Juliet's Law

The skies were heavy over the mountains of Mariposa when Josh Mad Calf fastened his daughter into her car seat in the half-back bench of his massive pickup truck. The four-year-old wore a blue knitted hat on her glossy dark head, and her eyes had the glazed blankness of mid-afternoon. "Sleepy, kiddo?" "Don't call me that!" she said, glaring at him. He chuckled and touched her nose. "Okay, rabbit." "Not that, either!" "Okay, wolf-girl." "Dad-DEE!" she complained. "Sorry," he said, grinning, and tucked a few bags of groceries around her feet--a handful of supplies for himself and his friend Desi, just in case the threatening snow turned into a blizzard. As he slammed the door firmly, he narrowed his eyes and looked up. Burly blue mountains surrounded the town, and clouds had moved halfway down their sides, hiding the entire line of ridges and most of the still-bare ski runs. They wouldn't be bare long. A few cottony bits of snow were spitting out of the sky, but it would be a few hours until the heart of the storm moved in. By then he and Glory would be tucked into their snug house, a fire roaring in the potbellied stove, soup bubbling on the stove for their supper, a dog snoring on the hearth. A good life. Good enough. In the old days, he'd imagined a woman for himself in that picture--a mother for Glory--but that had turned out badly. Very badly. As he headed away from town on narrow roads, he remembered to be grateful. Grateful for simple things like his daughter safe in his care, knowing she'd be fed well tonight and sleep in a clean, warm bed. It hadn't always been that way. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw that she'd fallen asleep. Her cheeks were rosy, her dark eyelashes a half oval. He could never get over the fragility of her closed eyelids, the sweetness of her perfect skin, her tiny fingernails. Several miles into the mountains, he turned off on an even narrower road, this one dirt, and bumpy. It looped around wooded landscapes alongside a stream, and opened finally into a pristine meadow, with spectacular views of the high, craggy peaks of the San Juan Mountains. Well, there was a view on clear days, anyway. This afternoon, only the blue lower skirts showed beneath blouses of thick clouds. A collection of low outbuildings spread out to the east of the meadow. In the center was a small, neat house built of pine. Smoke came out of the chimney. Josh smiled to himself as he followed the driveway around to the front of the house. Desi would have the kettle on. Maybe he'd have a cup of coffee before heading home. She'd been going through a rough time. As he rounded her house, his smile faded. A grim tableau was playing out in front of the little house. Desi, a tall sturdy woman with a glossy black braid, was standing on her back steps, a rifle in her hand. Her expression was grim. The rifle was pointed at Claude Tsosie, Desi's soon-to-be-ex-husband, who also sported a long black braid. He wore a jean jacket and boots, and silver jewelry on his wrists. Josh shook his head. He'd never really liked Claude, an artist who lived too much on his talent and never spoke the truth if there was a way around it, but he didn't especially want to see him dead. A third, unexpected player was a fragile-looking blond woman who stood by her car, frightened and obviously unsure of what to do. Her boots were the city sort--not high-heeled, especially, or pointed, but square and polished. Wouldn't be worth a damn in the snow that was coming. She looked over at Josh's truck, entreaty on her--he saw now--very pretty face. From the glove box, Josh took his badge. He was a tribal policeman and technically had no jurisdiction off the reservation, but Claude wouldn't pay much attention. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Glory was still sound asleep, and climbed quietly out of the truck. * * * Juliet stood frozen by her rental car, praying that Desi woWind, Ruth is the author of 'Juliet's Law', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373275052 and ISBN 0373275056.