Wild Inferno by Sandi Ault Read Free Book Online Page A

did. But we didn’t find him. He could have walked out.”
    She made a sardonic grin. “Not Grampa Ned. He drove everywhere—he’s always been a smoker and he doesn’t have such good wind anymore.”
    â€œWell, maybe someone met him, picked him up.”
    â€œNed Spotted Cloud didn’t have a friend in this world, Miss…what’d you say your name was?”
    â€œWild. Jamaica Wild.”
    She leaned forward, pursing her lips and studying me. “That’s a funny name for a white girl.”
    I shrugged. My name was always the source of curious comments and strange reactions. I searched for something to say. “It’s not nearly as nice as Clara White Deer,” I finally managed. “That’s a beautiful name.”
    She lifted her chin even higher, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Eventually she nodded. “There’s a little café a block from here. I’ll buy you a lemonade. Their iced tea tastes awful.” She picked up a handbag from beneath the desk and started for the door.

    A half hour later, we were sitting across from one another in a booth, sipping lemonade. “Why do you call Ned ‘Grampa’?” I asked. “Is he any relation to you?”
    She laughed. “Now, that’s real funny. No, he’s no relation to me, none whatsoever. Everyone calls him Grampa. It started as a joke years ago, but it just kept on going. Ned was always a ladies’ man. He had so many girlfriends that everyone used to say that four out of five kids on the Southern Ute Reservation were his children. Then, as he got older, they just started teasing him, calling him Grampa.”
    â€œDid he ever marry?” I was thinking of the burning man’s words: Save the grandmother.
    â€œGrampa Ned?” She snorted. “No. He never cared about anyone but himself.”
    I watched her as she rummaged in her purse and pulled out a tube of lip balm. She smeared some on, then said, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
    â€œI’m sorry. It’s just that…well, a little while ago when you were saying you were sure he was dead…I mean, I guess I thought you were upset because you cared about him and we couldn’t find him.”
    â€œOh, don’t worry,” she said, plopping the tube back into her purse. “I probably care as much as almost anyone does about Ned Spotted Cloud. He’s a Southern Ute, a member of my tribe. I guess I care for that reason. But you won’t find anyone around here who will say anything nice about him.” She paused a moment and put her hand to her chin as if she had thought of something. Then the hand came away and she held it up in the air as if she had surrendered whatever had come to mind. “At least not anyone who really knows him. You think I’m making this up? You ought to speak to Mary Takes Horse. You know the trading post on the corner downtown? That’s her place. She’s one of the tribal storytellers—she’ll give you an earful about Grampa Ned.”
    When the waitress brought the check, I grabbed for it, but Clara White Deer was faster.
    â€œI’ll get that,” I said. “It was my idea.”
    â€œNo, I’m buying,” she said. “You did me a favor. I’m calmer now. It was good to just talk—you know, say it how it is? Besides, I told you, I probably got more money than you. The Southern Utes are well off—we’re not some starving, illiterate tribe looking for government handouts to get by.”
    â€œI didn’t mean…”
    â€œWe’re the richest tribe in the country. Our people are very savvy. We have excellent health care and good education for our children. And we take care of our own: every member of the Southern Ute tribe gets a check every month whether she works or not—a big check. It’s from the investments our tribe has made with the income from our gas and