A Wedding In Willow Valley. Joan Elliott Pickart

were in love,” Laurel said.

      “No, I wouldn’t.” Dove paused. “Speaking of plans, do you have any?”

      Laurel shook her head. “I’m just doing one day at a time. Dove, I know I’m probably hurting your feelings by not telling you what happened in Virginia to bring me running home, but I just can’t talk about it yet.”

      “I understand that part,” Dove said. “I’m here to listen when you’re ready to share. I’m just wondering if you intend to just stay on here and work at the café.”

      “No, and I’ve told my mother that so she won’t be disappointed down the line when I…figure out what to do with my life.”

      “There are worse things than living in Willow Valley or here on the rez,” Dove said. “It’s peaceful. Eagle is thinking of joining the Army when he graduates. I think that structured kind of existence would suit him well. He’s very restless, edgy, and he wants to leave here as soon as he can. That’s fine—for him.

      “Me? I’ll be more than ready to not have to worry about unpleasant surprises produced by unpredictable teenagers. Each day will go more or less the way I decide it should.”

      “Dove, that sounds like something an eighty-seven-year-old person would say, not someone who is twenty-seven.”

      Dove shrugged. “I like the image of it in my mind. I’m going to have control over my own life again. Like I said…peaceful.”

      “Mmm,” Laurel said, frowning.

      Several minutes went by in silence, the two friends lost in their own thoughts. The forgotten fishing pole lay unattended on the grass.

      “I like Marilyn Montgomery,” Laurel said finally. “I met her when I came back and felt an instant bond with her, as though I’d known her for a long time. She said she moved here five years ago, but we never connected during my brief visits from Virginia.”

      “She’s very nice,” Dove said, nodding. “And she really spruced up the beauty shop when she bought it. It’s popular with locals and tourists.”

      “She didn’t say why she moved to Willow Valley,” Laurel said. “And I didn’t ask. I figured if she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.”

      “I don’t think anyone knows where she came from or why.” Dove laughed. “Not even Cadillac. He called her ‘the mystery woman’ for a while after she arrived until he got bored with the subject and went on to something else. Anyway, Marilyn is very well liked and respected.”

      “As well she should be,” Laurel said.

      “I think I hear someone coming behind that rise,” Dove said. “It might be Grandfather. He very often rides his horse on Sunday and he checks to see if I’m fishing in this spot. I want you to know that I put many a Sunday-night meal on the table over the years with the fish I caught here, plus I got to spend time with Grandfather.” She cocked her head to one side. “Yes, there is definitely a horse headed our way.”

      “It’s always wonderful to spend time with Grandfather,” Laurel said. “Everyone calls him that out of respect. I forget he’s really your great-grandfather. Does Eagle realize what an honor it is to be a descendant of a hero, a Navajo code-talker?”

      “I don’t think Eagle is that impressed by it,” Dove said. “Maybe when he’s older he’ll appreciate what Grandfather and the others did as code-talkers during World War Two. Nothing gets Eagle excited these days except the thought of leaving here.” She turned and shaded her eyes with one hand as she looked into the distance. “Yes, that’s Thunder, Grandfather’s horse. There’s no mistaking such a huge black stallion like…but…oops.”

      “Oops?” Laurel said, turning slightly to look in the same direction that Dove was. “That’s—Dove, that’s Ben riding Grandfather’s horse.” She glanced quickly to the left, then the right. “I don’t want…”

      “Quit looking for a place to hide, for heaven’s sake,” Dove said with a tsk. “Surely you can greet Ben pleasantly and he’ll do the same to you. That’s called being mature adults, in case you’re wondering.”

      Laurel glanced at Dove, then looked backward again, realizing that she was sitting in front of a wide tree and, due to the angle that Ben was coming from, there was no way he could see her.

      She smoothed her red sweater over the waistband of her jeans, then slid her hands over her head to be certain that no wispy strands had escaped since she’d braided it. She looked over to see Dove giving her a knowing little smile and glared at her again, causing Dove to laugh.

      Ben pulled the big horse to a halt about ten feet away, swung off its bare back and dropped the reins to the ground. Thunder immediately began to nibble on the grass.

      “Ya at eeh,” Ben said, striding toward Dove.

      “And greetings to you, too,” Dove said, smiling. “Why are you riding Grandfather’s horse?”

      “I went by to visit with him,” Ben said, stopping, “and…” A flash of color caught his eye and he snapped his head around. “Oh. Hello, Laurel. I didn’t realize you were here.”

      “Hello, Ben,” she said, then snatched up her pole. “Just doing a little fishing.”

      “You hate fishing,” he said, frowning. “You’re afraid you’ll catch one and will have to take it off the hook.”

      “My, my,” Dove said, “don’t you have a remarkable memory, Benjamin Skeeter.”

      “Yeah, well.” Ben shrugged, removed his Stetson then settled it back on his head. “I’d better be going. I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

      “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Dove said. “You two are being absolutely ridiculous. Ben, sit down and tell us why you’re riding Grandfather’s horse. Laurel, quit staring at the water like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve every seen.”

      “Jeez,” Ben said, settling onto the grass. “When you get into your mighty-mother mode, you’re like a drill sergeant.”

      “You’d better believe it, buster,” Dove said. “Wren, Robin and Eagle will certainly agree with you on that fact. Now, then…Grandfather? You have his horse?”

      Ben frowned. “Yeah. Grandfather said he wasn’t feeling well and Thunder needed some exercise. I said I’d take him out and put him through his paces. It has been a long time since I’ve ridden Thunder and he sure is slowing down. He’s getting older, just like the rest of us.

      “As for Grandfather, he’s just sitting in his favorite chair in his trailer, not doing anything, which isn’t like him at all.”

      “He actually said he wasn’t feeling well?” Laurel said, her eyes widening. “Grandfather doesn’t complain about anything, ever. Has he seen a doctor?”

      “I asked him that,” Ben said, “but he ignored me as though I hadn’t spoken. He was definitely finished talking, so that was that.”

      “This is frightening,” Dove said, shaking her head. “Everything you’re saying is so out of character for Grandfather. I’m going to drive out there and take him some dinner later and see what he’ll say to me.”

      “Good idea.” Ben pulled a blade of grass free and nibbled on it for a moment. “He did say one more thing just as I went out the door of his trailer.”

      “What was it?” Dove said.

      Ben tossed aside the blade of grass and sighed.

      “Ben?” Laurel said, leaning slightly toward him. “What did Grandfather say?”

      “Neasjah,” Ben said quietly, meeting Laurel’s troubled gaze.

      “Owl?” she said. “Grandfather said owl?”

      “Yeah.”