Free Coyote Destiny by Allen Steele

yesterday, but I am your cousin . . . in a certain sense, at least.”
    Despite the fact that he now knew Inez to be a relative, it was hard to think of this woman as belonging to his family. “I’ll try to remember that.”
    A nod, then the smile vanished as quickly as it had come. “As you should. And you should also keep in mind something else.” A tentative pause. “I’m aware of your feelings for my daughter. I think . . . that is, I’m sure . . . that you know that, too.”
    Jorge felt a chill. “Yes, ma . . . um, yes, I do.” He hesitated. “There’s probably not much you don’t know about me, is there?”
    Melissa shook her head. “Actually, there is. Contrary to what’s often said about the Order, we don’t make a practice of eavesdropping on other people’s thoughts. In fact, much of our training involves learning how to stay out of another person’s mind. Our talents are a gift, and as such shouldn’t be abused. So your secrets are, by and large, still your own.”
    She let out her breath. “Having said that, though . . . yes, I know how you feel about her. That became obvious to me the moment I saw the two of you together. Before I was able to block your thoughts, I found something that I never expected . . . that you’re in love with her.”
    Jorge’s face became warm. As much as he wanted to deny what she’d just said, he knew that any lies he might tell would be futile. Instead, he sat down heavily upon the bed.
    “Yes,” he murmured. “You’re right. I am.”
    Melissa regarded him with solemn eyes. “She knows this . . . and it’s unfair that she wasn’t able to tell you who she really is, if only because it would have spared you a lot of heartache and embarrassment. But the mistake has been made, and all you can do now is try not to make it worse. Jorge, your affection for her is misplaced. You may continue to love her as a cousin . . . but that’s as far as it may ever go.”
    He shifted uncomfortably, unable to look Inez’s mother in the eye. “I know that. And I . . . I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
    Melissa nodded but didn’t respond at once. He wondered if she was reaching into his mind; despite what she’d just told him, he didn’t trust her to refrain from exploring his thoughts. “For your sake and hers,” she said at last, “I hope that’s true . . . because the two of you are about to go on a journey together that will test the limits of your relationship.”
    He looked up. “Pardon me? I don’t . . .”
    “No, of course not . . . and I’ve said too much already.” Turning away from him, she stepped toward the door. “But you’ll understand soon enough. Good night, Jorge.”
    Without another word, Melissa left the room. Jorge stared at the door for a while before he finally got undressed and put himself in bed. But even after he told the room to turn off the lights, it was a long time before he was able to fall asleep.
     
     
    Jorge woke up at eight o’clock when a low but persistent chime from the ceiling succeeded in getting him to open his eyes. Climbing out of bed, he glanced through the window at nearby Sand Creek, where he saw a thin skin of ice reflecting the morning sun, then lurched to the bathroom. He emerged from the shower a few minutes later to find a covered tray on the dresser; someone had delivered a bowl of cereal, toast and marmalade, a glass of apple juice, and a small pot of coffee. He hadn’t slept well; at least breakfast would help wake him up.
    The civilian clothes he’d found on his bed the night before were his size: dark trousers, long-sleeve tunic, fisherman’s sweater, socks, and a pair of moccasins. Nothing official-looking; again, Jorge wondered why he wasn’t being allowed to wear his Corps uniform. As he got dressed, he listened to the morning news on the desk comp. Weather reports, local news, a feature story about a new settlement on Pawnee, followed by an interview with a well-known mystery writer . . . but