Saving amanda, p.1
Saving Amanda, page 1
Saving Amanda
Brotherhood Protectors Yellowstone
Book Three
Elle James
Twisted Page Inc
Contents
Saving Amanda
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Saving Liliana
Chapter 1
About the Author
Also by Elle James
Saving Amanda
Brotherhood Protectors Yellowstone Book #3
New York Times & USA Today
Bestselling Author
* * *
ELLE JAMES
Copyright © 2022 by Elle James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
© 2022 Twisted Page Inc. All rights reserved.
EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-62695-387-1
PRINT ISBN: 978-1-62695-388-8
Dedicated to my friend Amanda, a carefree soul who can switch on “mom” mode in a nanosecond. Let’s share another grand adventure!
Elle James
Author’s Note
Enjoy other military books by Elle James
* * *
Brotherhood Protectors Yellowstone
Saving Kyla (#1)
Saving Chelsea (#2)
Saving Amanda (#3)
Saving Liliana (#4)
Saving Breely (#5)
Saving Savvie (#6)
Visit ellejames.com for more titles and release dates
Join her newsletter at
https://ellejames.com/contact/
Prologue
“Move!” a deep voice pierced the veil of murky shadows inside Tobi’s mind.
In an attempt to clear the fog and focus on the voice’s owner, he shook his head. The sudden movement caused his world to spin faster and rubbery legs to falter. “Why?” he asked, his words slurring. The sound of his voice echoed in his head, strange even to his own ears.
“Don’t you remember?” the voice said. “It’s the great hunt. We have to get the buffalo to the edge of the cliff. The others are waiting.”
He shook his head more slowly this time. “Not making sense. What buffalo?”
“We are but a few among our ancestors. To live, we must hunt or join our ancestors and become just as extinct. Move!”
“Hold on,” Tobi reached out his hands into the darkness of the night sky. Clouds scuttled across the full moon and the blanket of stars shining down on Montana, dimming the natural light.
“I can’t see straight,” Tobi said, staggering forward.
“You don’t need to. I’ll guide you,” the voice said.
“Good, because I don’t know where the hell I am.” Tobi stumbled forward.
“You’re a great warrior. One of a dying race. Your tribe needs you to provide for them.”
“I don’t have a gun, a bow or even a knife.”
“You don’t need them to run the buffalo,” the voice said. A shadowy figure moved alongside him in the darkness.
“Run the buffalo?” Tobi tried, but he couldn’t comprehend what the man meant.
“Raise your hands; get them moving.”
“What buffalo?” Tobi stumbled across the uneven ground. “I don’t see them. I can’t think. Everything is fuzzy.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second and fell to his knees.
A hand gripped his elbow and dragged him back onto his feet.
“Juss let me sleep,” Tobi begged. Surely, if he took even a little nap, his sight and mind would clear.
“No time.” The relentless hand on his arm urged him to remain on his feet and push forward again. “Your people will starve if we don’t run the buffalo.”
“They can go to the store.”
“No stores. You must run the buffalo. See them?” The figure’s other black-clad arm swept before them.
Tobi shook his head, causing it to spin again. “Buffaloes have been gone for a long time.”
“No. You’re wrong. They’re here, right in front of you. Wave your arms and run toward them. You’ll see.”
“Want to sleep,” Tobi cried. “Who are you? Why won’t you let me sleep?”
“I’m the spirit of your ancestors. Your people need you to provide for them. Isn’t that what you and the other Young Wolves are trying to do?”
Tobi frowned. He couldn’t think straight, but the spirit spoke of the secret he’d sworn to keep. “How do you know?”
“I am a spirit,” the shadow walker said. “I know what you know.”
“Where am I?” Tobi’s steps slowed as he stared out at the vastness of the heavens above. Stars filled the black sky, shedding enough light to bathe them in indigo blue.
When he tried to focus on the stars, they blurred and merged into a glob of light, swimming like a school of minnows in dark waters, their silvery bodies shimmering.
The hand on his arm urged him forward. “The buffalo. We must feed our people. The government doesn’t care. Only the Young Wolves.”
“Only the Wolves,” Tobi echoed, unable to form independent thoughts of his own. Something had seized his brain and refused to let go.
“Your people are hungry. They will die without your help.”
“Hungry,” Tobi said.
“Do you see the buffalo?” the spirit asked. “They’re waiting for you to run them over the edge. But you have to move faster, or they will turn on you.”
The spirit, holding tightly to his arm, picked up speed until he had Tobi sprinting.
“Run like the wind,” the spirit shouted. “Only you can save your people. Run!”
Tobi focused on lifting one foot after the other, his feet churning up dust, his arms pumping the air. With the spirit beside him, he could do anything.
His people needed him. They were starving. They needed the buffalo to sustain their way of life.
As he powered across the rocky terrain, the spirit ran alongside him, urging him to go faster.
“Do you see them now?” the spirit shouted.
His vision alternated between blurred and extremely sensitive to the shining profusion of stars overhead. When he stared up at the stars and back to the ground in front of him, shadows swirled. They could be the buffaloes Shadow Spirit insisted were there. All he had to do was herd them to the edge where they’d fall to their deaths, and his people could harvest the meat and hides. One buffalo could feed an entire village.
His people would not starve. The Young Wolves could get out of the business of stealing from their supplier. Everyone in the group wanted out. They just couldn’t figure out how to break free without becoming targets of one of the most dangerous Native American gangs in the contiguous United States.
The NA Syndicate had a reputation for eliminating those who threatened their legitimacy.
Not that any of that mattered. Not when his people would starve if he didn’t herd the bison over the cliff’s edge. He had yet to see the lurking bison or the cliff’s brink.
He leaned forward, letting gravity pull him along, his feet moving, his arms still pumping the air.
“That’s it,” Spirit said. “That’s how you’ll conquer the world. One step at a time. One more obstacle to overcome. Feed them, and your people will follow you. Drive the buffalo over the edge. Don’t stop until we have enough to sustain our people. Go! Go! Go!”
Tobi picked up speed, the hand on his arm holding him steady as he ran toward the dark shadows, the herd of buffaloes that would save his people from starvation.
He waved his hands and shouted, whooping like an Arapaho warrior of old, or at least a contributing member of the Young Wolves, bent on helping his people through hard times.
“For our people,” Spirit yelled.
“For our people,” Tobi echoed.
Then they were at the edge of the cliff.
Tobi dug in his heels to slow himself.
His feet slid across loose pebbles as his momentum pushed him onward.
“For your people,” Spirit shouted.
Tobi pitched forward, teetering on the edge of the cliff.
Where were the buffaloes?
His vision swirled and blurred.
“Fly like the wind,” Spirit urged.
Tobi tried to back away, but he couldn’t.
The wind—or maybe Spirit—shoved him from behind, sending him soaring over the edge.
Tobi spread his wings and soared into the night sky.
Chapter 1
“I’m so glad you came to visit.” Chelsea Youngblood reached across the table at Wolf Creek Diner in West Yellowstone, Montana, and took Amanda’s hand. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other.”
Amanda nodded. “Since we hiked the Tetons after graduating from UM.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Has it been that long?”
Amanda nodded. “And yet it’s like not a day has gone by.” She smiled at her former college roommate. “You haven’t aged a day.”
“You haven’t either,” C helsea said.
“How are your wolves?” Amanda asked.
Chelsea’s face lit up. “Better than ever. If I can keep the ranchers from shooting them, they have half a chance at long, natural lives in the park.” Her eyebrows dipped. “How is your job working with people? Are you still working with the Montana State Child Protective Services?”
Amanda sighed. “No. I’ve moved to Wyoming.”
Chelsea’s eyebrows winged upward. “That’s new. I thought working with foster children was your dream job.”
“It was, and I felt like I was helping.” Amanda glanced away.
“Then why did you leave it?”
She met Chelsea’s gaze. “There were others doing the same job I was. I got a call from an organization that practically begged me to come work with them. Their only counselor got pregnant and went home to Ohio. They were desperate. I couldn’t say no.”
Chelsea grinned. “It’s nice to be so sought-after.”
Amanda nodded. “The call came from my former foster parent. The man who set me on the path to get my college degree and to go on to become certified in counseling. How could I say no?”
Chelsea chuckled. “How is Joe?”
Her lips twisting into a wry grin, Chelsea answered, “Still alive and kicking ass, but he’s way understaffed.”
“That has to be a huge burden for the Chief of Tribal Police.” Chelsea squeezed Amanda’s hand and let go. “So, you went back to the rez.”
Amanda’s lips pressed together. “I did.”
“And how is that working for you?”
She sighed. “I think I’m in way over my head.”
Chelsea’s eyebrows dipped. “Why? You’re the best counselor to graduate from the University of Montana. There’s nothing you can’t do. You’ll always make a difference.”
Amanda’s heart swelled at her friend’s words. “I needed this,” she said. “I needed someone to tell me I’m doing the right thing.”
Chelsea snorted. “When have you ever done anything that wasn’t the right thing? You’re the rule-follower.”
“Because Joe made me one.” Amanda smiled at her friend. “And you were the rebel.”
“Someone had to be.” Chelsea sat back in her seat. “So, spill. What’s shaking your confidence? Start at the beginning with where you’ve landed.”
With a deep breath, Amanda dove in. “I’m working with teens on the Wind River Reservation about two hours from here.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened, and she let out a low whistle. “I don’t think you could’ve chosen a harder job unless you were counseling teens in the gang-ridden streets of Chicago.”
Amanda drew in a deep breath. “I have to admit, I almost changed my mind a dozen times driving there the first day. My feet were so cold I was ready to run.”
“Why didn’t you?” Chelsea held up a hand. “No, wait. You’re Amanda. When you commit to something, you don’t back down.”
Amanda snorted. “That’s me.”
“I can imagine a dozen reasons why you’ve had second thoughts,” Chelsea said. “Things can get rough on the Rez. I’ve heard things are pretty bad there.”
“They were bad when Joe brought me home, back when I was sixteen.” Amanda’s lips twisted. “Bad doesn’t begin to describe how things are now.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Then why don’t you leave?”
“As bad as it is, there are people who don’t deserve to be forgotten. Not everyone on the reservation is corrupt or evil. There are a lot of good people caught up in a bad situation.” Amanda smiled. “Tara Running Fox is one of them. Seventeen years old and a true old soul. I don’t think she ever got the chance to be a child.”
“Happens too often,” Chelsea said. “I’m sure you run into some tough cases.”
Amanda nodded.
“Tara and her twin brother were raised by their mother. Their father wrapped his truck around a tree when Tara was only a baby, which was probably just as well. He was an alcoholic and abusive toward their mother. When he died, it was a relief to the entire family. But it made it more challenging for their mother to put food on the table, pay the utilities and get the kids an education.”
“What’s troubling her besides life on the reservation?” Chelsea asked.
Amanda’s back stiffened, and she sat up straighter. “Tara’s twin committed suicide two days ago.”
Chelsea sat still, her gaze on Amanda. “I’m sorry to hear that. How’s Tara taking it? It’s hard enough to lose a brother…but a twin?”
Amanda’s heart pinched in her chest. “All her mother wanted was to give her children the best start they could get in life. But she had to work two jobs to do it—cleaning rooms at a hotel and working as a waitress at the casino.”
“Which means she was never home,” Chelsea concluded.
“Exactly.” Amanda glanced out the window of the diner. “Tara and her twin Tobi pretty much raised the younger two children.”
“Was the responsibility more than Tobi could handle?” Chelsea asked.
Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know. I hadn’t worked with him one-on-one. Tara came to me after his death for grief counseling. She can’t accept that he killed himself.”
“How did he die?”
Amanda looked at her friend. “He jumped off a cliff.”
“Damn.” Chelsea shook her head.
“Tara said he was afraid of heights. He would never have come close to the edge.”
“Does she think someone pushed him?”
Again, Amanda shrugged. “Joe conducted an investigation of the scene and found nothing. He sent the body off to the medical examiner and is waiting for the results of an autopsy.”
Chelsea met Amanda’s gaze. “Do you think it was suicide?”
“I probably would’ve accepted it as suicide, except there have been two other deaths in the past few weeks. Both deemed suicides. Both friends of Tara and Tobi’s.”
“Sometimes, a suicide can create a contagion effect, especially among teen peer groups,” Chelsea said.
“That’s what I was afraid of. I was glad Tara came to me for grief counseling.”
“Did the others jump off cliffs?” Chelsea asked.
Amanda shook her head. “Allison Sitting Dog, aged eighteen, jumped off the bridge over the Little Wind River, landing on the rocks below. Ryan Gray Feather, a seventeen-year-old, waded into Boyson Reservoir and drowned. I’d heard from Joe that both had high concentrations of methamphetamines in their systems when they died.”
Chelsea’s brow puckered. “Did Tara say anything about drugs?”
“I asked her if Tobi had been using. She said he never touched the stuff. And he didn’t drink alcohol. She said he was afraid he’d end up like his father. He didn’t want to burden their mother with that kind of behavior.”
Amanda could still see the fire in Tara’s eyes when Amanda had asked if Tobi had been on drugs. They’d been through enough when their father had been under the influence of alcohol. The man hadn’t cared who he’d hit. Tara had shown her some of the scars she bore from where he'd slammed her against a door or thrown her across the room.
Her chest tightened whenever she thought about someone punching a child or throwing one around like so much garbage. She’d been the recipient of her father’s anger too often. Her mother hadn’t been able to stop him. Any time she’d tried, he’d knocked her out. Eventually, she’d given up, dropped her only daughter at the police station in Casper and disappeared. Amanda had been eleven.
The state of Wyoming had attempted to rehome her with her father, who’d refused to take responsibility for his only daughter. Thus, she’d spent the next five years living in a number of foster homes.
As much as she’d disliked being hit, she’d hated living with people who’d tolerated her existence for the money the state gave them to house and feed her. When she’d gotten tired of a foster family, she’d acted up and they’d moved her to a different, equally dismal home. By the time she’d turned sixteen, she’d been well on her way to becoming a juvenile delinquent, skipping school, hanging out with druggies and gang members.
