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Monday 6:45 a.m.
He watched Vin step out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry - or as dry as it was going to get. He was wearing boxer-briefs and making his way to the end of the bed where his uniform was already spread out. It had come as an amusing surprise to find that Vin always lay his clothes out before he got in the shower, as if somewhere between the water hitting him and getting out, he would get so distracted that he couldn't remember what he was doing."Do I get to know the big plan?" he asked, sipping on his coffee as he leaned against the dresser.
Vin snorted. "Ain't rightly sure what it is myself. Ezra's being real closed-mouthed about it. But it's got something to do with Mrs. Holtzmann and some of her crowd." He stepped back into the bathroom long enough to hang his towel up then returned, reaching for his clothes. He pulled on the white T-shirt first, and Chris watched him.
"Getting them to contribute money somehow - she's the woman who wants the webcams, right?"
Vin was pulling on his uniform pants, his fingers playing with the unfamiliar crease. "You iron these?" he asked, confused.
"They needed it," he answered, sipping again. "Holtzmann?"
"Um, yeah, she is - Chris, I never iron my pants. Everyone knows that." He looked up, his hands on his hips, the pants on but open at the fly. It was an image that Chris found both endearing and erotic.
"They'll know I washed them - and ironed them - so what?" He pushed himself up and sauntered over to stand close to his lover. "Are we back to hiding? If so, it's probably too late." He watched and waited.
Vin shook his head, but he was still smiling. "It's one thing to be seeing each other. But - ironing my pants? Hell, it's like we're married!"
Chris leaned in a little closer, his nose almost brushing Vin's. "As long as you're on bottom, I don't mind ironing." He waited until, with a laugh, Vin crossed the scant space and kissed him.
"Damned waste of energy. They'll be wrinkled just as soon as I sit down." He was closing up the pants and reaching down for his shirt. "Hell, you ironed it, too! Now it's gonna scratch!"
"Well, if I had had someone here to distract me, I would have just hung them up and gone on - but if I remember correctly, I was here by myself until - almost 11:00 last night?" He was teasing and they both knew it.
"What'd you do for entertainment before I came along?" Vin groused. "Iron the sheets and curtains?"
Drank a lot and watched a lot of really bad television, he thought, but he didn't say.
"You want breakfast?" he asked instead, slapping the well-shaped butt on his way out of the room.
The office was steady but quiet, Mondays by nature a low-key day. The weather was moody, periodic rainy spells alternating with periodic attempts by the sun to break free which led to groggy humidity. Travis was in Judge Andrene's Court, so they awaited word from him with a certain dread.
Mary called twice to talk to Vin, once to thank him, Chris gathered from the blush that he saw on his lover's face even across the distance between his office and Reception, and once to tell him that things might quiet down a bit; she'd had several calls this morning from other press outlets, but they seemed to have taken to heart her warning not to bother Vin at work. She'd asked to speak to Chris, but he'd managed to dodge it, letting it ring through to his voice-mail.
For his part, there were only token calls for Vin and Chris from reporters, and only three who actually showed up at the Center. All three accepted the requests for them to leave with grace and no surprise. None of them admitted to breaking into Vin's camper - not that anyone in their sane mind would have, given the snarling Vin was doing everytime someone identified themselves as being press-affiliated. After the third call, Chris discretely had the calls to Reception forwarded to his desk in hopes of keeping Vin calm.
It was after noon when Chris noted that his boss's car was in its spot but he still hadn't heard from the man - nor had anyone else. A quick call to his office was met by a quiet word from his secretary who said he was on the phone; she'd have him call Chris as soon as he was available.
It was after 2:00 p.m. when the call came, the comments quick.
"Judge Andrene accepted my word that the weather was bad and that the seismological reports anticipated more trouble if the rain persisted. The site will remain closed at least through the next several days, until the weather clears." Travis sounded distracted. "Mary tells me things are quieting down for Tanner, but the attention is now moving to the Reservation itself. I still want him under wraps, Chris, at last a while longer."
Chris sighed his agreement, looking out to where Vin was standing in front of a window, staring outside. He'd grown more restless as the day had continued, trying his damnedest to get outside himself, even in the gloom. Fortunately, he was the only person on the Reception desk and Dispatch until 4, so he couldn't very well leave to show anyone anything.
"I understand Ezra's got some great plan," Chris ventured, probing to see if any headway had been made.
To his surprise, Travis actually chuckled. "It's a damned good thing he's on our side, most of the time, anyway. Yeah, he's got a plan - I've been up to my backside in it most of the day."
"Good one?" Chris asked.
"Damned good. Should know more later this week. You guys hang tight and keep your heads down."
They team met for dinner at the Mammoth Dining Room and Grill, their favorite watering hole during the week. Casey worked there, which meant that JD would end up there for most of the evening anyway, and they knew most of the staff and the regulars as well.
Most of his team had changed out of their uniform shirts at the least, and Buck and JD had changed into jeans as well; the proscription against drinking in uniform was one that they all took seriously, and right now, with the scrutiny they were under, Chris was thankful.
"Quiet day, brothers," Josiah intoned, and Chris noted that he looked more relaxed. "While I don't wish any more trouble, I can say that I wouldn't mind a few more days of weather like today's - keep the site closed and the visitors on their best behavior."
"Was nice," Nathan agreed. "I actually got to spend the day doing a couple of school tours of Fort Yellowstone instead of pulling people I care about out of mud bogs."
Ignoring the implicit criticism, Buck laughed and smacked Nathan on the shoulder, almost spilling Nathan's beer. "Good thing we keep you in practice, Nate - don't want that EMS certification to get rusty!"
Nathan rolled his eyes as the others chuckled as well. "Anybody seen Ezra today?" he asked, changing the topic. "I figured he'd be around gloating somewhere, given all the attention the Foundation got in yesterday's news."
"And how much our golden boy got!" Buck grinned over to Vin, who was sitting quietly to Chris' left. "You sure make a purty picture, Vin," he winked. "You let me know if you need any help with all them young ladies who I know are calling you up."
"Yeah!" JD piped up quickly. "I ran into a friend of mine at Blockbuster last night - said you and Chloe Rathbone were really going at it Saturday night! You know, her dad's got his hands in a virtual reality company out of Silicon Valley - you think you can get us some inside scoop?"
Vin just looked at JD, rolling his beer bottle around in front of him. "Somehow, Chloe's dad didn't come up in the conversation," he said quickly.
"Damn, JD!" Buck said, smacking the younger Ranger on the back of the head. "What are you thinking? If you're out with someone like Chloe Rathbone, you want other things to come up - and talking about a girl's daddy ain't gonna accomplish that! What are you thinking about?"
JD winced and slapped ineffectively at Buck in return. "I'm thinking about getting us some more equipment we can use to help the Park!" he shot back. He turned his attention back to Vin, and Chris did as well, not surprised to find his lover blushing and holding up one hand.
"Don't even start," he said, his eyes narrowed. "I ain't nothing but friends with Chloe, and I ain't trading on that for nothin'. She's already got too many people using her to get to her daddy. And I also ain't sure when I'll see her again - I ain't huntin' her out and she ain't huntin' me out. So leave it be."
Buck shook his head, his voice feigning sadness. "Heartbreakin', really," he bemoaned, "the trials and tribulations of being a media star. All that attention, all those women - why, Vin, I would gladly sacrifice myself to be your personal assistant through these long days, you know, makin' sure you get all your messages and make all your dates with reporters."
"And get all the phone numbers of the women lookin' for Vin?" Nathan shot back. "Damned swell of ya, Buck - but ain't that what Ezra's supposed to be doing?"
"I ain't got no women callin' me," Vin snapped, blushing more.
There was a second of complete silence before Buck snorted and JD leaned on the table and stared straight at Vin. "I know I took at least four calls for you today that were from women, Vin - and I don't think they were all reporters, either - they didn't say they were. Even I know that you can have as many dates as you can handle right now."
Vin blushed even darker but he kept his voice even as he said, "It's jist that woman lookin' fer her damned dog."
"Yeah, she was looking for something," JD snorted, "but I don't think it was a dog."
Despite himself, Chris chuckled. For a second, he considered making the announcement to the team that he had made to Ezra the night before.
Perhaps reading his mind - certainly knowing him well enough to guess, Vin said quickly, "Staying at Chris' place has done wonders for keeping the women offa me. If there's somewhere that a whole passel of young ladies don't want ta be, it's at the home of Glarin' Larabee."
The statement had the desired effect; Buck and JD immediately went off on a tangent about how Chris could run a woman off in seconds. Just as they were getting to the example of Saturday night, Casey appeared, grinning as she approached the table. She worked the dining room, one of the full-time waitresses, so she tended to drift in and out of the bar area where the Rangers usually sat. As usual, she stopped beside JD. "Good to see you, Chris," she grinned. "Wondered if you'd survived your hangover."
Chris took a deep breath, prepared for the ribbing to come and was not disappointed.
"Hangover?" Nathan asked, looking at the other man.
"Long story," Chris tried, knowing full well that it wouldn't get him out of it.
"You shoulda seen him," JD laughed. "He was almost worse than Buck!"
"Do tell," Josiah piped up, sliding his own gaze to Chris. And JD did, of course, with Buck adding his own interpretations of events - and defending himself when necessary. The others laughed at the report of Chris' dancing - "old style", JD reported, and Casey agreed, "And the music wasn't even slow!" "He's old, JD," Vin's voice carried from beside Chris. "They used to dance like that when he was a kid." The others laughed even harder as Chris shot a glare to Vin, but under the table, he let his fingers squeeze Vin's thigh. His lover was taking this in stride. The perils of Saturday night were, for the moment, at bay. They didn't stay late - all of them had to work the next day and there was no way to know how things would go. As they were heading out, calling 'good nights' and teasing each other with various insults, Buck dropped back to match pace with Chris and Vin. He eased between them, an arm over each of their shoulders.
"You know, Chris, we all understand that Travis had made keeping up with Vin here, a priority, but I'll be glad to baby-sit the boy anytime you want. Heck, tonight's fine, or even tomorrow night."
"Don't need no baby-sitting," Vin growled, slapping at Buck's arm on his shoulders. "And I ain't going out with you so you can meet women."
"Vin!" Buck said, smiling at the other man. "I would never take advantage of your current popularity for my own purposes."
"Bullshit," Chris and Vin both said at the same time. Then all three laughed. As they calmed, Buck spoke again, his tone more serious. "I am serious though, you are welcome to stay at my place if you want," he said.
"Thanks, Buck, but I do have a home of my own," Vin said, his annoyance clear but not directed at them.
"I know you do," Buck soothed. "I was just thinking that Chris might like - well, you know how he gets, all moody and temperamental and the like. And I got lots a room so you won't bother me none."
Vin started to speak again, but this time, Chris cut him off. He stopped, the action drawing the other two to stop as well, both rounding off to face him.
"Buck," he started, meeting his oldest friend's gaze squarely, "have you noticed me being moody and temperamental lately?"
Peripherally, he was aware of Vin tensing, of the younger man stepping forward, one hand outstretched to catch Chris' arm.
But it was Buck he was watching, and he wasn't disappointed. His oldest friend was watching him as well, his blue eyes wary and canny, and best, knowing.
"Not in the past several months, stud," he answered with a slow smile. "Have to say, if I didn't know better, I'd say you was getting laid right regularly."
Chris tilted his head, letting Vin catch his arm, but ignoring the pleading and worry he saw in his lover's eyes. "Do you know better?" he asked.
Buck's smile only widened. "Guess I do now, don't I."
"Gonna be a problem?" Chris asked. Vin's hand tightened its grip and he knew Vin had stopped breathing.
But Buck shook his head, then turned to catch Vin's gaze. "Can't say I'm surprised," he said slowly. "Well, guess I can, but can't say that I'm unhappy about it. You two are good together." He reached out and let one hand drop on Vin's shoulder. "You hurt him, Junior, and I'll kill ya."
For an instant, Vin's eyes widened. Then, his lips quirked into a sort of grin. "Don't see how that can happen, Buck. Long as you and Ezra stop dragging us off to strange women's apartments."
Buck laughed out loud at that. "Yeah, guess you're right," he chuckled. His gaze returned to Chris. "Damn, Chris, this woulda been an easier week if you'd said something earlier."
"Don't I know it," Chris muttered, but he smiled as well. "Guess I was afraid of losin' you."
"Shit," Buck answered ineloquently, but he still smiled. "Gonna take more than that, Chris. Thought you'd know that by now."
Chris shrugged. "Figured. But it's been a long week. And we weren't really ready to make an announcement, it just sorta got thrust on us."
"Yeah, I'd say so," Buck agreed. "Well, then, I'll see if I can rope Josiah into Donna's next night on the town - even though you two should come, just to watch. Probably cost me a lot more getting' him drunk enough to dance." They all laughed and started back to their respective vehicles.
Buck was parked several places behind and away from Chris' Explorer, and as they drew near and Vin walked around to his side, Buck caught Chris by the back of his shirt, pulling him close.
"Thanks," he said quietly in Chris' ear, pulling them into step with each other.
"For what?" Chris asked, turning to look at the other man.
"Telling me," Buck said simply. "Guess it wasn't all that easy, after all we been through. But I'm good with it. Won't say it was something I expected, but . . . " he paused, smiling at Chris. "You been different since he came along. Better. I'm glad."
He slapped Chris on the shoulder, then he was gone, whistling some country tune that Chris almost recognized as he trotted over to his truck.
Chris shook his head, amused and flattered by his friend.
"What was that about?" Vin asked as Chris finally climbed into the SUV.
"He likes you," Chris said, grinning.
"Damned glad to hear it," Vin retorted. "Hate to think he's been putting up with me 'cause of you."
Chris laughed, then, glancing at Vin, he saw the seriousness in the other's face. "Buck? Are you kidding me, Vin?" He reached over and caught Vin's hand. "This is about me telling him, isn't it."
Vin took a deep breath, his body rigid. "You don't get it, do you? People don't just take to this like changing toast for biscuits. You can't just play with their feelings - with yours. Telling Ezra was one thing - and a big thing. Hell, I spent last night making him promise not to spread it around, and I don't think he will. But Buck - you coulda lost him, Chris. You still could. He might not be thinking right now about what it all means - about how he knew you when you were with Sarah and - "
"Vin." He waited until Vin was listening to him, looking at him.
He'd never seen as much fear in those eyes as he did now, and he knew it was because Vin was worried for him. Not for himself, not for what he could lose, but for Chris.
"They're our friends. You said it yourself."
"Yeah, but Buck - "
"Buck is Buck."
Vin didn't say anything for a few seconds, then, with another shake of his head, he said, "You ever think you might be wrong? Just once in your life?"
Chris laughed then. "All the time. But not when it matters." He tugged until Vin turned and looked at him again. The fear was still there, and Chris shook his head.
"Vin - "
"It's not this easy, Chris." His voice was hard, urgent. "People just don't take well to this sorta thing. I know, I've . . .I've seen it. I ain't never lost anyone 'cause of it, but then, I ain't never had anyone to lose. You . . . " He tried to pull free of Chris, wanting distance.
Chris held tighter, matching his tone to Vin's. "I lost the most important things in my life once already, Vin."
Vin stopped fighting then, his body sagging. He started to say something and Chris knew what it would be.
"No," he interrupted. "Let me finish. I lost the most important things in my life once. It will not happen again."
"Buck is one of the most important things." He was so quiet that Chris didn't so much hear the words as feel them.
"Yes, he is." He waited for a few seconds. "But he's not you. Even if he has second thoughts, which you're right, he might, he'll still come around."
Vin was shaking his head again, and Chris leaned a little closer to him. "You know, I've never asked this so maybe I should - you embarrassed by me?"
Vin's head whipped around so fast that his hair swayed back and forth. "No," he said quickly. "Hell no, Chris - why would I - "
"You feeling hemmed in? I mean, other than being forced to stay with me because of all this mess - but then again, that it? You realizing that you don't want a long-term relationship like this?" He'd never actually thought about it, but now, the words coming out of his mouth, he felt a sudden flutter of nerves in his stomach. What if Vin was doubting his own commitment? What if -
"Chris." Again, so soft he felt it more than heard it. "I ain't looking to get out. I told ya - you're it for me."
Chris smiled softly. "Then why can't you believe that you're it for me?"
They both knew why, the memory of the conversation in Chris' kitchen still raw for them both.
"Just ain't sure you've really thought this through," Vin said quietly, looking away. "It's a lot to have to deal with."
"Well, as far as I can tell, I ain't dealing with it alone, right?"
Vin smiled a little. "No, you can't get ridda me that easy, I reckon."
"Good." With some reluctance, he released his hold on Vin and reached to start the vehicle. As he put it in reverse and checked to see that he was clear to back out, he said, "Are we gonna have to go through this every time we tell somebody?" He grinned at Vin to take the sting out of the words.
Vin smiled back. "Probably only the first hundred to so. I should be okay after that."
Tuesday, 3:28 p.m.
"Ezra," Chris said, sliding into the chair next to the other man. "Is this your plan?"The conference room in the Visitor's Center was not an especially large place, but there weren't a lot of people here. Despite that, they had managed to dominate the entire space.
Ezra and Chris were the only two actually seated at one of the room's long tables. In a far corner stood Harold Van Atta, in the company of several suited men, lawyers, Chris surmised, and a number of jean-wearing young people who Chris assumed to be students. Taylor was among them.
Outside in the corridor itself stood Trahart and several of his people. Chris had noticed no one who struck him as a lawyer in their company, but then, he hadn't really been looking for it. He had been looking for Vin who was notably scarce at the moment.
"I'm not certain," Ezra answered, and Chris noted that the other man, while dressed to his usual impeccable standard and showing his standard calmness, looked a bit piqued. "It's more than distinctly possible as I was invited to this little soiree and so far, it does not appear that any members of the media have been."
He was looking around the room, no doubt familiar with everyone in it.
"Any idea where Vin is?" Chris asked, wishing that these walls were as clear as the ones around his office.
Ezra glanced to him, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I thought I was no longer allowed to be his keeper," he said softly.
Chris arched one eyebrow. "Nobody's his keeper," he said, "but I thought you'd learned that the hard way."
Ezra chuckled. "Too true, Mr. Larabee, too true. But to answer you question, I suspect that he has been sent off to some other part of the Park - perhaps to assist Ranger Jackson in one of the tours or the like. Given the invitation list for this particular event, I suspect that Superintendent Travis felt it to be in everyone's best interests - Mr. Tanner's particularly - for him to be elsewhere."
Chris frowned, but before he could comment, Orrin walked into the room.
He was in full dress uniform again, but this time, he was looking decidedly more comfortable. Mary was with him, dressed professionally as well in a two-piece dark blue suit that displayed her figure spectacularly. She smiled fleetingly at Chris as she passed to take a seat to Travis' left.
Chris was more aware of the look that passed between Travis and Ezra however, and the faintly wolfish smile on the older man's face.
"If I could have every one's attention?" Travis called, his eyes scanning the room. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. Would you please take a seat?" His tone got a little shorter at the end, though, as the group around Van Atta started forward. "Professor," Travis said shortly, "I thought I said that this was an informal meeting and that no attorneys would be present."
Van Atta was decidedly smug, which was not a pleasant thing to watch. "I assumed you meant none of your attorneys would be present," the academic said calmly. "I find that I no longer trust your promises or anyone else involved in this mess."
Travis canted his head to one side. "We are here to propose a possible way out of 'this mess'", he said patiently. "To that end, I have asked a mediator - recommended and approved by Judge Andrene - to be here."
Van Atta shrugged. "Then he will not mind my attorneys being present. I want this all legal and on the record, Travis," the academic smiled unpleasantly. "So that when it's over, we can sue you and the administration here for as many things as we can find."
Travis smiled back, equally as unpleasantly. "It is your prerogative, of course." He turned to Trahart who was standing just inside the door. Chris noticed that the man was dressed in a nice but not too-expensive suit, the deep brown an unusual choice of color but it looked good on him, as did the matching tie that was striped in shades of brown and green and blue.
"Mr. Trahart, while I appreciate that you've honored the spirit of the invitation," Travis said with a more sincere smile, "as Prof. Van Atta is accompanied by his attorneys, I can either cancel the meeting and the mediation now or you can contact your attorneys and we can wait for them."
Trahart glanced around the room, and Chris actually felt the weight of his gaze as it passed over him. "I thank you for your consideration, Superintendent. But we appreciate the efforts you've gone to, and we are willing to chance the possible success of a mediation - without more legal minds present."
Beside him, Chris saw Ezra blink in surprise, and to a certain extent, admiration. Reluctantly, Chris knew he felt the same.
Travis nodded his agreement and his appreciation. "If everyone will take a seat, I'll get - ah, there you are now."
A tall woman entered the room behind Trahart, carrying a notepad of her own and a manila file filled with papers. Like Mary, she was dressed in a professional suit, but unlike Mary, she had on slacks with hers. Her brown hair was short and dusted with grey, the cut accentuating the angles of her face.
"This is Ms. Miranda Grayson, a trained dispute mediator who consults with the State and Federal Courts in matters of property and preservation and public and private trusts. Ms. Grayson has been reviewing the situation at Judge Andrene's request, and we had thought to propose a more formal mediation in a week or so, but a new situation has arisen that had prompted Judge Andrene to encourage us to move this along." He gestured toward the chair at the head of the table.
She sat a little awkwardly, the chair rolling a bit so that she landed a little off-balance, but she smiled self-deprecatingly, and Chris found that he liked her.
It must have worked on several others in the room as well, as the tension ebbed a bit.
Introductions were quickly made, and Chris noted that everyone other than those who already knew him seemed to be a bit surprised when Ezra introduced himself and his position as the primary fundraiser for the Yellowstone Foundation - everyone except Ms. Grayson.
Furthering his respect for her, as soon as the niceties were complete, the mediator launched directly into things. "We're all busy people and this situation is of pressing concern. Superintendent Travis has passed along to me the projections from the local weather experts and the meteorologists who have been giving things close attention. It seems that the immediate concern is in the stability of the location in question - the site itself." She flipped open the file in front of her, sorted through several pages before finding what she wanted.
The pages she pulled out were familiar to Chris already - weather and quake charts and predictions. As she passed them to her left for the others to look at, she continued, "The predictions are not good; it would seem that by the end of the week, the site will be," she frowned, looking through her notes again, until she finally said, "I know there's a word for this, but I'm afraid I don't remember it right now - so forgive me for my simplicity here, but for all practical purposes, the point is that the ground is going to continue to churn and turn for the next several weeks. The artifacts at issue may well be lost if something isn't done in the very near future."
"My point exactly," Van Atta spat, glaring at Travis. "This whole situation would be resolved if - "
"Yes, Professor Van Atta," Grayson interrupted smoothly, her voice clear, "unfortunately, the Federal Government is constrained in how it can behave, for the protection of the taxpayer's money. Subsequently, it will take a literal act of Congress to speed the process of recovering these artifacts. As it happens, we seem to be in a unique position to affect exactly that - an Act of Congress."
There was a strange silence in the room as she let the words sink in. Chris glanced around, relieved to see that he wasn't the only one bemused.
"Mr. Standish - you are here on behalf of - well, who, exactly?" She looked up catching Chris' eyes before continuing on to the man beside him.
Standish smiled at her, his tone matching hers. "While I am in the employ of the Yellowstone Foundation, in this matter, I have been asked by Mrs. Irene Holtzmann to be her spokesperson. Mrs. Holtzmann has been one of the Foundation's largest contributors for the last decade, and she has recently begun to consider the possibilities of investing more solidly in nature preservation and in historical preservation as well. Prior to this current situation, she had been doing some research of her own into the archaeological sites already present in the Park - I believe, Dr. Van Atta, that she contacted you and several others in the past several months, looking to obtain more information on your research and your funding - do you recall?"
His voice was smooth, ever so polite, but Chris heard the faint edge of disdain to it and knew that something else was coming.
Van Atta stared at Ezra, his face narrowed in confusion. "I have never received any letters from a Mrs. - Holtzmann? Offering me money? I think I would have remembered - "
With a subtle shift of his hand, Ezra picked up the top piece of paper on the very thin stack in front of him. Slipping it across the table to Van Atta, he said, "Allow me to refresh your memory."
As Van Atta skimmed the letter, Chris noticed the fine lines of confusion change to a sort of shock.
Ezra went on as Van Atta read. "Mrs. Holtzmann was somewhat put off that her inquiries never received a response from you, Professor, nor from your students. So she dropped that line of inquiry and turned to something else. As it happens, however, she was quite fascinated to learn of this newest find. Understanding that each site had its own application process, she contacted first myself and then through me, the proper people in Washington to learn about the application process."
Van Atta picked up the paper and waved it in Ezra's general direction. "I remember this letter - and the others like it! We all assumed she was some lonely old woman with nothing to do - "
"And I suspect she would be the first to agree with you," Ezra smiled, and Chris had to look away to keep from laughing out loud. There was something quite predatory in that smile. "However the point to this is that Mrs. Holtzmann is quite interested in participating in the recovery of this new site. So she read through the requirements for filing an application and she started the process of acquiring what was necessary."
He pulled off the next sheet of paper from his stack, the NPS official application. Chris smiled. Ezra did, indeed, have a certain flair.
"I won't bore you with the complete process involved, as I suspect all of you are probably more familiar with it than I," he said, turning his attentions from Van Atta to Ms. Grayson. "So to make a long story short, Mrs. Holtzmann put together a group of people to assist her in filling the needs of the application - a panel, if you will, of interested parties who were willing to not only contribute money and help in the financing of this venture, but also to help with the selection of suitable researchers and laboratories and institutions - rather like a private research foundation."
He picked up another piece of paper, extending it toward the center of the table. "This is a copy of her foundation's charter, filed in the appropriate agencies - The Holtzmann Foundation. As you can see, she has listed the officers and their titles and salaries - exactly to the letter of the law."
Chris just glanced at the document, having no doubt whatsoever that Ezra was telling the truth. He did notice that the date on the incorporation was the previous week, and he was impressed; it took a lot to get something formalized and filed with that sort of speed.
As if reading his mind, Ezra continued, "Mrs. Holtzmann had not set out with the intent to move this along this quickly; she assumed that the process of applying to manage the site would be governed by the usual government regulations and that she would have an extended period of time to work with."
He sat back a little in his chair as he continued. "But being a regular watcher of the Park through the webcam system - which she has been most willing to financially support, I might add, Mrs. Holtzmann was aware very early on of the dangers involved in the excavation of the site and of the problems this freakish weather is causing. She feared that a situation might arise - as it has, in which something would need to be done with great alacrity."
He leaned forward, once more producing a stapled set of sheets from his small stack. "These are the regulations pertaining to the awarding of excavation rights on public-held lands - not all of them, that would be the volume we are all familiar with. This is the section that Mrs. Holtzmann's team of legal minds found explaining the situations under which the regulations could be put aside - and as you can see, one of the instances is in the event of natural disaster." He pointed to a section that was highlighted in neon pink. "I have copies of all of these documents available, of course, on the table beside the door. To sum up the section at issue, in the event of a natural disaster that threatens an archaeological site before the formal application process is completed, the Director of the National Parks Service can award control of the site to any interested party who can implement a plan to salvage the area as quickly as possible."
At those words, Van Atta's head and the heads of most of his attorneys leaned forward, searching out the section in question.
"Now, there are a number of questions that can, of course, be raised in dealing with this section, not the least of which are the definitions of a 'natural disaster', 'interested party', 'plan of salvage' - well, the list could conceivably be endless, even with the case law and Attorney General's Opinions on such. So, I shall cut to the chase, as it were: Mrs. Holtzmann's Foundation has come up with a plan - a very good one. If you notice, on the list of the Foundation's officers is Robert Ballard. Some of you may know him - "
"Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute," Van Atta snorted. "Yes, a man who knows a lot about oceans - and how exactly is that going to help us in the middle of Wyoming?"
Ezra's eyes narrowed in anger, but it was Ms. Grayson who actually answered the question, her tone patient but firm. "One of the things that Woods Hole expends a great deal of research money on is salvaging ships from the bottom of the ocean, Professor. But some of that research has also gone into how those salvage operations can work in other environments."
"Such as a mud bog," Trahart spoke for the first time, his voice soft and somewhat amazed.
"Indeed," Ezra nodded to him. "A mud bog."
There were another few seconds of silence as everyone pondered this thought. Not surprisingly, once more it was Van Atta who broke the silence.
"Just because she has Ballard on her side doesn't mean - "
"Mrs. Holtzmann is on the Board of Directors for Woods Hole. They have already assembled a team to work on the problem and they believe they will have a viable plan together by Thursday morning," Ms. Grayson said smoothly. "The preliminary findings have allowed for Mrs. Holtzmann's organization to start putting together the necessary equipment - and while I can't say for certain that I understand the logistics of this, the theory has something to do with removing as much of the mud bog as possible, to the greatest depth that the non-solidified ground will allow, and placing it in a specially-designed container shaped to fit it, to allow for as close to an exact duplication as possible. It won't be perfect, but the idea is to . . . shift as little as possible."
Van Atta stared at her - Chris thought that almost everyone at the table was staring at her. It did sound something like one of those Sci-Fi Channel movies.
Or a Discovery Channel Documentary.
"You are - this is - there's just no way - " Van Atta was stumbling for words, unable to finish a sentence.
But better than the humor of his frustration was the look of panic in his eyes.
Chris knew then that as preposterous as it sounded, the academic was scared.
"As it happens," Ms. Grayson said, "there is apparently a way. In fact, a special Congressional sub-committee has been called and plans to meet first thing Thursday morning to consider this proposal - Mrs. Holtzmann and Mr. Standish know quite a few Congress people as it happens - and several of them are sitting on this Foundation's Board. While there is now question about the experimental nature of this proposal, there is a lot of interest in whether it will work. If it does, it could lead to all sorts of new ways to handle not just a crisis like this, but ones also involving more immediate threats and needs. This is an ideal test situation in many respects, and Mrs. Holtzmann's people have made certain to involve many minds from across the entire realm of the political spectrum."
Van Atta sneered. "So if this is a fait accompli, why are we wasting our time here?"
There was a general shifting in seats and a low murmur, and Ms Grayson actually had to hold up a hand to get everyone's attention.
"Well, sir, it's not a fait accompli. As Superintendent Travis told you, this is a mediation. The Holtzmann Foundation has done quite a few things already - not the least of which is to put together a substantial sum of money. Even with the military providing the helicopters that will be necessary for this operation, the Navy possibly providing us with a vessel large enough to house the extracted bog, and numerous others donating time and equipment, the cost of this exercise is tremendous."
She pulled several sheets of paper from her folder. "These are the cost projections."
Van Atta waved them off. "So she's buying this - that's supposed to make us all feel better? That's supposed to make the American taxpayer feel protected?"
Chris closed his eyes to keep from rolling them, and he knew that most of the others - a number of Van Atta's people themselves, were also aware of the man's hypocrisy.
Ms. Grayson smiled however. "Money is not buying this, Professor, even though it certainly is helping with the issue of time. I think that before you make any more comments though, you should hear the part that actually concerns you and Mr. Trahart."
Van Atta sneered, but he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
Trahart, for his part, was sharing glances with several of his small entourage, mostly a slender young woman sitting next to him. She had dark hair and the slender build of the Shoshone around her, but Chris noticed that her eyes were hazel, rather like his own, and that she was a little sunburned on her nose.
"It is not a forgone conclusion that Mrs. Holtzmann's organization will get the contract. Likely, yes. Forgone, no. Primarily because, as you have already noted, she is a novice at this sort of thing - from the creation of the Foundation all the way to the project itself. And even though she does have some of the best minds in the country at her disposal, there is also the issue of the experimental nature of this. As I'm certain Mr. Trahart has already considered, it might be far safer to leave things as they are and wait for the rains to settle and see what happens then."
"Of course," Van Atta said, "As someone told me recently, Mother Nature doesn't have an expiration date."
The comment drew several assorted chuckles, but Chris felt a stir of anger at the man's mimicking of Travis.
Travis, however, took it with a grace that Chris knew he would never have. He merely nodded and smiled at Van Atta, as if pleased the man would remember his words.
"What Mrs. Holtzmann would like to propose is that your two organizations work with her Foundation, as partners, if you will, in the salvaging of the site. As you both have very vested interests in the site and its contents, she would like for you to have places in the decision-making process."
Van Atta leaned forward, his interest almost predatory. "What, exactly, does that mean? If she's got the money and she's already got this top-notch research structure set up, what, exactly, does she want with me?"
Chris noticed that the man had made not referred to anyone other than himself. So did several of his compatriots.
Grayson canted her head to one side, and smiled a different sort of smile. If Chris didn't know better, he would have said it was almost predatory.
"Mrs. Holtzmann is a very smart woman, Professor, but even more significant to this is that she has a sense of fairness. She's very interested in this site - but she's also interested in the entire Park and in the history of this entire area. She would like to be able to keep the site in perspective to everything, the Park, the history, the Shoshone - and the history of this country. What she would like to do is to have you on the Board of the Foundation, and to be one of the executive academics overseeing the research. She's aware of your reputation and the advantages of having your name associated with the project."
The statement fed Van Atta's ego - and made Chris wince. He noticed, though, that Ezra had lifted his hand to his face. He knew that gesture; it normally meant that the other man was smirking.
Van Atta, however, ate it up. "Well, good to see that someone understands the significance of my work." He made a point of glaring at Travis. "The Board of Directors, you say. It's worth consideration - especially as it will move this project along."
"As you are so heavily involved in numerous other projects, it would be mostly in a supervisory capacity, but then, that is your strength, according to what we've seen from your vita." Ms. Grayson opened her file again, flipping through the pages of a large, stapled collection. "Most impressive, Professor - you must get little sleep, given the number of projects you're heading."
Van Atta tensed a little, but his voice was measured as he answered, "I have an excellent staff."
"Indeed," Ms. Grayson acknowledged. "Mrs. Holtzmann and her associates have interviewed a number of them to head up the actual team doing the work. She's been most impressed with all of them and is finding it difficult to choose amongst them. Fortunately, with you on the Board, she feels that she will have the benefit of all of your teams and experience."
The smile was wide and sincere, and even though it wasn't directed at him, Chris felt the chill of the threat: they were offering to move him up - and out of the way.
Van Atta stiffened, feeling the threat as well. "I am damned good at what I do," he said shortly.
"No one is arguing that, sir, if anything, Mrs. Holtzmann is rewarding you in a manner that you would find difficult to gain in the academic world alone. You do understand that membership on the Board - and cooperation with it - will garner you more influence, more opportunities, and more areas of publication?"
The carrot. Van Atta's eyes narrowed, but he sat back in the chair once more, and his tone was calmer. "As I said, it is an offer worth consideration."
Ms. Grayson nodded. "Now, as to the concerns of the Wind River residents: the Holtzmann Foundation has spent some time researching the concerns of the local tribes people. As I mentioned before, she's very aware of the holistic nature of this sort of research and she's very interested in the history as well as the science. To that end, she would like to propose that someone from the Tribal Counsel at Wind River sit up on the Board of the Foundation as well. The obvious choice, of course, would be you, Mr. Trahart - "
He held up a hand, then used it to gesture to the woman to his right. "Actually, Ms. Danika is a far better choice, as she is the resident historian of the local tribes. She's also active in the local archaeology communities as well."
The woman nodded once, her face solemn. "I have actually spoken to Mrs. Holtzmann several times - and if she's willing to allow me the honor, then I believe that we are amenable to the suggestion," she said.
Chris glanced at Ezra who was looking a bit surprised. But pleased.
Catching Chris' eye, Ezra's hand fell to the writing pad in front of him; he picked up his Montblonc pen and scrawled elegantly, 'Trahart's daughter' on the pad, followed by 'parents met at Ohio State'.
Well. Chris looked at her again, studying her harder. She certainly resembled her father, but her mother must've been . . . .
"So this is your compromise?" Van Atta spoke up, his tone harsh. "You put both sides on the Board of this Foundation so that neither of us has any real control over the site - "
"As it stands at present, Professor, you stand a very real probability of having no involvement in this site at all," Ms. Grayson broke in. Again, her voice was congenial as was her demeanor, but the words were biting.
Van Atta sneered, started to say something, but the man to his left, one of his attorneys, Chris thought, caught his arm and pulled him over, whispering something in his ear. It didn't seem to please Van Atta, but he held his tongue, glaring at Ms. Grayson, but waving one hand dismissively.
Ms. Grayson took it as permission to continue. "The Holtzmann Foundation is very aware that a large part of the concern of the Wind River residents is in the religious significance of any remains. Due to the emergency nature of this situation, there is little that can be done to keep the site intact here, but The Holtzmann Foundation does propose to return the site to Yellowstone as soon as safely possible. As I mentioned previously, the Woods Hole research staff is working on preparing a suitable container that will replicate the 'stable ground' the mud is currently in. The container will be located somewhere on the Yellowstone property, to keep it as close to the point as possible. We cannot promise where, of course - the land will have to be stable - "
"The beliefs of our ancestors are difficult to honor in the modern world," Ms. Danika spoke up for the first time. Her voice was light and smooth, rather like her father's Chris realized. "Of course we would prefer for the site to remain intact - but we understand the necessities of saving it if at all possible. Even without a seat on your Board," she turned to look at Ezra, "we would not have objected to the removal of the site for its safe-keeping. All we ask is that the discoveries within it be returned to us for proper care."
As Van Atta straightened in his chair, she continued hurriedly, "But that is a question for later. At present, you want to know if we will impede this proposal. The answer is 'no'."
Ms. Grayson nodded, and Chris realized that both she and Ezra, beside him, were relieved. He'd have to remember to ask about that.
Travis spoke up then. "Judge Andrene has agreed that for the sake of safety, the site would be closed off through the end of the week, if not longer. As she has also reviewed the proposal from the Holtzmann Foundation, she has agreed that she would abide by whatever decisions Ms. Grayson brokers."
The room was silent again, everyone thinking, until Ms. Grayson said, "How long do you think it will take you to make a decision, Prof. Van Atta? As you can appreciate, there is a pressing issue of time involved."
Van Atta glanced to his attorney, and they leaned close, conferring. After a few seconds, Van Atta looked back at Ms. Grayson and said, "Noon tomorrow?"
She smiled at him. "That would be wonderful."
The meeting closed out then, everyone nodding and a few shaking hands - Travis and Trahart, which Chris wasn't certain about. Van Atta and his people left quickly, Van Atta giving a token nod to Ezra and ignoring Chris entirely.
Ezra, though, was involved in his own conversation, with Ms. Danika.
"Thank you for your assistance with this, Mr. Standish," she was smiling at him, and Chris thought it might be a little more than just professional.
Ezra rose and Chris did as well. "My sincerest pleasure, Ms. Danika," Ezra tipped his head in a sort of bow. "I am quite pleased that it worked as well as it did."
She laughed lightly. "My father wasn't pleased with all of it, of course, but then, that's the point of a mediation, isn't it. To hammer out a compromise?"
"Indeed it is," Trahart's voice answered from behind her as he joined them. He slipped an arm over her shoulder, his affection evident. "Fortunately, the original proposal was strong. And most probably better than we could have expected had the situation run its normal course." The last part held a bitterness that stung.
"Then let us think of this as an opportunity instead of a catastrophe," Ezra said quickly. "And hopefully, the beginning of a new tradition in the management of the sites."
Trahart tilted his head to one side, but said nothing. His daughter smiled at Ezra and Ezra smiled back.
"Perhaps, Ms. Danika, we should discuss in more detail the subject of this compromise - do you perhaps have dinner plans?" He casually took one of her hands and drew her away, leaving Trahart staring after them, somewhat wide-eyed.
For the briefest instant, Chris felt a certain sympathy for the man.
Then he remembered Vin.
With a canniness that Chris knew only with his lover, the other man seemed to read his mind. Turning to Chris, Trahart said quietly, "The past has a way of becoming the present."
"You kickin' her off the Res, too?" he asked, trying to smile and knowing it was coming out as a sneer.
Trahart stiffened, but he had the grace to not anger. Or the patience. "I gather that . . . Vin has told you of his past," he said quietly.
"Or I could have read it in the paper," Chris countered, leaning back casually on the table top.
Trahart smiled thinly. "It wasn't the way they made it sound - Vin wasn't."
"Don't think you have to tell me that," Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Think I knew him better than that the first time I met him."
Trahart didn't look away, which Chris reluctantly gave him points for. "You were right. It wasn't you I should have apologized to. Learned habits are not always good."
He started away, but Chris reached out, a quick gesture that stopped him.
"Vin's grandfather," Chris started, meeting the other man's eyes. "The implication in the press is that Vin was party to stealing from the government because he was white, claiming to be Shoshone. That's easily enough proven otherwise, of course, but Vin says that once he left the Res, he never received any of the government checks. Do you know if they were returned to the government?"
Trahart frowned. "Tigee might have done many things to Vin, but he did not steal from him - nor would he take what was not his. I will look into this and let you know."
Chris nodded once. "That would probably take care of that apology. Vin could stand a little peace of mind about this whole damned thing."
With a nod of his head, Trahart moved past Chris and over to where his daughter and Ezra were standing.
Chris didn't have time to think about what the man had said; Travis and Ms. Grayson stepped up to him at that point.
"Ranger Larabee," Ms. Grayson extended her hand, "I'm honored to meet you. You run a tight ship from what I've seen and heard."
He took the offered hand, straightening to a standing position as he did. "Your ship seemed pretty battle-worthy as well," he countered with a smile. "I wasn't sure you could pull that off without a whip and a chair."
She laughed, and it seemed to take ten years off her. "Me either," she said. "But the Holtzmann Foundation team did a phenomenal job putting things together and with such speed. I hope that they're right about getting this through the sub-committee quickly - if they can get this approved, it's an excellent opportunity to test some new methods of disaster relief and in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the government could stand some testing that doesn't risk too much life and - well, life."
He agreed. "I'm guessing that the subtext to all of this is that if you get the two sides here to work with the Foundation, it cuts down on the possible obstacles in Washington?"
She nodded. "Pretty much. Oddly, Mrs. Holtzmann's biggest concern seems to be what's going to happen after things settle down and the emergency is technically over. Part of the problem of course is that once the section of ground is removed, it can't be put back; the shifting caused by the mini-quakes and the flooding will go on and, well, we all know that nature abhors a vacuum, so the 'hole' will be filled before the actual area removed is relocated. It's going to be a massive undertaking."
"One that we will only have to worry about from the standpoint of crowd control," Travis spoke up with a grin. "After the stress of the past several weeks, I can't say that I will regret losing that particular chuck of ground."
"Goes to the sub-committee on Thursday?" Chris asked, noticing that Travis looked more relaxed that he'd seen him look in a while.
"That's the plan," Orrin nodded. "Standish seems to think it won't have any problem passing. I suspect he's a little optimistic, but I hope he's right."
"As do I, Superintendent," Ezra said from behind them. He stepped into the group, smiling at Ms. Grayson. "Time will tell, of course, but in this case - not a lot of time."
As they moved out the door, Ezra lightly pulled on Chris' arm, holding him back.
"There will be a minor story about the Holtzmann Foundation in tomorrow news. That, coupled with a slight leak about the subcommittee meeting should turn attention away from Vin. As he's already been relegated to the local news sections in most of the papers, I suspect that it won't be long at all before he's not there at all. He should be out of the picture by the end of the week."
Chris turned, clasping the other man's shoulder. "Thanks, Ezra. We owe you."
Standish shrugged, but he smiled as well. "Thank you, Mr. Larabee. I gather that I was the first one you and Vin felt you could tell. I'm honored."
Chris smiled back at him. "With great honor comes great responsibility," he intoned.
Ezra arched one eyebrow. "Vin's already threatened me within an inch of my wallet. I assure you, I will exercise discretion."
Chris laughed. "I know." He looked around the lobby of the Center, spotting Vin watching them from his position at Dispatch as he spoke into the telephone. "Now, speaking of discretion, I better get over there. He gets really cranky when he's been cooped up all day."
"Then he must be a veritable monster after the past few days," Standish agreed. "For my part, I find myself with dinner plans. So I shall bid you 'adieu'." He tipped two fingers toward Chris, then smiled and waved at Vin as he made his way to the door.
Chris drifted over to the counter, not really surprised to see Vin shaking his head with annoyance as he dropped the handset onto the counter with a clatter.
"More calls?" The calls from reporters had slowed down enough that the Reception Desk was handling them, and for the most part, if someone asked specifically for Vin, a message was taken. It was only if he had the bad luck to have to answer the phone that he wore the face he was wearing now.
"I know it's slowing down - but this is getting stupid. I just got asked if I sleep with a tomahawk beside by bed." Vin grimaced, an expression that pulled little wrinkles to the corners of his eyes.
Chris glanced around the room, making sure nobody was too close, then said just loudly enough for Vin to hear, "I've been called a lotta things, but never a tomahawk."
Vin rolled his eyes, but the blush, that delightful spread of embarrassment that Vin simply couldn't control, made Chris smile.
He glanced at this watch. "Almost 5," he said a little more loudly. "I've got a few things to finish up then I was thinking about stopping by the store and grabbing something for dinner. What time will you be ready?"
Vin looked at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I have a home, ya know. And a bike and a truck - "
"I was thinking about making that Mexican casserole thing - the cross between burritos and lasagna. It's too much for me to make for myself alone - guess I could invite Donna if she's in - "
"Got enough for Chloe, too?" Vin was standing with his arms folded across his chest, one eyebrow arched. His tone had been light, but Chris saw the heard glint of jealousy in the eyes he knew well.
He smiled. "Could. But I was really only planning to cook for three - me, you, and your extra stomach."
The jealousy softened a little and Vin's lips quirked slightly. "You're a bastard," he snorted. "But I guess if you let me make the guacamole, I could be persuaded. Could go to the store and get what ya need and meetcha at the house - "
"On what, that death machine of yours?" Chris leaned on the counter, meeting Vin's gaze. "I'd rather make sure you get there in one piece. And the groceries as well."
Vin glared at him, and Chris grinned more. "I don't need no babysitter."
"Good, 'cause I don't need no babies." He leaned in close, tugging on one of Vin's wrists where it rested over his other arm. "Do have somewhere you can sit though . . . "
"You been around Bucklin way too long," Vin says calmly, but once more the blush betrayed him. "You ain't gonna leave me alone on this, are ya? 'Course, you can't stop me if I decide to leave while you're in your office."
"True," Chris agreed, smiling at him. "But I can promise to reward you right smart if you wait."
Vin sighed, pulling his wrist free of Chris' grip. "Go git done whatcha gotta git done. I'll be at the camper, waitin'. Gotta wait for that damned woman to come get Sadie - can you believe that damned dog that drove us crazy at the site is the one that woman lost? Under all the mud, the dog was as white as JD at the beginning of the summer."
Chris laughed at both images. "I thought we sent the dog to Animal Services."
"Nah, it was so comfortable at the gate blocking the trail that we been leavin' it with whoever was on duty. Been a right god guard dog, too - caught us two reporters trying to get into the site last night. Kinda hate to see it go."
Chris shook his head. This was his Vin, that heart of gold buried under a mound of cynicism. He pushed himself up and started to turn away.
After several steps, Vin called out, "Don't be too long. Don't want ta have ta start without cha."
Chris almost stumbled, and caught himself before he clipped a hiker who was walking by. With a nod of apology, he turned back to look at Vin, and almost laughed. Vin was standing still, smiling, his arms crossed over his chest still, one eye brow cocked in an very non-innocent manner.
"Buck's influence is apparently spreading," he said. But it felt good to see Vin relaxing after the tension of the past week.
And it was better to see Vin joking about them. Settling into the idea of the two of them.
Thursday, 10:18 p.m.
It was after ten when the phone finally rang. Vin was laying on his stomach on the floor, his lower legs swinging backwards to kick himself in the ass every now and then, his chin propped on his hands as he studied the television - some CBS show about missing people; someone had told Vin that he looked like one of the actors, and even though Vin didn't see it, Chris did.Right now, Chris was far more interested in watching the movement of those feet, and the place they kept landing, the fine stretch of the worn fabric that he kept hoping was going to finally break as it was pulled just a little too tight that one time too many.
It took him a few seconds to realize the phone was ringing, and that had more to do with Vin's movement as he started to move to get up to answer it.
As it was sitting right beside Chris, he caught it easily, grinning at Vin's look of annoyance. "Larabee," he said, appreciating the view as Vin rolled over onto his back.
"Chris? Orrin here." He sounded tired, but there was a note of relief in his voice. "It passed. Starting tomorrow, we're gonna have lots of things going on at the Park, not the least of which is a press conference - Standish is handling it, already got everything going. I'm gonna need you guys there in full dress, Tanner as well. Mix it up - ask for some second shift volunteers to come in early in full dress, they can change later and we'll work on some comp time. Thank the Lord, I think this is almost over - or at least getting to a point that we're gonna have a new and different kind of stress with it."
"What time's the press conference?" he asked, and he grinned when Vin sat up, alarmed.
"We're going to try to get out of here shortly - there's a late flight that might get us back there before morning. Ezra's set it up for late afternoon - 4 p.m. or so, to make the 5:00 news is possible. How's the weather?"
"Bad as ever," Chris answered. The rain had persisted, the bog getting worse, the site still closed off. They'd had few problems, thankfully, only the random media idiot to run out of the woods.
Even Van Atta's students seemed to have calmed down.
"Well, now that this is done, perhaps it will see fit to give us a little sun," Travis said, and there was laughter in his voice.
Chris smiled as well. It was good to hear Travis sounding this way.
"Okay, I gotta go, Ezra's working something for us. Get some sleep - somebody's going to have to be awake and with it tomorrow."
They ended the call, Chris still grinning.
"So?" Vin asked, still sitting up but stretching out his legs. "What kinda press conference this time?"
"It passed. The sub-committee granted emergency measures to the Holtzmann Foundation. Ezra's organizing a press conference for tomorrow afternoon here so they can announce it - we have to be in full-dress."
Chris dropped the phone onto the couch beside him then pushed himself forward to land on the floor near his lover. "Takes it off the table for Van Atta and the Wind River people - and should leave you alone." He leaned in close, kissing Vin quickly on the lips.
Vin smiled as Chris pulled back. "Means I can go back to sleeping in my own place," he said softly.
Chris caught one of Vin's hands, pulling him close and kissing him again. "Means we can go back to sleeping at your place."
Vin chuckled. "Yeah, I know how much you love that bed," he grinned.
"Well, I read in some paper that there was an almost full box of condoms in the corner. Hate for those to go to waste."
"They ain't for your waist," Vin countered as Chris' arms closed around him and pulled him down to the floor.
"Ain't you full of it tonight," Chris snorted, pulling Vin against him.
"Not yet, but I've got hopes for later," Vin answered easily.
Chris laughed, started to say something, but found his mouth otherwise occupied. Which was good; he hated having to tell Vin that that guy in that show was almost as cute as Vin was.
7:57 p.m. Friday
Chris leaned back against the front fender of his four-by-four, watching the sun set as he waited for Vin to finish changing. In a rare moment of coincidence, the sun had graced them with its presence today, coming out of the clouds just minutes before Ezra stepped up onto the platform in the Visitors' Center. Now, it cast long lines of golden light across the wet landscape, making everything iridescent.They had finally managed to slip away from the post-conference reception, leaving the others to continue the celebration - and to get Ezra, Mary, and the Travises home.
Ezra, he really wasn't too worried about; Ms. Danika - Marielle, they had learned just before the press conference, had made it her personal responsibility to keep an eye on one fund-raising, wanna-be-politico, and she had been at his side through most of the afternoon.
The camper door opened and Vin slipped out, turning the doorknob and pushing the door into place. He tugged on it once, twisted at the handle, then nodded when it held.
"Good enough for you?" Chris asked, grinning.
"As good as it's gonna get," Vin answered. "Guess it's a good thing that I keep all my expensive stuff in the office locker - I gotta tell ya, the thought of having to replace those sleeping bags . . . "
Chris rolled his eyes. "Tanner, you're the only person I know who worries about the value of sleeping bags - not," he amended quickly, holding up his hands as Vin turned and opened his mouth to argue, "that you don't buy the best that's offered , but - geez."
"You want me to put 'em somewhere other than the office, I will," the other man said stubbornly. "Just 'cause I prefer to use good stuff - that I pay for myself, thus saving wear-and-tear on the NPS equipment - doesn't mean that I don't respect the limited resources of space at the Park office - "
"You keep the stuff wherever you want," Chris said. "I'm quite fine with you keeping it there - and I understand that you really do appreciate that you need somewhere to lock stuff up for safety. I'll make certain that Ezra understands that as well."
Vin chuckled, walking up close enough to brush Chris' shoulder. "I think Ezra probably understands more about me than he needs to as it is. Let's just let him sweat this a little longer. No use bursting his bubble about my poor understanding of the world."
They both laughed as Vin broke away, heading to the other side of the Explorer.
But as he crested the front of the vehicle, a blue Dodge Ram entered the small parking lot, heading slowly toward them. As it pulled perpendicular, the engine idling, the window rolled down to reveal Aaron Trahart's face.
Chris walked up to stand near Vin, who had stopped, his face still and his eyes shuttered.
"Vin," Trahart said with a nod. "Was lookin' for you. You left the reception before I had the chance to talk to you."
Vin nodded, but still didn't say anything. He did shift a little as Chris neared though, and the older man took it as a sign of trust.
Trahart nodded at Chris as well, but his words were still for Vin. "I have something for you," he said, lifting something from the seat beside him and handing it through the window.
It was a faded yellow envelope, bulky, and open, the clasp apparently broken.
Vin took it, but didn't really look at it. His eyes were still on the other man.
Trahart blinked, but continued to speak. "Tigee didn't stop the payments for you. But he didn't cash them either. They're all right there. I checked with the Bureau of Indian Affairs; they're still good, Vin, the money is still yours. All of it."
Vin did look at the envelope then, his eyes growing wider. "Thank you," he said softly. "I . . . think."
Trahart glanced at Chris then back to Vin. "Owe you an apology as well - more than one. I suspect by now you know that Marielle is my daughter. Like you, she's not all Shoshone." A smile flickered at his lips. "I met her mother in college. Because I was allowed to go to college. That was one of the advantages I had that your mother didn't, Vin."
Vin's face tensed, a flicker of surprise quickly masked.
"I was younger than she was, but I remember her. She spent a lot of time at our house when I was young. Sometime, if you want, I can tell you what I remember of her."
Vin's face softened. "I'd . . . I'd be indebted to ya." His voice was rough, emotion adding more grit.
"No," Trahart answered, "it's the least I can do. It's the least I'd want someone to do for Marielle." He looked back into the seat of his truck, digging around.
Taking advantage of the moment, Chris reached out and squeezed Vin's arm. Vin glanced at him, held his eye, and nodded once. Chris nodded back.
Then Trahart was reaching through the window, extending another piece of paper, a card. "My telephone numbers," he said. "Please call me. We can meet somewhere other than Wind River if you prefer - I have a feeling I'll be out this way a lot in the near future."
Vin flashed a quick grin. "Reckon you will, too." He put the card on top of the envelopes he was holding, then asked quietly, "Ain't none of my business, of course, but - Marielle . . . she don't hardly seem old enough to be outta college."
Trahart smiled, the look of a proud father. "Her mother and I never married, even though we remain close. She grew up with her mother and we gave her every opportunity we could. She proved to be exceptionally bright; she graduated with her Master's at the age of 22 - this past December. She wanted to come here, though. I wasn't about to turn her down. I want the opportunity to get to know her as well as I can."
Vin looked at him, and with the generosity of spirit Chris had come to love in him, he said, "Ya done right by her."
Trahart met Vin's gaze. "Saw one too many mistakes. I was a coward not to bring her here earlier, but I didn't want her to suffer the way you did."
Vin smiled then and nodded, offering his own form of peace.
Trahart nodded at Chris, then put his hands back on the stirring wheel. But before he started away, he looked back at Vin. "My father sends his best to you as well. He wanted me to remind you that you are welcome in his house. And that you should have been thirteen years ago as well."
Vin stiffened at the reminder. The two men looked at each other, and Trahart continued quietly, "Marielle was the light of his eye then. Tigee didn't know of her - the advantage of me being away. But my father did. He's never forgiven himself for not stepping in."
Vin looked back to the envelope he held. "Wasn't his place. Wasn't his responsibility."
"Some things go beyond that," Trahart said, and Chris knew he was going to like this man. "He'd like to see you."
"I'll . . . think on it."
"Do that. Call me. Don't wait 'til it's Foundation business either."
Vin was still for long moments after Trahart pulled away, still staring at the envelope in his hands. But Chris knew he wasn't seeing it or anything around them.
He started to reach out again, but before he connected, Vin said quietly, "I thought I'd closed that part off, put it away. When Tigee told me ta leave, I thought . . . " He swallowed, one thumb rubbing over the paper gently. "Don't quite know how to feel about getting it back."
Chris let his hand settle on Vin's shoulder. "One step at a time," he said quietly. "What was that about 'Foundation business'?" he asked, as much to draw Vin's attention as anything.
Vin shifted, slowly looking up. "Ez didn't tell ya? I'm on the Board of Directors."
Chris arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"What?" Vin asked, arching an eyebrow as well. "You don't think I can hobnob with the rich folk?" For a second, he almost seemed sincere in his attempt to look insulted.
But he couldn't stop the little grin that finally broke his concentration.
Chris laughed. "I have no doubts about that, Tanner, none at all. I saw those pictures in the paper and on the news as well - you look better than most of them 'rich folks'."
Vin shook his head. "Mrs. Holtzmann's really nice - reminds me a lot of Nettie. Got that same 'ain't-putting-up-with-bullshit' attitude. For some reason, she likes me - guess Ol' Buck's right - I got a way with women, they just have to be over the age of 60." He smiled, and still blushed.
Chris snorted. "You go right on thinking that for as long as you want. Less worry for me." As Vin sighed, he continued, "So - what? She didn't trust Ez without you along to watch over things?"
Vin did laugh at that. "Nah. She trusts Ez fine - hell, she pretty much made him treasurer of the Foundation, and damned if it ain't already driving him to distraction. He's got everybody accountin' for every little thing - if I heard him ask for one more receipt the other night, I was thinking that I might shoot him!"
"Jeez, poor Ez. Gonna hurt him to have to play it honest for a while."
Vin frowned. "Ez is a good guy, Chris. He just don't know no better - but he's learning. Mrs. Holtzmann thinks he needs somebody to trust in him, to make him trust himself. Guess we started that, and she added to it."
Chris reached out, catching Vin's chin and turning it so he could see his lover's eyes. "Sounds like she's getting to know you, too."
Vin shrugged, but he didn't pull away. "Told ya, I like her. And I reckon she likes me. She said she wanted me on the Board 'cause she thought I had a level head. And 'cause she thought I'd understand everything better than almost anyone else." He shrugged self-consciously. "I wasn't gonna do it, but she told me that if I didn't, she'd have to waste more time finding someone to do it and it would slow the process down. She said she wanted someone who didn't have no interest in nothing but the land itself. I figure I can do that." He blushed. "Sounds stupid now, I guess - "
"No, not at all. She absolutely right." Chris leaned in, kissing him quickly. "She couldn't have picked someone more dedicated." They stood, just being comfortable with each other for a few seconds. Reluctantly, Chris broke the silence, trying for something lighter. "How about right now, we get some dinner? Seeing as how you're suddenly in the money and a big-wig Board member, you can buy."
He wasn't serious, but the words had the intended effect. Vin turned and looked at him, the haunted look in his eyes swiftly giving way to amusement. "Injun money, Injun food. Reckon we can find some rabbit? I could get my knife and go hunt yer yard - "
"I like my rabbits just fine in my yard, thank you," he retorted. "I was thinking more along the lines of a steak or - "
"Bison Burger?" Vin shot back, but he was moving around front of the Explorer. "Or maybe some - "
"Steak. Good ol' American steak," Chris laughed. "It's the least you can do for me."
Vin looked over at him as he strapped on his seatbelt. "Well, if that's the least I can do, then I guess I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, huh."
Chris just looked at him, arching one eyebrow.
Vin grinned, then extended his hand to catch Chris'.
They passed the first two Woods Hole Research vans as they turned out of the North Entrance.
END