“You go right ahead,” Jo said, stroking Lucinda’s hair. “Cry all you want, all you need to.”
“I should have done something, protected my Alejandro. I should have stood up to Will.”
“Luci, what happened isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”
“If only I had done more for my little boy. My Alejandro. My poor little Alejandro.”
Lucinda wept until she felt as if she’d touched the bottom of her grief, a place she’d been afraid to go. When the tears finally subsided, Jo reached to a box of Kleenex on her desk and drew out several tissues and handed them over.
“Sometimes, Luci, when something tragic happens to a couple, it sends them spinning off in frightening directions, away from each other, full of blame, recrimination, guilt. Hasty, regretful decisions can result. Before you make a final decision about your marriage, would you be willing to talk to someone? I could recommend some very good counselors.”
Lucinda shook her head. “I’m afraid now. Afraid for Uly and for Misty. They should know they are loved. Children need that. With Will, they will never know. I need to protect them. I need to make sure they know they are precious.” She began to cry again, but quietly this time. “Alejandro…maybe if Will had been different with him… maybe he would still be alive. Maybe none of these awful things would have happened.”
“You blame Will for what happened?”
Lucinda wiped her eyes with one of the tissues Jo had given her. “I know it’s not fair. But I can’t help feeling that Will drove Alejandro away. I do not want that for Ulysses or Misty.”
“Luci,” Jo said in a careful voice, “it’s my understanding that the instructions Alexander and Rayette left direct that you and Will together be Misty’s guardians. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Leaving Will now could be a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll have to look into the matter, but there could be some dispute over who would be awarded custody of Misty. If you separate, it may become the court’s responsibility to decide.”
“You mean Will would raise them?”
“I’m only saying that who raises them could be in dispute. Let me do some checking, and in the meantime, would you consider talking with someone about your relationship with Will? If these issues can be worked out without the dissolution of your marriage, wouldn’t you rather that?”
“I suppose I could speak with Father Ted.”
“That would be a good beginning. But if you decide in the end that separating from Will is what you want to do, I’ll help you do that.”
“Thank you.”
Jo touched Lucinda’s cheek with her palm. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I am now.”
They walked together from the office, and in the hall they hugged.
“There’s a way through all this, Luci. I’ll do my best to help you find it.”
“You are a good friend,” Lucinda said.
She left feeling not so alone nor so afraid, holding in her heart the warm hope her good friend had given her.
THIRTY-ONE
By the time Cork finally rolled out of bed, the sun was already high and the dew had long ago evaporated from the grass. He scratched all the usual places and began making coffee. While the old Hamilton Beach on the counter was doing its thing, Cork showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He was just buttoning his blue denim shirt when there was a knock at the door. He opened up and found George LeDuc standing in the shade of Sam’s Place, looking like a man carrying a gorilla on his shoulders.
“Perfect timing, George. Coffee’s ready.” Cork stood aside and let his friend in. He poured cups of java for them both, then they sat at the table while a slender finger of sunlight came through the east window and nudged their shadows across the floor.
“You heard about Buck Reinhardt?” Cork said.
“The news ran through the rez like a man on fire.” LeDuc sipped his coffee. “Whoa.”
“I like it strong,” Cork said.
“Strong? You could strip varnish with this.”
“Did you drop by just to insult my coffee, George?”
“Fanny Blessing’s house burned down last night. Burned to the ground.”
“Is Fanny okay?”
“She wasn’t there. She was feeding quarters into a slot machine at the casino when it happened. Came home around four A.M. and the place was gone.”
“How about Tom?”
“Spent the night at his girlfriend’s. Didn’t know about it until this morning.”
Cork shook his head. He wasn’t fond of the Blessings, either Fanny or her son, but this was a shame. “Burned to the ground, you say.”
“It’s so far from everything else around it and it was the middle of the night. Nobody noticed.”
“Any idea how it started?”
“The fire inspector’s out there right now. But I have a guess.” LeDuc sipped his coffee and made a face. “First, this. I’ve been authorized by the tribal council to hire you.”
“For what?”
“If I hire you, what we talk about here is confidential, right? Privileged?”
“That’s right.”
“Then tell me you’ll take the job.”
“How can I? I don’t even know what the job is.”
“Here’s a retainer.” LeDuc pulled a check from his pocket and handed it across the table to Cork.
“Five thousand dollars?”
“Are you hired?”
“All right, I’m hired. Just tell me what’s so confidential.”
“This morning about two thirty, a couple of guys in ski masks broke into the Decouteau’s place, dragged Rennie outside, and beat the crap out of him. Rennie’s one of the Red Boyz, you know.”
“I know. Did they beat him up on general principle or was there a specific reason?”
“They wanted to know where Tom Blessing was. And Lonnie Thunder.”
“Did he tell them?”
“He didn’t know anything about Thunder, and he swears he kept his mouth shut about Tom Blessing and his girlfriend. Probably true since, as of this morning, Blessing is fine and dandy. Pissed off, of course.”
“Has Decouteau talked to the sheriff?”
“He doesn’t want to have anything to do with the law. The Red Boyz are saying they’ll take care of things.”
“Christ.”
“Exactly.” LeDuc stared down at his coffee, as if trying to decide whether another sip was worth it. “You don’t suppose it was just a coincidence that the Blessing house burned?”
“Yeah, and pigs fly out my butt.” Cork finished his coffee and headed back for more. “With Alex Kingbird gone, Blessing leads the Red Boyz. Makes him a good target. Three men, you say?”
“That’s the word.”
“White?”
“Yeah.”
“Figures.”
“You got an idea?”
