Montana Midwife. Cassie Miles

voice. “Is this an official visit? Are you representing the tribal council?”

      “I’m here as Sylvia’s friend,” her grandma said. “This is my granddaughter, Tab Willows. Tab, this is Laura Westerfall. She’s with the BIA.”

      Briskly, Laura shook Tab’s hand. “You’re the midwife. I’ve been meaning to pay you a visit.”

      “Pleased to meet you.” Tab was actually more suspicious than pleased. Agents from the Bureau of Indian Affairs often caused trouble for the tribe.

      “You’re a trained nurse, right? And you worked with a women’s clinic in Missoula.”

      “Have you been checking up on me?” Tab asked.

      “Yes, I have. If you’re planning to stay in this area, I might have a proposition for you. Recently, some grant money has come available for rural medical care, and I’d like to focus on women’s health.”

      “On the reservation?” Tab found it hard to believe there would be any significant financial aid for the relatively small Crow population. Any money at all surprised her.

      “I’m thinking of a wider area.”

      “So am I.” The women in this wide-open country—on and off the rez—had a long way to go to reach a hospital. Many were too poor to afford decent medical care. Even the services of a midwife stretched their budgets. “Are you saying the BIA could help?”

      Laura combed her fingers through her short brown hair and smiled as she held out her business card. “Give me a call. We need to talk about a women’s clinic.”

      In spite of the current problems, Tab’s spirits lifted as she imagined being able to help those who had so few resources. A grant from the BIA might be a dream come true.

      Grandma interrupted her thoughts, taking the satchel with the pie and cornbread from her hands. “Where are your manners, girl? I came here to comfort Sylvia.”

      “In the kitchen,” Laura said.

      “I’ll take care of her,” Grandma promised. “You two should go into the living room. The boys sound like they’re arguing, getting ready to lock horns.”

      Through an archway to the left was a paneled living room with heavy leather furniture and rugged coffee tables. In front of the moss rock fireplace, Sheriff Steve Fielding stood toe to toe with Aiden. Since the sheriff wasn’t much taller than Tab, Aiden towered over him and the two deputies he’d brought with him.

      Aiden’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. “I see no valid reason to take my sister into custody.”

      “If that’s the only way you’ll let me talk to her, I’ve got no damn choice.” The sheriff waved his men into action. “Deputies, I want you to arrest—”

      “Hold on.” Laura inserted herself into their argument. “What’s the problem, gentlemen?”

      Aiden spoke first. “I wanted Sheriff Fielding to handle this investigation because I believed he was better equipped to pursue the trail of evidence in a thorough manner. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe all he wants is a quick arrest.”

      “You’re the one who’s wrong,” Fielding said. “I came here to talk to Misty. Just to talk. I need some answers.”

      “You already took her statement.”

      “That cockamamie story about a mysterious shooter?”

      “I won’t have you harassing my sister. She’s been through enough today.”

      Though Tab agreed that Misty shouldn’t be subjected to more stress, she realized that Aiden was behaving in an unreasonable manner. And his overprotective attitude made it look like he had something to hide. “I have a compromise. What if the sheriff questions Misty while Aiden is present?”

      The sheriff pointed his long, sunburned nose at her and squinted like someone who needed glasses. “You’re Tab Willows, right? I need to take your statement.”

      “I’m happy to cooperate,” she said.

      “But that’s not why you came here.” His squint became even more pronounced. “You live with Maria Spotted Bear. Are you here to speak for your tribe?”

      The politics were getting annoying. Just because Tab was half Crow, it didn’t automatically make her a representative of her people. She was miles out of touch with local issues. Most of her life had been spent in Billings and Missoula. Not on the rez.

      “I’m here as a concerned person,” she said. “Young women are being murdered and their bodies dumped on the rez. I want to see the killer brought to justice.”

      “That’s the voice of common sense,” Laura said, backing her up. “Listen to her.”

      “You have no standing here, Agent Westerfall.” The sheriff hitched up his belt. “You arranged for Joseph Lefthand to cede jurisdiction. This is my purview.”

      “Don’t forget that I’m a federal agent, Sheriff. I’m not here to give orders, but I see no reason why we can’t do as Tab suggested.”

      “Here’s your reason,” the sheriff said. “I can’t get the truth from Misty while she’s hiding behind her big brother.”

      Before Aiden exploded again with righteous anger, Tab grasped his forearm and squeezed hard, compelling his attention. He wasn’t helping anything by being pigheaded. She stared into his eyes. “I’ll be with Misty while she’s talking to the sheriff. Is that all right with both of you?”

      “It’s done.” Laura gestured toward the hall. “Sheriff Fielding will wait down here in the office. Tab will bring Misty to talk with him immediately.”

      Everybody moved quickly, anxious not to destroy the fragile moment of truce. Tab found herself being escorted up the staircase by Aiden. This time, he was holding her arm above the elbow in a tight grip. His outrage manifested in a bodily heat that sizzled in the air around him.

      Under his breath, he said, “I’ll be damned if I let the sheriff connect Misty to these murders. He’s delusional.”

      “Calm down.” She fought to keep from being drawn into the vortex of his anger. “We have only a few minutes. Fill me in.”

      “The first victim was raped,” he whispered.

      “And the girl they just found?”

      “We won’t know until after the autopsy. They’re transporting the body to Billings.” His jaw clenched. “Usually, the sheriff would call on me for transport in the chopper. Now he’s treating me like a suspect. It’s crazy. These are sex crimes. How could Misty be involved?”

      On the landing at the top of the staircase, she gazed into Aiden’s gray eyes, searching for the truth. “The sheriff must have a reason.”

      “He talked to Wally who went into detail about the wild parties he’s seen up and down the river.”

      “Did he tell the sheriff that he saw David with a blonde girl named Ellen?”

      Aiden nodded. “If Wally can be trusted, David knew the victim, but so did a lot of other people. She’s a local girl. The sheriff thinks these disappearances might be a bullying thing gone wrong. When the second victim was found wearing Misty’s wristwatch, he figured she was part of the gang.”

      Aiden had said that the sheriff wanted a quick solution, and she thought he might be right. Supposing these murders were the actions of a gang tied Welling’s death to those of the missing girls. It made for a tidy solution.

      She asked, “Why would he think Misty was involved?”

      “She has a reputation for being wild.” Aiden shook his head and looked away. “Whenever there’s trouble, she seems to be the ringleader.”

      Tab attempted to put a positive spin on his words. “She’s