Free She Who Watches by Patricia H. Rushford Page B

taillights move into the darkness outside of the bright halogen lights. Tires crunched on rocks and pavement as Steve pulled out of the campground, en route to the state medical examiner’s office.
    He looked up at the red sky, the peaceful glow of the sunset long since replaced by the forest fire’s ominous presence. Ash fell like snow over the White River and the empty campground behind him. Why, God? Sara’s sweet little girl would grow up without a mother.
    â€œThe fire’s getting close.” The voice startled him. He turned to see Nate standing beside him.
    â€œSure looks that way. I hope our scene is still intact later. I’d like to see it in the daylight. Any reports from the fire line?”
    â€œBurning hot, still heading north, northeast.”Nate pulled off his green ball cap and wiped his brow with a once-white handkerchief.
    â€œMy wife and kids are going to Madras to stay with her sister, just to be on the safe side.”
    â€œDo you live on the . . .” Mac stopped midsentence, not knowing the acceptable term for the Indian reservation. Although listed on the map as a reservation, the word sounded a little harsh to Mac, and he didn’t want to offend Nate.
    â€œOn the rez?” Nate smiled. “Yeah, I have a house on Warm Springs tribal land and have some pasture land in Jefferson County.”
    Mac nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t know the proper name.”
    â€œNo worries. The reservation or rez is fine. I’m proud of my heritage and my home. I left Warm Springs for a few years, but my heart and my spirit longed to come back.”
    â€œYou moved away for work?” Mac asked.
    â€œActually, I moved away for eight years after high school—four years in the army and four years at Oregon State University. My wife and I moved back to the reservation after college to farm, raise horses, and have a family. Things were a little tight a couple of years back, so I took a job as a police reserve at the sheriff ’s office. One thing led to another, and I ended up taking a full-time officer assignment at Warm Springs. I like this line of work more than I thought I would. The Spirit led me to this profession for a reason— if nothing else, to give back to my people. Many of them are not as fortunate as myself. Alcoholism still runs rampant on the reservation, and many of our people have lost focus.”
    â€œThe Spirit?” Mac asked, thinking Nate would spin an interesting yarn of Native American beliefs.
    â€œThe Holy Spirit.” Nate turned to look at the red glow of the fire. He slapped the cap back on his head. “Do you believe in God, Mac?”
    Nate’s directness startled him. A few years ago, the question might have been met with a sneer and a flippant answer from Mac. Maybe having Kevin as a partner had changed him—made him less cynical and more at ease with the idea of God. He remembered when Kevin had asked the same question of him in the early days of their friendship. His response had been much different then. He’d answered more out of embarrassment than a true reflection of his personal beliefs.
    â€œYeah, Nate, I do.” Although he didn’t understand many things in today’s world, Mac’s faith had grown over the past year to the point he could answer the question with little hesitation. “Are you interested in working this case with us, Nate?” he asked.
    â€œYou mean it?” Nate smiled.
    â€œOf course,” Mac said.
    â€œYou bet I am.” Nate couldn’t keep from grinning.
    â€œNot that you’d have much choice.” Dana, who’d been talking to Miller and Lauden, joined them. “Having the body dumped this close to your jurisdiction, I’m sure we’re going to have some follow-up that would require your expertise.”
    â€œEver been to an autopsy?” Mac asked.
    â€œA couple of times, both on natural deaths.”
    â€œWhy don’t