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  Tanya grabbed her arm. “He heard us! He’s coming here! He’s going to—”

  Sheila grabbed the girl’s hands. “Hush. The wolf is not human. He doesn’t run like a person.” She thought she could hear the labored breathing of someone who had run a long way.

  The bed shook with Tanya’s struggle to hold back deep sobs of fear.

  Sheila put her arms around the girl and pulled her close. “It’s okay. We’re here together. He won’t hurt us if we’re together.”

  They listened as the footsteps diminished.

  “Hear that? It was just someone running by. Whoever it was didn’t even stop.” Her voice was unsteady.

  “He’ll be back,” Tanya said. “He wants to scare us. He wants to make us suffer, to think about what he’s going to do to us.”

  “I’ve thought all I want to think about that.” Sheila slung back the blankets.

  “What are you doing?” Tanya cried, still clinging to Sheila’s arm. “Where are you going?”

  Gently, Sheila disengaged herself. “Shh. I’m going to take a peek outside, just to reassure myself.”

  She went to the front door and peered out the window. In the darkness, the stars shone down like white glitter. The road in front of the apartment stretched from the school out into the desert, empty.

  With a catch in her breathing, she unlatched the door, opened it and stepped out, her feet cringing on the cold concrete. She had nothing to fear, had she? Only her own imagination, and that of—

  “What is it?”

  Tanya’s voice directly in her ear startled her so badly she yelped.

  At the edge of her vision, a movement in the darkness caught her attention. She looked out again.

  At the end of the school grounds, where April, Jamey and Steve lived in a small house, a shadowed figure stepped onto the porch.

  The door opened, and a sheen of light from inside silhouetted the dark figure. Sheila couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was Jamey.

  Her pounding heart slowed. She blew out a sigh of profound relief. “It’s one of the kids practicing for track.” Amazing how the mind could be so deeply affected by no more than the suggestion of fear.

  “Let’s go to bed.” She laid an arm over Tanya’s shoulders. “We’re letting our scary talk get out of hand.”

  Tanya hesitated. “Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight?” Her voice wavered with lingering fear.

  “Of course, honey. I could use some company myself tonight. I just hope I don’t dream again and scare us both.”

  Tanya climbed back beneath the covers, her gaze following Sheila around the bed. “Pray.”

  Sheila hesitated as she sat on the edge of the bed. “What?”

  “Pray, like Canaan does. He says as long as we keep our hearts and minds on God, and pray, our hearts will be safe from the evil ones who stalk the land at night. It didn’t work for me the other morning because I was alone, but we’re together now.”

  “Did it help you when Canaan prayed?” Sheila asked.

  “Yes. I shouldn’t have run away again. I should have trusted Canaan more. I should have trusted God. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten sick. I should have allowed the Spirit of Jesus to have control of me—”

  “Tanya, you were sick. That illness might even have affected your imagination to make you more afraid.”

  “Please, Sheila.” Tanya took Sheila’s hand. “Please pray.”

  “Of course, honey.” Sheila squeezed Tanya’s hand and bowed her head, and together, they prayed.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  B etsy Two Horses unlocked the kitchen door before the sun had begun to touch the sky on Friday morning. Her aching body, which had complained all week long about the extra work she’d been doing, threatened to betray her. She’d barely been able to drag herself out of bed this morning.

  A few aspirin would have to carry her through the early shift. The others could take over for the lunch preparation.

  She had put off getting her monthly shot from Canaan for her rheumatoid arthritis, hoping she could wait until this afternoon. She knew she would have to get it soon. The body aches had led this time to a headache, which made her sick to her stomach.

  Before she had even reached into the upper cabinet for a mixing bowl, there was a knock at the door. She turned to see Jane Witherbe stepping inside, her usually cheery round face in a grimace.

  “You feeling okay?” Betsy asked.

  Jane nodded. “I just need some painkillers. Got any aspirin? Maybe some crackers?”

  Betsy pointed toward the supply room. “How bad?”

  “Probably just something I ate. None of my kids are feeling bad.”

  “It’ll pass.”

  Jane agreed. She got her supplies and left, and Betsy got to work. She felt bad for Jane, mothering her dorm girls while feeling sick.

  Betsy hated illness in any form. She should’ve been a doctor.

  Sheila stepped from the bathroom after a quick, hot shower. “I need to get dressed and go to the clinic for a little while before breakfast,” she told Tanya, who sat at the kitchen table. “Will you be okay here alone for an hour or so?”

  “I’m not a little kid, you know.”

  “Of course you aren’t.”

  “I could go with you and help.”

  “No, I’ve just got to do some paperwork I didn’t get done last night.”

  “All you’ve done is work this week. You hardly eat.”

  The girl was right, and Sheila felt bad for not being around for her. “I notice you’ve spent a lot of time helping Blaze with the other kids. You might grow up to be a doctor, too.”

  A smile transformed Tanya’s features. “Or maybe I’ll marry Blaze and become a veterinarian, and we can work together.”

  Sheila chuckled. “You’d better be prepared for competition.”

  “He said he doesn’t have a girlfriend back home.”

  “I know a lot of girls back home who see the same things in him that you see, though. He’s so busy with school and work that he doesn’t have a lot of time for anything else.”

  “Then what’s he doing out here?”

  “Working and learning. Blaze doesn’t depend on teachers alone to give him the education he needs. This is a learning experience for him, kind of like your remedial reading class, where you’re supposed to read books on your own time for fun.”

  Tanya made a face.

  Sheila laughed. “Why don’t you try to get a little more sleep? You can climb into my bed. It’s still warm.”

  “I guess I could take my book to bed and read.”

  “Good girl. Veterinarians have to read a lot.”

  As Sheila walked to the administration building across the central courtyard of the complex, she thought about this past week, working closely with the children, living with Tanya. She loved it. Of course, that could partially be because her biological clock was ticking double-time and her future for motherhood looked bleak right now.

  For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted to have children. She’d hoped for children for so long with Ryan, but after a miscarriage, there had been no other pregnancies. Eventually she’d discovered that Ryan had had a vasectomy after her miscarriage. To carry on his affairs without getting caught, she suspected, since he wouldn’t have wanted to take the chance of making another woman pregnant.

  Even after two years, she battled bitterness that arose at unexpected times. It had become a habit for many months after Ryan’s death to blame all her problems on his actions. She had discovered early on that forgiveness was an ongoing struggle, even though she knew he’d paid the ultimate price for his choices.

  When she unlocked the clinic door and stepped inside, she caught a faint, familiar scent.

  Cedar.

  At first, she thought she or Blaze must have left a window open last night, but all the windows were closed. She peered around the sunlit room, recalling clearly this morning’s dream.

  She stepped around a privac
y partition to her cubicle, and saw something lying in the center of her desk. Switching on the lamp, she moved closer, then scrambled backward with a gasp. A picture lay faceup, the torso of a man with the head of a wolf. Scattered around it were wood chips and a handful of colored sand.

  The snarling face with bared fangs, the posture of the body, the yellow animal eyes called forth an echo of memory so real she had to close her eyes.

  She could almost envision the photo taking on substance, the animal rising up from the flat surface of the page, materializing into the monster that haunted her dreams. She clutched the file cabinet behind her, then turned to scan the room.

  It had followed her here.

  A door closed somewhere outside, replacing the barrier between dream and reality. This was nonsense. She stepped forward to pick up the picture.

  Her fingertips tingled from the touch of the smooth paper, as if she had come into contact with the spirit of the wolf, captured within the photograph. The picture slipped to the floor, and the barrier faded again.

  She shivered, looking around the room and out the windows to see if she was being watched. She didn’t see anyone.

  This was only another wicked joke, and she couldn’t allow it to work. But the picture lay faceup on the floor, the wolf’s face leering at her.

  Last night’s dream came back vividly—a smoky room and chanting. And a woman, briefly. The light-haired woman.

  The woman was a new part of the dream—more frightening, for some reason, than anything previously retrieved, and something Sheila needed to explore. All she had to do was let herself remember, but right now was not the time. Not when she was alone and vulnerable and confronted with a hostile message.

  Sheila squeezed her eyes shut. Not yet.

  “Hey, you, what’s up?” A man’s voice, warm, personal and, right now, very welcome.

  She turned to see Preston stepping through the doorway. His smiling expression changed when he saw her face.

  “What happened?”

  Before Sheila could stop him, Preston sauntered closer, saw the picture on the floor. “What’s this?”

  “It seems I’ve been the recipient of another practical joke.”

  He snatched up the picture. “The wolf again.”

  She took the picture from him, resisting the urge to hold it by the corner as if it pulsed with life. “It was with that other stuff.” She gestured toward the desk. “I found it here when I walked in the room. It’s nothing. Just a hoax.”

  “By whom?” he asked, stepping closer to the desk, frowning at the debris scattered over it.

  “Great question.”

  “It doesn’t strike me as a friendly gesture,” Preston said.

  “A childish joke. Not all the children are friendly, but that doesn’t mean they have evil intentions.” And yet evil was what she felt in this room and her hands shook…. Her whole body trembled.

  What child would know how badly the wolf could terrify her? What adult would stoop to such childish pranks?

  Preston pulled out a drawer, where colored sand and wood chips had also been poured. “What is all this?” he asked.

  “You’re looking at items used in a Navajo sand painting.”

  “And why would these be used to frighten you?”

  “I wish I knew for sure.”

  He turned back to her, and this time his attention focused totally on her. “It does frighten you.”

  She nodded. “It terrifies me.”

  He held his arms out—his strong, protective arms—and she stepped into them and allowed him to draw her close. She pressed her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. For this moment, she just wanted to stay right here and forget.

  As if reading her mind, he remained silent, his breath reassuring and deep, his arms steady.

  She could very easily get accustomed to this. More and more in the past months, she had found herself craving his nearness, the sound of his voice, his touch. So much so that it was difficult to think straight when she was with him. But right now, she didn’t want to think straight.

  “Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

  His arms tightened around her, and she thought she detected a light kiss on the top of her head. “For your sake, I’m trying to delete that phrase from my vocabulary.”

  “I feel violated.”

  “Of course.”

  “And hurt.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You came out here to help these people, and this ugly trickery is the response you get.”

  How she adored this man. They spoke the same language. They understood each other.

  She stepped out of his arms, and he released her. She looked up into his serious gray-blue eyes and was touched by the tenderness she saw there…and something else. The something else was the reason she’d attempted to keep space between them for the past few months. It was so difficult.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “You go get some breakfast, because I know you worked too late last night to get anything from the cafeteria.”

  “I had a piece of cheese when I got home.”

  “I’m going to take care of this mess while you’re gone, but first I’ll show it to Canaan.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then you and Blaze and I will pack our bags and hightail it back to Missouri, where we belong.”

  She wouldn’t admit that the idea tempted her. “I knew you couldn’t resist. And you know I can’t go.”

  “Then neither can I.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Now go get some breakfast while I take some pictures of this mess. I’ll see you later.”

  She wanted to kiss him. “Have I told you lately how special you are?”

  “That could be taken in one of several ways,” he said with a grim smile. “But thanks. Now go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  T he first thing Canaan did when he stepped into the cafeteria early Friday morning was check out the dining area.

  Empty. As usual, he was the first one here. He would attempt to eat his breakfast and be gone before the usual complainers could surround him and ruin his meal. That happened a lot. He’d never realized the weight of responsibility Bob Jaffrey had carried when he was alive—or how much trouble one little boarding school could be.

  The folded sheets of faxed information in Canaan’s front pocket proved that. He was confused. When he’d first received the fax and seen the return address of Keams Canyon, he’d known it was the results of Tanya’s blood tests. Nothing unusual. Because the hospital’s lab was not equipped for a qualitative screening, samples of her blood had been sent to a regional lab, hence the longer turnaround time.

  Canaan picked up a tray and slid it along the counter, selected silverware as he pondered the one disturbing result. Tanya’s blood had tested positive for GHB, gamma hydroxybutyrate, a drug with a couple of uses. Though it wasn’t the most common date rape drug, it was sometimes used for that. It was also used by athletes to improve their performance. Tanya was on the track team, but she wasn’t particularly passionate about being an athlete.

  This was what made Tanya’s fear of the wolf that much more disturbing—and that much more understandable. What if someone was using the drug to take advantage of her?

  Questioning her would do no good. And it was not feasible to test the blood of every child in this school for the drug, but he was suddenly thankful once more for the extra help he had received this week, no matter that Preston’s presence made him somewhat uncomfortable.

  He wouldn’t mind keeping Blaze around for a while longer, though Canaan didn’t know where he himself would be at the end of the summer. He didn’t want to leave Granddad in the lurch, and he would not, but one school year here was enough.

  His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a greeting from Betsy Two Horses. Her dark gaze scanned his face as she served him sausage and scrambled eggs. “She’ll probably be here any time.”

  Canaan blinked at her. “Who?” He took the new purpl
e ball cap from his head and tucked it under his arm.

  “Give it up. These old eyes don’t miss much.”

  “Better make an appointment with an eye doctor, Betsy. You’re seeing things.”

  “That’s good to hear, because we wouldn’t want our respected principal to get into a brawl with a man over a woman who doesn’t belong on the reservation.”

  Canaan placed milk and coffee on his tray.

  “She doesn’t belong here, Canaan,” Betsy said.

  “Who would that be?” he asked. This was one of the reasons he was more than ready to leave this school. He certainly didn’t command any respect as a doctor or as an interim principal with the elders who’d known him as a child.

  “Who are you spending all your time with this week?” Betsy asked.

  “I thought you liked Sheila.” And it was none of Betsy’s business why he was spending time with Sheila.

  “I love her, but this isn’t the place for her. Did you notice she’s working herself to death the past few days?”

  “We all are, but it’ll be over soon.” He hoped.

  “Did you ever find out who shot her tire?”

  “Yes, it was a boy protecting his sheep. The police called me just a few minutes ago.” And in his consternation over the fax from Phoenix, the news about the shooter had been pushed to the back of his mind.

  “He needs to be punished.”

  “He will, I’m sure.”

  “She still needs to leave, Canaan. That man of hers should take her back to where they both belong.”

  He walked away without replying. Even though he understood what Betsy meant—that he and Sheila were from different worlds—he wasn’t up to discussing the subject this early in the morning, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to listen to Betsy shove her opinions down his throat.

  Yet another reason why he didn’t make a good administrator.

  He found himself carrying his tray toward the table in the corner, where Sheila usually sat when she ate in the cafeteria. Halfway there, he changed his mind and took a seat on the other side of the dining area. As the old TV sitcom character Barney Fife would say, “Nip it in the bud.” Why start rumors? And why allow himself to become emotionally attached again, when he knew Betsy was right?