Ten steps away from the porch, Kerney realized he was walking as fast as his bum leg would carry him. It felt damn good to have an adrenaline rush again, he thought.
Maria Littlebird Tafoya sat in the small studio where she created jewelry sold exclusively under her name at one of the best Santa Fe galleries. The room, both a studio and porch, had been added to the house by her mother, who had taught her the silversmith's craft. Now that the demand for Maria's jewelry stretched far beyond the boundaries of the pueblo, she could afford a more expensive home, but she had no intention of moving. One day she might build a place for herself when Sammy came back from the Army, finished school, married, and started a family, but that was a long way off. The house, on the edge of the pueblo's plaza, had views of the Jemez Mountains beyond the Rio Grande.
Ordinarily, the vista was comforting; she could look up from the workbench and rest her eyes on the scene that rolled earth and sky into a passionate steel-blue tapestry of constantly changing patterns. Her home had been too quiet since Sammy went into the Army. During the last six weeks it had seemed more so. The pattern on the bracelet before her, a turquoise-and-coral inlay mosaic wrapped in silver, required a harmony and balance that were missing. Unhappy with the design, Maria debated removing the stones, putting the silver setting aside to salvage later, and starting another piece. Lately she simply couldn't seem to concentrate.
A muddy pickup truck with a dented fender halted in front of the porch. Maria sighed. She was constantly pestered by bargain hunters who wanted to buy directly from her at cut-rate prices. She would have none of it. A man stepped out of the truck, walked with a limp to the porch door, and smiled at her through the screen. She got quickly to her feet, pulled Kerney inside by the hand, and hugged him tightly.
"It's you," Maria exclaimed, smiling up at him.
"And it's you," he replied, letting her go.
She stepped back and looked at his face. He smiled down at her, but his blue eyes didn't sparkle. His brown hair, slightly longer, covered the tips of his ears and showed a wisp of gray near the temples. His handsome uneven face, deeply tanned and older-looking, with the same square chin, broad forehead, and Celtic nose, was less expressive than Maria remembered it to be.
"It's been too long," Maria said.
"Much too long," Kerney agreed.
"Terry called and said you might stop by."
"Was it your idea to bring me in on this?"
"Terry suggested it, and I encouraged him to ask you."
"That's good to know." Kerney's smile brightened slightly.
"So the two of you are talking to each other again, I take it."
"More than we did before the divorce. Isn't that strange?"
"Not necessarily."
"Come inside." Maria took his arm and led him into the living room. She wanted to ask Kerney a million questions about what he would do to find Sammy. She wanted him to assure her that he would bring Sammy home safe and sound. She held back, busying herself with getting Kerney settled, offering him food and something to drink. He accepted her offer. She got him seated and went quickly to the kitchen. He waited patiently as she clattered about, asking chatty questions, her nervousness betrayed by quick appearances in the doorway as he responded. He sat in the missionstyle rocking chair next to the kiva fireplace and wondered when she would simply fall apart and start sobbing.
"How is Mary Beth?" Maria queried.
"Long gone," Kerney said. All sounds from the kitchen stopped. The original house, built by Maria's great-grandfather, was a hundred years old. The puddled adobe walls bulged at the bottom and flowed unevenly to the ceiling. The floor, packed dirt mixed with ox blood, had a deep red patina. Maria stood in the kitchen door looking sadly at him.
"What happened?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does."
"She said I wasn't fun anymore. She was probably right." Maria's expression was sympathetic.
"Is that it?"
"Not really. I don't think she liked the idea of living with an invalid. It was taking me much too long to recover." Maria made a face.
"That stinks."
"I thought so."
Maria started to speak, changed her mind, shook her head disparagingly, and disappeared from sight. She brought a small tray of cheese and grapes along with a large glass of lemonade and placed it on the end table next to the rocking chair. Kerney's gut didn't react well to cheese, but he selected a small slice anyway and washed it down with the lemonade. The grapes were sweet and chilled, just the way he liked them.
She sat across from him on a love seat covered with an antique Navajo rug. She was perfectly still, her hands folded stiffly in her lap. He could see the tension in her back and neck. Her long flowing skirt draped to the floor. Only the toes of her beaded moccasins showed under the fabric. Kerney got up, moved to the love seat, and sat next to her.
"Are you all right?"
"Oh, Kerney, I'm so sorry about Mary Beth."
"Don't worry. I'm over it."
"How can you be?"
"You're right. I'm almost over it. But in a strange way she helped me get over being so damn mad at Terry. She gave me someone else to be angry at besides him." He patted her hand.
"How are you holding up?" Maria gave him a brave smile.
"I'm scared, Kerney."
"I know you are."
"It isn't like Sammy to vanish. He's such a responsible person." She shook her head vigorously to keep away the tears and looked at a framed picture of her son on the fireplace mantel. He wore his Army uniform and was photographed at an angle to display the insignia on his sleeve and a single row of ribbons on his jacket.
"I bet you talked him into sitting for that picture," Kerney ventured. He needed her to stay coherent. Maria's smile returned.
"I did. I admit it. I'm a proud mother."
"He's a handsome man. Why was he so determined to join the Army?"
"Oh, all the usual reasons. Said he wasn't ready to go to college and wanted to do something different." Exasperation crept into her voice. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he has a stubborn streak just like his father. That's why I sent him to see you. I thought maybe another man could talk some sense to him. Terry was no help whatsoever."
"I figured you had a hand in his visit." Maria shrugged.
"I'm your typical meddling mother. What's done is done. He plans to use the GI Bill after his discharge to attend the Art Institute in Chicago. He's already been accepted." Pride crept into her voice.
"He's still drawing and painting," Kerney ventured, trying to keep Maria upbeat and positive.
"Oh, yes. I think soon he'll be the best artist the pueblo ever produced. He has remarkable talent."
"You must be proud of him."
"Very." Maria fell silent. She was a striking woman, slender and fine-boned, with a symmetrical face and small nose. Her dark almond eyes, usually filled with vitality, were restless and tight. Her long black hair was thick and straight and spilled over her shoulders. There was a slight tic in the corner of one eye.
"When will you start looking for him?" she asked.
"I already have," Kerney answered. "You're my first stop." Some of Maria's stiffness dissipated. She turned and faced Kerney squarely.
"How can I help? I want to do something. Anything."
"Answer some questions. Can you think of any reason why Sammy would go A.W.O.L.?"
"No. The Army investigator asked me the same question. It made me angry. He implied that Sammy had personal problems that made him go A.W.O.L.. He was looking for character flaws. I told him Sammy wasn't the kind of person to abandon his responsibilities."