Close Proximity by Donna Clayton Page B

on his arm, so Libby let it slide down to her side.
    â€œCheyenne visits me a couple of times a week. Often Jackson comes with her.”
    Nodding, Libby wasn’t yet ready to let him go. “You said that when she was born, you and Cheyenne were brought back to Crooked Arrow. But you never said what it was like for you during your early years in Prosperino. Having to leave the reservation when you were so young must have been hard for you.”
    His mouth drew into a taut line and his dark eyes went flat as he shut down on her.
    â€œYou wouldn’t find my story an interesting one. Believe me.”
    Just as she was about to protest, he continued, “But I do have something to tell you.”
    He gazed out the kitchen window, and she realized suddenly that the sun had risen, that its rays warmed the side of her face.
    â€œWhile I was out there this morning—” with a slight lift of his chin he indicated the yard beyond the clear glass pane “—I decided it was time to come clean.”
    â€œCome clean about what?” She’d been curious about his youth and thought that discovering more about his childhood, his upbringing, might give her some insight into the vast complexities of who he was.
    She’d noticed that he had what could almost be described as a chip on his shoulder when it came to figures of authority. Especially when those authority figures were male and their skin was white.
    Libby remembered the harshness of his tone when he spoke of the anti-Native American sentiment that ran rampant through the all-Caucasian board of directors at Springer, Inc. Of the board, only her father, a man who did what he could to help the local Mokee-kittuun, had been spared Rafe’s verbal wrath. She’d noticed how he’d looked at the guards at the jailhouse. And he’d acted a bit prickly around Sergeant Lummus at the hospital emergency room, as well.
    She suspected Rafe’s attitude stemmed from his years living under Curtis James’s roof. Prosperino was a small town. And although she hadn’t been able to bring herself to reveal this information to Rafe, Libby knew Curtis James had carried around the label of town drunk.
    â€œI didn’t feel comfortable admitting this before now,” he said. “But I arrived on your doorstep with…um…”
    One of his sun-kissed shoulders lifted in a shrug.
    â€œWell, I guess you could say I have a theory about the case.”
    Libby didn’t bother to conceal her surprise. “You know who’s behind the DMBE contamination?”
    â€œNot who,” he told her. “Only why.”
    â€œYou should have said something.”
    He had issues with trust. Hadn’t she just surmised that those issues stemmed from his childhood upbringing? However, she’d thought his lack of trust was focused on those who, for one reason or another, made him experience a feeling of powerlessness. But now she was recognizing that his trust issues ran deeper than she first thought. He hadn’t been able to confide in her his thoughts and opinions regarding her father’s case. Well, he hadn’t until now.
    She’d love if he would open his heart to her, reveal his reasons for not feeling secure enough with her to divulge his theories. But he’d already shut her out once this morning. So digging into his psyche would have to wait. Right now she’d have to be content talking about the case.
    â€œWhy, Rafe? What do you think is motivating the person who’s responsible for the contamination?”
    The dark orbs of his pupils were so intense that Libby felt a shiver skitter down her spine.
    â€œThe land. They want the land.”
    â€œWhat land?”
    Unwittingly, Rafe reached up and smoothed his palm across his chest. “Several months ago your father met with the Mokee-kittuun Elders. He explained that Springer was in need of land to expand their operation. He asked the Elders if