Stealing Thunder Read online

  “Nathan.”

  His expression serious, Nathan Lantero stepped closer so that she could see that he was wearing a beaded necklace with his totem, a buffalo cast in gold. Ella couldn’t help but be surprised—it looked like real gold, an unbelievable luxury amidst so much poverty. She remembered when they were kids, they would secretly search the abandoned mines in hope of finding gold. Now it looked like Nathan had, if not in the way they’d imagined.

  What kind of work had he been able to get to earn it? she wondered.

  “I heard you left the Wasi’chu, Ella. I couldn’t help but wonder why, after all this time.”

  He almost sounded disapproving, she thought, as if he thought she should have stayed with her mother’s people. Wasi’chu was used as reference to the White Man, but she suspected as an activist, Nathan used it in its newer negative context, to describe a human condition based on exploitation. That he’d used it in reference to her made her stomach knot and her pulse rush a little faster.

  Her back up, Ella said, “An odd question considering you lived with your father’s people for years.” Both her father and his mother had married outside the Lakota. “Besides, I have roots here.”

  “You had a nightmare here.”

  “Nightmares follow wherever you go,” she said, knowing this to be true. “No place is safe.”

  Nathan nodded, and Ella knew he, too, had felt her father’s death. He’d been one of the family. Almost like a brother to her. Even so, she hadn’t really spoken to him since the day her father was murdered.

  Ella wanted in the worst way to ply her cousin with questions about the past. Perhaps he could help her sort it all out. Not now, though. No time—she had that meeting. Besides, with that attitude, Nathan surely wouldn’t be receptive to anything she wanted.

  Still, she needed to try to make peace between them.

  “I…I never thanked you for trying to help Father…and me.”

  “Joseph was my teacher and my uncle. He was like a father to me, as well.”

  A grief-stricken thirteen-year-old, Ella had placed blame on him. Analytically, she now recognized Nathan had not only saved her from disfigurement or worse, but he’d done what he could for her father. Of course, emotions had no logic, and back then, hers had been out of control.

  “I’m sorry I was so horrible to you after….”

  “So there are no hard feelings?”

  “For you? No, of course not,” she said. “You and Leonard Hawkins tried to stop what happened. Not everyone went along with the crowd.”

  “What about those who did?” He glanced back as if looking over a now-invisible angry crowd, when no one even walked within sight of the house. “Can you forgive and forget?” he asked, turning back to search her face.

  Ella had no answer. She wanted to be able to forgive—holding hatred in her heart could make her as sick as any disease—but she simply didn’t know if she could look at the past through a softer lens.

  “Maybe that’s why I’m here—to find out if forgiving is possible.”

  “I hope that’s true.”

  But she could tell he didn’t quite believe her. His thick brows were furrowed, and his full mouth pulled tight. More important, she felt his doubt come at her in palpable waves.

  Doubt and something else…something darker…something that made her take a step back and jam her elbow into the car.

  Ignoring the shot of pain, she asked, “What is it you fear, Nathan?”

  “Revenge is a strong need.”

  “You think I would deliberately hurt others?” Or did he mean himself?

  “I don’t know you anymore, Ella.”

  “Nor I you.” Suddenly wanting to put some distance between herself and her cousin, Ella looked away from him and swung open the door of the SUV, but hesitated before getting in. Being rude wouldn’t earn his help in the future. “I need to go now or I’ll be late to an appointment.”

  “Then I’ll probably see you on the set.”

  Ella supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that Nathan knew she was working on the film. Undoubtedly Grandmother had told him.

  What was he going to be doing there? Working or protesting?

  “Did you get a speaking part?”

  He stared at her for a moment, making her shift uncomfortably as she wondered what was going through his head.

  Then he said, “Only speaking to the horses from the rez. I’m moving some into a pasture near the Sioux village set this morning.”

  “I’ll see you there, then.”

  Nathan gave her a ghost of a smile and backed off as she climbed into the driver’s seat. But he didn’t turn away.

  Considering Nathan was part of an activist group trying to regain the Black Hills for The People, Ella found it odd that he would want to have anything to do with the movie. Then again, money was money and he surely needed to make a living somehow.

  After driving off, Ella kept glancing into her rearview mirror. Nathan was there, still watching her, until she turned the corner.

  It was only then that she relaxed.

  What the heck?

  Why had he been giving off such a weird vibe, like he didn’t want her there?

  Lord, who knew? Maybe he considered her Wasi’chu. Maybe he resented the work she’d gotten, especially her being the consultant for the spiritual scenes. Though he was no shaman, Nathan had been one of Father’s apprentices. Grandmother said he remembered. Perhaps he’d wanted to be the consultant and resented the lucrative work going to someone who’d spent the last half of her life living in the white world.

  Maybe he had a point.

  As she drove, Ella let her thoughts stray back to the day before. It was still too early to call the sheriff’s office—she doubted they would know anything until later. If she didn’t hear anything by midafternoon, she would call for an update.

  She turned onto a gravel road that cut between reservation and refuge and remembered her encounter with Tiernan McKenna, whose people owned this land. Without calling it up, she could see his handsome Irish face. The way he looked at her with such concern…the way his expression changed with an injection of humor.

  And then she remembered the nonverbal connection between them. The connection had been made several times, in different ways. She’d felt him, as if she could sense him inside her somehow. Like nothing she’d ever felt before, she thought. Tiernan seemed strangely intuitive—“Irish fey” he’d called it jokingly. For some reason, Ella thought it was more than that, something more compelling, perhaps even dark. The more she considered it, the more edgy she became.

  One didn’t have to be a Native American shaman to have powers that the average person could only imagine. Ireland was a land of fables. But perhaps there was more fact than fiction to the magic claimed by the Irish.

  Ella shuddered at the possibilities.

  Only here for a few weeks, she might never see Tiernan McKenna again.

  Good thing…

  BEFORE LEAVING FOR the set, Tiernan called the sheriff’s office and asked for the deputy who’d taken his statement. He’d been up half the night remembering…and worrying.

  “We determined Harold Walks Tall’s death was accidental,” the deputy said.

  Familiar words tore through him.

  Though he was certain that was not true, Tiernan made no rash claims as he once had. He endeavored to stay calm, focused, logical.

  “Are you certain the man wasn’t darted?”

  “No markings on him, no tranquilizer or other drugs in his system.”

  “Then how do you explain what happened to Ella Thunder?” Tiernan asked, wondering if she had any lingering ill effects from the drug.

  The attack on Ella being the only reason he was thinking of her at all.

  “Coincidence?” the deputy responded. “Look, probably some hunter was out there and saw movement through the trees and thought she was a deer. When he realized his mistake, he took off. It don’t make him a nice person, but it don’t
make him a criminal, either.”

  Tiernan guessed the assumption was logical given what the authorities had to go on, but remembering the way his psychic instincts had been aroused—something he couldn’t prove and therefore wouldn’t share. He was certain the fall was no accident. It wasn’t the first time he’d been privy to such a mistake in a death investigation. Having had experience trying to convince the authorities they were wrong, he knew it was an exercise in futility.

  “Why would a hunter use a tranquilizer rather than a bullet to bring down an animal?” Tiernan asked.

  The deputy coughed and hemmed and hawed. “Can’t really say why….”

  Tiernan knew arguing would be a waste of energy. Even so, he asked, “What about the dart itself?”

  “No fingerprints.” The deputy was starting to sound really uncomfortable. “Look, the lady is okay, which is what really matters, right? Searching for someone who made a mistake would be a waste of manpower.”

  The lack of resolution lay heavily on Tiernan’s mind as he drove out to the set, taking the truck that Kate had said was his as long as the job lasted. He knew what he knew, but it was nothing he could prove, and it was none of his business anyway, he thought.

  Not like the last time.

  So why was he so focused on it? Focused on a lass he didn’t even know?

  He tried to get it—her—out of mind and concentrate on the job at hand as he approached the shooting location. Some carpenters were at work on one of the buildings, a handful of men surrounding a couple of cameras looked as if they were trying to decide where to set up and extras and production staff milled about.

  Driving straight to the double-wide marked as the office, Tiernan went in search of Doug Holloway, the first assistant director, who would be his supervisor.

  Doug turned out to be a small man both in height and weight. His thick sandy hair was tied back in a ponytail and his pale blue eyes hid behind a pair of round tortoiseshell glasses. He was young—twentysomething—and fast talking.

  “I’m not a horse expert—that would be you—so I’ll give you the shooting schedule with the number of horses I need. It’s up to you to have them ready to ride on time every day according to schedule. Got it?”

  “That I do,” Tiernan said, taking the folder from Doug and browsing the contents. “What about the horses from the reservation?”

  “Not your headache. You’ll coordinate with a Lakota—Nathan Lantero—who should be bringing in the reservation’s horses anytime now.”

  Closing the folder, Tiernan said, “Looks like I’d better do the same since you’ll need some of those horses first thing in the morning. Which pasture do I use?”

  Doug shrugged. “First come, first served. Both have trailers parked outside the gates to use as tack rooms. Just let me know when you’re finished setting up.”

  “Will do.”

  An all-day job, Tiernan thought, but one better than rounding up cattle. Until he’d come here, horses had been his life. Hoping Kate or Chase could help him for a few hours, he left the trailer and made for the truck. He’d barely reached the parking lot when he spotted the familiar, green SUV. He turned back toward the set to look for Ella, but he didn’t see her. He was getting that odd feeling again, that sense of connection. The prophecy came immediately to mind, and Tiernan told himself that it would be best for him to stay away from the woman.

  What was Ella doing here in the first place? he wondered.

  Was she an extra? Or had she simply come along with a friend or relative for the experience?

  Whatever the reason, he intended to avoid her and hoped their paths wouldn’t cross when he returned with the herd.

  “WHY DOES IT have to be a cottonwood?” Jane Grant asked. “I don’t understand why any tree wouldn’t do.”

  They were discussing the Sundance to be shot in the next few days and Ella wanted the scene to be as authentic as possible. They’d been at it all day and this was the last planning detail that needed attention.

  “Well, it doesn’t. You could use another tree, but the cottonwood is sacred to the Lakota,” Ella told her. “The leaves are shaped in the conical pattern of the tipi. And an upper limb cut crosswise will show a five-pointed star that represents the Great Spirit. If you want the scene to be truly authentic….”

  “All right, then, a cottonwood it is.” Jane made a note of it on her laptop. “I’ll get someone on it before we break for the day.”

  While intelligent and efficient, Jane Grant seemed too young, not even thirty years old, to be a producer of a major motion picture. Her short blond hair was spiked, her medium-length fingernails painted the same dark blue as her tight pants. She wore a hand-worked leather halter top and matching boots…with three-inch heels. Ella wondered how in the world she could walk in those on such uneven ground without twisting an ankle.

  When Jane looked up and closed the lid of her laptop, Ella said, “I appreciate your taking the details of our ceremony so seriously. Rituals need to be observed properly so the gods bestow the blessings of life on The People.”

  Jane nodded. “All right. I appreciate your willingness to work with me. Not all Lakota are as cooperative.”

  Ella’s only response was a smile.

  “Well, that finishes your work for the day,” Jane said. “Meet me here in the morning. Ten should be fine. I’d like you to look over everything before we start shooting.”

  Ella got to her feet. “Good, I’ll see you then.”

  As she left the trailer, a ruckus caught her attention—stomping hoofbeats accompanied by sharp whistles. Horses, twenty or so, were being driven toward the pasture on the set. Ella couldn’t help but be drawn toward the activity. And when she spotted Tiernan McKenna bringing up the rear of the herd, her step quickened. His cousin Kate remained at the gate and shooed the horses through.

  Then, remembering her earlier thoughts about Tiernan and Irish magic, Ella slowed and thought twice about approaching him. What in the world was she doing?

  Too late. Tiernan spotted her. Not knowing what else to do, she waved and indicated she wanted to talk to him. Maybe he knew something about the murder—a good enough reason for her interest.

  Tiernan and Kate quickly got the horses into the fenced pasture. He bent over to say something to his cousin, who grinned at him and hit him in the arm as if she were teasing. Now, what was that about?

  Then Tiernan turned his gelding in her direction, and Ella felt her pulse rush a little faster. Behind him, Kate watched, waved to Ella, then took off the way she’d come. His expression sober, Tiernan stopped the horse directly in front of her but didn’t dismount.

  Feeling her face grow warm, Ella looked up at him and said, “I didn’t know you were working on the set.”

  “That would make two of us. Are you just visiting or are you one of the actresses?”

  “Actress?” Ella couldn’t help but laugh at that. She’d made the same mistake with Nathan earlier. “I couldn’t act my way out of a paper bag. I’m just doing a little consulting work. The producer wants to get the Lakota scenes dealing with spirituality right. I’ll only be here for a couple of weeks.” She realized that, despite her earlier thoughts, she’d relaxed while talking to Tiernan. His expression had softened, as well. “So you’re wrangling the horses?”

  “The ones from both the family ranch and the refuge. Not the reservation horses.”

  “No, that would be my cousin.”

  “Cousin?” His forehead pulled into a frown. “Do I detect some tension there?”

  “Nathan can be difficult,” Ella said, then admitted, “We had words earlier.”

  “’Tis a shame.”

  She shrugged. “The reason I stopped you…have you heard anything about what happened yesterday?”

  “It seems that Harold Walks Tall’s death was declared an accident.”

  “No! That can’t be right!”

  “I don’t believe it, either. But apparently they found no drug in his system.”

/>   “What about what happened to me?”

  “The deputy put it to a hunter making a mistake, thinking he was aiming at an animal. A waste of time ’twould be going after someone who merely made a mistake.”

  She didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice. “That was no more a mistake than Harold Walks Tall’s death was an accident!”

  “’Tis not me you need to convince.”

  “There’s just no way to prove it,” Ella said.

  No easy way.

  No way she wanted to take.

  All her instincts had been aroused by the incident. Before she’d known there was a body, she’d sensed the darkness and danger…and then she’d seen the raven’s track in the earth. But those were all things she was unwilling to talk about. Things that could raise suspicions. Things that could get a person killed.

  Forcing the image of Father as she’d seen him last out of her mind, Ella was about to suggest it would be best to leave it alone when the thunder of hooves caught her attention again. She looked past Tiernan to see another herd of horses heading toward the fenced pastures.

  “Looks like Nathan is here.” Her cousin and two other men from the rez were bringing in the herd.

  “I should be introducing myself, then. Forge a bond since we shall be working together.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible. Even though Nathan went away to university and lived in the white world for years, he returned to his mother’s people and the rez. He’s become something of an activist, part of a group that wants to dissolve treaties and take back the Black Hills for the Lakota.”

  “Could that happen?”

  “What reason would a powerful government have to give over settled and valuable land?”

  “Aye, that I understand. Hopefully it won’t cause troubles here.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Maybe you ought to come with me, do the introductions.”

  Ella glanced over at the herd her cousin had brought. Nathan was behind the last of the horses to go into the pasture. One of his men swung closed the gate and latched it.