Indigo Lake

She sat up carefully. He was muddy from the top of his dark brown, curly hair to his leather boots laced with buckles. He had what must be a week’s worth of stubble along his square jaw and a bruise under his left eye. Probably given to him by the last stranger he’d curled up with.

It occurred to her that he might be some kind of pervert. Sneaking up on people and curling beside them when they were dreaming. She wasn’t sure that was a criminal offense, but it would definitely be a dangerous one.

She felt her clothes. All still buttoned. He hadn’t come to rape her apparently, just sleep beside her. Which wasn’t near as frightening she decided, so she’d consider letting him live.

She smiled, thinking that he was downright cute in a baby dragon kind of way. Big, well built and younger than she’d thought he might be last night when he’d been standing in water and growling like a bear.

Maybe he was like a cold-blooded snake who only crawled into the barn for warmth.

Grandmother’s stories about how mean the Hamiltons were came to mind. She said no one in the county crossed them for fear of being shot on a dark night. Wolf-gray eyes can see in the dark and they were all crack shots.

Grandmother would whisper that if you stole from their ranch, they’d find out and take back double. She even claimed she heard a rumor that the Hamilton men branded their women so they could never run off. That might explain why there were no pictures of Hamilton wives at the museum.

Dakota stared at the man beside her. His being cold-blooded and mean didn’t seem out of the question, but he hadn’t killed her, so she might give him the benefit of the doubt. Her mother told her once that Grandmother’s stories grew darker every year, and longer than bindweed on a fence post.

As carefully as she could, Dakota moved away, covering him with the blanket she’d been wrapped in all night. Picking up Sam, she silently left the barn. Maybe it would be better to let sleeping dogs lie. There was no telling what kind of mood he’d wake up in.

“Some guard cat you are,” she whispered as she scratched Sam’s head.

The old cat didn’t even have the sense to look guilty.

When she stepped in the shadowy kitchen, she wasn’t surprised to hear Maria making breakfast. Routine was Maria’s clock. She lived by it and so did Dakota. The reason she always had to be home before dark was Maria’s clock. The same time to do meals, to deliver her products to the grocery, to go to church, were her sister’s way of keeping in balance in her world of forever midnight.

“Morning,” Dakota managed as she walked past the kitchen on her way to the bathroom. “I fell asleep in the barn again.”

Maria held out a cup of coffee. “I figured that. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you finish showering.”

Dakota stopped as she took the cup. “Better cook extra. That Hamilton who borrowed my truck is asleep in the barn.”

“Shichu will not like that.” Maria giggled as if she were three and not thirty-three. “Lucky she didn’t show up last night. The rain must have kept her from her normal wandering around the place.”

“We’re not telling Grandmother. I swear, she gets more Apache every year. She may have been born mixed, but the Irish seems to be bleeding out. The other day she came over wrapped in a blanket and wearing Grandpa’s old floppy hat. She’s starting to look like the short, squatty ghost of Sitting Bull. She’s also going back in time as she ages. I don’t think she knows what decade it is.”

“Probably not, but her senses are keen. She found a bushel of wild plums last week.” Maria raised her flour-covered palm as if swearing an oath. “And the old girl can probably smell a Hamilton. So tell me, did he just drop by to kill us in our sleep and decide to nap first?” Maria’s tone told Dakota that her sister thought the whole thing was a joke.

Dakota gulped down one swallow of hot coffee and came full awake. “I think he brought the truck back and decided to wait out the rain. He probably just fell asleep. Don’t let him frighten you when he comes to the door. I have a feeling when he wakes he’ll drop by to tell us he’s leaving.” She shrugged. “If he smells breakfast, we’ll probably have to feed him.”

“He won’t startle me. I’m sure I’ll hear him coming.” Maria lifted her butcher knife. “I’ll meet him at the door armed and ready. Or—” she set the knife down “—I’ll do the neighborly thing and invite him in for breakfast. Killing someone with a full stomach seems the right thing to do, and no man could possibly turn down my blueberry pancakes.”

Dakota shook her head. Maria’s life might be dull and ordinary, but in her mind she lived the great adventures she listened to in her books.

When they’d been kids, Maria often elaborated on Grandmother’s stories. She made the Hamiltons monsters with the smell of death on their breath. Or zombies who never stopped coming, no matter how many bullets hit their chests. Or aliens with nine long fingers on each hand, perfect for choking someone.

Now they laughed about the nightmares they’d had as children because of Maria’s imagination. Dakota smiled as she grabbed her robe and stepped into the tiny bathroom. She doubted any of the stories Grandmother or Maria told were based on an ounce of truth, but she’d count Blade Hamilton’s fingers the next time she saw him, just to be safe.

Twenty minutes later when Dakota walked back into the kitchen, tying a towel around her head, she could smell cinnamon bread in the oven and hear Maria’s laughter.

Maria wasn’t alone.

Blade, looking like a mud truck had run over him, was sitting at the counter drinking coffee and smiling at Maria.

“Have a seat, little sister. Breakfast is about to be served.” Maria waved her spatula toward Blade. “Mr. Hamilton will be joining us. I decided to let him live after he told me that he slept with you last night.”

Blade silently raised his hands in surrender, but Dakota didn’t miss the way his gray eyes moved down the thin robe now clinging to her wet skin.

“I was just planning on resting a few minutes before walking back to my land.” He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were a Boy Scout?” she snapped. “You’re probably lying.”

“Elf, I’ve been a Boy Scout all my life.”

“Don’t call me Elf.” She could feel deep anger climbing up her entire body.

“Don’t call me a liar, Dakota.” He said her name slowly.

Dakota frowned at him, fighting the urge to yell Go away. He must have hypnotized Maria, because she barely talked to the mailman, much less a stranger.

Maria carefully served her pancakes. “So, did you sleep with him, little sister?”

“I woke up and he was there.” Dakota knew Maria was already thinking up something romantic in her mind. Biker guy falls in love with pickup girl at first sight, in the dark, in the rain, covered in mud.

Dakota figured she’d be teased about this for months. She might as well play along. “I guess I’m guilty. I did sleep with him.”

“Well, we’ll keep him alive until we find out if you’re pregnant.” Maria reached for the coffeepot. “Do you have a job, Hamilton? We’ll need the child support.”

Dakota gave Blade her best go-to-hell look. He’d started this and he didn’t even try to look innocent.

He grinned as if she were teasing him. “I’ve got a job. After the army, I was hired as a special agent for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.”

“Which one are you?” Maria asked, as if she thought he’d given her a multiple-choice question.

“Forest fires mostly. Occasionally explosives. We’re federal, so we go where needed. I parachuted in the army, so now and then, while the burn is still hot, I’ll go in and try to find where it started.

“But about the kid you might be carrying, Miss Maria—” he winked at Dakota as he changed the subject back to sleeping in the barn “—if I’m going to have to pay child support, I want to name the baby. If it’s a boy, of course. I don’t much care what you name her if it’s a girl. Girls don’t seem to stay around the Hamilton place.”

Both sisters let out a yelp, then laughed a moment later when they realized he was kidding.

Maria smiled and Dakota saw that her sister wasn’t afraid or shy around this man. Maybe she was comfortable in her own kitchen, or maybe she was simply playing a game from one of her romance novels. It really didn’t matter. Maria was happy and not just pretending to be.

“Tell me,” Maria said. “Are you tolerably handsome, Hamilton?”

Blade laughed. “I’m afraid not. My own mother couldn’t love me.” He shoveled food into his mouth as if he’d been starving.

“Then you’re not married?” Maria finally asked when his plate was almost empty.

“Nope.” Blade had the gall to wink at Dakota again, letting her know that he was enjoying the game as much as Maria was. “Women tend to run in the opposite direction. Men wearing badges don’t make that much money unless they carry life insurance, and until a few days ago I didn’t think I owned enough land to bury me on. I wouldn’t wish a husband who darts out the door every time there’s trouble in the air on any woman.”

Maria leaned on the counter and said, “Then you wouldn’t have any objection to marrying my sister since you’ve already slept with her and probably got her pregnant. In the interest of full disclosure, I might as well mention the fact that you’ve got plums on your land that might work for my business. I have to be thinking about what I’m getting out of this mating, you understand.”

Dakota fought down a scream. Maria and Mudman laughed as if they were old friends. Somehow, these two people who seemed to have nothing in common had become allies, and she felt a little left out. If Maria could see how close he looked to the villains Grandmother described, she might not talk to him, much less feed the guy.

“Now, Hamilton,” Maria said, pointing her spatula in his general direction. “I don’t want to be rude, but I can smell you from here. You’re welcome to use our shower if you like. I doubt the water works at your place, and from the odor about you, I’m guessing you’ve already tried bathing in the lake.”

“I’d like that very much. I’m afraid any hotel would take one look at me and put up the no-vacancy sign. But first, I’d like to borrow Dakota’s truck and go back to my place to get my only pair of clean clothes.” He stood. “I’ll finish this fine breakfast when I get back and help with the dishes.”

“We’d appreciate it, Hamilton,” Maria said. “You finish eating, but stay out of my kitchen. It’s off-limits. Understood?”

“Understood, General,” he answered.

Then without a word, he walked out the door.

Dakota gave up eating and decided she’d best finish dressing before Mudman returned. Hopefully, he’d get back before she had to be at work, but the last time he borrowed her truck for ten minutes he was gone half the night.

She thought of yelling at Maria for being so neighborly, but then again, Dakota had started it last night. Now she’d just have to put up with him for a few more minutes, and then hopefully they could go back to their quiet lives and forget a Hamilton lived across the lake.

Dakota quickly dressed in one of her three work outfits: milk-white blouse, dark blazer, modest A-line skirt made of the tartan plaid her grandfather wore to church every Sunday. He’d always said he wanted the Lord to know what clan he came from when he got to heaven.

She glanced in the mirror, realizing the outfit did little to flatter her. But for selling homes, she needed to look older than twenty-five. The clothes seemed to age her. She no longer felt like the baby of the Davis family. She’d had to take charge almost five years ago when her mother died and Maria was so badly hurt. At twenty she’d planned her mother’s funeral, watched over Grandmother, managed the farm, and slept each night beside Maria’s hospital bed. In a matter of days Dakota had aged into the head of the family.

As she combed her dark hair back and began to tie it up for the day, she listed everything she had to do. Sometimes when she felt like she was sleepwalking through her whole life, the list was all that kept her on the road. Pay the bills, fix the pickup, get Maria’s supplies, work at a job she hated, clean house, check on Grandmother, pay the bills, get Maria’s supplies. The list circled back around to the beginning, never ending in her mind.

Between Maria’s sale of jams and jellies and her occasional sale of a house or lot, they were getting by. Living on dreams and hopes. Having no idea what “someday” would look like.

Maybe if she ran fast enough, hard enough, long enough, maybe one day she would simply fly away. For an hour. For a day. Just one day of being free and then she’d come back to duty.

Only, as the years passed, she realized that might not happen. She’d simply age into the clothes if she didn’t keep fighting and learning and hoping.

As she stared into her bedroom mirror, she felt like she barely knew herself. She’d gone from being a kid just testing the world of college to being weighed down with responsibilities. She’d grow old and wrinkled without ever having lived if she wasn’t careful. She’d seen people who had done that and she understood them, but she swore she’d never be one. She had dreams and they’d come true even if she had to give up sleep every night.

When she walked back down the hallway from her room, the bathroom door was closed and she could hear the shower.

He was back. One more thing to worry about. Add that to her list.

She tried not to let thoughts of a nude man in their house concern her, but as soon as Dakota reached the kitchen, Maria whispered, “Did you open the door to see if he has tattoos?”

“No.” Dakota sat down at her now cold, still untouched, breakfast. “And before you start, nothing happened last night.”

Maria was busy wrapping tiny loaves of cinnamon bread. “I know that. I know you. But I can always hope. You haven’t had many dates lately. Maybe even a Hamilton would look good.”

Dakota almost said, Since the accident five years ago. Since the night Mom died and Maria lost her sight.

She’d never forget stepping out of Maria’s hospital room and looking around for her mother, needing her hug, even if she was twenty. That moment, reality hit her like a sledgehammer to the heart: she was alone. There would be no more hugs from Mom. Dakota had walked out of the hospital and sat in the dark parking lot, crying, for hours. Until no more tears came.

She’d never cried again. She worked to take care of Maria and keep things together. There was no time, no thought of dating.

Now, watching Maria, she remained silent. They talked about everything else, but not the accident. Not that day. Mom had flown over to Dallas to ride home with Maria for Christmas. The roads were bad. Maria had worked the late shift at her café and crawled into the back of the car to sleep. Mom was never good driving on snow.

Dakota should have been the one to go, but she’d wanted to relax at home after she got back from college. She’d fallen asleep before dark, before the ice storm moved across the plains.

The phone woke her hours later. The sheriff’s call. He’d been kind and honest, but she knew his call had changed her life forever.

She should have been in the car that day. She would have been the one driving. Maybe somehow she could have avoided the wreck on the icy highway. Then Mom would be alive, Maria would still be running her restaurant in Dallas, and she’d be... Dakota closed her eyes and let out a breath before she let her might have been settle in her thoughts.

She might be graduating from architecture school about now.

Maria broke into Dakota’s dark thoughts. “You need to get out on a date, little sister. Have some fun. Have an adventure. I’m fine here. I’ve got my work and my books. I’m happy.”

Dakota forced her tone to be light. “I’m happy too. And I’m doing fine. I slept with a biker last night, didn’t I? How much more excitement can I take?”

They both laughed as the bathroom door creaked open and steam filled the hallway. The man who stepped out was bare chested, with jeans riding low on his hips. He had a towel wrapped around his neck but his tanned chest and back sparkled with moisture. His hair was slicked back, reminding Dakota of a handsome pirate in one of Maria’s books.

“You mind if I finish dressing in the hallway?” he asked, staring straight at Dakota. “It’s so foggy in there I can’t see a thing.”

She couldn’t turn away, but managed to swallow a few times and whisper, “No tattoos.”

“Darn.” Maria looked disappointed. “I already had that picture in my mind. Since he hangs out around fires, do you see any scars?”

Dakota stared, not really knowing what to expect. She couldn’t have imagined a man who looked as good as the man standing before her. “Yes,” she whispered back, knowing that Blade could hear them. “No tattoos, but a few interesting scars.”

He didn’t react as he scrubbed his hair with the towel, then finger-combed it back into place with one deep plow. He pulled on a white T-shirt and then a collarless sweater of army green. “I left my boots on your porch. Got them covered in another layer of mud when I parked your pickup and jumped the stream to where my bike was. Luckily, last night I’d dropped my saddlebags on the porch when I looked at the house. My clothes and camera survived the night.”

When he looked up at her, Dakota forced her gaze down at her food.

He ignored her as he walked past her stool and took his place at the bar. “All right if I finish breakfast, Chef Maria? Then, if Dakota is still speaking to me, I thought I’d catch a ride into town.”

Another favor?

She nodded, trying to decide what she was so mad about. That he’d spent the night? That he’d hit it off with Maria and not her? That he was good-looking and obviously knew it?

Maybe Maria’s first suggestion was right. They should have killed him the minute they found out a Hamilton was alive. He might not look dangerous, but he looked good enough to drive her crazy.

“Sure, she’ll take you in.” Maria smiled. “I’ll put a few loaves of cinnamon bread in a bag for you. If you want any more breakfast, eat up quick because she’ll be flying out of here any minute. She may be the only one in her office, but she thinks she has to open on time.”

As Maria poured his coffee, he glanced at Dakota and asked, “How does she do that?”

“She’s holding the cup. She feels the weight and the warmth as the cup fills,” Dakota said. “And she’s blind, not deaf. If you want to know something, ask her.” Her words came out hard, cold.

“Sorry,” he said to Maria, ignoring Dakota again. “I’ve never been around anyone blind. You’re a great cook.”

“For a blind person?” Maria added.

“No. For anyone.” Blade might not have experience, but he was a quick learner. “This is the best breakfast I’ve had in years. Most of the time I’m traveling and it’s fast food at an airport or continental breakfast at the hotel.”

“You travel lots?” Dakota asked.

“So much so I feel like I don’t have a home, just a place where I change clothes. When I found out about the place across the lake, I took some time off to investigate. I’ve never owned a square inch of land in my life.”

“Are you planning to stay?” Maria asked as she handed Dakota her bag with a tiny loaf of bread.

“No. I’ll sell it. I wouldn’t have any idea how to make a farm work.”

Dakota suddenly saw a light at the end of her dark tunnel. “I could list it and sell it for you. That’s what I do for a living.” All she had to do was put up with him for a few days, sell his place, and she just might make twice the commission she usually did.

“Sounds exciting, Hamilton,” Maria said. “Your job, I mean.”

He turned back to Maria. “It can be, but mostly it’s just paperwork or standing around waiting for something to happen. Not near as exciting as I thought it might be when I signed on.”

They were ignoring her again, Dakota thought. He hadn’t even answered her offer to sell his place.

Dakota thought of asking questions, but right now all she could think of was getting him out of their kitchen. The last thing Maria needed was a friend who’d be around for only a few days. After the accident, all of the friends her sister had had in Dallas melted away like ice cream left on a summer porch.

Maybe she didn’t believe in curses, but still, avoiding any Hamilton seemed to be a rational precaution.

The sheriff’s cruiser pulled up in her yard before she had time to push Blade out the door.

“Morning, ladies,” Sheriff Brigman shouted through the screen door without stepping foot on the porch. “Any chance a guy named Hamilton is here? He couldn’t have gone far. I saw his bike parked on his land.”

Blade hurried outside with the bag of bread in his hand. “I’m just finishing breakfast, Sheriff. What do you need?”

Dakota watched the two men talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying. If Hamilton already knew the sheriff, that could mean bad news. He could have lied about his job. He probably got that killer body in the prison gym. Maybe he had to check in with every sheriff in every county he passed through? He probably said he was ATF because that was who arrested him.

Maria had just joined her at the door when Blade picked up his boots and saddlebags off the corner of the porch and waved.

“Thanks,” was all he said before the sheriff backed the car away from the porch with Blade riding shotgun.

“Probably off to fight a forest fire,” Maria reasoned. “What a hero.”

“There’s not five trees standing together for a hundred miles,” Dakota said, pointing out the obvious.

Maria looked surprised. “Now you tell me.”

Both girls laughed.

“I have to go to work.” Dakota grabbed the old briefcase she’d bought at the secondhand store three years ago.

“Me too,” Maria added. “See you before dark, little sister.”

“See you before dark,” Dakota answered.

Halfway to town Dakota was still thinking of how Blade had looked in the hallway with nothing on but his jeans. Surely he could have pulled his shirt on before he stepped out. Then she realized something: he’d been showing off.

And not for Maria, but for her.

He’d probably deny it to his dying breath, but she’d grown up on a farm. She’d seen roosters. Maybe he came not just to look at his place but to con them. He’d said he wasn’t a liar, but probably every liar said that. It would be a waste of time to ask him if he was a serial killer.

She might as well go with believing he was telling the truth for now, but she planned to watch him. Maybe check out his funny biker saddlebags for weapons.

She smiled, planning to hold her cards close to her chest until she figured him out. If he was playing some kind of flirting game, maybe she should warn him that she didn’t know the rules.

He’d winked at her twice. That must mean something.

Maybe he had a twitch?

He’d kept her warm last night, but never touched her.

Or at least she didn’t think he had. Did she want him to? Just the thought made her warm.

Suddenly Dakota felt like she was just out of high school again and trying to figure out how guys think. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

She wasn’t growing older. Not today.

CHAPTER NINE

BLADE HAMILTON DIDN’T KNOW a thing about farming or ranching or barn fires. All the way out to the Collins ranch, the sheriff talked about how he needed an expert fire investigator to have a look at it and it would be a week, maybe more, before he could get a fire marshal to this part of Texas.

Blade hated to bust the sheriff’s bubble, but Sheriff Brigman still didn’t have an expert on the kind of fire he was dealing with. He had studied arson fires and even worked a few bomb sites in the army. So, Blade kept quiet while the sheriff drove and hoped he had enough experience to fake it.