Read Online Naked Edge by Pamela Clare - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Pamela Clare
Tags: Contemporary
Ads: Link
is more than five hundred years old. You can't expect to solve it in five days, my Kimimila."
Then he changed the subject. "When are you seeing your ranger again? I think he is a good man, a man you can trust."
Kat suppressed an exasperated groan. Two minutes had gone by when she hadn't been thinking of Gabe, and Grandpa Red Crow just had to bring him up. "I'm meeting him at the butte this afternoon. I'm going to try to explain why it's sacred to us."
So much for canceling.
Grandpa chuckled. "Good. That's good. Maybe he can join us in the lodge. If he is with us, perhaps we can pray in peace."
The offer took Kat by surprise. It wasn't often that one of the elders asked an outsider to participate. Did Grandpa trust him that much? "I'll ask him."
She spent the morning cleaning her condo, then clipped last week's articles and mailed them to her grandmother, knowing that her mother or one of her sisters would be given the job of translating them and reading them aloud. Then she ran a few errands, buying groceries, getting gas, picking up her dry cleaning. When she got back, it was already time to get her things together for the inipi --towel, skirt, old T-shirt, prayer ties, food for sharing afterward--and drive to Boulder to meet Gabe.
She loaded her things into her truck, climbed in, and had just opened her garage door to back out when she saw it.
A coyote.
The hair on her nape rose.
It stood at the end of her driveway, staring at her, its tail full and bushy, its dull brown fur almost a match for the winter brown of her front lawn. She got out of the truck and slammed the driver's side door, certain her movements and the noise would frighten it away. But it only shifted on its front paws, its gaze still on her.
She opened the truck door again and grabbed her pouch of corn pollen out of the glove box. It's not that she truly believed crossing the coyote's path might throw her life out of balance. Sprinkling corn pollen in its footprints was a Navajo tradition, and she was just observing that tradition. That's what she told herself, anyway.
She turned toward it to find it walking lazily across her yard toward the park, looking over its shoulder back at her. Slowly, she walked to her yard where it had crossed her path and knelt down. Then she did what her grandmother had taught her to do, sprinkling yellow pollen onto its paw prints.
Two kids on bikes stared at her as they passed.
Now, do you feel silly?
Yes, she did. It's just that the last time a coyote had crossed her path...
Last time one crossed your path, you almost died.
SHE'D ALL BUT forgotten about the strange encounter with the coyote by the time she reached the outskirts of Boulder, her mind filled with new resolve. She would meet with Gabe as she'd agreed to do, sharing what she knew about Mesa
Butte with a man who played an important role as a guardian of the land. She would invite him to the inipi as Grandpa Red Crow had asked. And then, whether he attended or not, she would sweat him out of her system, refocusing her energy on things that mattered.
By the time she reached the butte, she had almost convinced herself that this would work. Then she turned the corner onto the access road--and she saw him.
Wearing only his dark green uniform trousers and those strange shoes he'd been wearing the day he'd rescued her, he was climbing along on the underside of an overhanging lip of rock, perhaps thirty feet above the ground. She couldn't see any ropes, which meant that if he fell ...
What did he think he was doing?
She parked her truck, jumped out, and stared, half in awe and half terrified that he would slip. His body moved like she'd never seen a man's body move before, powerful arms reaching for handholds, fingers gripping holds she couldn't see, his feet finding their own invisible purchase. His body seemed weightless, muscles bunching and shifting in their own rhythm as he worked his way along the length of the overhang, his motions strong and...
Then he changed the subject. "When are you seeing your ranger again? I think he is a good man, a man you can trust."
Kat suppressed an exasperated groan. Two minutes had gone by when she hadn't been thinking of Gabe, and Grandpa Red Crow just had to bring him up. "I'm meeting him at the butte this afternoon. I'm going to try to explain why it's sacred to us."
So much for canceling.
Grandpa chuckled. "Good. That's good. Maybe he can join us in the lodge. If he is with us, perhaps we can pray in peace."
The offer took Kat by surprise. It wasn't often that one of the elders asked an outsider to participate. Did Grandpa trust him that much? "I'll ask him."
She spent the morning cleaning her condo, then clipped last week's articles and mailed them to her grandmother, knowing that her mother or one of her sisters would be given the job of translating them and reading them aloud. Then she ran a few errands, buying groceries, getting gas, picking up her dry cleaning. When she got back, it was already time to get her things together for the inipi --towel, skirt, old T-shirt, prayer ties, food for sharing afterward--and drive to Boulder to meet Gabe.
She loaded her things into her truck, climbed in, and had just opened her garage door to back out when she saw it.
A coyote.
The hair on her nape rose.
It stood at the end of her driveway, staring at her, its tail full and bushy, its dull brown fur almost a match for the winter brown of her front lawn. She got out of the truck and slammed the driver's side door, certain her movements and the noise would frighten it away. But it only shifted on its front paws, its gaze still on her.
She opened the truck door again and grabbed her pouch of corn pollen out of the glove box. It's not that she truly believed crossing the coyote's path might throw her life out of balance. Sprinkling corn pollen in its footprints was a Navajo tradition, and she was just observing that tradition. That's what she told herself, anyway.
She turned toward it to find it walking lazily across her yard toward the park, looking over its shoulder back at her. Slowly, she walked to her yard where it had crossed her path and knelt down. Then she did what her grandmother had taught her to do, sprinkling yellow pollen onto its paw prints.
Two kids on bikes stared at her as they passed.
Now, do you feel silly?
Yes, she did. It's just that the last time a coyote had crossed her path...
Last time one crossed your path, you almost died.
SHE'D ALL BUT forgotten about the strange encounter with the coyote by the time she reached the outskirts of Boulder, her mind filled with new resolve. She would meet with Gabe as she'd agreed to do, sharing what she knew about Mesa
Butte with a man who played an important role as a guardian of the land. She would invite him to the inipi as Grandpa Red Crow had asked. And then, whether he attended or not, she would sweat him out of her system, refocusing her energy on things that mattered.
By the time she reached the butte, she had almost convinced herself that this would work. Then she turned the corner onto the access road--and she saw him.
Wearing only his dark green uniform trousers and those strange shoes he'd been wearing the day he'd rescued her, he was climbing along on the underside of an overhanging lip of rock, perhaps thirty feet above the ground. She couldn't see any ropes, which meant that if he fell ...
What did he think he was doing?
She parked her truck, jumped out, and stared, half in awe and half terrified that he would slip. His body moved like she'd never seen a man's body move before, powerful arms reaching for handholds, fingers gripping holds she couldn't see, his feet finding their own invisible purchase. His body seemed weightless, muscles bunching and shifting in their own rhythm as he worked his way along the length of the overhang, his motions strong and...
Similar Books
