Hunter s Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,69

loss. I liked her more than I would ever say.

"How's the shoulder?" I asked.

"I'll live."

"Sore?"

"Yeah. But at least it's not my gun hand."

Trust Jessie to worry about the important things in life.

She turned so her back was to the window, wincing a bit at the movement. "I talked to Elwood."

Uh-oh.

"He checked with all his cronies. Talked to the gas sta-tion attendants, real estate agents, anyone who might have noticed a new guy in town. No one's seen Hector."

I frowned. That was weird.

"Which doesn't mean you're crazy," Jessie hastened to assure me. "It just means he's keeping a low profile."

For the first time in a long time I didn't feel crazy. I felt... good. I kept thinking: What if?

What if I killed Hector?

What if Damien really loved me?

What if I loved him?

He couldn't give me children. Or so he said. But there were new advances in medicine every day. What if he could be cured?

Then everything I'd ever wanted could come true.

"Leigh?"

I focused on Jessie. She appeared concerned.

"You wanna stay with me here?"

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

She rolled her eyes. "Get your head out of the bedroom and listen. Even if the white wolf isn't Hector, we still have to find and kill it."

"I'm in complete agreement."

"And if it isn't him, we'll just keep hunting until we find the right white wolf. Wherever it is, however long we have to search."

"OK."

She faced the front, shaking her head. "And she says I'm gaga."

Her words would have made me angry once. Now I just wanted to laugh.

We reached Cora's house. The tiny log cabin set between towering evergreens made me think of Hansel and Gretel. I hoped she wasn't a witch.

The door opened before we even knocked. Cora Kop-way looked like no witch I'd ever known. As if I'd known any.

She was tall, willowy, with long, flowing black hair that held only a trace of silver. Her face possessed a beauty that defied age. She'd seen many things - some good, some bad, some in between - and all of them had marked her.

She wore a blindingly white T-shirt, tucked into a long colorful skirt. Each finger sported a ring. Silver sparkled around two of her toes. Three earrings hung from one ear, two from the other, and bracelets jangled about her slim wrists.

She didn't smile, just stared at us with solemn, dark eyes. Then she turned and disappeared into her home, leaving the door open behind her.

"I thought she was old," Jessie whispered.

"She is," Will whispered back. "My people age well, unlike yours."

Jessie kicked him in the ankle, then followed him inside.

The cabin was a museum. Indian art graced the walls, stocked the shelves and the tables. I was unfamiliar with the artists, but most of the paintings and the sculptures were of animals - bear, moose, birds, coyotes, and, of course, wolves.

On one shelf I caught a glimpse of a kachina doll, which I knew wasn't Ojibwe. I assumed Cora's collection represented all the North American tribes. I'd love to go through everything, but we didn't have the time.

Candles burned here and there. Something smoldered in a pottery bowl. The room smelled of fresh-cut grass and, at the same time, new snow on a crisp winter night. How could that be?

She motioned for us to take seats on furniture that re-fleeted the colors of the earth and the sky at sunset.

Mahogany, sand, azure, burnt orange - the room both eased and energized.

Cora sat in a straight-backed chair on the opposite side of an oak coffee table, its only adornment a smoking salmon-shaded bowl. Now that I was closer I observed a tiny flame in the center with what appeared to be grass all around it. A definite fire hazard.

She continued to peer at us with that same solemn expression. I had a feeling she could see into my head and discern my thoughts. I tried like hell to make them pure. But the more I tried, the more impure they became.

What did I expect after the way I'd spent my afternoon?

"I hear you know all about woo-woo?" Jessie blurted.

Will's sigh was long-suffering. "Jess," he admonished. "Don't speak until spoken to."

She stared down her nose at him. "You have got to be kidding me."

He narrowed his eyes. Amazingly, she sat back on the couch, crossed her arms over her chest, placed one knee over the other, and shut up.

"I'm sorry, n'okomiss. She doesn't understand."

Cora acknowledged the apology with an infinitesimal nod. Her earrings swayed and tangled in her long black hair.