Chapter 32

It did rain on the way back to Wild Mustang’s, and we got wet. I tried to get something to cover my head. But Linc grabbed my hands and pulled ‘em down to my lap.

“You gonna melt if you get wet?” he half-shouted, over the road noise.

“No.”

“Well, you’re gonna get wet; no matter which way you slice it. Might as well enjoy it. It’s just water.”

We pulled up to the horse hitching rail amid a serious downpour. Getting out of the open-top Jeep and sheltering under the porch roof, I shook myself like a Labrador, fresh out of a lake. Linc just ran his hand over his face. Wild Mustang appeared to be asleep in his rocker.

“Ugg,” he declared. “Towels in the closet at the end of the hall.” He still hadn’t opened his eyes. He puffed on his unlit cheroot. “Did you tell her she wouldn’t melt?”

Linc’s face broke into a wide smile. “I did. She took it well.”

“Sensible girl,” he replied, taking his cheroot and putting it in his shirt pocket. “Darn thing got wet.”

I turned away from this moment of male bonding and squished through the tiled floor to the bathroom. I stripped down to my birthday suit —which actually didn’t melt!— and wrapped myself in a towel. My hair went into another towel, and I piled it up on my head. In my room, I got into a sundress that had been in my trailer-trash luggage. It was WAY too short on me now. It was more like a mini. One I’d have to be careful of when I sat down. I’d better wear nice conservative panties, just in case.

Linc came out of the bathroom in his skivvies (in GI green), and I could see his jeans and T-shirt hanging from the shower curtain rod. He walked out to the front porch and sat down. I joined him as Dove brought out two ‘special’ lemonades and a glass of OJ for me.

“There is a robe for you to use in my room,” said the old man.

“I’m fine. Not the first time I’ve gotten rained on.” Linc just watched the rain come down. The steam heat that rose from the over-heated ground was like nothing I’d seen before. The sun broke through the clouds, but the rain didn’t abate one bit. We all just sat there, watching mother nature argue with herself.

Mustang commented on the nasty-looking scar on Linc’s left leg. “Same kind of scar my cousin came home from Vietnam with. He fell into a pit. Hit a punji stick.”

“I got hit by a hand axe thrown at me. Also Vietnam.” The conversation died then as we watched a rainbow appear in the east.

Wild Mustang didn’t turn his head a bit, but he said, “Haven’t seen you in a dress before.” There was a pause of several minutes. “A wise merchant never puts goods on display in his window, that he’s not intending to sell.”

Linc erupted with a hard laugh with a mouthful of lemonade, showering the hitching rail.

“WHAT?” I was indignant. “I’m decent.” I crossed my legs in the other direction – carefully. After a little while, I said, “I have to call Clearwater to give him an update on today’s changes.”

“Oh,” said the old man, “I almost forgot. A package came for you today. It’s in the spare room.”

“Thanks. I’ll get it in a minute.” I went inside and updated poor Bill Clearwater on what we did to his payroll.

Afterward, I went and opened the box that was shipped from Rotterdam in the Netherlands. I removed the Customs label that said they were ‘gifts.’ Inside were two dozen radio-phones that were seemingly identical to the one that Linc carried. I took one, plugged it in to let the battery recharge, and returned to the porch just in time to see the rain taper off.

“They are just portable radio-phones,” I told Wild Mustang. He just grunted in reply.

“If it’s like mine,” Linc volunteered, “it’s pretty much waterproof. I’m going to mosey on down the road, it’s getting late. I’ll just grab my clothes.”

He came out of the bathroom with a small bundle of still-wet clothes. “We can throw them in the dryer,” I ventured.

“No, we can’t,” Dove said. “We don’t have one. We use the S&W dryer. Sun and Wind. We just put ‘em on the line that goes from the porch to...” Dove pointed out the back window to where Snow, the white owl, was perched, at the end of the clothesline.

“It’s not the first time I’ve driven around in my underwear.” Linc grinned. “I’ll be fine.” I watched as he got in the Jeep, and I looked at the big scar on his leg. Must have been a big axe that was thrown at him.

[Lexi, Linc was in a Recon unit at the time of his injury. FORECON, as those units are called, are special ops. That’s why he told you a story. His team was on a classified mission and came back, weeks later, with an injury that was partially healed. It was an old injury by the time he got to the hospital and didn’t heal as well as it could have.]

My gaze lingered on the white Jeep, splashing through the puddles as it cruised down the road.

[Lexi, I’ve found a small jet we can buy for Spirit of the Hunter, Incorporated. First of all, we’re registered in the state of Nevada. I found a lawyer in Reno who will be forwarding the papers to you at the Navajo Council offices. It should arrive in a week or so.]

[The jet is a Dessault Falcon 20. It usually takes a crew of two and handles six passengers. It is in Gary, Indiana. It’s owned by a bank who got it when the former owner went bankrupt during the recent downturn. I can get it delivered within the week to Crownpoint. We’ll have to get Cap his formal training from Pan Am. They are the official representative for Dessault in America.]

[By the way, I’ve figured out how to make telephone calls. I’m using the same kind of radio hook-up that the portables you have.]

Hook-up? Red, you’re improving your use of colloquialisms.

[Thank you. I hope I will continue to do hokey-pokey.]

I think you mean okey-dokey.

...

The next day, Linc and I drove up to see Margu. She’d been busy. She’d ordered a truck load of firebrick to be delivered up to the kiln in Wyoming. “I hope you don’t mind. I had them send the invoice to the Spirit of the Hunter company,” she said. “It should be there in two weeks or so. Coming in COD, so I hope they are good for it.”

“Good. The Spirit of the Hunter is a corporation now. All registered and legal. You and I are going to fly up to Piaqogwaiq next week. That’s the Big Wind River Reservation of the Shoshone. Well, I’ve gotta say ‘maybe’ on the schedule. Depends on delivery of an airplane ... I’ve got a present for you.” I gave her the radio-phone, complete with the directions. “The only thing I’ll say is you should say ‘over’ when you’re done talking or else you’ll get confused.” I smiled. “I programmed in my number and Linc’s – Maynard Lincoln, he’s the head of security for the Spirit.”

We had a nice chat and a cup of tea, then we left. We did have enough time to stop at Sissy’s for a bowl of the daily special. I had a good chat with Sissy himself. We had a good time speaking Creole and befuddling Linc.

During the drive home, I got an update from Red.

[Lexi, please call Cap and tell him the new/old Falcon 20 will be delivered tomorrow and he’s got a reservation at Pan Am’s flight school. Also, the delivery pilot will be willing to take him up for a trial flight. Probably we can stretch that to be the flight to Wyoming. The bank was REALLY anxious to get it off their books.]

[Also, the financial plan is working. We bought Cisco on a dip, caused by some crazy traders in Singapore and then the selling dried up and the stock went up ten points. Crazy huh? We made almost $200,000 in a few days. And even the hidden accounts made some money. Cisco is one of the stocks we’ll want to buy, in the future.]

I can see why the Robber Barons did so well. It’s like playing roulette, with all of the black numbers eliminated. Glad you’re on our side.

I picked up my phone and dialed Cap. I explained about his new toy.

...

The rest of the week was filled with TKD and my horseback lessons. I got pretty good with Rock’s help. There was some light flirting and I apologized for my ‘there will be other guys’ speech. That was a little rough, but it was true.