Tuesday morning, shortly after 1:00 a.m.: Ft. Peck Indian Reservation

Lindsay Vanderbilt waited over thirty minutes after Andrews and Burk left her.  She looked outside, seeing nothing of note.  Satisfied, she drew the curtains closed, turned off her cell phone and removed the battery.  She walked outside to the tool shed that was forty-feet from the back of the house.

Lindsay looked around one last time. She entered the shed and lifted a hard-plastic case that held a drill set. She opened it and removed its contents, opening its false bottom and retrieving the burner phone Ellie had given her earlier.

She turned on the phone from the shed in the event the FBI had bugged the house and dialed the number from memory.

“Lindsay?” came the response from the male voice. “You’re calling from the burner phone?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Chuck Johnson here. Or should I say, ‘James?’”

“How’d I do?”

“You were brilliant,” he said. “I loved the touch of calling me ‘James.’ That’ll keep the feds spinning their wheels for hours.”

“Why did you want me to tell them Barnabas owned an airplane hangar?” she asked.

“It was Rainhorse’s idea,” Chuck replied. “He wanted a plausible theory to feed the feds. He wants them here in the area, looking in the wrong places for now, out of his way. Plus, if the FBI mole tells Barnabas that the feds are looking for an airplane hangar, he won’t change his actual plans.”

“Which are?”

“He hasn’t told me yet.”

“Where are you, now?” she asked.

“I’m in Seattle,” he replied. “Neha Littlebird picked me up. She’s with me now.”

“Is she ok?” Lindsay asked.

“She’s fine... and she’s safe.”

“I heard you were a Navy SEAL and part of the Brotherhood Protectors,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re there to help him.”

“I understand your step-father is one of the Brotherhood,” Chuck said.

“He is,” she replied. “His name is Sam Steele.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Chuck replied. “Good man.  He saved a lot of lives in Iraq.”

“He is a good man,” she agreed. “What’s next for me?”

“Hang on,” Chuck said. “Someone wants to talk with you.”

There was a brief pause. Lindsay knew Neha was with him but it was not her voice Lindsay heard next.

“Lindsay?” she heard a deep male voice say. “Lindsay, it’s me.”

Lindsay took in a deep breath and held it, squelching a gasp.

“Jackson?  Jackson, is that really you?” 

“Yes, it’s me,” Rainhorse said, stealing a nervous glance toward Neha, who insisted he speak to Lindsay. “How are you?”

“Pissed at you, that’s how I am,” Lindsay replied.

“I understand how you feel,” he said.

“No, you do not know how I feel, because that would require you to have a heart,” she fired back, “And you don't have one.”

“That is a little cold,” he said. “It was you I was thinking about?”

“Don’t feed me that line of shit,” she said, her anger mounting as she spoke. “Do you have any idea how you made me feel?  Do you know what you put me through with your little silent routine? My stomach was in knots night and day. I had headaches. It worried me sick. All I could think about was you wasting away in prison. Or worse, trying to avoid being killed. I...”

Lindsay continued to rant. Rainhorse pulled the phone away from his ear muting the phone so Lindsay could not hear his voice. Lindsay continued her outburst with no immediate sign of slowing down.

“Can you hear this?” Rainhorse said to Neha.

“Hard not to,” Neha replied.

“She is most upset,” he said.

“Ya think?” Neha answered.

He put his ear back to the phone. Lindsay was still ranting.

“Damn, dude. She is ripping your ass,” Chuck said, with a small chuckle. “I can hear her from over here.”

“He deserves it,” Neha said.

“Here,” Rainhorse said, holding the phone toward Neha. “You talk to her.”

Neha shook her head, “Not a chance. You two have issues to work out. Take your medicine like a man. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Neha walked away. Rainhorse looked to Chuck Johnson, “Please, Chuck, help me. I do not know what to say.”

“You’re on your own, big fella,” he replied. “I can deal with bad guys and bombs, but when it comes to a woman scorned, when the venom isn’t being launched in my direction, I know better than to stand in the line of fire. I’ll be in the kitchen with Neha.”

“Thanks a lot... brother,” Rainhorse snarled. Chuck waved in acknowledgement as he left.

Rainhorse lifted the phone cautiously to his ear. He heard nothing.

“Lindsay?” he asked, hoping she had hung up.

“Are you still there? Have you been listening?” she barked.

“No offense, Lindsay, but everyone in a two-block radius has probably been listening.”

“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” she snapped.

“Because... I... am speechless,” he said.

“I hate it when you think you can make an ultimate decision on behalf of both of us, without including... both of us. I kept visiting you in prison thinking you’d realize I would never forget you. I would never give up on you. You denied me the opportunity to talk it through—to plead my case. It hurt so bad when you kept turning me away.”

Rainhorse heard her sobbing over the phone. He felt horrible, wishing he was with her so he could hold her and tell her everything would be all right.  He’d made a mistake. He never really realized the catastrophic nature of it until now.  Besides Neha and the daughter he'd not seen in twenty-five years, Lindsay Vanderbilt was the person in life he cared for the most, and he had hurt her—hurt her badly.

“I made a horrible mistake,” he said, finally. “I know that now.”

“You’ve been alone your whole life,” she continued. “You’ve walked away from everyone you’ve known—Neha, your daughter, your nephew... me. I can’t forget about the people I care about. It’s easy for you.”

“Lindsay, that is not true,” he said. “I never forgot about you. I thought of you every waking hour of every day.”

“Bullshit.”

“It is true,” he insisted. “Lindsay, it was my memories of you that comforted me. Thinking of you and Neha and June Ann—it was the only thing that kept me sane.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it is true. I can mentally play back every conversation I have ever had with you. The memories of our time together kept my spirit alive.  Prison life is hard, monotonous and lonely. Visualizing your beautiful face and smile kept me from going crazy. I never forgot about you, and I never will.”

He could hear her sniffling, “Really?”

“Really. Do you remember when I first saw Neha again after so many years? Do you remember how nervous I was to see her again?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I think of that time every day,” he said. “I think of how you made me change clothes in the middle of nowhere, combed my hair, and coached me on what to say. You even made me gargle mouthwash and put on cologne.”

“It was an after-shave—that cheap Old Spice after-shave.”

“You said you liked it,” he argued, playfully.  “Remember, it has...”

“It has a ship on the bottle,” she finished. “I remember.”

“Whenever I felt alone, I’d relive that memory,” he said. “It always makes me smile.”

She paused and sniffled again, then giggled softly, “Don’t forget I also plucked your eyebrows.”

“That part was not so pleasant. Thank you for dredging that back up.”

Lindsay laughed for the first time, “You should have seen your face when I did it, and you whimpered liked a little girl.”

“It hurt,” he insisted.

Lindsay fell silent. At first, he thought they had been disconnected, but he could hear her breathing. She was sniffling again, then sobbing softly. After a moment, she fell silent again.

“Lindsay? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, her voice breaking. “I... miss you, Jackson. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too, Lindsay. I really do. I am so sorry for the way I acted. I know I was wrong. I found it amazing that you’d even consider helping me again.”

“I’ll help you,” she said. “Just because I was furious with you doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.”

“Then you will forgive me?”

Again, Lindsay went quiet for a moment. After nearly a minute of silence elapsed she finally spoke again.

“Jackson?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“When this is over, are you going to cut me out of your life again?”

“Never.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

He could hear her sobbing once more, “I love you, Jackson.”

“I love you, too, Lindsay, and I always will.”

“What can you tell me about what you’re doing?” she asked.

“The FBI wants me to kill Barnabas before he does something,” he warned.

“What’s he going to do?” she questioned.

“I can’t tell you, exactly. Something horrifying,” he responded.

“Why can't you tell me?”

“It is a long story.”

“Why did you run away from the FBI?”

“An even longer story.”

“Speaking of long stories,” she said. “Jackson, I may have met someone... someone I like—a lot.”

“What? Who?”

“He's Cheyenne.”

“Red is married,” he interjected.

“Not him,” she reassured. “It’s his friend, Yellow Wolf.”

“Mathias Yellow Wolf?”

“Yes.”

Rainhorse paused.

“Are you there?” Lindsay asked.

“Yes, I am here.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, I did. Yellow Wolf is no good for you,” he stated. “He is shiftless, lazy, unmotivated...”

“Jackson!” she interrupted. “He’s a former Navy SEAL. He served with Red.”

“I knew him as a child,” Rainhorse espoused. “He is a punk. He is not worthy of you. I will not let this happen.”

“Hey, Mister, you aren’t my dad,” she fired back. “And whatever influence you may have once had on me evaporated when you turned your back on me. You don’t get a say in my life. And besides, you’re full of shit. Matty is warm and charming...”

“Lindsay, your track record with boyfriends speaks for itself,” he said. “Listen. Yellow Wolf is bad news. I know.”

“You don’t know jack shit, Jackson,” she shot back. 

“In this case I know far more than you.”

“I don't know what I was thinking,” she said. “One minute you won't speak to me, the next you are trying to run my life. I will help you out... then I'm done.”

“Lindsay...”

“Done, Jackson. For good. I mean it. Goodbye.”

“Lindsay...”