Crooked Rock Braves: Crooked Rock, #4

By Pamela Sanderson

Linda and Arnie are the should have been that never happened.

Linda Bird has poured her heart into building a community for Indians in the city, but the setbacks keep coming and her supporters are losing faith. In college, Arnie Jackson was a sexy-but-aggravating rival. Now she needs his help if Crooked Rock is going to succeed. Turns out he's still sexy, he's still aggravating, and she's never gotten over him.

Arnie has dealt with every challenge Indian Country has thrown at him, but nothing could have prepared him for the accusations that bring his leadership into question. Linda has been his most loyal friend—equal parts stubborn and dazzling—and she's the only one he trusts to help him through this crisis. 

They have always been right for each other, but it's never been the right time—until now.

This is book in the Crooke Rock Urban Indian Center series.

*Not a stand alone. Readers will enjoy this book more if they read at least one earlier book in the series.*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Sanderson
• Release date: May 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393290858

Book preview

1

Everything in the truck was greasy. Arnie’s arms were shiny with it. He handled his phone with a gentle grip. Squeeze too hard and the thing could go flying into the deep-fat fryer.

He had five minutes to clean up and get across town to attend the honoring ceremony.

What’s the line like? he asked.

His nephew worked the order window. Henry daubed his forehead with a fresh white towel and leaned out to get a good look. Better than a half hour ago, but we still have people waiting to order. You got food coming up?

Arnie groaned and slapped more patties on the grill. Street fairs were always like that: more than you could handle, or a giant waste of time. He held up a finger and turned away, attempting to type a quick text to Bernard to apologize. He wiped his hands on his dirty apron and tried again.

That can’t wait until we get a break? Henry nudged him aside and moved the finished patties to their waiting buns. He swiveled to the fry table and portioned fries into serving trays. I need four more elk burgers, one medium rare, and five Ind’n fries.

Arnie pushed him back toward the window. I got it. Hey, do you know what time Linda is showing up? He tried to sound casual. The plan was to avoid Linda without appearing to be avoiding Linda.

She didn’t give me her schedule, Henry said, returning to the prep area. He searched the cupboards for more wrapping foil.

Can you handle this? I need to be somewhere, Arnie said.

Henry’s foot shot out and grazed his shin.

I take that as a no. I’ll stick around. While Arnie had the phone out, the impossible-to-ignore red notification circles said fourteen new emails and seven texts in the last hour. His chest tightened.

Two more people in line. Henry slapped the wrappers down and moved back to the window.

Arnie put the phone away and bagged up the finished burgers before reaching into the freezer to pull out more patties. He split additional buns and dealt them face down around the edges of the grill. The fries came in giant brown bags, and he dumped half a bag into the remaining empty fryer.

The back door of the food truck was rolled open, and he pretended a breeze came through to keep the area bearable. A timer bleeped, and he grabbed a basket from the fryer and let it drain before emptying it out on the rack and dousing it with the Ind’n spices. He reset the timer.

Henry checked the contents of the bag. Which one is the medium burger?

We don’t do medium when we’re busy like this, Arnie muttered. Tell them I put the special order on the bottom.

He discarded a greasy towel and grabbed a fresh one to wipe his hands before returning to work, squinting through the oily mist to count his burgers. I lost track of the orders.

So did I, Henry said. Keep ‘em coming.

A half hour later, the line was clear.

Go do your thing. Henry scrambled to rearrange the stock for the next rush.

Too late. I missed it. Bernard will never forgive me, Arnie said as he scraped the grill.

What was it?

Posthumous honoring. Bernard is a fellow councilman. His wife created a program for urban Ind’ns with addiction issues. No one from council wanted to go, but I promised to be there.

He’ll get over it, Henry said. He twisted the top of a bag of trash and took it outside.

Bernard was unlikely to get over it. The outpatient treatment center was being named for his family, a high honor and the result of years of work. Arnie would figure out a way to make it up to him.

He stepped out of the truck with a bottle of cold water. Henry stood in the shade, wiping his neck with a damp towel. The cooler air outdoors breezed over his sweaty skin.

All those calls from your girlfriend? Henry asked.

She’s not my girlfriend, he said.

Henry snickered. That’s not what everyone else thinks.

The calls are work related. He used his own clean towel to wipe off his hands before he checked his phone. Three more texts and seven emails since the last time.

On the weekend? Henry said.

Tribal council never sleeps. Meetings, committees, conferences. People who invite me to come speak at events. Yes, it’s true, people want to hear me talk. I haven’t been in office long and I want to do everything I can.

Sounds exhausting, Henry said.

His nephew had been an urban Indian all his life and didn’t have the first clue about tribal government representation.

It’s all about the big picture. Always trying to raise my profile.

Profile for what?

Bigger things. Arnie would share his aspirations soon enough.

Seems like too much, Henry said.

Never too much, Arnie said. He wiped the towel over his arms and face but couldn’t lose that greasy feeling.

Henry’s girlfriend, Rayanne, returned from working the street-fair crowd. You two look shiny. She reached out to touch Henry’s hair and snatched her hand back. "Ew."

I am made of grease at the moment, Henry agreed.

The food truck was out to promote the Crooked Rock Urban Indian Center. They called Rayanne a project manager, but the staff was small, so everyone did everything. She and another Crooked Rock staff member, Ester, had spent several hours at the fair, passing out fliers to share information about the center. Ester climbed into the truck and grabbed a cold drink.

Smells like Ind’n country in there, she said, wiggling her body as if to shake off greasy fumes.

Sticks with you, Arnie agreed. How is it going?

Hard to be sure, Rayanne said. People take the flier and act interested.

Whoever had the idea to bring elk burgers and fliers to a street fair is a genius, Ester said.

Rayanne smiled. Thank you.

Arnie said, Write this down, because I don’t say it often, but you were right. More than once Arnie tried to talk them out of hauling the food truck out for the event.

Rayanne put the fliers away. She nodded at Henry. Next shift is up. We’re joining the shave ice line and then checking out the bands. Can you get away?

More potential customers stopped to look at the menu. Henry pointed an elbow at them, then shook his head.

Go ahead, Arnie said. I can handle it.

He got back in the truck and took the order. As he got the food started, his phone chimed and Katie’s name came up.

How’s it going out there? she asked.

The people have spoken and turns out they love elk burgers. Two more people waited at the order window. He glanced into the busy throng of the festival, hoping to call Henry back.

What about that ceremony? Katie asked.

Already missed it, he said.

If I come get you right now?

Nope. I won’t be out of here for a while. You want to meet me here?

Not while it’s hot out, Katie said. Call me when you’re done.

I will. I’ve got orders, I gotta run. When he returned to the window, he spotted her.

Linda, the UIC’s director, pushed her way through the crowd, her face alight with a carefree smile. Her hair was loose and shimmering in the sunlight. She had on a sleeveless blouse and her bare arms glowed golden brown. The girl of his dreams.

Right next to her, hand on her arm to guide her through the crowd, was Virgil, the guy who was stealing her off to Colorado. Arnie had been hoping to avoid this meeting. Being around her brought up too many confusing old feelings that he should have gotten over long ago.

Ugh. Do not want to talk to that guy.

Linda’s regular expression of strained optimism had been replaced with glowing contentment. It was easier to be happy for her if they weren’t in the same room.

She saw him in the window and waved.

Linda and Virgil spotted the food truck at the same time.

Virgil kept his hand on her arm. That is quite a paint job. No way to miss that.

The fire-engine-red burger truck had a bright yellow petroglyph of an elk and giant block letters: REAL REZ.

Several people waited near the order window where Arnie handed out a bag of food. He looked up and raised his eyebrows by way of greeting before turning back to the grill. An unwelcome thrill flared throughout her body. Whenever they were in the same place, those old unrequited feelings surfaced again.

The truck had a back door that rolled up. Linda peeked inside.

How’s it going?

Getting killed, Arnie said. Can you text Henry and ask him to come back?

Sure. She considered offering her help but an unpleasant cloud of grease and hot air floated from inside.

Arnie glanced back. How’re you guys doing?

Great. Virgil had crowded next to her to look inside. Nice day for this, he said.

Arnie gave him the same generic friendly face he put on for anyone he had to deal with in Indian Country.

Didn’t expect to see you today, Linda said. He had been so busy lately, she hadn’t seen him at all. She’d hoped to avoid being around Arnie and Virgil at the same time, but Virgil insisted on walking her through the fair.

Even wilted from working the truck, Arnie looked good. A dirty apron covered his front and, from the back, a perfect view of old, faded, and good-fitting blue jeans and a threadbare T-shirt. What looked like a tattoo peeked out from under one sleeve. She’d known him over ten years and she’d never seen him wear jeans or a T-shirt. She coaxed her eyes away from his butt.

He twisted around. What have you two been up to? He used the same tone one might use for people who came to your door to talk about religion.

Not much, she said. Virgil picked me up for breakfast, you know that place that has the fluffy biscuits bigger than your head? Everyone has been talking about that place. It’s down by… I forget the street. It’s near the old mall. The coffee was good, too. Right? She looked at Virgil. The words burst out fast and loud as if to keep the conversation away from something she hadn’t identified yet.

Sure. Arnie did a flipping thing with an oversized spatula, the kind big enough to flip a loaf of bread. To Virgil, he said, Henry’s taking his time. You wanna help?

Virgil smiled and shook his head. Open house this weekend. I have work to do at home, plus my weekly bike ride. Have fun. He turned to Linda.

She hoped no one watched them say goodbye. Once Virgil had invited her to move to Colorado with him, their relationship had taken a strange turn. The two of them together had never been more than an idea waiting for an outcome, but it had evolved into a goofy arranged relationship as if they were now duty bound to turn it into something.

Linda hadn’t figured it out yet. They were either moving away together, or he was moving and she would stay and it would be over.

Virgil leaned forward. The movement so startled her, she jerked back, which surprised him. They laughed awkwardly, Linda much too loudly, and in the crushing awkwardness of the moment, she moved her face to his and they bumped cheek bones.

She pretended that’s what she intended and moved away, eager for him to go. With perfect timing, Henry arrived with Rayanne and Ester. Henry took a mouthful of Rayanne’s towering shave ice before he jumped on the truck to take orders.

Hey, guys, Rayanne said, inspecting them if searching for clues. Linda gave her a dirty look.

Virgil said, Call me when you’re done. I’ll tell you how it goes. She watched him walk away for something for her eyes to do.

You made your decision, Arnie called from the truck, his voice loud and flat. You have a moving date?

Linda’s entire body flinched. She gave him a warning look, but he was busy cooking.

Rayanne’s gaze swiveled back to her. Moving?

Arnie added, You should find someone to rent your house when you go to Colorado.

Ester sucked in a breath like she was about to blow up a balloon, her eyes wide.

Rayanne’s eyes went dark, and she puffed out her cheeks. You’re moving to Colorado?

Arnie must have clued in that he’d blown it. He went still, spatula poised above the grill. He opened his mouth as if to say something but changed his mind.

Linda summoned her lessons from meditation class. Long breath in, long breath out. No one has decided anything—

Seriously? Rayanne said, about seventy-five percent failing to hold in tears.

Linda tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but Rayanne pulled away. I didn’t want to talk about it until I knew whether I was serious.

Rayanne shot an angry look toward the food truck. Then why does he know?

Linda fumbled for words. I didn’t—

Why are you even thinking about it?

Muddled sounds of percussion came from the other end of the street fair. Inside the truck, Arnie and Henry had gone quiet.

Linda tried again. Let me say—

Rayanne held up a hand to stop her. I thought we were working together on something. All this time, we’ve been sticking together, keeping on task, working toward a goal.

We are. I have an opportunity. Linda’s calm unraveled at the edges. I can look, can’t I?

Rayanne lowered her voice and hissed, I thought you didn’t like Nerdgil.

She turned around and hurried away through the crowd.

Rayanne. Linda watched her disappear.

Ester’s eyes were wide and watery. It’s a big surprise, boss.

For me, too, Linda said. She turned to the guys in the truck, but already Henry was peeling off his apron.

I’ll go talk to her.

Henry! Arnie called from the truck. He let out a few cuss words.

Henry ran through the crowd to find his girlfriend. Meanwhile, the line at the window had doubled in a short time.

Arnie came to the door. I need help in here.

That’s my cue to skedaddle, Ester said. Theo and I are looking for housing this afternoon so we can move out of the world’s tiniest apartment. She gave Linda a big hug before unlocking her bike and taking off.

I’ll text Henry, Linda said.

I didn’t realize you weren’t telling them, Arnie called from inside the truck.

A typical Arnie non-apology. She was tempted to remind him that she’d told him in confidence, but no sense arguing about it now.

From the front of the truck, someone hollered, You in there Jackson?

Arnie swore.

Linda walked around to see who was there.

One of the Crooked Rock executive board members and Arnie’s fellow councilmen, Bernard, stood there in a nice suit, his hair in two neat braids, a beaded medallion around his neck. His eyes blazed. Arnie was making everyone mad today.

Linda leaped into the truck, determined to demonstrate that Crooked Rock was teamwork in action.

Inside, the air was too warm and heavy, and regret soon followed. Arnie had the grill covered with burgers. Split buns were scattered, some around the grill, the rest piled on a narrow prep area. Fries burbled in hot oil.

Hey, Bernard, Linda said, mustering her best cheerful smile.

I’m sorry, Bernard, Arnie called. We’ve been slammed. I couldn’t get away.

So you do know that word, Linda said under her breath.

Arnie ignored her and tossed more patties on the grill. He emptied a basket of fries into a stainless steel pan, then refilled the basket with frozen fries and dropped it into the fryer.

These people couldn’t do this themselves? Bernard said.

We needed an expert, Linda said, stung by the sound of ‘these people.’ He meant the Crooked Rock staff. She’d been in the truck less than three minutes and already her skin was crawling with an oily sheen. Can we get you a burger?

Bernard had joined Arnie on the Crooked Rock executive board the previous year but he’d never participated much and, when he did, his enthusiasm meter never rated above mild ambivalence.

No, I don’t want a burger, Bernard said. I wanted my own people to show up for my wife’s honoring. I can eat elk burgers at home.

She flinched at the force of his retort. The angry man grimaced, his eyes cold. Here she was trying to be helpful and she’d landed in the middle of one of Arnie’s rez squabbles.

Bernard had more to say. Arnie should have known. The elder stalked around the truck to the open back door.

No need to get after at her, Arnie said in a pleasant voice. I’m the one who blew it.

Bernard nodded that he agreed. You on the rez tomorrow? He inspected the inside of the truck with a wary scowl.

Arnie straightened out a row of buns and placed finished patties on them. He flipped the burgers remaining on the grill, with great flourish to demonstrate how busy he was. I’ll be home with Henry. We gotta break down this truck and clean it before we return it. You need help with something?

Stop by. I need to talk to you, Bernard said.

Will do, Arnie said, happy to see him leave.

Linda remained in the truck, assessing the layout, still unspoiled by the haze of cooked food.

Are you helping? he asked.

She plastered a welcoming smile on her face. We’re all part of the same team, aren’t we?

Bernard left, Arnie said.

Linda scowled. It’s amazing how many ways you can find to be infuriating.

Can you take orders? Arnie said.

Can I listen to the words that people say and act upon them with complete accuracy? Yes, I can do that.

Arnie smiled to himself. He pointed at the order window. I’d apologize, but we have food to serve. Your pretty clothes will never be the same after an hour back here. Henry stashed some Beat Braves T-shirts under that counter if you want to put one of those on. There’s also a cleanish apron.

Linda ignored his advice and went to the order window and balked at the line that now stretched across the concourse.

She mustered an enthusiastic smile. How can I help you?

Arnie still cringed on the inside. Linda had confided in him weeks ago about the Colorado thing. Seeing her and what’s-his-face arrive looking so cozy and companionable, his mind had leaped to the obvious conclusion that she’d decided. But from Rayanne’s reaction, he’d blown her secret. The words were out, too late to take back.

He kept eyeing her at the order window. She angled herself to the customers and avoided looking at him. Her skirt was shorter than she usually wore. She had nice legs. He dragged his eyes away from the hem. Virgil was a good guy. Or good enough.

At the window, someone asked, What’s in an elk burger? The customer pronounced each letter of elk like it was a foreign word.

Linda turned to him.

He gestured at the grill. You know what they say, if you have to ask…

Her face didn’t change. By the tiniest quirk of an eyebrow, she made him feel like an even bigger jerk.

He said, I don’t know. The usual? Ground elk from the rez, a fancy bakery bun with seeds on it, onions, tomato, lettuce, and a secret sauce Henry concocted that I think is all the regular condiments stirred together. Is there a food allergy or—?

Linda turned back to the window and leaned out with a conspiratorial smile and said something he couldn’t hear.

She turned again, And the Indian fries?

Arnie wrapped up a finished burger and measured out an order of fries for her to hand out. He came to stand with her at the window. Fried potato wedges with salt and secret spices.

The woman said, Can I have it without the secret spices?

You want regular French fries? Linda asked.

The woman nodded.

You got that? Linda asked.

You’re a natural, Arnie said.

They fell into an easy rhythm. Linda found the cooler of cold drinks herself and chatted easily with the customers, figuring out how to bring up Crooked Rock with each transaction.

It took forever, but the rush ended and they tidied up. Linda pulled an empty napkin dispenser from the front counter.

Up there, Arnie said, pointing with his chin. She fought with the cabinet door. It made a metallic shriek when she finally yanked it open.

I’d say this thing needs oil but, seeing how everything is covered with it, your problem may be more serious than that.

It’s a rez cart, Arnie said. Needs more duct tape.

She pulled out a fresh sleeve of napkins without even gracing him with a smile.

I shouldn’t have blabbed, he said. I just… you two looked… it seemed obvious… He didn’t know what he wanted to say.

"What did I say when I confided in you as a courtesy so you wouldn’t be caught off guard? ‘I don’t even know how seriously I’m considering it,’" Linda said.

I remember something like that. Too late now. Nothing about her face or her posture revealed a clue for how it was going. He didn’t want to ask.

Why don’t you tell me a secret? she said. He hoped she didn’t want to talk about Katie.

She shook the fry seasoning shaker into her palm and studied the results. "Let me