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Friday, 9:44 p.m.
He hadn't intended to watch Vin; usually the slamming of the Center's door announced anyone coming in or out. While the Center itself should have closed at 5, Judge Andrene had asked to keep it open until 8 this weekend, because of the 'special circumstances'. The door however, hadn't been locked when he came in, and he had taken a second to look around the Center before locking it behind himself.Vin was sitting at dispatch, his head in his hands. As far as Chris could tell, they were the only two here.
Most of the lights in the room were off, only the area around dispatch still lit and most of that was with the desk lights that stayed on 24-hours a day. Dispatch was one of the few places that operated constantly, and the third-shift dispatcher would be in around midnight.
The golden light lamps was warmer than the blue of the overhead neon bulbs, and it cast Vin in hues of brown and yellow and tan - colors that were natural to him. His hair was loose, tangled and knotted, Chris knew, and providing a protective curtain between his lover and the world.
A part of his heritage, he thought suddenly. A part of the Reservation.
"Stop staring," Vin said shortly, but the words held more tiredness than anger. He straightened slightly, rubbing his hands over his face.
Chris started towards him, appreciating how much he had missed the other man. Appreciating the sense of how much more right things felt when he was with Vin.
"How'd you know it was me?" he asked, coming to lean on the counter across from Vin. Without thinking, he let his fingers twine a length of hair, curling it around a forefinger.
"Always know when it's you," Vin answered, his voice muffled in a yawn. His eyes gradually blinked open to meet Chris'.
Chris looked at him and frowned. "You look like hell, Vin - did you get any sleep last night?"
The younger man shrugged, but Chris didn't need the pretense; the answer was clear in the dark hollows of his eyes and the new lines around his mouth.
He released the soft curl of hair and let his fingers slip softly over one high cheekbone. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You know I wouldn't have called you back - "
"I know," Vin interrupted, turning his face into the caress. "It's bad, huh."
Chris' thumb rubbed along the fine line of Vin's eyebrow, the short hairs like satin. "Travis says that your name got thrown around in Court today. He thinks Judge Andrene wasn't happy that we had a former resident of the Reservation on the payroll."
Vin was completely still now, hardly breathing. "My . . . my name?" he whispered.
"Travis wasn't happy about it - none of us are. Van Atta's people used it to get the injunction, claiming that Park Admin is biased toward the Reservation, and the Judge agreed." He leaned in a little closer, appreciating the rich scent of the other man.
Vin jerked away then, and for an instant, Chris felt a slice of hurt. But even as it swelled, he knew that Vin's anger was at his words, not his presence.
"Ain't none of their damned business!" Vin spat, suddenly on his feet and pacing. "Ain't nobody's damned business - how the hell did they find out? And what gave them the right to bring it up - it ain't got one damned thing to do with anything - damn them!"
Chris fought the instinct to smile. It wasn't funny, and Vin had every right to be angry - Chris was angry as well. But he couldn't remember the last time Vin had said that much at a stretch or used that many expletives.
Any pretense to humor vanished though when Vin's fist slammed into the side of the counter, with such force that the heavy wooden structure actually rocked.
"Hey," Chris called, moving quickly to catch the next attempted punch. "Vin, no." He caught Vin's wrist on the downswing, almost losing his own balance in the process. The punch aborted, but Vin stiffened, trying to wrench free of Chris' hold.
"Vin," Chris released his hold on the upper arm, but transferred his hands to Vin's shoulders, pulling him away from the counter.
"Ain't right," Vin spat, but he didn't resist the pressure to move or the physical contact.
"No, it's not," Chris agreed, sighing. He looked down at the hand Vin was now shaking loosely, seeing the blood he expected to see and hoping that that was the extent of the damage. "We need to get some ice on that hand."
In an odd demonstration of - something, Chris really wasn't certain what, Vin was unresistant to his care. He managed to get him seated near the radio, which kept him distracted for a few minutes as they ran the ten o'clock check-ins. During that time, Chris collected ice from the small refrigerator in his office and a towel and applied them to the swelling knuckles. He couldn't tell if anything was broken, but he knew better than to assume. He also knew better than to force Vin to the emergency room; he'd suggested it and not been the least bit surprised at Vin's flat refusal.
"Things are calm here," Josiah said when they had him on the box, "but I'm leery of assuming it's gonna stay that way. Van Atta left and Taylor went with him, but that crowd is sitting around a campfire singing old 60's radical songs and drinking pretty heavily from what we can tell. I figure they're gonna go one Joan Baez too long and it's either gonna be passing out or fightin'."
"Bet the talking heads are loving it," Chris said, taking the radio from Vin. "How about Trahart's people?" He was peripherally aware of Vin's shoulders tensing at the name.
"Quiet," Josiah answered. "Most of them seem to have turned in for the night. Most of the media people as well - Fox wagon is still here, stuck, and they were right pissed when I told 'em that they had to get a special permit to get a wrecker out here to get the thing out." He chuckled, the sound a purr over the airwaves.
"Even more pissed when you told 'em that permit office wasn't open until Monday?" Chris laughed as well and was relieved to see Vin smile.
"They said something about talking to Travis directly, so you might want to give him a heads-up about that."
"When we get done here. You got a third-shift crew coming in?" he asked, trying to calculate the hours the big man had been out there today alone.
"Nathan's going to take over for me," Josiah answered, "Rain's taking a shift at the hospital tonight, they were short-handed in the emergency room. He's on his way now, I think - told him to stop by there and pick up a few things for us so you might see him any minute now."
Chris ducked his head so that Vin wouldn't see him smile. "We'll look for him," he said and Vin grunted, both knowing they would have something for Nathan to look at as well. "Anything in particular you need?"
"Back-up batteries for the radios and flashlights," Josiah said, "and some more coffee and water - our supply is getting low with all these extra hands. Energy bars would be good, and anything else lying around to keep these kids moving."
"Will do, I'll start rounding up some stuff. You gonna get out of there and get some sleep?" he asked, wondering how close he could come to making it an order.
Josiah chuckled again. "Like to," he answered. "If nothing else, I'd like a shower. Been a long, muggy year out here today."
"Do that, Josiah. Travis asked you to set it up - he didn't ask you to live it. It'll still be there tomorrow."
Vin snorted again, and Josiah said with a laugh, "Seems those are words you tend to forget as well, Chris. You plannin' on taking Vin home to get some sleep as well?"
Chris glanced up from where he was crouching at Vin's feet, catching the amused gaze of the other man. "Somebody's gotta be able to account for his whereabouts," he said. "And if he's at my place - without his bike - then it'd be damned hard for him to get back over here to cause any trouble. If he were inclined to do so, anyway."
He'd meant it all to be light, a distraction on several different levels. But Vin's gaze hardened, and his jaw clenched, the anger back. Chris frowned, hoping it wasn't at him, but Josiah was speaking.
"Good idea," the big man agreed. "Just be sure he knows we all know it's a crock of shit."
At that, Vin sighed, but a slight grin twitched the corners of his lips.
"He knows," Chris said, squeezing Vin's thigh.
"I'm sending JD and Buck in shortly," Josiah continued, and Chris thought it might be a warning. "Figure the only way things are gonna calm down out here is if I get the two of them away from the women-folk." He sounded amused so Chris knew his oldest friend wasn't being a serious problem, just his normal flirtatious self. "They say they're on for second shift tomorrow, so you might wanna put one of them on the radio so you guys can get on home. If I know you," the words were dry, "you'll be back before the sun is up."
"And I suspect that's about when I'll be seeing you as well," Chris shot back. "Yeah, send 'em on - I'm sure we can come up with some sort of static in the radio that will keep JD here until midnight."
"I heard that!" JD squawked in the background. "Don't you touch that radio - do you know how long I've been - "
"Roger that," Josiah was laughing. "See you in the morning, Chris, 705 out."
"Base out," Chris agreed with a snort.
He rose from his crouch and placed the handset back on its base.
"He knows," Vin said softly, his head down. Chris thought he might be looking at his hand, the fingers flexing under the weight of the Ziploc bag of ice. The bleeding had stopped, but the bruising had started, a darkening purple under a film of pink.
"Knows about a lot of things," Chris answered, one hand falling to rest on Vin's shoulder. "Apparently knows a lot more than me about some things."
He hadn't meant for it to sound sharp, but as the words started out, so did the hurt.
As he had before, after the confrontation with Frank, Vin flinched under his touch, and Chris knew it was real fear.
Fear of him.
He sighed, then knelt at Vin's feet. "You think I'm gonna hurt you?" he asked. "Really, Vin?"
Vin took a deep breath before looking up to meet his gaze. The pain in the eyes he knew so well hit Chris like a blow to the stomach. But Vin's voice was calm, as even as if they were talking about the weather. As even as it had been that day on Sepulcher Mountain, when Vin had thought Chris was letting him go. "Ain't you, Chris," he said quietly. "Just too many things going on, too many things I thought were done."
"I know how that works," Chris said softly. He moved one hand to rest on Vin's thigh, stroking lightly. "Unfortunately, the past has a way of always coming back."
Before Vin could answer, they heard the lock turning. Chris made it to his feet just as Nathan came through the door, calling out that it was him.
The next half hour was a melee of activity; while Nathan checked over Vin's hand, pronouncing it as well as could be expected without actual x-rays and making Vin - and more pointedly, Chris - promise to get x-rays if it got worse or more swollen, and to keep it iced and not use it, Chris gathered together as much of what Josiah had requested as he could find. About the time that Nathan was on his last round of annoyed lecturing about idiots fighting cabinetry, Buck and JD showed up, a whirlwind of energy that made Chris feel even more tired and more annoyed.
They seemed to have the same effect on Vin who just moved out of their way, then edged closer and closer to the door. It was no trouble getting him out and away as soon as JD acknowledged that he was on the radio until midnight.
He wasn't really surprised that Vin started across the parking lot, waving his uninjured hand over one shoulder as it telling Chris 'good night'. He knew Vin wanted to be alone, knew Vin was going to argue to be alone, and knew - as Vin did as well - that he was going to lose the argument that neither of them wanted to have.
So he walked to his SUV and waited, leaning on the front fender as he watched Vin walk down the sidewalk and toward the distant camping area where his tiny camper was parked. As Vin started to fade into the darkness, he got into his vehicle and turned it on, easing slowly out of his parking spot and letting the engine roll along in first gear as he turned out onto the road leading to the camper.
He took his time, but even so, he pulled into the spot next to Vin's camper as Vin was still approaching. He turned the engine off and slid from the seat, waiting.
"Don't need no babysitter," Vin said angrily as he drew near. "I'm going in here and going to bed."
Chris waited a few seconds, keeping a rein on his temper. "What if I want to spend time with you? Haven't seen you in a couple of days, you know."
Vin slowed his pace but continued to the camper, twisting the knob and jerking the door open. "Ain't fit company right now," he said, but there was less heat in his words.
Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't lying in what I told Josiah. If anything happens, it'd be better if someone was with you."
Vin whirled then, almost falling off the step into the camper. "That it then?" he spat. "I'm guilty already just because I got some damned Injun blood in me?" His accent was intentionally heavy, slamming the words hard. "Fucking funny, you know? When I was on the Res, I was always guilty because I was half white - first person they looked at when anything happened, always in the wrong. And now, it's the other way around. Fuck you, fuck you all and your damned lies." He turned back stepping into the camper and trying to reach for the door.
Chris was there, though, holding it open and stepping onto the stair. "I don't think it, Vin," he snapped back, "I'd hope you'd know me better than that!"
"You're the one so damned set on watching me," Vin said, but he took a step back, coming up against the small counter. "'Fraid I'll do something to ruin you and Travis? Y'all have bets on how long it would be before the 'breed fucked up and - "
"Be kinda hard to bet on something you had to find out the hard way!" Chris shot back, coming through the doorway. "Didn't have to bet on it, since I was blindsided by it because someone who says he loves me doesn't think it's important to tell me about it!"
He glared at Vin, all the anger finally cresting, rolling out in waves. "Tell me, Vin, did you whore yourself out to me the other night - and morning - so that I wouldn't ask? Did you really want what we did - what I did - or was that just to distract me from the questions you knew I'd have?"
Vin stared at him, different emotions warring through his eyes. In the end, they dropped, and he drooped. He crossed his arms over his belly, the bag of ice still covering his knuckles. "I ain't no whore," he said, his voice tight.
Chris felt his jaw clench, and he had to force the words out. "But you let me do that 'cause it was better than talking."
Vin sighed, but he looked up to meet Chris' gaze. "I won't lie, I didn't want to talk. I never want to talk, you know that." A grin hovered for an instant on his features before fleeing. "But I did want you, Chris - still do. I wasn't lying about that. I wouldn't. Can't."
Some of Chris' own anger ebbed, but the hurt was still there. "Am I that hard to talk to? You were afraid of me earlier - is that it? You afraid I'm gonna change my mind when I find out about you?"
Vin looked back down, and shrugged. "Can't rightly say," he answered. "Ain't never had no one feel about me the way you do. Can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind, but . . . I trust you." He shrugged again. "Guess maybe it's me I don't trust."
Chris didn't have to move far to be against his lover. "If you don't want to talk about it, he said, "I won't make you. I have to say though, I'd prefer to hear it from you." He brought his hands to Vin's arms, rubbing slowly. "And for what it's worth, I would prefer to have you stay with me - hell, I'd prefer that even without there needing to be a reason." He leaned in closer, letting his lips brush against Vin's forehead.
Vin allowed the kiss, and the contact. After a few seconds, he moved his arms, putting the bag of ice - more ice water now, into the sink behind him before slipping his arms around Chris' waist. "Could stay here," he said, his words muffled against Chris' neck.
"Could," Chris agreed. "And you know I would, Vin. But . . . "
Vin sighed. "If something happens, it's gonna be kinda hard to explain why you were sleeping in my camper in my bed."
"Kinda," Chris agreed. "But if it's what you want, I'll do it. I'm not ashamed of you, Vin, not ashamed of us."
"Even now?" he asked.
The hesitancy in his voice, the soft vulnerability tore at Chris. He pulled Vin close, one arm holding him tight at the waist, the other cradling his head. "You're the same man I fell in love with. Nothing's gonna change that."
After a while, Vin said, "Probably won't do Travis a licka good if it comes out that we're sleeping together."
Chris smiled. "Reckon not," he agreed. "But it's your call, Vin. I'll do whatever you want."
"You gonna make me sleep in the spare room?" The comment was meant to bring in a smile, but there was something under it, a vein of insecurity.
"Make you? No. But if you'd rather be there than with me, I won't force you." The very idea made him sad, but he wasn't lying - he'd never force Vin. He suspected that too many others already had in too many different ways.
Vin sighed, turning his head to kiss Chris on the cheek. "Guess we better get going, then," he pulled away from Chris' embrace, but it was with a visible reluctance. "Let me grab some clothes."
It was almost midnight when Chris pulled the Explorer into his carport; the lights were activated by motion sensors, so they made it into the kitchen before Chris had to reach for a light switch.
As he did, Vin caught his wrist, stopping him. Chris didn't say anything, waiting. He had known it was going to be hard for Vin, and he had known Vin would get to it. If this was how it had to be done, he would wait.
"I done told ya my ma died when I was a kid - 'bout five or so," he started, his voice low and husky at Chris' back. "I done told ya I got booted into the foster system. We was in Texas when she died." He swallowed and he stepped back, letting go of Chris and putting distance between them. Chris straightened, but he didn't turn on the light, instead letting his arm drop to his side.
"She was sick a long time - fact is, I don't know that I remember a time she wasn't." He moved slowly over to the kitchen sink, but it wasn't the appliance that called to him, it was the window. The moon, clear from clouds at the moment, was bright, reflecting white off the light wood cabinets and the white appliances, and casting Vin in stark angles and shadows. "Later, I heard someone tell Tigee, my grandfather, that she'd been addicted to heroin and died of an overdose. She mighta been; I remember her spanking me for touching her stuff, her makeup bag, and I know there was a needle in it at least once." He sighed, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants. He had dropped his canvas bag beside the door when they had come in, a small bundle that appeared as dark blob beside the refrigerator.
"I don't know how long I was in the system - ain't got much memory of that time, just being handed around from family to family then back to a center when I'd pissed somebody off or my time was up. Then one day, this man showed up - an Indian, in jeans and a denim shirt, long white hair with a feather, just like ya see in the movies. I don't know which of us was more surprised by the other, 'specially when they told him that I really was 'the Tanner boy'. They had to show him pictures from my file - took me a long time to figure out they was pictures from the hotel room, crime scene photos. He didn't believe I was Ma's kid - don't think he ever did, really." He shrugged, the gentle rise of his slender shoulders that Chris was coming to associate with Vin's efforts to shrug off his emotions. "After a few days with him, I think I started to doubt it myself."
He was quiet for several seconds, marshalling his words. "After that first meeting, it was a month or more before I saw him again. I'd almost forgotten him. When he showed up to pick me up, he didn't say a word to me. Just stared at me with them big eyes of him, so cold that I knew I'd done failed him and I hadn't known him more than minutes. He taught me lots, though - taught me how to hunt, how to live off the land, how to love being alone. Taught me how to trust myself and how to survive on my own. And he taught me all of it the hard way. Don't think he ever said one word to me that wasn't an order or a criticism."
Chris swallowed, hating this man. He wanted to go to Vin, to hold him, but he knew that would not be accepted; Vin didn't want pity and he wouldn't take it. He wanted Chris to know this - but he wouldn't give it up but once.
"The whole trip from Texas to here, he maybe said five words to me - 'eat', 'sleep', 'go' - couple others. Mostly he'd point and gesture. The most he ever said to me - ever, I think - was when we walked outta the kids' Center. I had a backpack and canvas tote. When the doors to the Center closed behind us, he dropped the canvas tote on the ground beside me. Told me I couldn't take more'n I could carry, and I had five minutes to figure out what was important. He was charitable though - he left the stuff I didn't take on the steps on the Center, in the canvas tote. I had to run back at the last minute 'cause I couldn't find my harmonica - almost lost it that day.
"We took a Greyhound, and I spent a lot of time with his hand pressing on my leg to keep me still. I tried once or twice to ask him questions - hell, I was a kid, this was a new adventure for me." He shrugged again. "He'd look at me with those eyes and I couldn't think of nothin' to say."
"When we got to the bus stop in Shoshone, we was met by Isaac, his brother-in-law, Aaron's father. I found out later he'd been the one to push Tigee to take me in. Never knew if I shoulda been glad of that or not. At least he smiled at me, sometimes, and he tried in his own way, I think, to help, but when he first saw me . . . I spent a lotta time turning around to see what was behind me that had people staring at me so. Found out later it was my eyes. Isaac told me once that he could see the end of the world in 'em. I don't think it was a good thing."
Chris wanted to correct him, to tell him it wasn't the end, but the beginning. And that it was a good thing, a beautiful thing. He made it one step forward before Vin started talking again.
"When we got in the car at the bus terminal, my grandpa started talking. He talked a lot but I didn't understand none of it. Isaac did, they answered each other, had a right merry conversation far's I could tell. I was too busy looking out the windows - saw more trees and hills and mountains than I knew existed." He smiled then, a simple motion that made him look the age he was living, a boy lost in the night. "If I ever had any doubts about this being home, all I ever had to do was walk outside. I can hate him for a lot of things, Chris, and I do. But he did bring me here. I ain't never wanted to be nowhere else."
He sighed, then turned from the window, leaning back on the counter to look at Chris. "When I got out of the car at the Res, set foot on the ground there, he looked at me and said 'Dosa-tuinne'. 'White boy'. That was my name from that point on. He said it twice, clear and cold. When I asked him - or started to ask what he was saying, he slapped me so hard all I could hear was ringing. Didn't take me but two more slaps like that to understand that I wasn't supposed to speak nothing but Shoshone. So I spent a lot of time not saying nothing."
His arms were folded around his belly again, and his head was down. But his voice was clear. "I didn't tell you none of this to make you feel sorry for me, Chris. Hell, didn't wanna tell ya none of it at all. But I figure you know some of it already - whatever was in my file anyway, and I know Josiah knows some of it. He came along soon after I got kicked off the Res and I know he's heard stories. So here's the truth of it as I see it. Tigee was a good man. He loved my ma more'n almost anything and that's something we had in common. Maybe the only thing. He never looked at me without seeing the man who had taken her away from him - for whatever reason. I sure as hell don't know - all she ever told me was that my pa was gone long before I was born. Never told me why or how or - nothing. Ain't no kid wants to believe the worst of his folks, but I never knew enough to argue one way or the other with Tigee about it.
"And the truth was, no matter what the reason, he was right: my pa took my ma away from the Res and all they got back was me. They did as right by me as they could - fed me, put clothes on my back, sent me to the Res school. It was as good a life as I'da gotten in Texas, probably better - at least I stayed in one place long enough to figure out what I could and couldn't do. I probably stayed there longer than I would have in Texas - hell, I didn't choose to leave, they made that decision for me when word got around that MaryJane wanted to go slumming with 'the white boy'. Tigee didn't give me time to tell 'em I wasn't interested in her, just threw my backpack down and told me to take what I could carry and leave the rest. Said he wasn't waiting around for me to fuck up some other man's family like my pa had fucked up his." He shrugged again, but Chris noticed that he was hugging himself tighter.
This time, he didn't hesitate. He didn't rush - last thing he wanted to do was make Vin any more edgy than he already was. By the time his arms slid around Vin, drawing him up close, the other man was prepared for him.
Despite that, or perhaps because of it, Vin trembled in his embrace, but Chris knew it wasn't because of him.
"Ain't fair," Vin whispered against Chris' neck. "Ain't fair to me or them to use my name - hell, the Newe probably took it as an insult that the lawyers brought it up."
"They should be honored by it - I would be." Chris stroked Vin's back, wishing he had some other way to sooth away the pain. Despite himself, he remembered holding Sarah this way, remembered her tears when her father, Hank, would say hurtful thing to her in their weekly telephone calls - the only contact the man would allow after she and Chris had gotten married. He remembered his feelings of failure and his doubt that he had done the right thing with her. He remembered feeling inadequate.
He felt that now, but unlike with Sarah, the weight of this was different. Heavier in some ways - the weight of generations of hate and oppression, the burden on a cultural difference, but lighter in others; the harm to Vin was nothing he had direct influence on. Vin's past, horrid as it was, was out of Chris' influence and knowledge. He could - and did - hate the people who had caused Vin to doubt himself and his goodness, but this time, Chris hadn't been a guiding force in any of Vin's decisions.
The inadequacy he felt now was in his inability to ease the burden.
As ever, Vin read his mind. "Ain't your fight, Cowboy," he said softly, and one hand finally extricated itself from between them to return the hug. "Sorry to put you in it at all."
Chris grinned. "Think that was Orrin's job," he answered, letting his lips graze against Vin's ear. "Something about all this happening on Park property or some such."
He felt Vin's return smile. But his words were somber. "Mean it, Chris. I'm sorry. I ain't hidin' nothing from ya - never would. But . . . don't like the rest of the world knowing my business, sure as hell don't like it bein' used this way. And worst is that I can't do a damned thing about it. I don't like feelin' . . . .like this, like - "
"Helpless?" Chris offered, understanding this far better than he wanted.
After a few seconds of thinking, Vin nodded slowly, a tickle against Chris' jaw. "Yeah. Helpless. Ain't felt like this since . . . well, long time ago. And I swore I never would again."
"We'll figure something out, Vin, I promise. Don't know what, yet, but we will come up with something."
They stood for a while longer, neither willing to surrender what little comfort there was in the moment, in the contact.
It was Vin who eventually drew away. "Been a long day," he said softly, meeting Chris' gaze. In the white light of the moon, his eyes were large and fey. "That offer of a bed still open?"
"Always," Chris murmured. "Any bed you want."
Vin shook his head, but his lips twitched. "Ain't but one bed in this house I wanna be in, Chris. Rest is just me being mad. You know that, right?"
Chris did. But it was a relief to hear.
Saturday, 6:18 a.m.
He was awake when the phone rang.It had been a short night; after their talk, they had gone to bed, wrapping around each other. There were passing thoughts about having sex - Vin wanted it, seemed to need the reaffirmation that Chris loved him, and Chris had gone so far as to let himself be drawn to hardness; but somewhere between Vin's fingers on Chris, and Vin's fingers reaching into the nightstand to find the necessaries, they had arrived in another full-body clench, and stayed that way, too tired, and too content to go any farther. Chris' tumescence had passed quickly and without comment, and they had fallen asleep quiet against each other.
Around 4:30, Chris had awakened to find Vin trying to slip from the bed. He had managed to snag one trembling wrist, pulling Vin back to him, and seen the shadows under the tired eyes and heard the soft hitching in the hard breathing.
No words were needed, and for the next two hours they lay together, listening to another downpour of rain on the roof, Chris spooned against Vin's back, protection from the nightmares that wouldn't be kept at bay. From time to time one of them would drowse, but true sleep never came.
Despite his wakefulness, Chris still caught the phone only after the answering machine had started, so it took him several seconds to catch up with the fact that Travis was on the other end.
The man didn't sound irritated at having to repeat himself, though - if anything, he sounded sad.
"Evie handed me the morning paper just now, turned to the first page of section B, the local news. We got problems, Chris. One of the hotshot assholes in Cody spent yesterday concentrating on Ranger Tanner and he's the lead in their report on the controversy over the new site. I don't know where they got their information - and to be honest, they don't have a lot of information - but the slant on it looks, well, bad. Not just for him, but for us as well."
Chris swallowed, rubbing at his head. He had made it to the hallway, hoping to not disturb Vin with the conversation, but he could feel the other man's presence behind him.
"How so?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. "What could they possibly find?"
As he already knew part of the answer to that question, the thought made him a little queasy.
"Let me read this to you," Travis answered, and Chris could hear him folding the paper to get a better grip on it. " 'And what sort of man does the National Parks Service hire? According to undisclosed sources, Vin Tanner, a blond, blue-eyed, white child, spent his early life living under the care of the United States Government as a resident of the Wind River Reservation. How, exactly, a young white child ended up as the responsibility of the residents of the Reservation is still unknown; at present, no one on the Reservation has been able to explain the young man's presence there, nor do they seem particularly concerned at the implications of it. When asked if it were possible that fraud was involved, Ms. Ida Gonaka, owner of the Fort Washakie Stop and Shop, a small grocery store catering to the locals, responded, "You come in here talking as if we kidnapped the boy and forced him to stay with us - then stole money from your government to take care of him! We don't kidnap and ransom white children, mister, and certainly not for what your government pays for 'em!"
'Whatever the case, by the age of sixteen, Vin Tanner appears to have abandoned the Reservation. He was employed as a gas station attendant for Dexie's Exxon and Car Repair in Dubois. Derek 'Dexie' Morgan recalls him as "a quiet kid, couldn't hardly get a damned thing outta him. 'Course, we all thought he was slow - never quite seemed to know what we was saying - or hell, much of anything else! But boy, could he fix an engine - boy just seemed to lay his hands on one and it'd be purring like a kitten. Hated to see him go!"
" 'Dexie's description seems to be common among the people in Dubois who remember the boy. Mrs. Ernestine Hopper, owner of the Shady Acres Motel and Efficiencies remembers, "He'd never look you in the eye - which was right darned shame, boy had the bluest bluest eyes. Shy, he was, blushed at everything. Them tramps in the room next to him, I just knowed they's gonna take advantage of that sweet face - them girls woulda had him striped naked and selling hisself on the street in minutes if they'd gotten close to him. But he never seemed to know what they was talking about. Which was good, I guess; kept him away from their drug-dealing boyfriends. Guess they thought he was too dumb to know what to do - and boy didn't have any money."
" 'There's no record of the young man attending any high school in the area, or of any family. Speculation among his neighbors was the he was a runaway.'" Travis sighed. "It goes on from there, and it gets no better. This bastard got as far as finding out that Ranger Tanner did get his GED - when he was nineteen, and that he achieved an associate's degree from the National Outdoor Leadership School - at the age of twenty-three. He seems to be emphasizing some mental deficiency on Tanner's part - the fact that he seemed to have a hard time with his education and with understanding the people around him."
"Goddammit," Chris blurted, his anger momentarily overwhelming his discretion. "Where in the hell does he get off - where is the son of a bitch? I'd like to have a little heart-to-heart - "
"That's hardly an option, Chris," Travis said shortly. "There are pictures here as well, but not many - I gather that Tanner is a bit camera-shy - thank God. The pictures they have seem to be from that fundraiser at the beginning of the summer. At least he's on the arm of a beautiful young woman, Ms. Rathbone - heiress to the media fortune? Not surprisingly, the implication is that he's a gold-digger, but better a cute young blonde woman than something more scandalous, I guess."
The anger froze, quelling in the face of Travis' subtle suggestion. "Sir?" Chris asked, asked, his throat dry.
But the Superintendent was already moving on. "Evie's got Mary on the other line. The best thing I think we can do is provide a counter attack. The problem, as I fear it, isn't this one idiot reporter, it's the fact that it's the first one and it will set the tone for the other circling scavengers. Tanner's going to be the poster-boy for this whole damned thing, and the more we can control of how his image comes across, the better off we're going to look in the end. Mary has a few ideas on that - she's talking to some people she knows in the local media. She told me to tell you to have Tanner at the Center by nine. She'll meet him to start the background info and to see if we can't do something about damage control."
"Sir, I think maybe we should ask him - don't you? He may not want to have his past spread all over the headlines for public consumption - "
"You're not hearing me, Chris. He doesn't have a choice. It's already done. Even as we speak, every local reporter in five counties is looking for anything they can find on Tanner - and at least half of them are going to be heading out to Wind River to interview people there. Now - you tell me, how is that going to play? I have a pretty good suspicion that I know why Tanner was playing with car engines at the age of sixteen instead of being a normal high-school student. The best thing he's got going for him is that the people at Wind River don't want to have their laundry aired any more than he does. But if Van Atta's people get hold of that story, of why Tanner was living off the Reservation, you think they're going to stop there? You think they're going to care whether it's truth or not?"
Chris swallowed, rubbing at his forehead again. "Christ," he muttered into the phone.
"It was a two-front war," Travis said softly, "Van Atta against Trahart, with us in the middle. Now, though, between the lawyers and the media, it's a free-for-all. The reporters don't give a damn which side wins as long as they get the ratings. And right now, Tanner's going to be key to them - he's got a mysterious past, he's got ties all over the place, and he looks good in black-and-white, even better in color. Until we get control of this, we're all in trouble, starting with him. You have him there at nine."
"Yeah, nine," Chris agreed miserably.
For a few seconds after Travis hung up, Chris stood with the phone still at his ear, his eyes closed. Part of him was busy replaying what Travis had read to him, little details of a life he was just beginning to know - living on his own at sixteen, repairing car engines, living in a seedy motel with hookers and druggies and dealers - how Vin had ended up sane and straight after all of that was a wonder Chris could barely consider at the moment.
The larger part of his mind, though, was preoccupied with how, exactly, to tell any of this to Vin. He had watched Vin fall apart over the past ten hours, watched him struggle to find the words to tell the tale of his past, watched it tear him apart. Watched in the aftermath as the telling of the tale resurrected ghosts neither of them ever wanted to see.
And now, every home in the northwest corner of Wyoming was going to know what Vin had fought so hard to forget.
Warm fingers brushed along his, taking the phone gently from his hand. "Better tell me now," Vin said quietly, his voice rough from too many things. "It ain't gonna get no better with the wait."
Chris did.
Saturday, 8:38 a.m.
Vin was so still in the seat that Chris wondered if he were breathing. He was staring at the newspaper with what could only be a sort of shock, Chris thought.Chris sipped at the coffee - it was fresh, but that was about all that could be said for it. He had picked up cups for them both inside the convenience store when he had purchased the paper. They had both wanted to see it before they got to the office - especially after the calls from Josiah, at 7:02, Nathan, at 7:31, Travis again at 7:52, then, as they were trying to leave the house, Mary Travis at 8:04, followed by Nettie Wells at 8:12 - that was one that Chris insisted that Vin take, as she was one of the few people Vin actually chose to worry about.
Chris hadn't heard much of their conversation, he had been too busy trying to get them out the door in the driving rain, but Vin had seemed a little more himself afterwards. He had even suggested that things were being blown out of proportion - there simply wasn't that much that anyone could find out about him because he hadn't done that much.
Vin was unmoving for so long that Chris knew he wasn't reading the words. His eyes were focused on something on the page, and leaning just a bit, Chris finally made it out; it was the picture from his driver's license.
"I didn't scam nobody," Vin said quietly, "hell, I didn't even - I mean, I guess I know'd they got money for me being there, on the Res, but - everybody did. It was . . . hell, Chris, it just never - I never thought about it. When I . . . when I ended up in Dubois, I don't know whatever happened to the checks - I didn't get 'em, but I can't believe that Tigee would . . ."
"Vin, don't worry about it. We all know that you haven't done anything - "
"They're saying that I say I'm white - Chris, I - I . . . " He moved finally, his hands grabbing at the paper and crumpling it into a big, loud ball. The frustration rolled off him in waves, his body tight with the stress of keeping it in.
Slowly, Chris reached across the center console and let his hand touch Vin's shoulder.
"What do you think you are, Vin?" he asked softly, knowing the heart of the other's confusion.
Vin shook his head, his eyes closed. "Ain't nothin'," he finally mumbled. "I'm just . . just who I am. What the hell does it matter?"
"Doesn't," Chris agreed softly. "Only to me, Vin. To me, you're exactly who you should be, what you should be."
Vin took a deep breath, but nodded, and he seemed to relax a little. "It's only gonna get worse from here, huh."
Chris squeezed him before moving to crank the engine. "That's what they say. But they've been wrong before."
Vin leaned back in the seat, his eyes still closed. "Can't see how it could get much worse," he said softly. "Tigee's dead - guess there are others who'll say some stuff from the Res, but it'll be 'bout like these folks from Dubois. Chris . .. " He hesitated, opening his eyes and turning to look at Chris.
Chris was driving, pulling up to the street. As he waited for several cars to pass before pulling out, he glanced over.
Vin's face was serious. "I wasn't dumb, Chris, at least, not . . not like they're making it out. I spent so much time on the Res speaking Shoshone that when I ended up back . . .well, off the Res, it took me a while to understand what people was saying."
Chris smiled at him. "I know. And I knew it when I read it. But I appreciate you telling me."
Vin gave a half-hearted quirk of his lips, then leaned back and closed his eyes again. "Hell, nobody cared when I was working for the Marshals. You'd think that'd be something they'd worry about, not the NPS."
Chris tried for some humor. "Hell, Vin, in these parts, the NPS is more important than any of those bad-ass Washington boys."
Vin shook his head. "I didn't work in D.C. then, either." But he was sort of smiling.
They rode most of the way in silence, Chris letting the local news radio broadcast its weather and general reports. More rain was coming - a thought that made Chris uneasy. This was the wettest September they'd ever had - and the results were, so far, proving to be more dangerous that they could have anticipated.
As they neared the North entrance to the Park, traffic seemed a bit heavier; Chris decided at first that it was the weather slowing everyone down. But as he turned into the Grand Loop Road, he noticed that many of the vehicles seemed to have markings.
Media markings. From newspapers, radio stations, television stations -
"What the hell?" Vin mumbled, and Chris took a deep breath.
"That 'worse', I believe you mentioned," he said dryly.
His cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. "Larabee."
"Where are you?" Travis demanded without preamble.
"Coming up on the Center," he answered, slowing to make the turn. There were more cars parked than usual, and he had to slow to let groups of pedestrians in rain gear and all sorts of equipment get out of his way.
"Don't," Travis commanded. "Don't even turn into the parking lot - you'll never get - "
"Too late," Chris returned. He was concentrating more on his driving, on avoiding the groups before him, so he didn't much notice that the crowds seemed to get larger as he neared employee parking.
"They're all over the place," Travis snapped, "like damned lice." Someone spoke in the background, and Chris heard his employer mutter, 'Sorry, Mary, but it's true.' Then he was back to Chris. "The damned media are waiting at the door, Chris, waiting for Tanner. Mary and I barely got in the door and we're hiding out in your office because I can't get to mine."
"We'll be in shortly." He closed the phone, ending the conversation, then realized that he was already committed to parking in the spot that was allocated for him.
Advertising that he, at least, was here.
"Trouble?" Vin asked, his tone mild.
Chris put the Explorer in park, letting the engine idle as he turned off the windshield wipers and the radio and the lights. The rain drummed on the roof, a steady, dismal sound.
"Even 'worser'," he finally answered. "Your fan club is here, and apparently they've already gone for Travis."
Vin sighed. "Look on the bright side," he said with faked brightness. "It ain't snowing."
With that, he pulled the hood of his raincoat over his head. It actually hid his hair and worn a bit loosely, it threw his eyes in shadow.
They looked at each other, needing no words at this point. Chris turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. At the same instant, they reached for the door handles and stepped out of the vehicle.
Later, when he evaluated the events that followed, he thought he had a slightly greater respect for people like professional athletes and movie stars who dealt with this perverse nonsense every day. He didn't even have the door closed on the SUV before he was surrounded by people shoving cameras and microphones in his face, flash bulbs going off and blinding him. The noise - the cacophony of voices yelling questions, words and sounds layered on top of each other in various degrees of volume and pitch - made it impossible to answer anything. The rain made it hard to see anyone distinctly, as did the shifting in the mass of people around him.
Making his way through the mass seemed almost impossible. For every step he took forward, he seemed to have to step back two as someone touched him or grabbed at him, or tried to ram a microphone down his throat.
He heard himself yelling, " No comment," then berated himself for the triteness of it. But his yelling - or perhaps the fact that he was getting angrier by the minute - seemed to work and he found that he was making some forward progress.
He was almost at the end of the Explorer, having ducked between two microphone-wielding reporters who were close enough to the same size that their questions canceled each other out, when he caught sight of Vin - who was not having the luck he was having. Just as the other man appeared in his sight, an anonymous hand caught the back of his hood and pulled, drawing it down and exposing his tell-tale mane of hair.
For his part, Vin struck out indignantly, snapping something, but the words were lost as many of the reporters around Chris, realizing who his passenger had been, were swarming past him.
He could get into the office now, he mused with a certain relief. But it was gone almost as soon as it flashed through his mind; Vin was alone in the center of that hell.
"Goddamit," he growled as he started forward. Then a familiar sound filtered to his ears and he glanced up to see Josiah and Buck making their way through the crowd. Both men were big, and right now, both men looked about as angry as Chris felt.
"Leave him be!" Josiah called, in a tone and volume that promised the wrath of a mighty god.
It worked though; for at least a full minute, everyone in the mob stilled and quieted, moving only to clear a path for the two big men - and for Chris who fell in quickly behind.
As they surrounded Vin, pulling him literally from the clutches of one over-dyed, under-moussed, over-made ABC reporter, the activity restarted.
With Josiah and Buck in front, demanding passage and making clear they would get it, and with each of them hanging on to one of Vin's arms and Chris guarding his back, the made it through the crowd and almost to the stairs of the Center itself.
As if realizing that they were losing the one chance they might have, the crowd swelled again, picking Chris as the weakest link. Before he knew it, he was separated from Vin, a big man wearing a video camera smacking him in the head with just enough force to knock him away. As he shook it off, four people filled the breach, and he saw Josiah turning, stepping back toward Vin. He tried pushing his way back through, but it was a solid wall now, his place long gone. He edged around, looking for an opening, feeling a certain panic as he realized that Buck was two steps past where he had last seen Josiah - and he couldn't see Josiah or Vin at all.
He pushed harder into the bodies before him, made it past several layers of bodies before another voice called loudly and directly from above, "Ladies and gentlemen, please! There's no call for this!"
As with Josiah's earlier command, a certain silence fell.
"Please allow our people to come to work," the voice called again, and Chris looked up to see Ezra yelling from the doorway of the Center. He was dressed in an ivory suit that shown well against the drab greyness of the day, and despite the rain, he looked collected and together; several of the reporters here - hell, most of them, Chris thought in a moment of meanness, could take lessons from the man.
"We have arranged for Mr. Tanner to give a press conference at noon, here in the Visitor's Center. There will be refreshments provided, courtesy of The Yellowstone Foundation. We would ask that until that time, you please allow these men to return to duty!"
Ezra stepped gracefully forward then, descending the stairs with an aplomb that probably embarrassed the crowd more than anything. But whatever it was, it worked. Still calling that there was to be a press conference at noon, he parted the waters and managed to reach Vin, drawing him out and up the stairs as the swelter of people eased and expanded.
When he finally saw Vin's head appear, bedraggled hair unbound and wet, Chris felt himself draw breath.
He managed to move to them, Buck and Josiah closing more quickly. There were still the tenacious ones, who were yelling questions and using their technological toys like weapons, but Ezra deflected them easily and so politely that they actually seemed content to let the Rangers walk away.
"Mr. Tanner will address all of your concerns at noon," he smiled at one pixie-faced female whose mascara had run down her cheeks. "Thank you for coming." He turned, deftly redirecting another microphone as he said, "No, madam, the National Parks Service does not sanction the use of rocket launchers in the back country, and I assure you that Mr. Tanner is not in possession of one."
They were at the door at this point, which opened as they crested the top step. Ezra paused, and looked back, almost sadly, at the wake of people still standing in the pouring rain. Chris thought he might have stayed there for several minutes, but he was holding onto Vin who, like an animal seeing freedom, had bolted for the opening as soon as he saw it.
Then they were all in, and JD was locking the door behind them.
Travis and Mary were to one side, as were numerous other Ranger and Park volunteers, all expressing their concern, relief, and enthusiasm. Chris let someone help him from his rain jacket, but he was more concerned about his people and about Vin. Josiah had slipped, landing hard on his knee and ripping his pants and flesh, which Nathan was looking to now. Buck was just wet and bruised, but Vin - Vin looked dazed and wet and hollow.
Chris stepped to him, curbing the instinct to pull him close, but just barely. Instead, he asked gruffly, "Vin? You okay?"
Before Vin had a chance to answer, Ezra did it for him. "How could he be otherwise?"
The words were hard, his tone brittle, and Chris was unprepared for it. He found himself turning to stare, further caught by the flare of anger he saw in the deep green eyes.
"The world is at his feet - for the moment. He could take this opportunity and maximize it - benefit the Park, himself - the entire community here. A simple call to someone who knows how to handle these things, and the world would fall before him. But instead, he hides this past that we could use, pretends that he's something he's not - "
Vin flinched, and Chris found his voice. "That's enough," he shot back, stepping close. "Not everyone wants to use people, Ezra - "
"It's not using when it's freely given," Ezra countered quickly and darkly. Past him, Chris saw Buck frown and JD step closer, both frowning with confusion. "He's half-Shoshone - half of his heritage is directly tied to this Park! Look at him! That face - those eyes! All this time, we could have been using this for the Foundation - do you have any idea - "
"Yes, dammit, I do!" Chris yelled over him. Other conversations began to fade into quiet as any one nearby turned at the raised voices. "That's the whole point! Nobody should be using him - nobody should give a damn about where he came from or who is parents were - "
"But they do!" Ezra took a step closer. "Everyone cares! It's the nature of who we are, who people are! They want things to have connections and meaning and roots - and here he is, tied to two cultures, the perfect example of how nature and mankind can live together - "
"Listen to yourself - you're talking like a damned real estate agent trying to sell something - "
"Shut up!"
Chris whirled, hearing the level of panic in the new voice, and he saw Ezra turn as well.
Vin stood, his hands clenched at his sides. "I ain't having this," he said, his voice still panicked but more hoarse. "I ain't having the people I care about fight 'cause of me. It ain't worth it. I quit. You can tell 'em they can do what they want - I quit."
He reached up, grabbing his I.D. card where it hung on a leather strap around his neck and yanked, twice. The leather didn't give, bruising and tearing at his flesh , but by the time he went in for the third try, a round chorus of "No!" flared through the room.
Chris caught Vin's hand at the same time Ezra touched his arm. Vin tried to recoil from both of them, but it was Travis who finally calmed the situation.
"Ranger Tanner - Vin, please." The Superintendent took a step closer, glancing pointedly at both Chris and Ezra. "We all realize what a mess this is and how hard it is for you. Despite what Ezra says, even he would find this sudden attention overwhelming. And, I suspect, rude. I doubt he would relish having his own past dragged before the public eye."
For the barest second, The Foundation's chief fund raiser stiffened, his eyes narrowing with irritation; Chris wasn't certain whether it was because of the truth of Travis' words or the implication that he had a past that could be questioned, but whichever the case, Ezra kept his tongue.
"No one wants you to quit," Travis continued, and his tone warmed. "I know what's in your file, and I know a few things that probably aren't. Nothing in this morning's paper surprised me, Vin, and while the way it was written, the slant, if you will, was designed to ultimately hurt you and the NPS, I know, as does everyone in this room, all of your friends, that none of it matters. I don't want your resignation. That's not going to stop any of this - in truth, it would probably make it worse. The only thing that's going to make it end is muddling our way through it."
He came closer and reluctantly, Chris surrendered some of his space.
Travis put a hand on Vin's shoulder, the gesture paternal. Vin tensed at the contact, but it was subtle; Chris doubted anyone other than himself would have noticed. "Chris and Ezra are both right - perhaps a bit more strident than they need to be, but essentially both are correct. We want to protect you as much as possible. But between Mary and Ezra, I'm convinced that the best way is for us to take some control of this situation, and the only way we can do that is through you. The media wolves want you, but we've got you." He tilted his head, searching for Vin's eyes. "Vin?"
Chris heard the sigh, almost felt himself the effort it took for Vin to look up at the Superintendent. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.
"If you promise to give it your best shot, I promise to keep these two from killing each other," Travis said lightly. "We'll keep the fighting targeted against our opponents, not each other, right, people?"
The last part was said loudly, inviting a collected murmuring of 'yes' from the others in the room. Travis patted Vin once more on the shoulder, then turned and said, still loudly, "I was under the impression most of you were getting paid, and getting paid overtime at this point. Yet I see no work being done."
There was a scurrying of feet as most people set off to their tasks. Most of Chris' immediate team stayed put, though, Nathan settling Josiah back into a chair so he could finish with his knee, Buck and JD both edging closer to Chris.
"Chris, Ezra, there's fresh coffee in the break room, Mary and I will be waiting for you there," Travis said over his shoulder as he collected his daughter-in-law and started toward the back of the building. "We need to get this Center open, people, before the Judge is interrupting my morning!"
"I apologize," Ezra said quietly as soon as Travis was out of earshot. "I didn't mean to - "
"Ain't nothing," Vin said, holding up a hand. He started to say something else, then stopped, glancing about and taking in the men gathered around him. Taking a deep breath, he said a little more loudly and to them all, "I ain't gonna apologize to y'all for what I am. I ain't never lied about it, but I ain't never advertised it neither. As I see it, it ain't nobody's damned business. This whole mess is screwed up. I hate that y'all are getting caught in it, and I'm sorry for that. I won't blame anybody for doin' the smart thing and walkin' away. I ain't gonna stand here and give ya my whole life story so you'll know what's true and what ain't. But if . . . if somethin' rubs ya the wrong way, ask me 'fore ya decide it's true. Mr. Travis is right - it ain't the facts so much as the way they're being - slanted?" He looked at Ezra, who nodded his agreement. "Y'all ain't known me long so I don't blame ya for wonderin'."
He ran out steam then, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. "And - thanks," he added, but it wasn't an afterthought. Chris knew this was where the words had started. "Ain't never had people watchin' out fer me. I . . .'preciate it." The last was a mumble, and he was looking at the floor as he said it, his hands locked in fists at his side.
For a second, no one said anything.
JD was the one who summed it up first, and best, going right to the heart of it. "You'd be the first one there for any of us, Vin," he said seriously. "We gotta look out for each other - that's what teams do, right?"
Chris looked up, catching Buck's eye across the space between them, the familiar glint of support and agreement.
"Damn straight, kid," Buck agreed with a laugh. "Us big guys gotta watch out for you small fry - keep ya out of trouble. Even though, Vin, I gotta say - that filly you was with in those pictures - we need to talk about the rules of sharing among the team!"
It was the first direct reference made to what had been in the paper, an acknowledgement that he - and probably every one else - had read it. It was said with humor, but Chris shifted, watching Vin for signs of distress.
His friend looked up, meeting Buck's gaze. He smiled, taking years off his face. "Hell, Buck, you coulda had her. She probably woulda wore out JD!"
The other laughed - all of them, the sound more a response to the release of tension in the room than to any real humor. But it started a renewed babbling as JD railed at the implied criticism of his age, and Buck laughed outright at the thought of JD surviving the party-girl who had claimed Vin on the dance floor the night of the formal reception at the beginning of the summer.
"Better get to Travis," Chris said, stepping up to Vin and letting his hand drop to Vin's lower back. The touch was more for him than Vin, but Vin seemed to appreciate it.
Ezra was still there, still close. He leaned just enough to block Vin's way, his eyes intent. "Please, let me - " He held up a hand, forestalling whatever Vin was going to say. As Vin relented and nodded, he continued, "It was selfish of me to think that you would see this in the same light that I do. I forget that there are men who do not see every attention as a means to self-glorification, commendations, and the acquisition of wealth. I am most unaccustomed to stumbling over men of your integrity."
It was a compliment, Chris understood it for what it was, and from the quick nod of Vin's head, he knew he did as well.
"Thanks, Ez," Vin said softly. "'Course, you're gonna have to get me outta this thing you got planned for noon."
Chris felt the shiver that ran through Vin's body. It was disconcerting when he recognized that his lover was scared - Vin didn't seem to fear anything.
Ezra smiled. "'Out' is most likely impossible. But I will get you through it, I promise."
Vin shook his head, but he led the way toward the break room.
As they passed Josiah and Nathan, the big man caught Chris attention with a subtle tilt of his head. "You heard the weather reports?" he asked quietly.
Chris nodded, letting his hand drop from Vin and missing the contact instantly. He watched as Vin walked on, listening to whatever Ezra was saying, his hair curlier as it slowly dried.
"You seen the flash report from the quake guys?"
Josiah's question caught Chris' attention. "What?" He looked down, meeting the other's gaze. Josiah looked tired, he noted; probably hadn't gotten any more sleep than Chris and Vin. But he was alert and more importantly, he was worried.
"Rain's causing more problems. They think we're gonna get more tremors."
Chris shook his head. "Travis know?"
"Already got a call in to the Judge, but I have a bad feeling we might be in this one ourselves," Josiah answered. "You might want to see if you can get some sort of idea out of him about where he wants to stand."
Nathan finished his bandaging and rose to sit next to Josiah. He looked the worse for the night as well. "It's bad out there, Chris. The two camps are pretty solidly entrenched, and they ain't moving. Trahart's people started out with a scout walking circles around the site. Within an hour, Van Atta's people were doing the same thing. Got kinda funny after a while - think a couple of 'em might have gotten along, if let to their own devices. But about 5 this morning, things started heating up. The rain's gonna put everyone in a bitchier mood, too - mud's getting less stable past the barriers and lots of people are slipping and sliding and starting to get hurt. But they're stubborn - if one side does one thing, the other side's gonna try it as well You could go in there armed with all the reports and predictions you want, but I doubt that anything other than an order from the Judge is going to get those people away from that site."
"Not even to save their sorry asses?" Chris asked, his temper instant and, he knew, misdirected.
But Nathan knew him too well and merely chuckled. "So far, neither side has shown much intelligence in this whole mess, Chris - hell, they don't seem to know enough to come in out of the rain!"
The statement was so apt that they all chuckled.
Chris looked over in time to see the door to the break room closing behind Vin and Ezra. He took a step forward, but Josiah caught his wrist. "You need any more crowd control, you let me know," he said.
Chris nodded, understanding what was behind the words. "Thanks, Josiah. I will."
He started across the tiled floor, but slowed as the door opened and Travis came out. As he neared, his superior said, "Mary's started the interview and Ezra is going to help out, coaching Vin on what to expect at the press conference." He studied Chris for a minute, then said, "Let's go to your office. We have a few things we need to talk about as well."
Chris frowned, not liking the sound of that at all, but he followed along, letting the other man take the lead.
As before, Travis gestured him to his own desk and took the seat across. He was more relaxed this time, though being in his regular uniform instead of the dress uniform probably had a lot to do with that.
Wanting to retain control of the situation, Chris started just as Travis opened his mouth. "Josiah says they're predicting more tremors."
Travis drew a breath, then nodded as he answered, "Later today, they think, especially if the rains continue, which it looks like it will."
"You gonna close the site?"
Travis arched one eyebrow, his annoyance clear but his voice was patient. "That would be my preference, yes. But I don't think I have the authority to override a Judge's Order - despite what the law would probably consider to be an Act of God."
"So - you're going to let it stay open, even knowing the safety issues - "
"Chris." His tone had gone flat, his anger sharp in the small room. "I will strongly recommend that everyone leave the site. I will stipulate to the people involved that the NPS will not be held responsible for anything that happens to them - not that it will hold up in Court, but perhaps it will carry some weight about the severity of the situation. I will try - try - to have the perimeter extended past the danger point for the shifting ground. I spoke to the acting magistrate judge for this weekend, who declined to abrogate the Order without serious catastrophe. I have called Judge Andrene and left two messages one her office telephone, one on her home phone - which is still listed in the phone book, God help her, and one on her cell phone, which Evie gave to me because they're in the same bookclub!"
Chris held up a hand as the last words echoed around him. "I understand," he said reluctantly, offering as much apology as he could. Politics. He hated them.
Travis grunted. "Royal fuck-up, this one. One of the worst Septembers we've ever had, one of the most active on the earthquake front, and I've got to have an actual court order sitting on my desk keeping me from being able to fully impose a safety regulation. No matter which way I go, we're going to end up looking bad." He closed his eyes in a wince that made Chris sympathize.
"Sorry, Orrin," he said finally. "I guess when it comes down to it, you do what you've got to do to face yourself the next day."
Travis nodded. "In a lose-lose proposition, you speak truth." They grinned at each other.
Travis sobered quickly though. "And on the subject of lose-lose situations, I need to say one thing, Chris: Tanner's in enough trouble right now. The press is going to dig up every little thing they can. Ezra and Mary are right - we can spin this to a certain extent, and in the doing, protect him and the Park, maybe even the Reservation. If we play it right and well, the really bad stuff will end up relegated to rags like The Weekly Universal News and whatever passes for news on the local-access cable channels. That's what we're shooting for. But what I need to make very clear right now and in the confines of this office is that I cannot afford for there to be any hint of scandal touching my administration, Chris. Personally, I could care one whit less what my subordinates are up to in their free time, as long as it in no way endangers any one or jeopardizes the safety of this Park and its creatures - animal, vegetable, or mineral."
He met Chris' gaze squarely, his expression neutral. "I'm not asking anything, I'm not insinuating anything, I don't want to know anything. I just want to be sure that I don't have to worry about any skunks in the woodpile. Am I understood?"
Chris remained still, weighing the words and his answer. He never lost Travis' stare, though, not backing down. "As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing you need to worry about, Orrin. And while I can't speak for Vin on it, I reckon he'd say the same."
Travis nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear." He sighed, the lines on his face almost as clear as Josiah's had been earlier. "When this is over, we need a long weekend away somewhere."
Chris smiled. He was thinking the same thing - but his idea didn't include Orrin and Evie Travis.
Saturday, 11: 57 a.m.
"Are you a complete idiot?"Chris looked up in time to see JD pulling one of the students out of the spreading bog of mud, the young ranger's anger giving him the strength to not only pull the woman free but sling her back past the new barrier line they were trying to establish. He continued his tirade, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she didn't deserve to be in the gene pool.
She stumbled, but didn't fall, thank goodness. Chris didn't want another lawsuit out of this fiasco.
She did start yelling obscenities however, yet more threats about having their jobs, their badges, their uniforms . . . Right now, soaked to the bone, muddier than even Vin could get, he'd almost be willing to let her. Her dog, a little brown thing with splotches of white at the tips of its ears and tail, ran around barking as well, adding more noise to the general uproar.
"Chris!" He turned to see Buck trotting toward him, pulling a thick line of bright orange nylon ribbon behind him. "Ain't gonna work - the hill's starting to shift. Next tremor's gonna get us another landslide or land-break - we gotta get these people outta here!"
Chris couldn't agree more. But before he could say so, the next round of tremors started; the ground didn't shake so much as the mud bog, that was the spreading in the persistent rain and growing as more ground became mud, started to shiver like a large, thick bowl of jello. There was noise that was more feeling than sound, but it dominated the ear, unsettling and tugging at the instinct to run for safety.
Some heeded it, picking up gear and moving quickly toward the trail and away.
But not enough.
Almost none of Trahart's people had left, even though, after Trahart had made a point of stating his objection to the perimeter being changed, they had moved to where they were still closer to the moving mire than made any of the Rangers comfortable, but they weren't being obstinate fools like Van Atta's students.
'The Kids' - as JD had dubbed them, the irony amusing everyone except JD - had screeched and yelled and threatened - several pulling out cell phones and calling anyone and everyone who would listen. Van Atta, of course, was top of their list, which would lead to lawyers - but hell, if enough people were screaming, maybe the damned judge would deign to say something . . .
Now, the Shoshone spread out and moved farther back but like the previous several days, they were spread out in a circle around the site; some were not visible, but Chris knew they were there, could almost feel them. They apparently still practiced their traditional ways, for they blended well into the landscape; they stayed where they could see each other and the complete site area, watching patiently even in the rain, waiting for - whatever they were waiting for.
The Kids, however, kept to the edge of the perimeter, standing in the way of both the Rangers, as they tried to push them back, and the mud bog itself as it flowed and spread and sucked in more stable ground.
Now though, the shaking of the earth was moving not just the mud itself around, but also the less stable structure of the hill itself. As it had the day it had shifted the hill and opened up the crevasse for the release of the artifacts at issue, the shaking started low under them, the mud seeming to turn on itself, like a great vat of chocolate boiling.
The shifting of the land itself was slow at first, giving most people time to realize that leaving the area would be the wiser plan. Most did, even Trahart's people stretching out and away.
"Everybody get back!" Chris yelled, as much into his radio as into the air itself. Most of his people knew already and were doing so, staying ahead of the danger.
But of course there was the one idiot. The one who was either too slow or too obstinate or too willing to demonstrate Darwin's evolutionary theory. He was rail thin and dark-haired and from the look of him, in worn jeans and nondescript raingear, Chris couldn't tell which one of the two camps he was in - or even if he was one of the media people who had been all over this.
Whatever the case, he was standing just on the cusp of the slope, too near one of the points of expansion. When the trembling started, his balance gave with the dirt under his feet and he went down. The fissure cracked wide just below him and he tumbled into it.
Fortunately, he called out, his voice carrying through the deeper noise of nature, and several of the Rangers near him heard.
"Chris!" Nathan's yell came through the radio just a split second before it cut the air. Chris turned, as did Buck yards away from him.
With a speed that belied its consistency, mud spewed upward and around, quickly filling the new opening in the ground and covering the man who had fallen in.
"Rope!" Chris yelled, slipping and sliding along the slick ground even as he kept his eyes focused on the thin arm sticking up clear above the mire.
"Too far away!" Buck yelled from behind him. "Here!"
Chris saw a bright orange streak out of the corner of his eye, saw it land several feet in front of him. The nylon tape, he thought - not the best choice but better than no choice at all.
He leaned down as he neared, scooping it up while still staying focused on their victim. He knew Buck was behind him, saw Nathan coming as fast as he could on a vertical approach.
Another form, not a Ranger, was slip-sliding down the hill - Trahart, Chris realized, coming to help his own.
The lost man came up for air then, crying out for help. Chris was nearing the edge of the stable ground and he calculated the range to their man.
"Chris, here!" Buck was beside him, a thick branch in his hands. "Tie the end to this."
By the time the orange strand was knotted around the piece of wet wood, Nathan and Trahart had reached them; they were calling out to the other man, catching his attention.
The branch landed close and the trapped man managed to catch the nylon. But it wasn't strong, the thin fabric stretching as they tried to pull him from the mire that was sucking him deeper as the tremors kept it roiling.
"Hang on!" Nathan yelled encouragingly, even as he pulled off his coat and tossed it out, holding on to one sleeve to give the maximum length he could.
It wasn't long enough, falling a good three fee shy of the hand that was slowly slipping away, the nylon beginning to fray.
"Help me!!" the man screamed, just before his head was covered in a bubble of mud.
"Chris, hold me!"
Chris barely had time to realize what was happening before it was too late to stop it. With the infamous Wilmington impulsiveness, Buck was shrugging out of his raincoat and hat, and kneeling at the side of the bog. Chris barely had time to tighten his hold on the nylon strand before Buck was reaching back to pull the roll itself from Chris' hands, wrapping it several times around his chest under his arms.
"You can't be serious!" Chris screamed, but he knew better. It was a relief that Trahart was suddenly there with a knife, separating the length that Chris held attached to their floundering idiot from the bulk of the coil, part of which was now wrapped around Buck.
"Double it up," Buck said, gesturing "run it through the fender of the stuck news van over there and give it back to me - twice as much of it, I should be able to feed myself into the mud and grab him - y'all can pull me out!"
"You're nuts!" Chris said, even as Trahart was already moving to do as Buck instructed. "You're too big - "
"Which we need, Chris!" Buck yelled back. "I can reach him - you boys just have to hang on to me!"
"No, it's not safe - " He was cut off as Trahart returned, handing the coiled ribbon back to Buck.
"You want a slip knot?" the Shoshone leader asked, his tone blunt.
"You do one?" Buck asked as his own fingers were fumbling in the rain and cold.
Trahart didn't answer with words, just retook the coil and working swiftly, created a knot that would join the two sides of the ribbon but allow Buck to extend its length. He did speak though, his voice clear and cool. "If you move slowly, you will sink. Move quickly, but pick your steps; look for areas of thickness, darker colors. When you get to him, be careful of him as well - like a drowning swimmer, he may try to pull you down."
"You've done this?" Chris demanded even as Buck rose to his feet, letting out some of the nylon. "Then you should be - "
"Hurry up!" Nathan cried as the drowning man spluttered up, pulling on his own disintegrating lifeline as Nathan tried pulling it as well. The man was moving a little closer to stable land, but the ribbon he was holding was pulling apart too fast.
Buck glanced quickly to Chris, meeting his eyes before launching himself into the mess. Chris moved quickly to grab both of the ribbons so that, like Trahart, he was anchoring his friend.
It was breath-taking and terrifying to watch; for the first few steps, it was as though Buck were walking on solid land, the only indication otherwise in the way the earth under his feet sank as he left it.
But by the fourth step, he was sinking, his right ankle dropping into the mire, followed by his left foot entirely, then his right leg up to his shin. Fortunately, as a tall man with very long legs, by the time he had sunk to his knees, he was able to catch the downed man by the arm.
Unfortunately, pulling on that arm forced Buck farther into the mud. He was submerged to his chest by the time he got the other man up enough to catch breath, then he went completely under as the man clawed at him, trying to use him as a platform to move through the bog.
Chris heard himself shouting, Nathan as well, then JD was with them, all of them, Trahart included, pulling on the orange bindings, trying to bring the two men closer. Peripherally, Chris was aware of the small dog running around them, barking as well, as he wondered if the mud gods would accept the damned dog as a sacrifice instead of Buck.
The double strand worked better than a single one, but within minutes, it, too was stretching and fraying. Buck went under a second time, and Chris felt his heartbeat stumble as he watched the man they were trying to save again keep his friend down. But Buck was resilient, and as he forced himself up, mud spewing about him, they all pulled and drew him and his target several feet closer.
Josiah appeared out of nowhere, as wet as the rest of them but with a rope. Tying off the end as a lasso, he tossed it toward Buck who managed, on the third try, to catch it. Holding onto it with one arm and grabbing the fighting man around the chest with the other, the men on land were able to pull the other two close enough to finally get their hands on them.
It took all of them to get the two out, though, and in the end, they were all just about as mud-covered as Buck. Nathan was on him the minute they had him on the ground, Josiah helping while Chris, JD, and Trahart helped Buck to settle, wiping at the mud.
"Ambulance will meet us at the trail head," Josiah called at one point, "close as they can get in."
Another tremor, and Chris looked up in time to see the Fox news wagon, the orange nylon streamers now hanging lax and forlorn from its front bumper, tilt to one side then very slowly, like a large elephant, roll over onto its side, sinking deep.
"We need to move," Trahart said from Chris' right. "Now."
"Wish your man had thought of that about half an hour ago," Chris retorted, but he was leaning down to help Buck to his feet.
Yards away, Josiah and Nathan were doing the same for the rescued man.
The ground beneath them seemed to dissolve as they started moving, an encouragement that sped them along. By the time they reached the tree line, the ground had again solidified, and even though it was raining harder, coming down in sheets, they were unsurprised to find that most of the people who had been around the site were here, waiting and watching.
Chris sighed, bracing himself for the litany of complaints he was sure he would hear as soon as they were recognized. As the first people stepped forward - reporters, as it appeared by the equipment they were carrying, JD intercepted them. With a practice learned hard over the past several months, the young man used his own body to herd them back and away, giving Chris and Buck space.
They were further saved by the slow approach of an EMS van.
They came to a stop, Buck resting on Chris' shoulder as the paramedics rushed about, getting equipment and looking over their rescuee first.
"You're an idiot," Chris said conversationally, his anger, concern, and relief playing equal parts in his head. Memories of the recent past, pulling Vin out of that mire, played in his head, doubling his emotions. "You do know that, right?"
"You're just jealous 'cause I did it before you could," Buck returned, still gasping for air; his face was no longer covered with mud, just streaked with it where the rain and sweat hadn't yet washed it away. Between the rescue and the trot to get to more stable ground, he was still trying to recover his breath.
Chris shook his head, unable to argue at the moment. "Damned idiots," he said, but the direction of the curse was unspecific. "We're damned lucky no one's been killed yet."
"Blame the Judge," Buck said. "That site shoulda been closed off."
Chris didn't have a chance to agree; Nathan and Josiah, relieved of their burden, came in close, providing another layer of shielding from the scrutiny of the remaining spectators.
"He gonna be okay?" Chris asked, using his chin to point toward the EMS truck.
Nathan nodded, extending a bottle of water toward Buck. "Rinse out your mouth - and spit it out, Buck, you don't need any more of those germs in your system. Yeah," he said turning to Chris, "just bruised and oxygen-shy. Buck got to him in time and we got him out. Damned fool kid."
Chris canted his head, confused. "Thought he was one of Trahart's," he said, his gaze moving between Nathan and Josiah.
The older man was shaking his head. "None of the Shoshone would go near that mess, Chris," he said with a slight smile. "Aaron's a good man. His people been dealing with mud bogs for - centuries, probably. He was only being helpful."
Chris blinked, confused. "You're telling me that was one of Van Atta's little - "
"Or one of the media people," Josiah interrupted smoothly as their group was joined by several newcomers.
Chris nodded at the two women who stepped up to them. Both were wearing raingear, but they seemed to be as wet and bedraggled as the Rangers themselves.
"We just wanted to let you know," one of them started, her eyes on Buck, "that that was one of the bravest things we've ever seen."
"And stupidest," Chris muttered, rolling his eyes as the two women stared at Buck in adoration. He saw Nathan and Josiah turn away, hiding smiles, as Buck went from exhausted to flirtatious in half a second.
One of the paramedics ambled over and Chris gestured to Buck. As his friend allowed himself to become the center of attention to numerous parties at once, Chris glanced at his watch.
It was 12:43. He wondered how Vin's press conference had gone.