As the ground leveled out, Jason picked up his pace, the border less than a half-mile away. He watched for movement, listened for footfalls or heavy breathing.
There you are, cabrón.
A dark shape moved through the night, a gray-on-black shadow running toward the vehicle barrier that marked the US-Mexico border. The fucker was angling for one of the gates intended for use only by the O’odham. If Jason didn’t stop him before he made it through, he would lose him.
Jason ran. “¡Alto!” Stop!
But he was too late.
The suspect slipped through the gate into Mexico and kept running.
Fuck that.
Enraged, Jason pushed his way through the gate, closing in on him.
Then the suspect turned, raised his weapon.
But it wasn’t a man at all.
“Elena!”
Jason jerked awake, his pulse pounding. He found himself in his tent, the day’s first light filtering through the mesh flap. He was in Colorado. Camp Mato Sapa.
Hell.
He sat up, drew in a breath, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Elena had been his world. He’d believed that what they had was real, that they would get married, raise a few kids. How could he have been so wrong?
Let it go.
That was easier said than done.
These past six months, he’d been trying to figure out who he was without Elena. Now, he might have to figure out who he was without the Shadow Wolves.
He closed his eyes, focused on the world around him.
The morning’s chill. A raven’s throaty caw. The lingering scent of rain in the air. The solid earth beneath him.
There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, so he crawled out of his sleeping bag, slipped into his jeans, and put on his boots and fleece-lined denim jacket. Then he left his tent, took a leak, and washed his face and hands with water from his water bottle, the cold helping to clear his head.
McBride poked his head outside his tent, looking half asleep, stubble on his jaw. “Jesus, Chiago. It’s six-thirty.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You okay, man?”
Jason didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m going to make coffee.”
He got his fire-starter kit out of his pack and walked down to the picnic area. Once he had a good fire going, he walked to the Mess Hall, where the door had been left unlocked in case anyone needed anything during the night. In the kitchen, he found both ground coffee and the big, enamel coffee pot.
He had to give the Belcourts and their friends credit. At least they made real rez coffee instead of that designer soy mocha latte shit.
Jason filled the pot with water, carried both pot and coffee out to the fire, and set the pot over glowing coals. When the water had begun to steam, he poured two cups of grounds straight into the pot then waited for it to boil.
A vehicle pulled up and parked.
Winona.
“It looks like someone already started a fire. Go sit where it’s warm, Grandpa. I’ll carry the food inside and then make you some coffee.”
Jason stood. “The coffee is already brewing.”
“Oh! Jason. Hey.” She huddled against the cold in a blue puffer jacket, jeans hugging her hips. “Thanks.”
“Sorry to startle you. Good morning, Grandfather.”
The old man smiled. “It is a good morning. I have a great-grandson.”
“Congratulations.” The old man’s pride made Jason smile. “Can I carry something?”
“Thanks. That would really help.” Winona opened the liftgate. “All of this needs to get to the kitchen. Kat can’t make it today. Her youngest, Noelle, has a fever.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Jason walked to the rear of the vehicle.
Winona stood close enough that Jason could smell the feminine scent of her shampoo. “Before the day gets busy, I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?” He hadn’t done more than anyone else.
She looked at him through those big, brown eyes. “Kat said you stepped up and played a leadership role yesterday after we left for the hospital. You kept everyone focused and made sure construction moved forward. That means a lot to us—to me.”
“You’re welcome.” He lifted a stack of egg crates out of the vehicle, trying not to notice how her words warmed him. “Have you heard anything from the hospital?”
“Not this morning, but Chaska sent me a text late last night saying little Shota is fine and Naomi is doing better.”
“That’s good news.”
Still looking sleepy, McBride walked toward them, probably searching for coffee.
Jason motioned him over with a jerk of his head. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, help us get all of this into the kitchen.”
Chapter 4
Winona took off her jacket, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat at one of the tables in the quiet of the Mess Hall. What a relief it was to have breakfast and lunch behind her! Thank goodness for Jason, Zach, and Kenzie, who had each helped in their own way. She didn’t have to worry about making dinner tonight because Caribou Joe, the owner of Knockers, had donated a coupon for a free meal for every volunteer.
She sipped the coffee, needing a jolt of caffeine. She hadn’t had nightmares last night, but, even so, she hadn’t gotten much sleep. She hadn’t wanted Grandfather to be alone, so she’d slept on Chaska and Naomi’s sofa. The sofa wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t her bed. With so much to do and so few hands to help, she’d gotten up extra early, getting the guest room ready for Naomi’s parents, doing her rounds at the clinic, and loading up her Subaru with provisions for the day.
Everything seemed to be going well. Jason had told her the cabins would all be watertight by this evening, just as Naomi had hoped. Winona prayed he was right.
She folded her arms on the table, rested her head, and closed her eyes. That’s all she needed—just a few minutes of rest before the coffee kicked in.
Just a few minutes…
“Winona?”
She gasped, springing to her feet on a burst of adrenaline and knocking over her chair with a clatter.
Jason reached across the table, caught her by the arm to steady her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Heart thrumming, she tried to get her bearings. “I … I must have fallen asleep.”
He released her, concern on his face. “Are you okay?”
Way to embarrass yourself—again.
“I’m fine.” She righted the chair. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I came to tell you that we’re done. All of the rough-framing is complete, and the cabins are wrapped and dried in.”
“Already?” How long had she been asleep?
“Come see.”
She slipped on her jacket and followed him outdoors. Even from the Mess Hall’s porch, she could see them—ten cabins with walls and roofs covered in house wrap. “You said you would finish, and you did. I’m so grateful, Jason—to all of you. Naomi is going to be so happy.”
Team members and volunteers alike gathered around the cookfire, drinking coffee, warming themselves, smiles on their faces. Grandfather was with them, sitting close to the fire, talking with Megs.
Winona made her way toward them, stopping first to get the Knockers coupons out of her vehicle. She climbed on top of a picnic bench near Grandpa, the crowd of about thirty falling quiet. “You did it. Pilamayaye. Thank you. I can’t believe how much you accomplished this weekend. I know that if Naomi were here, she would be amazed, too. We are all deeply grateful for your help. What you’ve done will enable us to operate next summer and make a difference in the lives of Lakota children.”