Read Lena Jones 02 - Desert Wives for Free Online

couldn’t pick up so much as a stray dog from Pima land, let alone a little girl spending some time with her Pima friends.”
    I got it. “Which Pima friends?”
    “Oh, let’s say for instance her dear friend Tiffany Sisiwan, who just happens to be my niece. Utah shows up at Tiffany’s house, well, Tiffany’s dad will get real irritated and show Utah the quickest way off the rez. Maybe even at gunpoint.”
    I smiled back at him. “Jimmy, you are the most underhanded noncriminal I know. I can’t begin to tell you how much I admire you for it.”
    Thought being father to the deed, Jimmy immediately called his brother and explained the situation, while I called Esther’s roommate and told her what we planned to do. Within minutes, Curtis Sisiwan and his wife were on their way to pick up Rebecca.
    Rebecca’s safety now guaranteed, Jimmy returned to his computer. Exhausted after flying in the face of so many child custody laws, I tried to relax by watching a herd of sunburned tourists exit a chartered bus and begin strolling along the neighboring art galleries on Main Street. It was something like watching the buffalo roam, except that tourists moved with less purpose. They drifted, sweating, into one gallery and out the other, emerging with bad paintings of Italian-looking “Indians” and plaster statues of howling coyotes.
    I understood why Scottsdale was considered an Eden in the midst of winter, when as the rest of the country shivered in sub-zero temperatures, we barbequed by the pool. But in summer? Why on earth would someone from cool, shady Minnesota visit Arizona, where asphalt had been known to melt as early as May?
    This conundrum cleared my mind wonderfully, and so I began to relax, my eyes following the tourists until they climbed back onto the bus.
    Jimmy began straightening his desk. “I think I’ll head over to Curtis’s house. Anything you want me to tell Rebecca while I’m there?”
    “Tell her not to worry, that her mother will be out of jail in no time.”
    It wasn’t bad enough that I had lied to Esther. Now I was lying to her child.
    After a little more fussing at his desk, Jimmy was out the door, into his souped-up Camaro, rumbling down Main Street toward the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Reservation, where tribal law ruled and the rest of the world could go hang.
    The afternoon shadows lengthened into darkness, and for a moment, I thought about changing into jogging gear and heading out to Papago Park. But since I had already worked out at the gym that morning honing my karate skills I gave it a pass. Besides, I still felt parched from my three days in Paiute Canyon, where I had learned to my surprise that Utah’s daytime temperatures climbed almost as high as Scottsdale’s.
    Instead, I decided to call Dusty, my boyfriend, and invite him over for the evening. He worked forty miles north on a dude ranch at the backside of Carefree, but now that the Pima Freeway was finished, the drive took less than forty minutes, even with traffic. After a bumpy beginning to our relationship, much of it my fault, we’d recently grown closer.
    I picked up the phone again and punched in the number.
    “Happy Trails.” The voice at the other end of the line belonged to Dusty’s boss, Slim Papadopolus, the owner of the ranch.
    “Hi, handsome. It’s Lena.”
    “Ah, the most beautiful blond in the world.” Before buying the dude ranch, Slim had been a jockey on the top racing circuits and his flattering ways had helped him become as popular with women as with the horses’ owners. None of them seemed to mind that he stood no more than 5’3” in his built-up cowboy boots.
    “What can I do for you, sweetheart? You want to come up here and ride tomorrow? You do, I’ll get Lady saddled first thing in the morning. Unless you want to try that new Appaloosa we just got in. I figure you can handle him.”
    The prospect appealed, but I declined. “I’d love to, but I’m in the middle of a case and