights ago didn't do a lot to reassure them, and I don't blame them."
Chris tilted his head, looking up at the other man. "So - Orrin didn't just pick you for this job because you needed the money."
Josiah grinned. "Supervisor Travis is a smart man, Chris. You're a testament to the fact that he always knows how to best allocate his resources."
Chris laughed at the back-handed compliment. He reached out and clapped the other man on the shoulder. "I know I've said it before, Sanchez, but I'll say it again - you decide you want to work for the Service again, you let me know. I'd like to have you back full-time."
Josiah laughed. "Thanks, it means a lot coming from you. But I rather like my volunteer status. Lets me take off time whenever I want to."
"Yeah," Chris agreed dryly. "So - spending the night here tonight is what - recreation?"
"I like to think of it as communing with the spirits," Josiah answered with a smile. "Sometimes, though, I have to talk to the wrong spirits."
Chris shook his head. "Well, I'll be at home - call if you need me." He looked up to find Trahart coming towards them, and he realized that he really wasn't in the mood.
He looked around, found Taylor and his people moving farther away, into the far line of trees. Many carried backpacks and tents, and he hoped they were planning to set up a camp and spend the evening quiet and peaceful, enjoying nature the way it was meant to be enjoyed.
For himself, he was looking forward to his soft bed and the willing body of his new lover.
On that thought, he started looking around for Vin, surprised that he hadn't been behind him and in on the conversation with Josiah.
He finally spotted him yards away, standing partly up the incline, so far back up the trail that he was almost invisible in the fading light of the day. It was more the group around him that drew Chris' eyes - a group of Trahart's people from what Chris could tell.
Vin was barely visible in the cluster, and it took Chris a few seconds to make him out; he was slumped, defensive almost, his back against a tree, his eyes down.
As Chris watched, trying to make sense of the scene, one of the others walked straight up to Vin, and even though Chris couldn't make out what he was saying, he could tell that the tone was hostile.
Chris first reaction as shock - what kind of idiot was stupid enough to piss off a Park Ranger in the aftermath of what had just happened? And didn't Josiah say that Trahart's people were giving Travis the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment?
But quickly overcoming his surprise was protectiveness - Vin was his and he had Vin's back. He was already moving up the incline toward the group, and he was peripherally aware that Josiah and Trahart himself were following.
As he neared the cluster, it became clearer that the tone the man was using was far from pleasant and unquestionably hostile. The words, however, were unfamiliar to Chris, not in any language with which he was familiar.
They were, though, comprehensible to Vin who was responding in kind, his voice low and his posture now less defensive and more submissive. His arms were at his sides, his hands in fists, but the knuckles rubbed against his thighs. His eyes were lowered, his head down, and his long hair, loosed from his pony tail now that he was off-duty, hung around his face, shielded his expression.
"Is there a problem?" Chris demanded, striding in to stand between Vin and the other man.
Vin's attacker was standing so close that when Chris came between them, he almost brushed chests with the other man. It gave him ample opportunity to see the hate in the black eyes as they glared at Vin, the hard lines of fury in the lean and weathered face.
"This is the kind of . . . man," the other sneered, spitting the last word as an insult, "that the Park Service employs?" The words were so sharp that Chris felt an explosion of breath with each one. "This is the sort of person protecting the souls of the Newe?"
"Frank," Trahart snapped, his voice cutting through the man's words.
At the same time, Chris felt fingers slip around his right bicep and Vin's voice low in his ear, calling his name.
The man, Frank, glared past Chris to Vin and he spoke again in that language that Chris didn't recognize. Vin's hand tightened its grip on Chris' arm and he whispered, "Let's go, it's okay."
Trahart was speaking again, moving into Chris' peripheral view, Josiah behind him. The Shoshone leader was using that unknown language, which now, Chris realized, must be Shoshone, but his words were clipped and few. Trahart's hand fell on Frank's shoulder, his knuckles white in the strength of his hold.
Whatever he said worked, for the man, though still sneering, stepped back and turned away. His eyes were still on Vin, though, his glare almost palpable.
"My apologies," Trahart said, looking at Chris. "Frank is young and impetuous."
Chris took a deep breath, then said, "Not me you should be apologizing to."
Behind Chris, Vin muttered, "Don't, Chris, let's just go. Please."
Trahart's dark eyes flickered to Vin, but he still spoke to Chris. "We have promised to honor your barricade, Mr. Larabee." For the first time, Chris heard a certain Steele in the man's tone. "Mr. Sanchez has earned our respect and we will accept his word as your voice, as long as the integrity of this site is maintained." He nodded to Chris, glanced once more, quickly, to Vin, then turned and walked past Josiah, drawing his people along behind him.
Chris stood silent for several seconds, watching them retreat, before turning to face Vin. "What the hell was that about?"
He wasn't angry, just confused and caught in the aftermath of confrontational adrenalin.
But Vin seemed to shrink, his body curling on itself, his arms wrapping around his slender belly. Chris missed the warmth of the hand on his arm, but worse, he hated the vulnerability emanating from the other man.
He took a step forward, reaching out, but Vin jerked away as though expecting a blow.
It was so at odds with what he knew of his lover that Chris froze.
Behind him, Josiah said quietly, "Dosa-tuinne."
Chris had never heard the word, but it had an immediate effect on Vin. Wide blue eyes rose, staring at Josiah with a mixture of fear and resignation for several seconds before dropping as Vin turned and stumbled hurriedly away.
"What the - " Chris took a step to follow, then looked back at the other man. Across the expanse of ground, he caught a glimpse of several of Taylor's people standing and staring as well, as if this were some sort of public show.
He turned to Josiah and was met with a look of such sadness that it made him queasy. "He should tell you," Josiah said softly. He shook his head once, as though clearing it, then said more calmly, "You'll be at home?"
Chris looked back to Vin, the urge to follow too strong to resist. "Call if you have any problems at all - any. This is getting too complicated."
He didn't wait for the other man to respond.
Thursday, 5:14 a.m.
They hadn't talked about it after leaving the Park.By the time Chris had caught up with Vin, it had been a struggle to get Vin to come home with him, an argument won only by him promising to cook dinner. He had tried, delicately, to get Vin to talk, but the other man had been withdrawn and so wary that Chris didn't even get upset with the silent refusals. Something in those eyes, like a deep hurt, kept him from pushing.
They had made love, though, at Vin's initiative; Chris had barely gotten the table cleared before Vin had trapped him against it, wrapping himself around Chris in a way that almost had them doing it on the table itself. Only the creak of Vin's back had taken the edge off Chris' desire long enough for him to guide them to the bedroom, to the bed they had subsequently torn apart in one of the most intense bouts of passion they had yet shared.
They'd taken their friendship to a sexual level several months previous, one night after Chris had had an especially bad time trying to deal with the loss of Sarah and Adam. He hadn't gone to Vin's tiny camper to seduce him; he'd gone for the security of their friendship and the unusual peace that Vin seemed to be able to give him.
But somewhere in that night, he had wound up with Vin in his arms and the first sex that had meant anything to him since Sarah had been killed. Afterwards, in his guilt and confusion, he had almost lost Vin as well.
Since then, they had taken things slowly, both a little fearful of pushing the other away.
Last night had been the first time Vin had asked to be penetrated - begged, actually. And Chris had most certainly not refused.
Afterwards, Vin drowsing warm and pliant beside him, Chris had considered it bad form to start an interrogation about something Vin clearly didn't want to talk about.
Now, hours later, the sun not yet up, the alarm almost an hour from going off, Vin stared down at him, his blue eyes almost purple with passion as he sat astride Chris, once more impaled, once more begging. Chris had awakened slowly to the feel of his lover's mouth on him, drawing him unresistingly to hardness; by the time he was aware enough to begin to think about what was happening, Vin was straddling him, his tongue now working its magic on Chris's nipples even as his knowing fingers had positioned his needy erection for entry.
"Vin," Chris had heard himself say, his brain almost operative, "are you sure - "
His answer had been his own gasp as his erection was slowly engulfed. He had watched, mesmerized, as Vin had closed his eyes, his long body arching back, his hair a curtain around his face and shoulders. The expressive features had rippled from time to time, movements that Chris knew were pain and pleasure and need.
Now it was all need as Vin's hard thighs drew him up then settled him back down repeatedly, his pace as steady as the rain on the roof. Chris wanted it to last forever, this exquisite completion that was drawing him closer and closer to the brink.
But from somewhere in the far back of his mind, a voice whispered - or maybe shouted, it hardly mattered as he paid it little attention - that this was all distraction, that whatever reasons Vin had for it, one of them was to keep Chris from asking him.
He waved the voice off with a promise to ask about it afterwards - well afterwards - and gave himself over completely to the moment.
Afterwards, Vin once more stretched over him, it seemed rude.
And later, when they slept through the alarm and were rushing to get to the office, there was no time.
It was around noon, when he returned from one of Ezra's morning meetings with donors and other sycophants - and after he had fielded far too many questions about the damned archaeologists and the artifacts - that JD reminded him that Vin was on a three-day hike through the back trails.
He wouldn't be back until Saturday night.
Friday, 1:17 p.m.
"Come on, Chris - I'm sure Evaleen has a friend - would be good for you to get out for a night, a little dinner, a little music . . . ." Buck wheedled as they walked back in from lunch. His friend had been on this topic since the night before, and Chris had already figured out that Evaleen - a lovely lady who had rented a place in town for several weeks and who had latched onto Buck with a tenacity that Chris found frightening - had a friend who needed a date and who Buck was being brow-beaten into helping. And Buck, damn him, had decided that Chris was the perfect person."Buck," he said shortly as he pushed through the door into the welcome center, "I've already been through this - I'm not interested. I've already got plans - "
"Watching the CBS Friday line-up - which, I might add, is still in reruns - is not a plan, Chris. It's sad, truly sad. When was the last time you had a nice dinner with pleasant company? Come on, now, I'll even spring for it - "
They had made it into the foyer, and as Chris turned to see who was manning the desk and let them know he was back in the building, he came up short.
"Chris," Orrin Travis moved from around the desk where he had been standing with JD, who was looking a little flustered. "We were trying to reach you."
Chris looked down, realizing he wasn't wearing his handset; he had forgotten to pick it up on his way out, and his cell phone was probably set to make no noise.
But what unsettled him more was the sight of his boss in full regalia. The dress uniform only came out for important events. Or problems.
"Uh oh," Buck muttered just loud enough for Chris to hear. "This can't be good."
Before Chris could answer, Travis was on them, his face grim. "Your office," the Superintendent said, leading the way.
Chris and Buck exchanged quick glances, then Buck shrugged. "I'm on the Hot Springs circuit this afternoon, call if you need me."
Chris nodded, but he was already following Travis.
The man was waiting for him at the door to his own office, standing inside with his hand on the knob. As soon as Chris entered, Travis gestured him to his own desk then closed the door firmly behind him. This wasn't going to be good.
"I've spent the morning in Court," Travis started with no preamble, moving to settle in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Van Atta filed for an injunction to prevent us from closing off the Quadrant site area."
Chris frowned, even as he settled into his own chair. "That was - fast."
Travis shrugged. "He either overheard your suggestion that we do it by tonight or assumed that we would - that point is moot." He sighed, settling back slightly and tugging at the uniform jacket. "No, the problem we have at the moment is that we have to keep the site open - and protected - until the decision is made as to what will happen to it. We are allowed to restrict access within 250 yards all the way around it - more so because of the inherent dangers of the grounds themselves, but past that we are to allow them to pitch camp and stay as long as they want."
Chris felt the pull of tension in his shoulders. "Just them - or anyone?"
Travis smiled, but it wasn't with humor. "Judge Andrene is an interesting woman. She feels that justice applies to all - Van Atta's people are given no exclusive rights. In fact, she actively encouraged all groups with any interest in the site to participate in protecting it." There was an edge of sarcasm in his tone, and Chris understood the implied insult to the National Parks Service.
Travis shook his head. "I need for you and Sanchez to work out extra security and to make this a priority. Van Atta was using this as a media-op - there will be reporters here soon, if not already. I had Mr. Dunne contact Sanchez's people and let them know to expect the locusts descending, but it's probably going to be worse as the evening wears on. According to Mary, Friday is a great day for human interest stories, and this story will be big."
"Great," Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So much for a peaceful weekend."
Travis shifted in his chair, and Chris through he might be rising. But he settled back again, and his face looked even more grim. "There's one other problem," he said, his voice flat. "Ranger Tanner."
Chris looked up at that, surprised, but for some reason, not. "What about Vin?" The voice that had echoed in his head yesterday morning was suddenly back, reminding him that he should have asked.
Travis took a breath, and Chris braced himself. "Van Atta's attorneys made a strong argument that the current Park Administration - myself, of course, but also everyone involved in running this operation - is playing favorites on the issue, and siding strongly with the Wind River residents. Ranger Tanner's name was used quite often and quite loudly."
Chris knew he was frowning, but he was saved the embarrassment of having to ask.
"While I don't think that the accusation is true in any respect, Judge Andrene seemed to think it unfair that one of the Reservation's residents is in our employ. She asked that, for the duration, Ranger Tanner be restricted to desk duty - no contact with the public until Washington decides what to do about the Quadrant site."
Chris felt the anger boiling, its intensity curbed only by his own disbelief and confusion. "Vin's not a resident of the Reservation," he shot back. "Hell, he lives in a camper - "
"Chris, I know." Travis held up one hand. "I know the man's file - I hired him, remember?" He paused for a few seconds, letting Chris get control of himself. "But he was raised at Wind River - his grandfather was one of the tribal elders, his own cousin is the man leading the agitation for the site to be given over to the control of a Wind River organization."
"Trahart? Trahart is Vin's cousin?" The idea was hard to get his head around - the fact that Vin had grown up on the Reservation was unbelievable. How had he not known?
"Where is he, Chris? Ranger Dunne told me he was on a backtrail - how long?"
Chris swallowed, trying to force back all the confusion. "He's due in tomorrow evening. But you can't put him on desk duty, Orrin - Vin can't stand to be inside, and on top of it all, it's not at all fair - "
"I don't disagree. The whole thing is perverse," the older man said. "If what I know of him is correct, he has little investment in this whole issue. But it's also for his own good, Chris. If anything happens on that site, he's going to end up as a suspect, which will do more damage to his reputation and to ours. Get him back in here and under wraps. As I said, the media was all over that courthouse this morning."
On that note, he did rise. "I've got a call in to Mary to see if we can manipulate some of the press. You and Sanchez tighten down security - pull in whatever you need, we'll try to balance the books on it later. Maybe if the bill gets big enough, I can help Washington push the time-line on what they have to do."
Chris nodded. "It's not fair, Orrin," he repeated.
"Not arguing. Just do it." With that, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.
Chris sat for several minutes, trying to get his thoughts ordered. He and Vin had rarely talked about Vin's past; Chris knew that Vin's mother had died when he was young, that he had gone into foster care in Texas, and that at some point, his grandfather had come along and taken him in. He knew that Vin's grandfather had brought him from Texas to this area, and that he had been on the Reservation more than a few times - but then, almost everyone who had lived in Wyoming had.
But all of this other . . .
His phone rang, startling him into the present. "Larabee," he snapped as he picked it up.
JD's voice was fast and hard. "Josiah needs help at the site, Chris, says reporters are all over the place and his people are having a hard time keeping up with them and everyone else. Says it's a circus."
Dammit dammit dammit. "On my way," he said even as he was putting the phone down.
He grabbed his hat as he walked out his door, calling to JD across the open floor of the center. "Get Buck over there, and call in everyone else who isn't on mandatory patrols. Then see if you can get someone from Personnel to get started calling in extra people second and third shift - we're gonna need to double up on the site."
He was almost at the door when JD called back, "What about Vin? You want me to call him back?"
Chris faltered. With effort, he said, "No, I think that's gonna be my job this time."
Friday, 7:57 p.m.
"What a clusterfuck," Buck said with a groan.Beside him, Chris shook his head, but he couldn't disagree.
"Where in the hell did all of these people come from?" JD asked.
"And when the hell are they going home?" Josiah countered tiredly.
They were all standing together behind the demarcation made by a long series of orange neon strips of plastic tape that were attached to posts placed as close to 250 yards from the edge of the crevasse in which the first items - bones, broken shards of pottery, bright bits of what looked to be fabric - were visible. It had taken three calls to Judge Andrene - and thus six or seven calls to Travis - to get official rulings on where the barricade line would be placed and with what.
Chris had known how much he hated lawyers and he had resented every reminder he had been subjected to over the past six hours.
Fortunately, as it was Friday, the legal pains in the ass had abandoned ship by six, leaving him now with the just the reporters and media asses - and Van Atta and his crew and Trahart and his crew.
Chris found his gaze returning with some regularity to Trahart. Vin's cousin.
Vin.
He was back and pissed from what JD had said. But Chris himself had neither seen nor talked to the other man since the terse call he had made earlier; Vin had been disbelieving at first, but in a rare demonstration of anger, he had turned off his radio and refused to answer Chris' subsequent call, other than to say he was coming in. JD had been the one to let Chris know that Vin had called in for a pick-up, and Nathan had gone to get him. Vin was currently manning the radios at the center so that JD could be there with them. Vin couldn't be, nor, if he saw this mess, would he want to be.
Trahart's cousin. Chris watched the other man, studying him. He was older than Vin, probably as old as Chris, his face showing the weather of age and experience. He had patience, Chris could tell, and the same ability that Vin seemed to have to wait, and to watch.
And to lead. His people were calm and collected, even now, and quiet, speaking to each other and to him sparingly but with familiarity. Like Vin, but also so very different. Even now, he was crouching down with several others, playing with a brown and white puppy that someone had brought. His face seemed younger as he smiled.
"He hasn't told you, has he?" The voice was quiet, but familiar and very close. Chris turned to see Josiah at this side, the older man's face worn and looking its age. Buck and JD had moved to one of the other small clusters of rangers - the one with Leslie Hardison, of course; she was the new second-shift dispatcher who was next on Buck's 'to-do' list - as soon as Evaleen was gone. Like JD, she was here now because Vin was working Reception and Dispatch. "Don't expect he's real comfortable with talking about it. He knows I know and he knows why I know, but he's never talked about it with me and don't suspect that he ever will, not if he doesn't have to."
Chris let his gaze wander back to Trahart. "You've spent a lot of time at Wind River," he said, a question as much as a statement.
"Came here to learn the ways of the shaman," Josiah answered. "The peoples of the Wind River are among the most tolerant and open to the white man of all the Native Americans. They've even accepted a lot of the Christian faith into their own belief structure. It's a good place to start for those of us who are questing."
It was hard. Chris wanted to know, wanted to ask with a curiosity that was almost physical.
But he honored privacy - because he demanded it for himself. To him, it was a violation of a sort to pry into the past, especially someone else's. If Vin wanted him to know, Vin would tell him. Vin should tell him.
But if, as he claimed, Vin loved him, should he not have told him already? Chris had discussed his past with Vin, up to and including the loss of Sarah and Adam. Could Vin's past be as painful as that?
"I guess I need to go look at his personnel file," he said, testily. "Seems like it'd be better to hear it from somebody who knows something though."
Josiah looked at him, a frown on his long face that made deeper wrinkles in his wide forehead. "You asking me to tell you what I know about Vin?"
Chris turned and glared at him. "He swear ya to secrecy?"
Josiah sighed. "Don't seem polite, Chris - you now how angry you get when people ask questions about you. Man's past is his own - aren't you the one who's made that a motto to live by?"
"Goddammit," Chris swore, but there was little heat in it. After a few seconds, he sighed himself. "Can't get him to talk to me, Josiah, not about this. Travis said Vin's name was all over the courthouse today - Van Atta's lawyers used him as the reason we couldn't be trusted to guard the site ourselves. Said we were biased toward the Wind River natives." He shook his head. "Travis had me call Vin in, wants me to keep him on a desk and under wraps. But always with someone, so that if anything happens, he's got an alibi."
"Sins of the father," Josiah murmured. "You're right, Chris, it's not fair. Vin's got it coming from two sides." He shook his head again. "I can't tell you much 'cause I don't know much. And what I know you could probably find out if you talked to Mr. Trahart himself - I suspect he knew Vin when Vin was living at the Res. I didn't know Vin there," Josiah answered the question before it was asked. "I got to make my first visit there ten years ago - he'd been gone from the Rez for a year or two by that time."
"So he did grow up there," Chris said, as much to himself as to the other man.
Josiah shifted beside him. "An interesting choice of words," he answered. "'Grow up'. I've heard differing accounts, of course, and certainly Vin moved from childhood to adolescence there, so in the literal sense, yes, he did grow up there. But the other aspects that come with maturity . . . well, I guess it depends on who you ask."
Chris turned and glared at the other man. "What if I were asking you?" he demanded.
Josiah shrugged, turning to meet Chris' gaze. His face was soft and his eyes weary and Chris realized he had been goaded into that question. "Then I would have to say that I knew Vin's grandfather as well as any white man could know him. He was a wise man, well-meaning, and he loved his people - and his family, especially his children, with a passion and devotion unrivaled. But like many men, like many of us suffering this mortal coil, he was not immune to the sins of pride and intolerance and anger. While he did what he thought right, sometimes he did it for the wrong reasons. And that is often more hurtful than not doing something at all."
"Goddamit, Josiah," Chris started, but the other man held up one hand.
When he spoke again, his words were very quiet. "One of the reasons it's so hard for many of us to accept that Vin is half Shohone is because he wears the face of an Aryan. In the height of summer, he was streaked almost completely blond from the sun. Couple that with those eyes, that face, that body - Chris, don't lie to yourself. Vin appears as the poster boy for the all-American wet dream." He arched one eyebrow, daring his boss to disagree,
Daring Chris to deny.
When the silence stretched between them, Josiah continued just as softly, "The beauty I speak of is, as you know, only skin deep. But sometimes, skin deep is all that it takes to separate people. Had Vin inherited his mother's dark eyes and black hair, his grandfather would have seen her in him. But instead, he bore the face of his father. The man who stole Kimami from her people." He sighed. "Kimami was her father's last child, and his favorite. When she left, he thought only that she had been taken. I don't know what the truth of the matter was, but throughout the time I knew Tigee, he swore that Kimami had been taken against her will, forced to bear a child not of her choosing. He spoke of it as the curse of trusting the white man.
"I always thought that it was a parable of a sort, or even an exaggerated myth. But in his last year, as he became more adamant in his conviction, I spoke to other members of the tribe, including Aaron Trahart, Tigee's nephew. He told me of the boy who had been there for a while, the one called Dosa-Tuinne. The closest English translation is 'white boy' - but with the same derision that was once used in reference to African Americans as 'darkies' or 'niggers'. Trahart told me of a child that Tigee had taken in because he loved the mother so very much. A child he had tried to accept as his own. But Trahart, a good man as well, had seen that the boy's curse was to wear his father's face and thus, in a community of dark-eyed, dark-haired people, to always stand alone."
He shook his head and sighed. "When I first met Vin, I saw the signs of his heritage - they're actually easy to see if you've lived among The Peoples for any length of time. Over time, I'd come to wonder if he were Dosa-Tuinne. The confrontation here the other night confirmed it."
Chris closed his eyes, angry in ways he wasn't certain he could put into words. Questions, however, he could find in abundance. "What are you telling me - that he was abused as a child?" It made sense, he thought - Vin's shyness, the instinct to defend himself when he was surprised, the stiffness that always came when Chris touched him and he wasn't expecting it.
Josiah, of course, shrugged. "That's a hard call to make, and really, only Vin could answer it. I told you, I didn't know him at the Reservation, I didn't see how he was treated. But I can tell you that he spent a lot of time alone - you can see that in him now. People scare him, Chris, and when you spend your youth among people who value and honor personal space the way The Peoples do, to need as much as Vin does suggests that he didn't get a lot of respect from them."
Respect, Chris thought, remembering the man, Frank's, words from the other night. No, there didn't seem to be a lot of respect for Vin there.
"Goddammit," he muttered, staring off towards the Wind River contingent. "And now Van Atta's people are using Vin to get to Travis. Those bastards."
"JD said Vin's back - that you pulled him," Josiah said, and Chris realized that his friend had picked up the method as asking a question in a statement.
He would have smiled had the situation not seemed so dire. "Told you, Travis wants him under wraps and able to validate his whereabouts, in case anything happens. It's not right, Vin doesn't deserve it - and that would be the case even if we knew what his thoughts were on the whole damned thing. The fact that there are so many assumptions being made is just . . . wrong."
Josiah nodded. "Things are calming down, for the moment anyway. Why don't you go check on Vin? Seems like someone oughta be there for him, and right now, seems he might listen more to you than anybody else."
Despite himself, Chris flinched at the words. He looked to Josiah to see if there was more to it than what it was on the surface, but the other man was looking away himself, his attention on the Channel 20 Fox truck that had pulled itself far past the other vehicles at the tree line. The camera guy had crawled up onto the hood of the truck and was using it to sweep the scene.
"Hope they like that spot," Josiah said calmly, but there was a trace of humor in his tone. "Truck's too heavy for that ground."
Chris looked, and chuckled. "How long before they notice it's sinking?" he asked.
"Too late already," Josiah smiled himself. "It won't be coming out for a while."
They looked at each other and laughed.