“Who are they?” Adam asked.
McBride grinned. “They’re friends. Remember the Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue Team I mentioned, Chiago? Chaska and Winona are both Team members. It looks like some of them have come to help. In Scarlet, folks take care of their own.”
Jason watched as they put on hard hats.
“What?” McBride shot him a look. “You seem surprised.”
“I guess I didn’t expect this kind of community off the reservation.” Jason had never gotten to know his neighbors in Phoenix.
Then again, maybe he hadn’t tried.
McBride seemed to study him, as if trying to understand this. “There are only about fifteen hundred people in Scarlet, so everyone knows everyone.”
Jason followed McBride down to meet the new arrivals, the volunteers stopping work to listen. Kat, Rossiter, and McBride hugged the newcomers or shook their hands, Kat sharing the news about the new baby.
Then an older woman turned toward the volunteers. “I’m Megs Hill, director of the Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue Team. We heard about Naomi and the baby and came to help. This is Mitch Ahearn, my quieter half. This is part of our motley crew. Sasha Dillon. Creed Herrera. Bahir Acharya. Conrad and Kenzie Harrison. Someone give us hard hats and hammers and show us what to hit.”
As it turned out, Creed and Conrad had both worked in construction. They focused on making roof rafters for the cabins, while the others were divided up and kept busy helping in the kitchen, carrying plywood sheathing, hauling lumber, fetching nails or house wrap, or doing whatever else needed to be done.
When it came time to put sheathing on the roof rafters, these Team members seemed to have an advantage, especially Sasha, the young blond woman, and Megs.
Jason took a water break, watching as the two walked like cats along the edges of the wall frames, helping settle the roof sheathing into place. “They’re all like Rossiter, aren’t they?”
McBride nodded. “Yep.”
“They’re not afraid of heights at all.”
“Nope.” McBride chuckled. “Sasha is a five-time world champion sports climber. Megs Hill is a climbing legend, one of the first women to make it in rock climbing. Mitch, her partner, was a big name in climbing in the Seventies. Conrad Harrison has climbed Mount Everest more than once and had his face all over magazines.”
Jason crossed his arms over his chest, watched Sasha jump, catch the top of a wall frame, and pull herself up with seemingly little effort. “The only climbers I’ve met are the ones who trespass on our land and want to climb at sacred O’odham sites. They don’t care about our customs or beliefs. They think they should be able to climb anywhere.”
“That’s not who these people are. Megs would kick their butts if they climbed on sacred land. Team members are dedicated, man. They save lives all the time—and they don’t charge a dime.”
“Really?” Jason was impressed, but there was work to be done. “Let’s get this cabin wrapped.”
* * *
“Isn’t he adorable?”Winona turned off the highway onto the dirt road that led up the canyon to the camp, her heart full, her emotions caught somewhere between elation about the baby and worry for Naomi.
Grandpa hadn’t stopped smiling. “He looks just like his father.”
Winona had gotten to hold the baby for a few precious moments, Chaska carefully placing the tiny bundle in her arms. “We named him Shota. It was Shota who saved Naomi’s life, after all. He brought us together.”
Winona’s eyes had blurred with tears. “That’s …perfect.”
Little Shota Belcourt had felt so tiny in her arms. She hadn’t known she’d fall instantly in love with the little guy or that the intensity of that feeling would turn her world upside down. The best part had been watching Chaska, tears in his eyes, place his newborn son in Grandpa’s arms.
Grandpa’s expression had been one of wonder. “My great-grandson.”
If only Naomi’s blood pressure would go down…
Winona had already called Naomi’s father, Doug Otter Tail, and his wife, Star Tall Grass. They were driving down from Pine Ridge today to help with Shota. Winona had gotten to see Naomi for a few minutes. She’d been resting, the baby in her arms, contentment on her face, IVs carrying life-saving medications into her veins.
The doctor had warned that delivery wouldn’t make her preeclampsia go away but was hopeful that her condition would quickly improve.
All they could do now was pray.
Grandpa’s stomach growled. “I didn’t get to eat my sandwich.”