now.
“Almost there,” Sage said, because it had been a long time since either of them had spoken.
She settled back with an exhalation, a breathy laugh. He glanced at her and she looked at him and smiled. And again he felt that odd turning insidehis chest. “Nervous?” he asked. And then: “You shouldn’t be.”
She gave a little snort of laughter. “Easy for you to say.”
He acknowledged that with a nod and a half smile. He felt her eyes resting on him. After a moment she asked, “Have you ever been to New York?”
“The city?”
She nodded, still intently watching him.
“Yes, I have—several times. When I was at Yale.”
“How did you feel the first time you saw it?”
He gave a soft laugh. “Overwhelmed.” He shook his head and added, “But it’s not the same. For one thing, I was with a bunch of friends.”
“Well, that makes a big difference.”
“It does.” He threw her another glance. “But on the other hand, I didn’t have people waiting for me with open arms, ready to welcome me into the family.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she looked away. “Maybe that’s part of the problem.”
“Why’s that?”
She gave another of those little snorts—laughter without amusement. “Oh, like, no pressure, or anything.”
“Pressure? Why? You don’t have anything to prove.”
“Don’t I?”
He glanced at her remembering she’d said she was a dancer. “It’s not like this is an audition.You’ve got the job. You’re Sam’s granddaughter—nothing can change that.”
She fell silent, and in the silence was something he couldn’t name. It reminded him of the way the forest goes quiet when the predator walks. And it made him wonder about the woman sitting beside him…wonder why so beautiful a woman should be so insecure, so fearful. Made him itch to know the Sunny Wells she didn’t letthe world see, made him burn to ask questions his ingrained reserve would not let him ask.
He drove in silence as deep as hers, disturbed in ways he didn’t understand.
“So, this is it,” Abby said, as they turned left onto a paved but unlined road.
Sage nodded. “June Canyon Road. The ranch is a few miles farther up.”
She didn’t answer, but her heart quickened as she gazedat the granite peaks that lay ahead, seeming to block their path. An illusion, as she’d already discovered. There would be a hidden canyon, a winding road leading to…what?
What lies ahead…for me? What will happen when I tell them about Sunny? Will they hate me? Blame the messenger?
Oh, God…I hope they’ll understand.
The paved road arrowed straight between barbed wire fences borderingpastures where dark-colored cattle grazed, then entered a swamplike wilderness of trees Abby didn’t know the names of, many fallen and rotting, some half-submerged in water. They swept across a bridge over a small, sluggish river, and there were more fields, some freshly plowed, some filled with green grass and wildflowers. Then the road began to climb a slope covered with rocks and brushand small rounded evergreen trees.
“Over there—that’s tribal land.” Sage pointed as the road wound upward. “Some of my mom’s family live there.”
“Tribal land.” She frowned with the effort to corral her wandering thoughts. “You mean like a…reservation?”
The side of his mouth lifted in what she somehow knew was not a smile. “No. The word reservation implies restrictions—kind ofhas a bad history with us, if you can understand that. When I say tribal land, I mean just that. It belongs to the tribe. As it always has—it’s the site of one our historic villages. It was called yitiyamup, in case you wanted to know.” He nodded toward the windshield. “There’s another old village site where the ranch is now.”
“Where the ranch—Sam’s ranch—is now? Doesn’t that…I don’t know…botheryou?”
He smiled—a real one, this time. “No, it doesn’t bother me. What would be the point? It’s the
“Almost there,” Sage said, because it had been a long time since either of them had spoken.
She settled back with an exhalation, a breathy laugh. He glanced at her and she looked at him and smiled. And again he felt that odd turning insidehis chest. “Nervous?” he asked. And then: “You shouldn’t be.”
She gave a little snort of laughter. “Easy for you to say.”
He acknowledged that with a nod and a half smile. He felt her eyes resting on him. After a moment she asked, “Have you ever been to New York?”
“The city?”
She nodded, still intently watching him.
“Yes, I have—several times. When I was at Yale.”
“How did you feel the first time you saw it?”
He gave a soft laugh. “Overwhelmed.” He shook his head and added, “But it’s not the same. For one thing, I was with a bunch of friends.”
“Well, that makes a big difference.”
“It does.” He threw her another glance. “But on the other hand, I didn’t have people waiting for me with open arms, ready to welcome me into the family.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she looked away. “Maybe that’s part of the problem.”
“Why’s that?”
She gave another of those little snorts—laughter without amusement. “Oh, like, no pressure, or anything.”
“Pressure? Why? You don’t have anything to prove.”
“Don’t I?”
He glanced at her remembering she’d said she was a dancer. “It’s not like this is an audition.You’ve got the job. You’re Sam’s granddaughter—nothing can change that.”
She fell silent, and in the silence was something he couldn’t name. It reminded him of the way the forest goes quiet when the predator walks. And it made him wonder about the woman sitting beside him…wonder why so beautiful a woman should be so insecure, so fearful. Made him itch to know the Sunny Wells she didn’t letthe world see, made him burn to ask questions his ingrained reserve would not let him ask.
He drove in silence as deep as hers, disturbed in ways he didn’t understand.
“So, this is it,” Abby said, as they turned left onto a paved but unlined road.
Sage nodded. “June Canyon Road. The ranch is a few miles farther up.”
She didn’t answer, but her heart quickened as she gazedat the granite peaks that lay ahead, seeming to block their path. An illusion, as she’d already discovered. There would be a hidden canyon, a winding road leading to…what?
What lies ahead…for me? What will happen when I tell them about Sunny? Will they hate me? Blame the messenger?
Oh, God…I hope they’ll understand.
The paved road arrowed straight between barbed wire fences borderingpastures where dark-colored cattle grazed, then entered a swamplike wilderness of trees Abby didn’t know the names of, many fallen and rotting, some half-submerged in water. They swept across a bridge over a small, sluggish river, and there were more fields, some freshly plowed, some filled with green grass and wildflowers. Then the road began to climb a slope covered with rocks and brushand small rounded evergreen trees.
“Over there—that’s tribal land.” Sage pointed as the road wound upward. “Some of my mom’s family live there.”
“Tribal land.” She frowned with the effort to corral her wandering thoughts. “You mean like a…reservation?”
The side of his mouth lifted in what she somehow knew was not a smile. “No. The word reservation implies restrictions—kind ofhas a bad history with us, if you can understand that. When I say tribal land, I mean just that. It belongs to the tribe. As it always has—it’s the site of one our historic villages. It was called yitiyamup, in case you wanted to know.” He nodded toward the windshield. “There’s another old village site where the ranch is now.”
“Where the ranch—Sam’s ranch—is now? Doesn’t that…I don’t know…botheryou?”
He smiled—a real one, this time. “No, it doesn’t bother me. What would be the point? It’s the
Similar Books
