The Prodigal Cowboy

“Square One?” His tone put the news on par with tea in a bar. “That’s a program for kids in trouble. Hell, that’s right outside Rapid City. I didn’t know he was living that close by. He didn’t, uh …” Logan’s wan smile spoke of a father’s discomfort with being the last to know. “He didn’t say.”

“I thought it was a cattle ranch. That’s interesting.” What was left out was always more interesting than what was said. Bella added it to her mental file marked Ethan. Also interesting was the way she’d filed him under his first name.

Maybe because it was an old file. She was just realizing how far back it went and how carefully she’d kept it up. No surprise that he’d joined the army after he graduated. No surprise that he’d been gone awhile and come back home. No word of his military experiences, which was also no surprise. The return to Indian Country was never questioned. But he hadn’t stayed around long, and the next Ethan Wolf Track news flash had been surprising. Dirt sells, he’d said, and if she’d been a little further along in her career, she might have tried to track him down. Not because he was in trouble—no surprise there, either. Not because the story involved a woman—most of Ethan’s stories undoubtedly involved women. But there was an odd political connection.

Ethan Wolf Track and a senator’s daughter? Now that was interesting. And Bella would have bet her new mobile phone that what was left out was far more interesting than what was reported.

“He’s pretty sensitive about Senator Garth, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Couldn’t say.” Staring out the window at a young couple getting into a pickup with a washing machine in the bed, Logan didn’t blink. No sensitivity there. “Ethan spent two years in prison for taking Garth’s car. His daughter was the one who took it, but she wouldn’t stand up for him. I’d say he was sensitive about her, but I’d just be guessing.” He turned to give Bella a what’re-you-gonna-do look. “Too damn stubborn for his own good.”

“He said he worked over at the Double D when he was a kid.”

“Couple of summers, yeah. Like I say, Ethan’s a good worker. I’ll bet he’s real good with those kids in the Square One program.”

Bella wondered why Logan seemed so clueless about his son. If she were still alive, Ladonna Primeaux wouldn’t be betting or guessing, she would be asking. On the other hand, Bella herself wasn’t exactly being subtle about fishing for clues about the man’s family, and he was trusting her with what few he had.

A twinge of guilt pushed her to switch tracks.

“The Double D took some grazing land away from a neighboring rancher, didn’t they? I know some of it was public land, but wasn’t there a Tribal lease, too?”

“Yep.” Logan smiled. He liked this topic. “We decided the Wild Horse Sanctuary took precedence. The Lakota are horse people.”

“But Senator Garth has a longstanding friendship with Dan Tutan, who is—”

“My wife’s father.” His smile broadened. “We just got married. Haven’t told Ethan yet.”

“So, uh …”

“Whose side am I on? The horses’ side. So’s my wife. I haven’t heard any objections from the senator. What’s he gonna do? The Tribal Council determines how the land will be used nowadays. It’s called self-determination.”

“That term is so twentieth century,” Bella teased.

“Yeah, well, some of us go back that far.”

“All of us do. The whole relocation program and termination of reservations policy in the 1950s, and then the switch to Indian self-determination in the 1970s, seems like it was only yesterday.” She smiled. “We studied it in our high school history class. Ethan sat behind me.”

He laughed. “Now that must’ve been interesting.”

“It was unsettling.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and held on tight as she glanced away. “What was interesting was twentieth-century American Indian history and how we’re supposed to finally have a say over what we do with our lives. And our land.” And the fact that Ethan remembered the mole on the back of her shoulder.

Bella shifted her stance, cleared her throat and her thoughts, and turned back to the Lakota leader. “So you don’t think the senator can interfere with the Wild Horse Sanctuary? He sits on a couple of key committees.”

“Let him sit.”

“I was thinking of doing a story.” He gave her a look that that reinforced his suggestion. If the story had to do with Garth, she was wasting her time. She gave a diffident shrug. “Maybe a series on the Tribe’s involvement with the Wild Horse Sanctuary.”

“Involvement?”

“In a good way,” she added hastily.

“Kind of a feel-good story about Indians and horses? That always works. Sally’ll take all the TV spots she can get. You know Sally Drexler—I mean Sally Night Horse—is the woman behind the whole program. You talk about a white tornado…” He chuckled. “That’s from an old TV commercial. White tornado.”

“Must’ve been before my time.”

“Mine, too. Even before self-determination, but around here some things are as timeless as Indians on horses. Especially now that you’ve got YouTube.” He grinned. “So I say go for it. If you need me, I’m in.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Actually, it wouldn’t be for KOZY-TV News. My suggestions there fall on deaf ears. They hand me an assignment, and I make it happen. Whether it means anything to anyone …” She glanced away, gave her head a little shake and turned back to a man who was known for having good ears. “That’s what I was doing at the bar the other night. I was looking for different types of singles’ hangouts. The place is called the Hitching Post. Doesn’t that sound like a place to connect?”

“Depends on your idea of hitching, I guess. Never really got the hang of hangin’ out. But Ethan …” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Bella. If you’re asking me about—”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. But she had asked, and she shouldn’t have. “I only meant to say that I’d run into him. You know, just saying.”

“Not telling.” He smiled indulgently. “Just saying.”

“Do you know anything about Square One? Is it a good program?”

“It’s pretty new, but they’re building a good reputation. We’ve had some kids placed there through Tribal Court.”

“Why don’t we go out there and take a look? You haven’t seen much of Ethan lately, and I’m looking for connections.”

“I’m not much of a connection, Bella. I don’t think Square One qualifies as a singles’ hangout, and I don’t qualify as a single. My wife’s coming home for good pretty soon. The army’s letting her go.”

“Her choice?”

“Yeah.” Again he grinned, but this time it was purely for personal pleasure. “I’m gonna be a father again.”

“Congratulations. Wow.” Apparently he’d wasted no time. “So how about it? Do you have some time today?”

“I do, but if Ethan’s there, I’m not gonna show up uninvited. He only let me visit him once when he was in prison. Took me off his visitors list after that.”

“Why would he do that?”

Logan shook his head. “I married his mother, and he took to me right away. After she left, he was different. For a while we thought sure she’d come back. His brother and I did, anyway, but Ethan never asked about her. Never jumped for the phone the way Trace did, never expected any more from her. He kinda became his own little man, you know? He got a little older, he tried to find his father. We didn’t have much to go on, so it didn’t pan out. Far as I know.”

“You helped him?”

“Did what I could. He had a picture and the little bit his mother told him. The guy was part Indian. Don’t know where he was from, though. Ethan looks a lot like the guy in the picture. I don’t know what would’ve happened if we’d found him.”

“Ethan didn’t seem like one to dwell on the past. History didn’t interest him all that much.”

Logan smiled wistfully. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s as smart as they come.” He punctuated a cocked finger with the cluck of his tongue. “Ethan’s your connection to Square One.”

Without a GPS Bella would have missed the turnoff to Square One Ranch. The sign stood so low to the ground that the dancing heads of the tall crested wheat grass obscured the small print. Rebuilding Our Lives From the Ground Up. The two visible roofs turned out to be a hulking old barn and a spanking-new two-story box. It wasn’t until the access road took a dip that she saw the small ranch-style house that had to be a good place to start searching for someone in charge of the operation.

An attractive young blonde opened the front door before Bella mounted the steps. Bella knew the routine. Country dwellers saw visitors coming a mile off. At half a mile they had the vehicle categorized—known or unknown, in- or out-of-state, on target or gone astray. In good weather they met you outside. In bad weather they opened the door just enough to check you out with eyes that challenged your motivation, not to mention your common sense.

But Bella had an advantage. “I’ve seen you on TV.” The woman offered a handshake. “Shelly Jamison.”