on the sofa where the fragrance was the strongest and read his assignments. Enveloped by the warm smell of her, he could almost pretend that somebody cared.
It was nearly one month from the day he left that J. B. Faulkner returned to the ranch. Hawk was on his way to the barns to help with the evening chores when he saw the car driving in. Work was forgotten as he raced to meet him, memories of other homecomings running fresh in his mind.
“You’re back!” A reckless smile split his face.
“I told you I would come back, didn’t I?” his father chided with affectionate huskiness as he reached inside the car to lift out a gaily wrapped package. “I brought something for you.”
Hawk fell to his knees and immediately began tearing away the brightly colored paper to get at the box it covered. Inside was a plaid western shirt like the cowboys on the ranch wore. Hawk held it up with pride.
“I thought you’d like it,” his father said, viewing Hawk’s expression with satisfaction.
“Are you passing out presents, J. B.?” The challenging question came from his father’s first wife, who had walked around the hood of the car. Beside her was the tall boy, her son and Hawk’s half-brother. Hawk had not seen him since that first meeting. His half-brother called Chad did not attend the same school that Hawk did, but lived at an exclusive boys’ academy, so Hawk had heard. Outside of a cursory glance at their first approach, neither of the two paid any attention to him.
“Hello, Katheryn, Chad.” His father turned to greet both of them. The smile did not quite reach his eyes, but there was pride in his look when he shook hands with his older son. “I’m glad to see you made it home for the weekend, Chad.”
“Yes, sir.” The crisp nod seemed to match the severely squared shoulders and the artificially erect posture.
“What did you bring Chad?” Katheryn repeated the question that wasn’t answered earlier.
The hesitation was almost imperceptible. “Nothing. Chad already has two of everything.”
“Do you mean that you bought that Indian boy something and you don’t have a gift for your own son?” Her voice was cold with anger.
His father stiffened, then relaxed with a heavy sigh. “That is precisely what I mean. Shall we continue this discussion some other time? I’ve had a long drive and I’m tired.”
The rigidity left the woman’s expression. “Of course you are. Chad, go in the house and pour your father a glass of whiskey.” She moved to link her arm with his father’s and guide him toward the house. “Don’t bother about the luggage, J. B. I’ll send someone out to fetch it.”
Hawk watched the trio disappear into the house before his gaze fell to the brightly colored shirt in his hands. A wind rustled the paper it had been wrapped in. It was an empty sound.
Shortly after his father’s return, there was an unexpected addition to Hawk’s nightly routine of chores, homework, and bed. Since Carol was only seven years old, her bedtime was much earlier than his. It was always a drawn-out affair because she would try to wheedle a few extra moments. When that failed, she kissed her mother good night, then her father, and persuaded him to take her to the kitchen for a drink of water. Only after that would she go to bed.
This night, after her drink of water, she stopped beside the kitchen chair where Hawk was studying and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Hawk,” she declared gaily and skipped away.
At the touch of her lips, he had recoiled instantly,shocked by what she had done. In the Navaho belief, any contact with members of the opposite sex within the same clan was strictly forbidden, no matter how distant a relative was. He glanced sharply at Rawlins, expecting him to be angry with his daughter. Instead, the man was smiling.
“Is it permitted for her to do that?” Hawk questioned warily.
“Of course.” Rawlins laughed at the question and wandered into the front
It was nearly one month from the day he left that J. B. Faulkner returned to the ranch. Hawk was on his way to the barns to help with the evening chores when he saw the car driving in. Work was forgotten as he raced to meet him, memories of other homecomings running fresh in his mind.
“You’re back!” A reckless smile split his face.
“I told you I would come back, didn’t I?” his father chided with affectionate huskiness as he reached inside the car to lift out a gaily wrapped package. “I brought something for you.”
Hawk fell to his knees and immediately began tearing away the brightly colored paper to get at the box it covered. Inside was a plaid western shirt like the cowboys on the ranch wore. Hawk held it up with pride.
“I thought you’d like it,” his father said, viewing Hawk’s expression with satisfaction.
“Are you passing out presents, J. B.?” The challenging question came from his father’s first wife, who had walked around the hood of the car. Beside her was the tall boy, her son and Hawk’s half-brother. Hawk had not seen him since that first meeting. His half-brother called Chad did not attend the same school that Hawk did, but lived at an exclusive boys’ academy, so Hawk had heard. Outside of a cursory glance at their first approach, neither of the two paid any attention to him.
“Hello, Katheryn, Chad.” His father turned to greet both of them. The smile did not quite reach his eyes, but there was pride in his look when he shook hands with his older son. “I’m glad to see you made it home for the weekend, Chad.”
“Yes, sir.” The crisp nod seemed to match the severely squared shoulders and the artificially erect posture.
“What did you bring Chad?” Katheryn repeated the question that wasn’t answered earlier.
The hesitation was almost imperceptible. “Nothing. Chad already has two of everything.”
“Do you mean that you bought that Indian boy something and you don’t have a gift for your own son?” Her voice was cold with anger.
His father stiffened, then relaxed with a heavy sigh. “That is precisely what I mean. Shall we continue this discussion some other time? I’ve had a long drive and I’m tired.”
The rigidity left the woman’s expression. “Of course you are. Chad, go in the house and pour your father a glass of whiskey.” She moved to link her arm with his father’s and guide him toward the house. “Don’t bother about the luggage, J. B. I’ll send someone out to fetch it.”
Hawk watched the trio disappear into the house before his gaze fell to the brightly colored shirt in his hands. A wind rustled the paper it had been wrapped in. It was an empty sound.
Shortly after his father’s return, there was an unexpected addition to Hawk’s nightly routine of chores, homework, and bed. Since Carol was only seven years old, her bedtime was much earlier than his. It was always a drawn-out affair because she would try to wheedle a few extra moments. When that failed, she kissed her mother good night, then her father, and persuaded him to take her to the kitchen for a drink of water. Only after that would she go to bed.
This night, after her drink of water, she stopped beside the kitchen chair where Hawk was studying and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Hawk,” she declared gaily and skipped away.
At the touch of her lips, he had recoiled instantly,shocked by what she had done. In the Navaho belief, any contact with members of the opposite sex within the same clan was strictly forbidden, no matter how distant a relative was. He glanced sharply at Rawlins, expecting him to be angry with his daughter. Instead, the man was smiling.
“Is it permitted for her to do that?” Hawk questioned warily.
“Of course.” Rawlins laughed at the question and wandered into the front
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