Soldier's Promise Read online

  “Because Mom is happy here. Her old friends and the drugs and everything aren’t here. She’s safe here. I want her to be safe.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Carmen said. “But I doubt he’ll listen to me.” Jake struck her as a man who made up his own mind, without relying on the opinions of others.

  “He likes you,” Sophie said. “That will make him listen.”

  Carmen might have argued with that but let it pass. “You come to me if you need anything,” she said and left the little trailer.

  Jake was waiting outside, frowning at a couple of men who were watching him from beneath a tree across the clearing. “More of Metwater’s goons?” he asked, as Carmen came up beside him.

  Carmen studied the two shaggy-haired young men, boyfriends of a couple of the women she had met. “They’re not part of his bodyguards,” she said. “But they’ve probably heard you’re not supposed to be in camp.”

  “Maybe I should hang around a little longer, to show Metwater what I think of his trying to order me around,” he said.

  “Don’t.” She gripped his arm. “You’re not going to help your sister and mother by raising a stink like this. Let me handle this. I promise I’ll make sure Phoenix and Sophie are all right.”

  His eyes met Carmen’s, and the intensity of his look burned into her. “Looking after them isn’t your job,” he said. “It’s mine. And it’s my fault they’re here right now. If I had stayed home, instead of leaving them to run off to the military, Sophie would be safe in Houston with our grandparents. She’d be enrolled in school and worrying about boys her own age, instead of living here in the wilderness with a phony prophet and his whacked-out followers.”

  “Or maybe things would be worse, and your mother would still be an addict or dead of an overdose.” She faced him, toe to toe. “You won’t accomplish anything playing the blame game.”

  He clenched his jaw. “You’re right. But I’m not going to let you or Metwater or anyone else keep me from looking after Sophie and my mom now.”

  “Where is Sophie’s father?” Carmen asked.

  “Who knows? He was another free spirit Mom hooked up with for a few months during one of the periods when I was living with my grandparents. He’s a musician out in California—a real flake. I think he’s seen Sophie twice in her whole life.”

  “That must be hard on her.” Carmen saw her own father at least once a week.

  “Probably, but you adjust.”

  The tension in his voice tugged at her. “Who was your father?” she asked.

  “Another guy who ran out on her when she needed him,” Jake said. “A high school classmate—apparently a senior who was headed to college. His plans didn’t include her and a kid.” He shrugged. “I never met him. Never wanted to.”

  Was that true? Carmen wondered. Surely a boy would want to know his father. Her own dad was an anchor in her life, a source of love and guidance and so many qualities that made her who she was. Being rejected by a parent must have hurt Jake deeply, even though he didn’t show it. “None of you have had it easy, then,” she said.

  His jaw tightened. “We did all right. Most of the time. And I’m going to take care of Mom and Sophie now.”

  “There’s nothing more you can do today,” she said. “You should go before there’s trouble.”

  “I’ll leave camp—for now. But I promise, I’ll be keeping an eye on this place—and on you.”

  He turned and stalked away, leaving her breathless in the wake of this pronouncement, a feeling curling up from her stomach that was part fear and part attraction she really, really didn’t want to feel.

  Chapter Four

  Jake hiked back to his camp in a secluded copse, just off a dirt road. The sun beat down, hot on the top of his head. A soft breeze brought in the smells of sage and pinion, and the trill of birds. Such a peaceful, idyllic scene. Some of Metwater’s followers probably saw it as a kind of Eden. The Prophet no doubt painted it that way. But Jake sensed something rotten underneath all that beauty.

  Carmen must have sensed it, too. He wasn’t sure if he bought her story about being undercover in the camp to check on the conditions for the women and children. Why carry concealed if you were only doing a welfare check?

  He hadn’t made her as a cop when he’d first seen her, walking with the women. Did that make him sexist? Or was it only because his attraction to her had sidetracked his thinking? Her cool, reserved attitude intrigued him. He liked that she didn’t rattle easily, and he’d be a liar if he didn’t admit that her slightly exotic beauty added to her appeal. She was the type of woman he’d want guarding his back in a fight—and by his side in bed.

  The odds weren’t good either of those things would happen. Officer Redhorse didn’t trust him—not even to look after his own mom and sister. Maybe her instincts were better than his, and she sensed he wasn’t entirely leveling with her. But he had plenty of good reasons for keeping secrets just now.

  In any case, he didn’t have room in his life for a relationship right now—he hadn’t had that kind of room for a long time. Before the army, family drama had stolen all opportunity to get close to anyone else. He’d been caught between his concern for his mom and sister, and his anger that they were always so needy. His mother was over forty, and she seemed incapable of looking after herself. She was always in trouble—trouble with creditors, trouble with the law, trouble with drugs.

  Four years ago, he had told himself things weren’t that bad. His leaving might even be the kick in the pants she needed to accept her responsibilities and get clean. When he had finally gotten over his anger enough to touch base with her, six months after he’d enlisted, he had been more annoyed than worried when he discovered she had left town. He told himself she would turn up again. She always did.

  Then he had been deployed, and time had gotten away from him. It had taken him months after his discharge to find her, months during which he had decided he had been a coward for running out on Sophie the way he had. He had been so eager to escape his problems, he hadn’t thought of anyone else. The knowledge hurt, like a punch in the gut. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He wouldn’t let her down this time.

  He approached the camp he had made in a secluded wash, screened from the road by a tumble of red and gray boulders and a clump of twisted pinions. He froze when he spotted the Jeep parked next to his pickup, secluded behind some trees. He doubted anyone had accidentally chosen that place to park. As carefully and soundlessly as possible, he reached back and eased the gun out of his pack, then unfastened the pack’s straps and let it slip to the ground.

  Unencumbered, he moved stealthily toward the camp, keeping out of sight behind the screen of boulders. Warmth from the rocks seeped into his palm as he braced himself to look through a gap into the camp.

  An older man with a barrel chest, dressed in khaki shorts and a white, short-sleeved shirt that billowed over his big belly, bent over to peer into Jake’s tent. When he straightened, Jake studied the jowled face with mirrored aviators perched on a bulbous nose. This guy was no cop—he didn’t have that aura about him, and he was seriously out of shape. Jake could hear him wheezing from across the camp.

  The man spotted the cooler that Jake had shoved deep into the shade of a pinion and waddled over to it and popped the top. Smiling, he pulled out a beer, condensation glinting on the brown glass. Nope, not a cop. Just a common thief. Jake rose from behind the rock, his gun trained on the intruder. “Put that back where you got it,” he barked.

  The man inhaled sharply, and the bottle slipped from his hand, shattering on the rock below, beer fountaining up and onto the man’s hiking boots. He looked down at the mess, frowning. “Shame on you for making me waste a good beer,” he said in heavily accented English. Was he German? Austrian?

  “What are you doing in my camp?” Jake asked.

  “I was looking around.” The ma
n was red-faced from too much sun, but he didn’t look nervous.

  “And you were helping yourself to my beer,” Jake said.

  “I was thirsty. Isn’t that the rule of the outdoors—to always offer refreshment to a fellow traveler in need?”

  Jake took a step closer, keeping the gun trained on the intruder. “You don’t walk into someone’s camp and help yourself. That’s called theft.”

  The man spread his hands in front of him. “I did not mean to offend. Perhaps things are done differently here in the wild west of America.” He nodded toward Jake’s gun. “You are making me nervous, waving that around.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, and turn around.”

  The man hesitated. “Why do you ask this?”

  “I’m not asking. Do it.”

  The man slowly raised his hands and turned to present his back. Jake moved from behind the rock and checked the man’s pockets and waistband. No gun. He relaxed a little and lowered his weapon, though he kept it in his hand. “You can turn around now.”

  The man did so. Up close, he looked even older—close to sixty. “What are you doing out here?” Jake asked.

  “I am on vacation.”

  “From where?”

  “From Germany. Munich. I come to the United States every year.”

  Jake looked around at the austere landscape. Not the kind of thing he would expect a city guy from Munich to be attracted to. “Why?”

  “I embrace the wild beauty of this land.” The German spread his arms wide. “I find it endlessly fascinating.”

  “Really?”

  He dropped his hands. “Also, I have a great interest in the flora and fauna of the American wilderness.”

  “Are you a botanist or something?”

  “I am a hobbyist. My name is Werner Altbusser.” He extended his hand, but Jake didn’t take it. He didn’t for a minute believe this guy was as innocent as he pretended to be.

  “Where are you camped?” Jake asked.

  If he had been on the receiving end of these questions, Jake would have told the guy his campsite was none of his business, but Werner had no such qualms. “I am staying in a motel in Montrose,” he said. “I do not enjoy camping. And I realized when I was out here that I had not brought enough water with me, hence I was doubly glad to see your camp.”

  Werner hadn’t just “seen” Jake’s camp. Jake had made sure it wasn’t visible from the road, and there were no nearby trails. “So you figured you’d wander over and take a look,” Jake said.

  “I hoped someone would be home, and I could ask for a drink.”

  Jake opened the cooler and took out a bottle of water. “Here you go.”

  If the German was disappointed not to receive a beer, he didn’t show it. He twisted the lid off the water bottle and half drained it in one gulp. So maybe he was thirsty. Jake took out a bottle of water for himself.

  Thirst slaked, Werner looked around the camp. “This is a remote location,” he said. “What brings you here? Are you, like me, a lover of nature?”

  “I have business in the area.”

  Werner’s eyebrows arched in unspoken question, but Jake didn’t elaborate.

  “I met some other people camped in the area,” Werner said. “A group of young people, who said they are part of a large family who live here.”

  Jake stiffened. Was he talking about Metwater’s bunch? “Where did you meet them?” he asked.

  “Oh, while I was out walking.” He waved his hand vaguely. “Very nice young people.” He grinned, showing white teeth. “Very pretty women. Do you know them?”

  “No,” Jake lied.

  Werner drained the rest of the bottle, then crumpled it and set it on top of the cooler. “Thank you for the water. I will be going now.”

  Jake couldn’t think of a good reason to detain the man. “Next time you come across an unoccupied camp, don’t wander in and help yourself,” he said. “The next person you meet might not be as understanding as me,” he said.

  “I will remember that.” He gave a small bow, then turned and walked unhurriedly to the Jeep. After a few moments, the engine roared to life and trundled back to the road.

  Jake waited until the vehicle was out of sight, then retrieved his pack and carried it into his tent. Out of habit, he checked the contents, searching through the spare shirt and socks, extra ammo, energy bars, sunscreen and water. But the item he was looking for wasn’t there.

  He upended the pack on his sleeping bag, and emptied out the side pockets as well, the sinking feeling in his stomach growing to Grand Canyon proportions. The folder with his credentials and badge were gone. Whoever had taken them now knew he was a Fish and Wildlife officer. His cover was blown before the sting had even begun.

  Chapter Five

  Starfall cornered Carmen after breakfast the next day. “Heard from Soldier Boy?” she asked, smirking.

  Carmen started to pretend she didn’t know who Starfall was talking about, but why play dumb? “I haven’t heard from him,” she said.

  “Hmm.” Starfall twirled one long curl around her index finger. “I was hoping he’d stop by today to visit.”

  “You know the Prophet told him he wasn’t welcome here.” Metwater had made a point after dinner last night of announcing that he wanted everyone to be more vigilant about keeping out uninvited visitors. He passed it off as a concern for the safety of the group, though he had specifically mentioned Jake as an example of someone who could disrupt the harmony of the group.

  “Roscoe said he spotted a bunch of berry bushes south of here,” Starfall said. Roscoe was the Family’s mechanic. He made extra money by collecting rusting metal and the remains of cars that had been dumped in the wilderness, and selling them to scrap dealers in town. “Want to come pick with us this morning? If we get enough fruit, we can make jam.”

  Carmen actually liked picking berries. The weather was pleasant, the scenery beautiful and it was one of her best opportunities to mingle with all of the women and many of the children in the group. She was learning about their backgrounds and getting a good picture of their relationships to the Prophet and to each other. Though some of them looked a little more ragged and dirty than others, she hadn’t found any real signs of neglect. A little more attention to schooling and health care would have been warranted, but she couldn’t see that Metwater and his followers were breaking any laws. Another day or two, and she would have to wrap up her investigation and get back to more pressing matters, so she might as well make the most of the time she had left. “Sure, I’ll come.”

  When the women assembled with their buckets and baskets, Carmen was surprised to see Sophie and Phoenix. “Are you sure you’re well enough to be going out?” she asked Phoenix.

  “I told her she should stay home and rest,” Sophie said.

  “I’m fine.” Phoenix smiled. She looked pale but, then, she always looked pale. “And I like berry picking. I wouldn’t want to stay behind and miss it.”

  “Come on, let’s go,” Starfall called. “I don’t want to wait around all morning.”

  They set out, a motley collection of half a dozen women and an equal number of children. Some women had chosen to remain behind, including Asteria. But most enjoyed the opportunity to be away from camp, enjoying the nice weather. They found the raspberry bushes Roscoe had told them about, the thorny, fruit-laden canes clustered along the edge of a small canyon. Carmen began filling a plastic ice-cream bucket with the sweet, red fruit, careful to avoid the sharp thorns which continually caught and tugged on her clothes. She had worn jeans for the work and a billowing blouse that hid the gun tucked into her waistband.

  Except for the gun, she was reminded of other berry-picking expeditions when she was a girl, with her relatives on the Southern Ute Reservation south of here. Aunt Veronica would try to scare them with stories about bears that wo
uld try to steal the fruit, and her mother would promise a reward for the child who picked the most berries. Smiling at the memory, Carmen paused to stretch her back and sample some of the juicy berries. She was sucking juice from her fingers when she noticed Starfall had moved away from the others and was searching the ground some distance away.

  While most of the women had welcomed Carmen to the Family, Starfall had kept her distance. Carmen was still trying to figure out where the slight, curly-haired woman fit into the group dynamic. She wasn’t one of Metwater’s favorites—women who hovered around him at every meal and ceremony, like groupies around a rock star. She shared a tent with Asteria next to Metwater’s motor home and had a little boy whose father had accompanied her to the Family, but who had left after less than a month. All this Carmen had learned from other women, not Starfall herself. There was something sly and grasping about the young woman that made Carmen always on edge around her—and curious to know what she was hiding.

  She moved away from the berry pickers and toward Starfall. The other woman straightened at her approach. “What are you looking for?” Carmen asked.

  Starfall swept her mass of curly, brown hair back from her forehead. “Do you know anything about cactus?” she asked.

  “Not much.” Her grandmother had taught her how to cook the green pads of prickly pear—removing the thorns and cutting the flesh into thin strips to sauté as a vegetable—but it wasn’t one of Carmen’s favorite dishes, and she doubted Starfall was interested in the recipe.

  “I’m looking for this.” Starfall thrust a piece of paper toward her. Carmen took the paper and studied it. Obviously printed from the internet, it showed a squat, barrel-shaped cactus with wicked-looking spines and a soft pink flower.

  “Where did you get this?” Carmen asked, returning the paper.

  Starfall folded the copy and tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. “I met a guy in town who said he’d pay me twenty bucks for every one of these I found and brought to him.” She studied the ground again. “He said they grew around here, but they wouldn’t have flowers this time of year.”