Storming Whitehorn. Christine Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ collar of his shirt. Fumbling blindly with the top button, he breathed a sigh of relief as it popped open. A suit and tie were his daily lawyer’s uniform, but today the outfit felt as though it were choking him.

      At least, that was the excuse he allowed himself for his agitated state. He refused to blame his foul mood on his reaction to seeing Jasmine again. He told himself that the white-hot flash of desire he’d felt had nothing to do with his quick departure from the cemetery. Nor did it have anything to do with the lingering conviction that somehow he and Jasmine were fated to be together. No, he wasn’t running away. He’d merely accomplished what he’d set out to do—see for himself the family that had destroyed his life. The Kincaids.

      Only, until he saw her standing alone amid the mourners, he’d forgotten that one of the Kincaids included a member of his own family. Summer Kincaid, his brother’s only child.

      Storm drove slowly through Whitehorn’s downtown area, passing the police station and the movie theater. Down the street from the court house, he spotted the Hip Hop Café. Though it was too early for lunch, he didn’t think he could face the four silent walls of his hotel room. He needed a place where he could go to unwind and not have to listen to the sound of his own guilty conscience.

      He pulled into a space and parked the car. Tossing his suit coat into the back seat, he headed inside the café. A country tune by Garth Brooks greeted him at the door. A handful of patrons were scattered around the café, some at the counter, others in booths. Heads turned at his entrance. Curious glances followed him as he made his way to a booth in the back. Whether they were staring at him because he was a Native American or because he was over-dressed for the lunch time crowd, he wasn’t sure.

      Since arriving in Whitehorn, he hadn’t felt an open hostility from any of its residents. Though he couldn’t say he felt welcomed, either. Bigotry was alive and well across the country. Whitehorn was no worse or no better than any other town. No matter how much he’d like for it to be different, he would never be able to convert everyone to a world of complete acceptance.

      A waitress with a bright smile and long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, joined him at his booth. She plunked a menu down onto the Formica-topped table and set a coffee mug next to it. Without asking, she filled his cup to the brim with the steaming brew. “If you’re looking for break fast, you’re half an hour too late. We’ve already got the grill set up for lunch.”

      Storm shook his head. “That’s okay. Coffee’s fine for now.”

      “Sure thing,” she said with a nod. “My name’s Janie. If you need anything else, just holler.”

      Storm watched as Janie made her way to the front counter. His mind drifted back to the haunting scene he’d witnessed at the cemetery. Other than Alice Brooks’s histrionics, he had to admit the Kincaid family had seemed normal. They weren’t the monsters he’d remembered them to be as a child.

      For years he’d clung to his hatred of the Kincaid family like a lifeline, finding solace and strength in bitterness. He’d blamed them for Raven’s unexplained disappearance, not wanting to believe that his brother would have abandoned him unless he’d felt he’d had no other choice. While Raven had talked little of his affair with Blanche Kincaid, Storm knew he’d been disturbed by Blanche’s older brother, Jeremiah. Jeremiah had been the devil incarnate. He’d belittled Raven in public and had threatened him in private. There was little doubt in Storm’s mind that Jeremiah Kincaid had played a role in Raven’s death.

      If only he could get the police to agree.

      Storm picked up his mug, blew the steam off the top and took a sip of the hot coffee. Once the mystery behind his brother’s death had been officially solved, he intended to be on the first plane back to Albuquerque. There was nothing here to keep him in Whitehorn.

      Nothing but a family he’d turned his back on.

      And a niece he did not know.

      Storm set the mug back on the table. He stared at the clouds swirling across its cooling surface, as though searching for a way to soothe his guilt. In the days since he’d returned to Whitehorn, he’d seen Summer a handful of times. Always from a distance, never face-to-face.

      He’d told himself he was waiting for the right moment to approach her. Only that moment had yet to come. Today he’d been just a few feet from finally meeting her. But as was too often the case, when it came to facing up to his personal responsibilities, he’d chosen the easy way out. He’d run.

      Storm closed his eyes and took in a painful breath. For thirty years he’d lived with the thought that his brother had abandoned him. Wounded and betrayed, he’d purposefully distanced himself from the town and the people that had reminded him of his loss.

      But now he knew the truth. Raven had died all those years ago.

      Storm had run out of excuses to hide. His brother was gone for good. But Raven’s daughter was still alive and well. And she was his last link to the only person he’d ever loved.

      With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes. Glancing around the café, he caught the eye of the blond-haired waitress.

      Smiling, she strolled over to his booth. “Did you change your mind about lunch?”

      “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d just like to pay the bill.”

      “That’s too bad,” she said, tearing a page from her receipt book and placing it on the table in front of him. “Fried chicken’s the special today. The cook fixes a mean bird.”

      Storm gave a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. Maybe you could help me with something, though. I’m looking for someone. Summer Kincaid. Do you know her? Or where I might find her?”

      “Summer? Sure, I know her. She’s a doctor. Your best bet at finding her would be at the Whitehorn Memorial Hospital, or the clinic she runs at the Laughing Horse Reservation. If you can’t find her at either of those two places, she’s probably at home taking care of her baby step daughter, Alyssa. Her number’s in the phone book. Only look under the name Night hawk.” The waitress winked as she turned to leave. “She’s a married lady now.”

      Night hawk. So Summer had married a Cheyenne. Despite being raised by the Kincaids, she’d chosen to live her life with a Native American. He felt vindicated by the thought.

      He knew her name and how to reach her. Now all he needed was the courage to call her.

      Slowly, Jasmine replaced the receiver in its cradle. Frowning, she stared at the phone. Summer had just called. Shortly after Lyle Brooks’s funeral, she’d received an unexpected call from her uncle, Storm Hunter.

      He’d asked to meet with her. Summer had agreed.

      Only, Gavin was busy and unable to be with her. Summer felt the need for family support at this initial meeting with her long lost uncle and had asked Jasmine to join her.

      Jasmine bit her lip. She’d do anything for her cousin, and she’d felt honored that Summer had turned to her in her time of need. As the baby of the family, Jasmine had spent most of her life being taken care of, not caring for others. She’d longed for the chance to prove herself to be mature and responsible in her family’s eyes. Finally she’d been given that chance.

      If only Storm Hunter wasn’t a part of the picture.

      She dreaded the thought СКАЧАТЬ