Stealing Thunder Read online

  “Looks like it’s too late.”

  “Not if you ride with me.” Tiernan removed his left foot from the stirrup. “Get on.”

  Ella hesitated but Tiernan gestured for her to mount behind him. Tossing caution to the wind, she slipped her foot into the stirrup and bounced upward, catching him around the waist to anchor herself as she threw her free leg over the horse’s back.

  He took off immediately, and as her breasts pressed into his back, Ella realized her mistake. Her head went light and her pulse started to race and she felt that uncomfortable connection with him yet again. And from the way he suddenly stiffened in the saddle, she expected he felt it, too.

  What did this mean? Her being light-headed and disconnected from everything but him? She felt as if she were converging with him somehow—not here, but on another plane.

  Distracted by the discomfort and weird thoughts, Ella didn’t realize one of Nathan’s men was yelling about something in Lakota until Tiernan stopped near the pastures. Even though she was an expert in Lakota history, she’d spoken nothing but English since leaving the rez. Even so, she caught some of the words. Something about a curse. Then the man looked her way and his face curdled in contempt. She didn’t recognize him, but he pointed at her and said she was the one.

  “What’s going on?” Tiernan asked.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  And then she did. Scratched into the fence posts that joined the two pastures was a raven’s track.

  Chapter Four

  “What is he talking about?” Tiernan asked, glancing back to see that Ella’s face had gone white.

  “Superstition,” she said, but he knew there was more to it than she was willing to admit.

  “Jacob, back to the rez,” Ella’s cousin ordered.

  Jacob kept his eyes on Ella as he backed up and got hold of his horse. He kept staring at her even as he mounted and rode off.

  Tiernan could feel Ella’s horror. Her arms were still wound around his waist. He had that feeling again, same as the day before, something he didn’t want to recognize. Still, sensing she was close to panicking, he tried to comfort her by placing his free arm over hers and clasping one of her hands. And then he called up peaceful thoughts and concentrated on that and gradually felt her calm down.

  An imposing figure, Nathan Lantero walked over to them, stopping near Ella. “Don’t worry about Jacob,” he told her. “I’ll speak with him.”

  “Do you think it will do any good?”

  “It’s only a sign, Ella. Nothing bad happened. What will he be able to tell The People? Nothing.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Not wanting to dismount and break the fragile bond he had with Ella, Tiernan stayed fast as he addressed the other horseman.

  “Looks like you and I will be working together, wrangling horses for this film. Tiernan McKenna.” He held out his hand for a shake.

  Dark eyes seared him as if trying to look through him, to make him retreat, or at least look away first. Tiernan didn’t so much as shift in the saddle. There was something to this Nathan beyond what he could see, only he couldn’t put his finger on what. He trusted his instincts, though—psychic or otherwise—and they were all on alert.

  Finally, the other man reached out and took his hand. “Nathan Lantero. Ella’s cousin, though she’s probably already told you who I am. What’s an Irishman doing in the wilds of South Dakota?”

  “Working with horses, same as I would do back home,” Tiernan said, getting everything and yet nothing from the contact with the man, as if Nathan were blocking him. “Well, in a manner of speaking,” he qualified. “In Ireland I trained Thoroughbreds. And I’m here in this area because the Farrells are blood.”

  “Good people,” Nathan said, pulling his hand free. “I used to work for Kate’s husband, Chase, on the refuge.”

  “But you quit?”

  “I had more pressing interests.”

  Though his curiosity was piqued, Tiernan didn’t ask Nathan to explain what those interests might be. “I shall be seeing you, then.” He nodded to one of the trailers. “Right now, I need to be getting the tack shop set up.”

  Nathan simply inclined his head.

  Tipping his hat in return, Tiernan signaled Red Crow to go back the way they’d come. He waited a bit before saying to Ella, “So your cousin worked for the refuge.”

  “I didn’t even know that. He was barely eighteen when Mother brought us back to Sioux Falls, and then Grandmother said he went to California, to go to school and to live with his father’s people.”

  “But he returned here. His pressing interests in the Black Hills?”

  Ella didn’t look thrilled about the fact. Tiernan supposed she feared the activists could start a war over their holy land. He hoped not. He hadn’t forgotten the troubles in Ireland. He wouldn’t wish that violence and fear on anyone.

  As they approached the trailers, he asked, “Where should I drop you?”

  “The parking lot would be best since I was on my way out when I saw you.”

  When Ella dismounted near her SUV, Tiernan felt an inexplicable sense of loss. He couldn’t say why, but he wasn’t ready to let her go.

  “I’m wondering if we could get together later,” he said. “Maybe have a drink.” When her expression shifted to one of caution, as if she was searching for reasons to decline, he wheedled, “I think we should talk more about what happened yesterday, don’t you? Besides, I wouldn’t be knowing anyone here but relatives.”

  Ella’s expression cleared. “Sure. A drink. I could meet you in town this evening about eight? A place called Red Butte Saloon.”

  “I will be there.”

  Tiernan smiled down at Ella and he kept himself from giving her a wink. She reminded him of a deer poised to flee at the slightest hint of danger.

  There was danger enough around them—he was certain of that, no matter what the deputy had claimed—reason enough for him to keep Ella close.

  ELLA CENTERED HERSELF before entering. The Red Butte Saloon had a purposely Old West feel and its bar was of black walnut, massive and hand-carved, a long mirror along the back wall making the place look twice as big. The walls themselves were lined with wood paneling and decorated with Western and Native American memorabilia.

  Part of Ella wished that Tiernan wouldn’t be there, while another part looked forward to seeing him again. Beyond his being attractive and charming—he was definitely both—he interested her and she couldn’t quite say why.

  Tiernan had gotten there before her and didn’t see her come in. He stood at the bar, beer in hand, with a group of men. She doubted he knew them—at least he’d said he only had family here—but they were talking and laughing as if they were old friends. She guessed he could charm men, too.

  Watching Tiernan—his relaxed style, his genuine smile, his easy laugh—Ella wondered how she could have thought him so threatening the first time they’d met.

  As she made her way toward him, her pulse threaded unevenly. She was here for a drink, nothing more. How could there be more with her returning to Sioux Falls in a couple of weeks? So why the expectation, the catch in her breath, the edgy sense of something about to happen?

  Tiernan glanced her way, and when he saw her, locked his gaze with hers. The space around them dissolved into nothingness. She felt as if he could see inside her…as if she should be able to see inside him. The closer she got, the more intense the connection.

  And then he reached out and touched her and she simply lost the ability to breathe.

  “So you came,” he said, his voice warm. “I was worried you would change your mind.”

  “I—I almost did,” she choked out.

  “’Tis glad I am that you thought twice on the matter,” he said, his voice whiskey smooth. “What will you have to drink?”

  “A red beer.”

  Tiernan turned to the bartender and handed him some money. “The lady wants a red.” The bartender quickly filled a mug and handed it
to Tiernan, who indicated a dark corner. “We’ll just be taking ourselves to that booth.”

  “Tina will be your waitress. I’ll have her check on you in a while.”

  With a beer in each hand, Tiernan nodded to him, and indicated Ella should take the lead. Separating from the crowd, she felt her pulse rush a little faster. It wasn’t like she was going to be alone with the man, but she couldn’t help her reaction. There was something powerful about him…something so deeply magnetic that she couldn’t deny it.

  She slid into one side of the booth as Tiernan set down the two mugs. Then she slid her beer closer and fingered the icy glass as he sat opposite.

  “To smooth sailing on the set,” Tiernan said, raising his mug. He waited until they’d both taken a sip before saying, “So define superstition for me.”

  Warmth rose in her face as she remembered evading him earlier. “There was a raven’s track carved into one of the fence posts on the pasture. That man, Jacob, thought it meant a sign of something bad about to happen.”

  “I saw it, the same as in the earth where Harold Walks Tall fell to his death.”

  “You saw that one, too?” She gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Not everyone believes in these signs. People who weren’t brought up on the rez tend to think of them as superstition. They don’t give them credence, perhaps even think those who do are foolish,” she admitted. “I thought it might make our story less credible. The People regard nature as a force in itself. They take animal totems. Different animals mean different things. The raven is a trickster, possibly a shapeshifter. It’s almost like the villain is telling us not to believe what we think…but people are too afraid to sort it out.”

  “And I didn’t know what a raven’s track might mean,” Tiernan said. “I wonder what the investigators thought when they saw it. Or if they even paid it any mind. What did this Jacob assume was going to happen?”

  “You’d have to ask him.”

  “And why was he blaming you?”

  She didn’t answer at first. Then she said, “For months before Mother moved us to Sioux Falls, bad things were happening on the rez. Stock dying, a man losing his mind, a house burning when no one was home. Always the incidents were somehow connected to the sign of the raven.”

  “But how does that involve you?”

  “My father was a shaman. They blamed him.”

  “Shaman…you mean like a holy man?”

  “No, not holy. A good man who helps people. A spiritual leader.”

  “You said ’twas your mother who made you move…What about your da, then? Does he still live on the reservation?”

  Ella went very still. “No,” she said, her voice controlled. “He’s dead.”

  The last thing she wanted to talk about with a near stranger. How had she let him lead her there? They were supposed to be talking about what happened the day before, not fifteen years before.

  “Why am I thinking there’s more to the story?” he asked.

  For a moment, she resisted answering. But who else could she talk to? Certainly not the grandparents. She didn’t want to worry them. And for some reason, she felt the need to tell Tiernan. What power did the man have over her?

  Finally she said, “Because there is more. They thought Father was a sorcerer—evil—so they killed him.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “The People who live on the rez. Nearly everyone. It was like they were in a fever, like their minds were affected and they couldn’t stop themselves. Mother and I tried to make them stop. And Nathan and Leonard, two of his apprentices. But it was no use. They tied Father to a stake and set him on fire.”

  Shock registered in Tiernan’s expression and he asked, “You saw it happen?”

  She nodded and her hand shook as she lifted the mug to take another sip of beer. Not that it made her feel better. Nothing could.

  “Most of it, anyway.” Thankfully, Nathan had covered her eyes. “Father was not an evil man,” she said. “The things that happened were caused by another, someone working in secret. Almost everyone believed my father was to blame. And then the whispers started—he was evil, he was a sorcerer, he needed to be destroyed.”

  “What did the authorities do? The tribal police?”

  “Nothing. The incident was buried along with my father. Word leaked out and the FBI tried to investigate, but no one would talk.”

  “What about you and your family?”

  “Mother and I could only tell them what we saw. We had no physical proof of anything. They couldn’t bring an entire tribe to trial without there being political repercussions, so eventually the case just died.” She met his intent gaze. “Now the superstition has already been resurrected, and I fear they will try to do the same to me as they did to Father.”

  Tiernan was silent for so long, her pulse began to thud. The green of his eyes seemed to deepen in color and the smile that usually hovered around his mouth was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t seem put off by what she’d told him, rather he appeared to be angry.

  “What made you come home, then?” he suddenly asked.

  “I’m not home.” She wondered that he didn’t question her about why she feared she might be next to be thought evil. How could she not fear it when twice in two days the raven’s track had appeared in her presence. “I’m simply a consultant for the movie.”

  “Is that the only reason you’re here?”

  “There are the grandparents—they’re aging. Our People don’t live long lives on the rez.”

  “But there is more,” Tiernan said with certainty.

  Ella flushed and hedged, “What more could there be?”

  “Your wanting to resolve what happened to your da…even if you are reluctant to talk about it.”

  “It’s been a long time. Fifteen years. I was a child then. And I’m no investigator.”

  “No,” he said softly, “you’re more. I sense it.”

  She started. “What do you mean…more?”

  “I am not certain as to what exactly you can do…but you are your da’s daughter.”

  “That’s pretty obtuse.”

  Even so, her pulse picked up and she was having trouble again taking an easy breath.

  Tiernan said, “You have some kind of power, Ella. I am aware of it in you every time I touch you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  “What kind of power?” She could feel the speeding tick-tick-tick of her pulse, and her voice rose in distress. “What would make you say such a thing?”

  “If you don’t want anyone else to know, I suggest you keep your voice down.” He met her gaze and held it. “We are more alike than you know.”

  “Alike how?” Perturbed, Ella was beginning to regret agreeing to meet with Tiernan. She tried to turn the conversation on him. “Do you have some dark tragedy in your past you want to tell me about?”

  “No, not in mine. I’ve seen to that,” he said cryptically. “But I can sense things…know things that others don’t.”

  A sense of relief passed through her and she tried to make light of it. “You mean, fey things like you were talking about yesterday?”

  “Do not be too amused.” Leaning close to her, he lowered his voice further, the serious timber cutting through her like a knife. “I can sense the rightness of things. And I can sense the presence of evil, which shadows the landscape here like a dark cloud at times. I read four-footed creatures and humans alike. If I open myself to it, their emotions cut through me…sometimes their thoughts.” He sat back. “There’s perhaps even more that I have not yet explored.”

  The way he told it put a shiver through her. Not that she was about to give him these supposed abilities. If he had them, she would have to stay away from him for sure. Her father’s powers had gotten him killed and she didn’t think she could stand to see that happen to anyone else.

  Her voice challenging, she asked, “What are yo
u?”

  “I’m a McKenna,” he returned simply. “The members of my family all have certain…gifts. Just as your da passed his powers on to you.”

  “I have no powers!” she snapped.

  At least not anymore. There had been a time she’d been one with the earth, in tune with the elements…able to make them shimmer and dance…but that was in the past…a past she had no intention of resurrecting.

  Still, how could Tiernan know?

  “You want to deny them because you think that will keep you safe,” Tiernan said. “Gifts or powers are given to us for a reason. There’s no denying them.”

  Ella didn’t want to go there. She looked away from Tiernan. He was right, of course. Her father’s powers had led to his death, so why would she want to follow in his footsteps? Perhaps she would feel more free to be herself—her father’s daughter—if only she could figure out who had set him up.

  Suddenly, Tiernan said, “If you agree, I can help you.”

  Startled by his sudden intensity, she asked, “Help me do what?”

  “Find out what really happened to make people believe your da was evil. Perhaps why he died.”

  It was as if he could read her mind.

  “I don’t understand. Why would you want to do this?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking there is a connection between the past and present—the raven’s track. If that is so, then perhaps whoever was responsible for your da’s death is also responsible for the death of Harold Walks Tall.”

  “But the authorities—”

  “As it is,” he went on, holding up a hand to stop her argument, “justice will never be done in Harold Walks Tall’s name. Right now, the authorities are happy to pass off what is most likely murder as an accidental death. And you are correct—they would never consider the raven’s track as evidence of anything. But ’tis not right for a man to pass unnoticed, without others being certain of why he died, of being able to mourn him properly.”

  Ella’s heart was pounding now. She’d come back to the Black Hills under the pretense of work when she really wanted answers. Though she wasn’t certain why she thought so, she felt as if Tiernan had some kind of investment in Harold Walks Tall’s death and he was willing to help her get to the truth. She wouldn’t have to act alone. Suddenly she felt as if a heavy burden were being lifted from her shoulders.