Nico handed his wife a virgin strawberry daiquiri. She melted into her lounger. "Mmm," she said. "I'll have the... pineapple fried rice with the fish."

"You ate an hour ago," said Nico, and sipped his rum punch.

She laughed. "I have to have a plan. Besides, this is an all-inclusive resort. I can eat whatever, whenever I want."

Niko kissed her strawberry-mint mouth. "Whatever you want, honey." He rubbed more sunblock onto her back, and she groaned. "After this, I'm going snorkeling, again."

She pointed directly down. She put her drink on the little table, took her towel, and laid on her stomach. Nico groaned, stole a cushion off the rattan chair, and put it next to his wife's butt. He moved her drink to her left elbow, grabbed his drink, and grabbed his own, along with the bottle of sunblock. Bao looked down at the water through the glass on their patio, watching the silvery glints of fish; some blue, red, orange, or gold. She laid on her elbow, and raised her head so she could suck her drink from a straw. He rubbed sunblock onto her back and just below her butt, making her groan, and him smile. She put her head down again, watching the fish dart in the water. He smiled again, finished his drink, put on his mask, snorkel, and fins, and watched the fish from the water.

He paddled around, avoiding the other couples. Darla was there with Dina, her daughter; they ate something grilled out on their veranda. Rajav was there with his new bride, Leyva, and they were definitely sleeping in. Ronnie and Wes were newly married, and they were in the water, with their drinks on the edge of their veranda. Why didn't I think of that? Nico wondered. Laughter rippled out over the water. Ronnie and Wes waved, and he waved back. He floated, contentedly, letting his limbs relax.

He finally tired, and got out. His bride was snoozing in her lounge. He toweled off, and ordered his wife's fish fried rice, two veggie skewers, samosas, and a coconut chicken skewer. A beautiful lady with caramel skin and a bright batik pareo brought the food. The smell woke his wife, and they split the food. Bao's bright laughter made him smile.

"Dragon Mama sent a text to Hu. She's in Chinatown in San Francisco, and is meeting with distant family there. She says she will take in a Chinese girl to cook and clean for her. I suspect she's an illegal."

"She better pay her and treat her right," said Nico, willing the hunch from his shoulder. "Or I'll smack her little nose." Bao laughed. "Or throw a fish at her." Bao laughed harder.

They finished, ordered lime smoothies, and held hands in the loungers. Bao put sunblock on Nico, watching the way his muscles slid under her fingers. He pulled her up, and they went back to the king-sized bed. They slid and slipped under the sheets, laughing as they finally met, with kisses rippling across skin. He dove under the sheets, making her scream with laughter and surprise, then he made her scream again and again. It was perfect. His mouth, lips, teeth scraping over skin, and his tongue touching her button, making her back arch. He made her come, again and again, before sliding in. He took his time, his elbows just above her shoulders. He stopped to kiss her, and then sped up again, pumping hard. Finally, he came, and they laid together, gasping. They stumbled into the shower, then she changed from the blue to the emerald bikini. He adored her body, and told her so. She giggled like a girl, covering her mouth. They drank their somewhat-melted lime drinks, rubbed sunblock all over each other, and slipped into a blessed nap.

* * *

Callie and Ivy took Hu and Grace to a water park in California. They went completely insane on the rides, competing to see who could get into the fastest lines. They ate hot dogs and cotton candy, laughed until their soda came out their noses, and made summer plans. The Wolfpack followed, going the next day, as a celebration for everyone getting their GEDs. Callie and Ivy took Hu and Grace to Universal Studios on that day, where they "acted" in several movies, and rode rides. They were in love with the Minions, and Callie and Ivy bought all the Minion stuff that would fit in their vehicle.

* * *

Inola took Damia into the mountains on a quiet ride. They camped, and Inola gave Damia Henry and David's hard-won wisdom about the mountains. She showed Damia how to move silently, how to sneak up to see the deer, how to make and break camp, how to roast potatoes in a fire pit, and the art of finding animal tracks.

They were finishing their day with hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows when Inola sighed. "I love spending time with you," she said to Damia.

"I love Mom and Mama," signed Damia, giving a little fillip to designate "Mama." "But I want to live in the barn."

"You sleep there sometimes," said Inola.

"I want to live there. Robert lives there with his sister and his sister's person."

"They are not too loud?" asked Inola.

"The potter's wheel is..." Damia said. "Opposite overwhelming."

"Relaxing," signed and said Inola.

"Yes," said Damia, and practiced the sign and lip movements. "And Suni's person Davis makes tiny animals."

"Yes," said Inola. "Do you want to try these things?"

"I watch," said Damia.

"Yes, you do," said Inola. "But there comes a time to stop watching and start doing. Try to learn to carve the animals in soap, then wood, then rock. With pottery, lay a leaf on the clay, then cut it out, and cut out little feet and smash them into the bottom. You don't have to work on a wheel the first day."

Damia got out her phone, and started banging out tasks. Inola smiled, and thought, then smiled again.

"You may stay in the barn," she said. "For now. But, it will become too hot. We will..." She thought. There had to be a way to get another apartment in the eaves. Damia loved tiny spaces, loved her sleeping pod. She just hated living with two, giggly, talkative girls. "We will find a way."

Damia nodded. If the adults in her life said they would do something, they did. She had no idea the rest of the world was not that way. "Then I will wait."

"Yes," said Inola. "Wait."

Inola made a pot of oatmeal and left it in the coals to cook overnight. Inola showed Damia how to make shadows with her fingers on the walls of the tent, and they spent a comfortable hour before sleep doing just that. In the morning, they crumbled cubes of brown sugar on their oatmeal and ate it with cold water, fed and watered the horses, and took off at a walk.

* * *

Stella awoke from only two hours' sleep in her Tucson hotel room, the colors of sand and turquoise confusing to her eyes until she remembered where she was. The installation was today! She showered, dressed in jeans and a battered T-shirt, met her assistants, Gregor and Qual, and fed them breakfast. Gregor was built like a fireplug, short and full of muscle, with tiny blue eyes and sharp teeth. Qual was Asian, with golden skin and tilted eyes. Both young men wore dusty jeans and T-shirts.

"Eat up, boys," she said. "This is gonna get ugly." They finished, then checked out of the hotel.

The Birds of Prey Sanctuary was on a dirt road just outside of Tucson. The boys drove the truck, and she drove her 4X4. They got out, unloaded the equipment, and determined the best place to put it. The owner, Van, came out to watch.

"Saw your dust plume," he said.

Stella shook his hand. "Want it on the left or right of the sign, or right by the road?"

"A little back from the road," he said. "Hard to see where to turn off."

"I've got just the thing," said Stella.

She helped the boys dig the hole, then used a block and tackle to move and drop a tree trunk. She piled dust and rocks around it, made it steady, and they bolted on the feet on the predrilled holes. They use the block and tackle to move over the hawk's body, then they bolted on the wings.

Then, Stella said, "Don't look toward the light!"

She put on her welding mask, grabbed the torch, handed the solder to Qual, and soldered the bird together. Gregor handed them both water, and they drank. They checked everything out, cleaned up, and put everything (except the bird) back into the van.

"Oh my god," said Van. "He's gorgeous. We actually have one just like him up at the sanctuary. Want to see him?"

"He was my model," said Stella. "But, be a crime not to."

"We have from two to seventeen birds here at a time," said Van, riding in front with Stella. "Some are shot by bullets or bows. Some get caught in lines, or nets or traps. We also raise baby birds whose parents have been killed, but often they can't return to the wild."

He showed them an eagle, three kinds of hawks, and a roadrunner. They all had spacious habitats, and were slowly recovering from various injuries.

"The Audubon Society helps us." He handed her an envelope. "This was commissioned by an anonymous donor, to help raise our profile." He smiled. "Don't worry. The same donor paid for the care and feeding of all the birds here, right up ‘till the end of the year." He grinned. "Gonna need more down the road, of course."

Gregor and Qual both stared at the Harris hawk, its brown wings and back turning to black at the base. "Be a worthwhile thing, saving them," said Qual.

"It is," said Van. "Love what I do, every minute."

They said goodbye, filled up the van, got back to Tucson, and stopped off for a large meal at a coffee shop. They ate as if they'd never seen food before. Stella drove herself to the airport, hopped out, and grabbed her backpack while Qual took her seat.

"Here's gas and snack money, and extra if you want to stop off someplace," she said, handing over her own envelope. "Don't smoke pot and drive, and my van better not smell like weed when you park it by my house." Qual and Gregor bumped fists.

"Later," said Qual. She waved, and went in.

She hurried to pick up her boarding pass. Nico; beloved Nico, had sent her a ticket to a sculpture workshop in Tuscany. The days of carving were interspersed with seeing the best of Italian sculpture. It was held in a warehouse, and they would spend nights at a villa with poor plumbing --but excellent statues.

"How did you find this?" she had asked him.

"I can use the internet," he told her. "Thought it was up your alley."

"Up my alley?" she asked. "It's up my damn river, all the way down to my damn ocean." She had tried not to cry.

"Got a bonus," he said. "Well, a lot of the damn things. We've both been super-busy. Let's both go to various parts of the world and enjoy the results of our hard work."

She fingered the money in the envelope in her pocket, and smiled. This was going to be the best trip ever.

* * *

Killa helped Sergeant "Fox" Volpe do a weld. Ghost helped Beck finish hers. "Last one," said Bonnie, watching Rio finish hers.

They had exactly mirrored each other, creating three Harley trikes, one crimson, one gold, and one a midnight blue, simultaneously. They finished, and screamed Bowie's Rebel Rebel as they lowered the bikes. They then went over the chrome, every single bit, an exhausting process, so they put on Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit and went at it. They teased each other about getting shiny, and what they liked to buff.

They got them out, and in a line. Gregory came over and whistled. "Damn, you ladies do premier work."

"Always," said Ghost. "We da best."

Tito's van came around the corner, and barely stopped as three women hopped out and literally ran toward their bikes. The woman in the blue do-rag with the dirty blonde hair stood in front of her gold bike, and just heaved her breath, in and out. The black woman with a pouf of crinkly hair stepped forward, and reached out a hand to her crimson bike, but didn't touch it. The third woman with the long black hair and tunic made of torn-up saris and black jeans began circling her midnight blue bike, stalking it like a wolf. She circled it three times before imperiously handing over a black credit card. Rio grabbed it, ran to the credit card machine, and came back with a pen, the card, and a receipt. The woman barely looked at the bill, signed, and pocketed the card. She circled the bike the other way. The blonde paid next, without even touching the bike, handing over an envelope thick with cash. She touched the light, feather-light, then stepped around to the side. The black woman paid last, by credit card, after kneeling in front of it, eyes wide with tears.

All three women took their time getting to the part when they sat down. They smiled at each other, and all three turned them on at the same time, feeling the throaty roar of the great Harley engines. They each reached out and fist-bumped each other, grinning like loons, before following each other out of the lot.

"My god," said Fox.

"What a rush," said Beck.

"Fuck me," said Rio.

"And that's why we do what we do," said Bonnie, softly, as they watched the women ride away, then separate at the green light.

Fox, Rio, and Beck put their arms around each other's shoulders, then broke into a spontaneous hug. They laid back their heads and roared. Ghost and Killa hugged and kissed each other, and Bonnie swung her wrench around like a baton. They stared out, long after the women could no longer be seen. Then, they all went back to the three tables, and took turns using the winch to get the new engines on the horses. They said absolutely nothing as they looked at the orders, then they decided what needed to be sent out for painting, and got started, with wide smiles on their faces.

* * *

Killa and Ghost left the ladies in Bonnie's hands. Herja came up to help, some of her own Soldier Pack with her. They cranked out three shifts, and made a mix of trikes and regular Harleys to teach the Soldier Pack both ways. They used Killa and Ghost's apartment, walked the dogs, and had parties.

Killa and Ghost got on the plane to Jamaica, already laughing from Ghost's rum punch and Killa's chocolate shake. They rode first class, as they had made lots of bikes in the past few months. They were waited on hand and foot, and had steak tips and potatoes, then slept. They awoke, stretched, and felt the moist heat hit them like wet slaps on their skin. They sauntered through customs in their yellow tank tops and black shorts. They had backpacks with nothing much in them, except their toiletry kits. They planned on shopping for nearly everything.

They met the hotel van. They were given a free drink upon arrival, their choice of frozen punch or rum punch. Their hotel room was on a corner, so they had two windows at right angles to see the ocean. There was even the giant pool with bridges over it, the swim-up bar, the dancers dancing at the outside bar, the rows of loungers with attentive waiters waiting on them. They stripped out of their shorts, revealing their bikinis. Killa kept a light T-shirt on, over her rounding belly. They rubbed coconut oil over each other, put on their flip-flops, and took the elevator to the pool, with bags slung over their shoulders. They got more drinks at the swim-up bar, and Ghost made a discovery.

"These are built-in tables, and built-in recliners in da water!"

"What the..?" asked Killa. She put her drink on the table, and sat on the chaise lounge that was slightly underwater. She laughed. "Wild!"

Ghost sat too, and swung her legs over. She laughed. "Dis be da best life!" They sipped their drinks, floated, and relaxed.

Killa said, "I be hungry."

"I be gettin' somefin.’ Fish tacos?"

"Awesome," said Killa. "I swim up an’ get it."

"Naw," said Ghost, putting her hand on Killa's rising stomach. "I be takin' care o' my woman."

She laughed. "They'll bring us da food. I jus' order it from dere." She swam away.

She was right. They brought fish ceviche for Ghost, fish tacos for Killa, and mojitos; virgin for Killa. They swam, laughed, held hands, and kissed. They went shopping for flowing tops and little dresses --and short shorts, of course. They ate dinner by candlelight adjacent the pool, and shook their ‘money-makers’ poolside, to the steel drum band.

They went up to the roof bar, and saw a million stars. "What you wanna do?" asked Ghost.

"I wanna do what we be doin' now. Takin' breaks when our Soldier Packs be ready to work on dere own, with just check-ins. Havin' this kid, be waitin' some time, an’ decide when we want rug rats."

"I be happy wit’ da miniatures, be makin' money, have da Woldpack be doin' da pours, me doin' da assembly an' da paintin.' Wanna do less bike work, ya know? Don' wanna run myself inta da ground."

"You do what ya wan,'" said Killa. "I be happy makin' da babies fa da people dat can' have babies. I wan' our own, though. Tink we need to keep some o' da Soldier Pack ladies. The three we got is major cool. Would like ta keep 'em. Get 'em on three shifts, give us more time to take rides, or vacay, or have dem babies."

"Who you wanna have dem babies wit’?" asked Ghost. "Be some fine males around."

"Bella is usin' Nantan."

"Dat boy is fine," said Ghost. "Make some beau-ti-ful babies. But, I wanna chocolate man. Rey wif da Iron Knights, he be gay. His boyfriend be fine, too."

"Puerto Rican," said Killa. "Ysidro."

"He be wantin' one fo' hisself," said Ghost.

"We do one fa us, one fa him," said Killa.

"Be gettin' complicated," said Ghost. "Mebbe go to da donor place. Get us some fine man. Order it like orderin' a steak."

"Don' say dat," said Killa. "Done got me all hungry again."

Ghost called over a server, and they ordered grilled pork and rice. They ate by starlight, the moonlight reflecting in their hair. They danced again, slow ones, and then went to bed.

Their lovemaking was slow, kisses first, then Ghost nibbled Killa's neck. Killa groaned. Ghost peeled off her T-shirt, then took off her bikini top, and caught her breasts in her hands. They looked so sweet, so she kissed each one, then sucked them. Killa got Ghost out of her bikini; bottom first, her hands on her wife's ass. Then she got the bikini straps unknotted, then forgot herself in the rush, and arched her head back. Ghost got her bikini bottom all the way off. Then, they fell onto the bed. Killa got her wife's breasts in her mouth, and nibbled the way she liked. Ghost came in a gasping, wet scrabble, moving to flip Killa over on her back. She kissed her way down, kissing the mound of her belly, then putting her fingers in her wet wife. Killa arched, groaned, and came in great waves. She laid there while Ghost went to the bathroom, and brought back a wet washcloth. They ended up in the shower, under the rain showerhead, and kissed until Killa put her fingers inside Ghost, making her come. They dried off, and made it to the bed. They fell in, still kissing, and made each other come again before falling into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Henry stood on the ridge. The Wolfpack were all over the place on jobs, except for Little Nico and Tam, who were helping Gregory with his bike.

David came behind him, and kissed his neck. Henry smiled. "The kids are doing well."

"Where are we going to put Damia?" asked David, holding Henry in his arms.

"She just can't be around her sisters," agreed Henry. "We can deny the reality, or we can see the truth --and do something about it."

"She needs quiet. Inola says she wants the barn. We can kick Alo out, but that's not fair to him. His feed business is doing great. Robert is helping out with the angora rabbits, and it gives Inola a break. We need to..."

"Add on. Again," said Henry. David slapped his hand over his face. "We can't ignore reality," said Henry, throwing his lover's words back in his face.

"Tito is going to kill us," said David.

"Add on storage for Alo's business underneath, make him pay us a little rent for it," said Henry. "Make the money back."

"In ten years," said David.

"No, that boy is making serious money. He'll bless us. Also, Damia started her first soap carving." Henry was so proud he could burst. "And, she made those leaf plates."

"If Suni stays, she'll want a kiln," said David.

Henry put his face in his hands again, making David laugh. "Can't deny reality," he said.

"At least Robert, Alo, and Suni all pay rent," said David. "The Owl Pack pays rent, too."

"So, we're landlords," said Henry.

"Keeps hordes of teens, in jeans and socks and..." said David.

"Underwear," both men said together. "Didn't know that would be a major thing," said Henry.

"If we didn't grow our own food," said David.

"We'd be up shit creek without a paddle," finished Henry.

"We need more businesses," said David.

Henry snorted. "On our property alone, we've got a hydroponics farm, a horse and pony rescue that just about breaks even, which is shocking with vet bills being what they are. Then, a sacred beader, a company that makes books for Native people to preserve our languages, a motorcycle builder, a fetish maker, a Zuni potter..."

David kissed his neck. "Our own, love. The individual people and the groups in our house nearly pay for themselves. Even the Wolfpack starts work the first day the next Pack arrives. And they pay rent and food and buy their own clothes and things. The Owl Pack has so many businesses that I'm getting a little confused keeping up with them. They've already paid off the pool and the greenhouse extension (to put it in) And they even pay their own trainer. So, what do we do?"

Henry stroked David's hands. "We need to be more than landlords." He nodded, once, twice. "We do. Well then, what shall we do, love? You're still a powerful medicine man. You do sweats and sing for many people."

"I have apprentices. And, yes, that is true, but that's not a business. It's a calling. Keeps me in chickens for the table," he laughed. "Actually, got some fine stones for the rock tumbler I got for the beadwork, and we never do our own fences. I think Suni will stay. Lots of res people making very good businesses."

"You underestimate yourself once again," said Henry. "David, do you have any idea how many jobs have been done here, and how much trade for things we don't make? We don't need to use dollars, love. We've got quite the trade. Leatherwork, blankets, cheeses, stones, rugs, tables, chairs, wood for the pods, fence builders, hands for when we raise a barn, or move a house. David, we are all richer because of what you do."

David was silent a long while. "I do know. I did not know how much you knew, until just now."

They stood there, tears in their eyes, for a long while. "I still need to be more than a landlord," said Henry. "I help others, but I haven't done things for myself for a long time. Since... since I was brained over the head, and Inola was raped."

"Did get Ryder out of it, and I wouldn't trade that little girl for anything," said David. He held Henry closer.

"You're right. I'll have to think of something to do that will make me happy and proud, and let these young people do things without me staring at them." Henry looked off into the distance. "I built this farm. We expanded. We have people everywhere."

David chuffed a laugh. "That we do. Now we have to come up on the ridge to be alone together."

"I can't fix bikes. I do teach the kids at the Nighthawks homeschool. Chayton and Vu kind of took over here, with the Wolfpack. I do still run the Nighthawks with Ivy. Plan trips, train up new guys... teach them how to ride Harleys."

David smiled. "That you do."

"I can do more, a lot more, there. And things that get me some money, or into the Nighthawks' coffers. Training, rides, working together with the Iron Knights and Valkyries. Get things more organized. Get a fleet of off-road bikes so we don't have to rent them. We certainly have enough Soldier Pack to buy them used, then refurbish them. Buy that eyesore next door, gotta do some rallies for that. Expand a little, don't want to get too big."

Henry gesticulated with his fingers and hands. David continued to hold his neck and shoulders, seeing Henry's vision come alive in his and Henry’s mind.

He finished, and nodded. "You are a fine medicine man," he said. He turned his neck, and David kissed him.

David held him close. "I am made to be what I am. So are you. I just know you want more, and I want you to step on the right path."

"We'll walk it together," said Henry.

"Always," said David.

Meeting

Xenia checked on Deputy Ronald Townsend. Ronnie did a speed trap on the way out of town; Xenia's was on the way in. "Whatcha got, 451?" D-451 was Ronnie's number, a special one; he was a huge Ray Bradbury fan.

"One more," he said. "I take it you've got your quota?"

Xenia laughed. "In the first hour. Then I nailed Tommy Raxin, again."

Ronnie sighed. "His momma can't afford to pay them tickets."

"I am so glad they let us use cleaning up the rest areas as a punishment," said Xenia. "Tommy's gonna be doing that after he spends time in jail for reckless endangerment. Idiot boy was weaving all over the road, not high on anything I could smell. Got it all on the cameras. Got a lot of work done while they booked him. They took a blood test, but he wasn't obviously jittery, or with dilated pupils."

"His mama's gonna kill him," said Ronnie. "Throw him out, at the very least, and that car's hers."

"Maybe then he'll hitchhike his bony ass somewhere out of my jurisdiction," said Xenia. "Tired of dealing with the boy. Not mentally impaired, had a good job at the hardware store. Mom's not abusive, got food on the table. I just don't get it."

"Some boys either get plumb stupid, or feel entitled," said Ronnie. "I think..." What he thought was then cut off as he put on his siren. "451 to Dispatch. Got a red Camaro, late model, license plate 451 RXT, Nevada. He..." His voice cut off with the crunching of metal.

Xenia started rolling the minute she heard the siren, and flipped on her own siren. "Dispatch, get at least one ambulance and a fire truck out to Route 376 near the Daisy's Diner sign." She called out to Ronnie. "Ronnie, you okay?"

His shoulder mic came on. "451 to dispatch, at least two ambulances."

Xenia floored it, the traffic surprisingly light. She slowed and went around the slowing traffic. What she saw horrified her. There were at least two bodies on the road. The Camaro was toast. One other vehicle was a truck taking workers and tools home; some were in the truck bed's lockbox, but some were strewn all over the road, the tools out, obvious hazards. The people on the road were probably workers riding to a job in the truck bed. Three men were in the process of running toward them, probably the front-cab occupants of the pickup. She could see the screams held back in their taut necks.

Xenia blocked access, popped her trunk, and threw out some cones. Ricki Garber had her truck pulled all the way over on the shoulder. The baker was a tall, solid woman, with her short brown hair streaming in the wind.

She ran toward Xenia's trunk. "I'll block traffic with cones and flares," she said, jutting her chin toward the seriously injured men. "You go help Ronnie."

Xenia grabbed her first aid kit, and ran toward Ronnie. She passed it to him and he popped it open. The first ambulance was screaming down the line. Traffic was pulling over to let them in.

"Hymie's not..." said Ronnie. No one wanted to say "dead" at an active scene in front of large men.

They were passing around the first aid contents, and applying bandages and splints. One of them obviously had medical training. He touched the man on the right's neck, and shook his head. The other two men wore masks of grief as they worked on the other one.

"I'll get your kit and check on the Camaro," said Xenia, glad she didn't have to kneel and work on the victims. She'd have to be helped up, and that wouldn't make her happy.

She hurried to the opened front door of Ronnie's vehicle, popped the trunk, waddled quickly around back, and passed the first aid kit to waiting hands. They didn't have time to use its contents before the EMTs, Jorge and Wren, were working on the living man. The man had obvious broken bones and a probable head injury, so they had a backboard.

Xenia closed the trunk and hurried to the Camaro. The driver looked at her, choking on his own blood. He couldn't have been more than seventeen. He looked younger.

She screamed, "Medic!" just as Evan from the fire department bore down on her, a huge blonde man with ham hands.

He could probably pull the door off himself; she'd personally seen him bench press two hundred and sixty pounds. She hadn't registered more sirens consciously, but she knew they were coming.

"I'll take this," he said.

"Good," said Xenia. "What's your name?" she said, as she stepped out of Evan's way.

"Mark," he said, bubbles of blood coming out of his mouth. Punctured lung. Goner, thought Xenia, stunned that he'd survived the crash at all. "Mark... Summers."

Xenia didn't recognize the name at all. "You live around here? Someone I can call?"

"Ve... Vegas," he choked. "Goin' to Reno to see Tyler... uni... Reno."

"How old are you?" said Xenia, as an EMT put in a line.

"Six... sixteen. Gonna follow Tyler when I get... outta high school."

"You were going a little fast there. Why?" asked Xenia.

"Late," he said. "We're gonna see... movie... tonight."

Xenia said, "You guys find a phone in that mess, fork it over," she said to Evan and the new EMT, a tiny dark-haired man whose tag read Correro.

Evan nodded as he grabbed the Jaws of Life from Reece Singh, another firefighter. Reece looked small enough that the Jaws of Life dwarfed her, but she was a Valkyrie, the braided hair to prove it. She had cinnamon skin and tilted eyes --and a vicious right hook, and could do more pushups than anyone.

"Will do," said Reece. "Now get the fuck out of our way." Xenia nodded, and used her bodycam to take pictures of the site as she walked.

"Dispatch, this is S-34." S stood for Sheriff. "I need Rina down to photograph the scene, and the coroner."

"On it," said Wren, the dispatcher for that shift. "Gotta track down Rina. She went hiking this morning, but she should be back real-soon."

"Call her mama," said Xenia. "She'll send a message."

Everyone swore Rina Sanchez' mother (Ruby) was psychic. She supposedly didn't send messages to the canyons where you couldn't receive them. Rina would scoot her butt to find a signal when her mother asked her to call... with her brain. Xenia didn't know if it was true or not, and didn't care. She needed help, and didn't care how it arrived.

Xenia walked around the remains of the fiberglass, screaming-red car, and reached her gloved hand through the shattered window. One had to use driving gloves in the high desert, or you couldn't touch your steering wheel. She popped open the glove box, now a twisted ruin, as Evan and Reece talked to the boy in reassuring tones as they worked. She found two marijuana cigarettes, a peyote button, and registration and insurance documents in the name of Rudi Summers. She left the drugs where they were, and stepped back. She had to contact the boys' parents or guardians.

There was a sigh, and a gurgle, then Correro said, "We've lost him."

"Shattered pelvis," said Evan, "And a lot more. The bag and belt couldn't have saved him."

"Someone find his cell phone," said Xenia. "I've got to call his folks." Correro reached in, fished out the phone with two fingers, and handed it over. "Locked," she said. "Damn." She called Dispatch, and got the Vegas address and telephone number of Rudi Summers. "I'll make the notification."

She bagged and tagged the phone, and came around the pristine rear end of the Camaro to see the ambulance drive off --with the only living patient. Correro changed gloves, and walked toward the two remaining men, both of them shaken. The one on the right cradled his hand. Xenia suspected it was from grabbing the dashboard. The wrist or hand were probably broken. Correro had the same idea, and he put his kit down at his feet and demanded to see the hand.

Xenia took out her notebook, actually unneeded since her body cam recorded everything. "I'm sorry to bother you while you're receiving medical treatment, but could someone please tell me your names, and then what happened here?"

"Jason Ricon," said the one on the right.

"Thad Ricon," said the one on the left. "That's our dad, left with Hymie. We were only going to the next exit."

"Still shouldn't have put Hymie and Hector in the back," said Thad. "Hell, we should have called an Uber. Now Hymie's lost his brother." Thad wiped tears from his eyes quickly with his uninjured hand.

"I am so sorry for your loss," said Xenia. "What happened?"

"Red car slammed into the back of us. We slewed around. My airbag went off." He touched his jaw gingerly. "So did Dad's. Thad here braced himself."

"Broken, most likely, the wrist and the hand," said Correro. "Gonna put on a splint, look at your head, get you to a hospital."

Thad nodded. "Okay," he said.

"He didn't just clip us," said Jason, reiterating his story. "He slammed. Hard." He swung his head around, just then realizing the other driver must be hurt. "Where is he? The hospital?"

"He didn't make it," said Xenia. She found herself saying something she shouldn't have said, "He was late to a movie." She smiled brokenly, then got her face back under control. "Jason, let me see your license so I can write down your address. Thad, you have anything to add?" Jason handed over the license, and Xenia dutifully wrote it down.

"No," said Thad. "Just happened in a second." He covered his eyes again. "I looked in the rearview, and saw Hymie try to grab onto Hector. Saw them flying...." He covered his eyes again with his good hand, and his brother rubbed his back.

Xenia handed back the license. "Thank you, Jason," she said. "Now, you two go to the hospital, get checked out. Make sure your dad gets checked out." They both nodded. "I'll get your truck towed, and I need to notify Hector and Hymie's family."

"Rosa," they both said. Jason whipped out his cell phone, and gave Xenia the number. "She's their sister. Rosa Sanchez. She makes jewelry; really nice silver stuff, to sell to the tourists. Her brothers work construction with us."

Xenia saw that the truck had "Ricon Construction and Installation." She wrote down the number emblazoned on the side. "I see. What's your dad's name?"

"Norse. Serious, that's his name. Grandpa's a history buff."

"Grandpa live around here?" asked Xenia. The boys were huge, but they could be anywhere from sixteen to their twenties with their smooth faces.

"Sure, with us," said Jason.

"Call him, and get him to meet you at the hospital," said Xenia. "And call him an Uber if he is emotional. Don't want another one of these. And give me your cell numbers in case I have more questions." They gave the numbers. "How old are you?" she asked.

"twenty-two," said Jason.

"twenty-three," said Thad.

"Go get to the hospital," said Xenia. "And hang together."

"Will do," said Jason.

Ronnie came over. "Blocked the road farther back, called for John to put up detour signs, got some statements of those that saw this. Rina's mom says she'll be here in ten minutes coming the other way. Got the good people farther back turned around, and on the detour. Tow truck'll be here when Rina's done."

"She'll work fast," said Xenia. "Two fatalities, want to be thorough, but no one's going to jail over this one."

"Heard about the kid," said Ronnie. "Want me to do the notification?"

"Mom's in Vegas," said Xenia. "We can have the locals do the notification, but..."

"I'll do it," said Ronnie. "Spend the night there, play a little blackjack with my buddy Tom, so you won't have to pay for overtime, or a billet."

"Thanks," said Xenia. "Looks I've got Rosa Sanchez. Write up what you've got, turn it in, and head out." She handed him the bagged paperwork. "There's the mom's address."

"On it," said Ronnie. "He say why he was going so fast?"

This time, Xenia kept control of her face before she spoke. "He was late to a movie he was going to see with a friend in Reno." She handed over his cell phone. "Locked."

"On it," said Ronnie.

Xenia rubbed her lower back, then made her way to Rina's truck. Rina was the CSI. The coroner moved to the teen's body in the car. Rina set out her markers, took pictures of everything, and soon the coroner's van was full, and the truck and car towed away. The tools were photographed and put back in their dented boxes.

"Be careful with those," said Xenia. She rubbed her back again. "That's someone's livelihood."

Ronnie opened the road to traffic. "I'll drop off the evidence, write up the report, and go," he said. "You okay, you look a little... pinched. And red."

"Need water. I'll drink some, have Bob meet me at the diner."

"Good," said Ronnie, and drove off.

Xenia rubbed her back, and walked slowly to her car. She hopped in, and made a note to herself to replace both medkits. She rolled down the highway at a moderate pace, jamming her lower back against the wooden beads on the seat. She pulled off the highway, took sips of water at the light, went over the bridge, and started driving back. She had a lot of paperwork to do.

She went to Rosa's place first, a little out of town. It was a little, low house, with only a van in front, one that took a wheelchair and hand controls. There was a ramp to the front door at the end of a wide walkway. Xenia schooled her face and rang the door.

Rosa Sanchez was in a wheelchair. She had no legs from the waist down. "Officer... no, Sheriff. What can I do for you?" She was a compact woman, with a round face, soft brown-doe eyes, and caramel skin. She wore silver jewelry all over her body, at her ears, nose, throat, and on each finger.

"I am sorry to inform you that there was a terrible accident. Hymie is deceased, and Hector is gravely injured in the hospital."

The doe eyes teared, then she suddenly wheeled over to a counter. She grabbed a pouch, attached it to her bike, and rolled forward. "Excuse me, I have a hospital to get to. If you could shut the door behind me?"

Xenia stepped out of the way, afraid she would be run over. She dutifully shut the door behind the woman in the wheelchair. It closed with an audible click. She checked the lock. By the time she had walked down the ramp, the van elevator had lowered, and the woman wheeled herself into it.

"Desert General?" she asked.

"Yes," said Xenia.

She walked to her SUV as the woman slid into the front seat and put on a full safety harness. She turned on the van, used the hand controls, and backed out with a loud beeping noise. Xenia rubbed her back, opened the door, then felt a rush of fluid. She looked down.

"Damn," she said. She got towels out of the back, and laid one on the back seat.

She circled to the trunk and got out her gym bag. She slid into the back, and celebrated having darkly tinted windows in back as she kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her work slacks. She changed underwear and slipped on yoga pants, socks, and trainers. She took off her uniform top and carefully hung it on the hanger in back, and unclipped the radio. She transferred the radio to her shorts and snaked it up to her shoulder, and transferred the body cam as well.

She hopped out, slid in, and called Dispatch. "Dispatch, notification complete. I'm coming in."

She drove down the street, turned right, and kept her speed down as she went to the office. The first wave hit her like a bomb. She pulled over, breathless. She waited it out, then called Robin on the phone.

"Hey, honey," he said. "Heard you caught a bad one."

"Honey, please go home and get the go-bag. I'm heading back into the office, and finishing some paperwork. You can pick me up there in about an hour."

His voice came back thoughtful, gentle, but with a hidden rush of steel. "We'll have plenty of time, checking in and whatnot, to fill out that paperwork." He snorted. "Think I'll bring a pile with me, too."

"And both computers," said Xenia. "You can drop mine off in a few hours." The police property one shouldn't be laying around in a hospital.

"Okay," he said. "I'll bring the other one." The other one had so many books, movies, and music --that it must have been groaning with the electronic weight. She'd filled up on everything she hadn't had time to do. She smiled, then the next one hit her, and she gasped.

She huffed and puffed, then got back on the line. "Maybe have someone pick up the vehicle, and you get me," she said. "Can't drive with the damn contractions."

"I'll send Reece," he said. "Your people are gonna be a little shorthanded." Reece worked both as an EMT and one of Robin's deputies, both part-time. One job informed the other.

Xenia gave him the name of the main street. She turned, and turned again. Got herself on the main street, then pulled into the hardware store, but didn't get out.

Geoff came out. "You okay?" he asked.

She gave him a credit card. "Guy named Hector died today. Want to give his brother Hymie decent tools. Theirs got strewn all over the highway."

He wrote down the number, then gave the card back. She put it away. "I know them both. Real sad to hear it. I'll get them good stuff, don't you worry. I..." His voice cut off as her face turned bright red and she started huffing and puffing.

He gently took the phone out of her hand, and dialed Robin. "Sheriff Bob, Geoff Rice at the hardware store. Your wife is having a baby in my parking lot, and I would prefer not to deliver one here."

Reece pulled up in her own sheriff's vehicle, right in front of Xenia's truck. She hopped out and ran around, and opened the back door.

"Let's get her in," she said. "Chop-chop."

"Never mind," said Geoff. He handed the phone back to Xenia, and helped Reece get Xenia in the back. Xenia moaned, and slid in.

"Baby," said Robin, his voice calm. "Buckle up. I didn't hear a buckle."

Reece buckled her in. "Get ready, Daddy," said Reece, then slammed the door and ran around to the front. "Dispatch, this is D-43. We're coming in hot to Women's," she said.

Robin talked over the siren. "Baby, put the phone to your ear." Xenia did. "I've got the computer and your go-bag. Sending someone else for the department truck and your county computer. Just relax. Breathe. Huff huff huff," he breathed into the phone. She followed his breathing, and the sound of his voice, into a tunnel.

Rhonda was there at the hospital with a wheelchair. "Let's get her into this thing, slow and easy," said Rhonda. "There, Sheriff. Let's get you one of those funny plastic bracelets, shall we?"

Reece hopped back in, to park the vehicle out of the way of emergency vehicles, in the far ambulance bay where they "rested" while prepping to go back out. That left two empty. She strode back in, and was happy to discover that Xenia had already done the pre-check-in paperwork and was ready to be shown her labor/delivery/recovery room. Reece hopped to, hoping her boss would come soon. Very soon.

Robin's slow, steady voice belied his panic. Her contractions were extremely strong. His wife was a strong woman, and Valkyries were not easily distracted. He suspected his wife had been in labor most of the day, and just realized when the contractions got strong enough to distract her. He parked the truck, super-carefully, with the baby carrier and car seat all ready to go. He'd taken the course himself on how to install them safely. He walked with huge strides, and looked both ways before crossing --from the parking lot into the front door. It would not do for a sheriff and expectant father to be wiped out by an approaching ambulance. He walked in, badged his way through security, and took the elevator up to the floor with the labor rooms.

"Boss," said Reece.

"ETA?" He smiled. "Room number?" asked Robin, and smiled again, knowing it would offend Reece to answer a question with a question.

"2o5." The elevator dinged, and he got in. "Good. Your wife is getting into a gown, and they have what they call a 'short window' to get the anesthesia. She's getting it," Xenia let out a terrific groan, "Right now."

The elevator dinged as he exited, and he hurried to 205. The anesthesiologist was a man Reece's height, with a shock of black hair. His eyes were on his wife's back.

"Hello, Daddy. Mommy here should feel no pain in 3, 2, 1..."

Xenia let out a mighty sigh. "That's better, Doc. Thanks."

"No problem," he said. "We'll monitor you closely. You're one of those that will push this one out in no time."

Robin rushed forward to help the nurse swing Xenia's feet up on the bed. He slid the phone back into his pocket, and gently took the phone from her hand and laid it on the nightstand.

"Dispatch, S-29 stepping down," he said. "Reece, go pick up Jenkins and get my wife's vehicle where it belongs, and the computer back here, so Xenia can type up a report or two before Little Squirt shows up."

"On it," said Reece.

"And thanks," said Robin.

"Mmf," she said, and waved. She was gone in an eyeblink.

"How does she do that?" asked Robin.

"No idea," said Xenia. "Violeta, ice chips. Robin, drop that bag over there and hand out my other computer. And get out of your work clothes. You're off duty."

Violeta and Robin both grinned and hopped to. Robin went back to the truck, locked up his gun, left his uniform shirt, camera, and radio in the vehicle, and slid a T-shirt out of his gym bag. He grabbed the bag with his paperwork. He called Reece to be sure she grabbed his wife's bag of paperwork. Heaven only knew if she would want to read law enforcement journals, but she might. He went back up the elevator, and his wife was typing furiously.

"Don't tell anyone," she said. "I put the forms on this computer. Just have to move them, file them, and Reece can take it back to my station."

"Good," said Robin. If she's determined to act as if she's not having a baby, so will I, he thought. "I'll finish off mine, and see if I can beat you."

She snorted. "A lot happened today. You probably will." She snagged and crunched another ice chip.

They finished off the paperwork before Reece showed up. Xenia opened her departmental computer, used a USB drive to switch the form from one computer to the other, filed the paperwork, took the USB back, closed the laptop, slid it in the bag, zipped it up, and handed it back.

"Put it on my desk," she said. "Thanks, Reece."

Reece nodded, then went back out on patrol. "Damn, that woman works like a dog," said Robin. "Neither one of us can get her to go on either job, full time. Says she likes both."

Xenia nodded. "Hand me my bag. I think I've got a journal or two in me."

She never made it to Journal #2. Violeta helped Washburn, the doctor, slip the baby out less than an hour later, and with only two big pushes. Robin held his wife's hand, but she didn't scream, only grunted loud enough to wake the dead.

There was a cry. "Apgar 5, a girl" said the doctor, and put the baby on Xenia's stomach. "Afterbirth to follow. Great job, Mom."

Robin looked down at the tiny face. "Diana Isis," said Xenia, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Diana Isis," said Robin, grasping a tiny hand. She let out a plaintive cry.

"Hungry," said Xenia, and slid her daughter up to the breast. "Welcome to the world, little one."

"Welcome," said Robin, the tiny fingers still grasping his hand.

They took her away to be weighed --eight pounds, four ounces --and for cleaning, a blood test, and inoculations. They sent out a group text.

Reece came in when everyone had been cleaned up, and Robin went to the waiting room to do some calling and texting. "I win," she said. "The pool. Weight and date."

"I knew you would," said Xenia. "Hold your charge."

Reece's eyes narrowed. She took the baby. "Diana Isis, I swear to protect you with whatever weapons I possess, even my own body, until you can defend yourself with your own blade, hands, and heart. This I swear to my sister Xenia, to guard her as well, and as she recovers." She touched the tiny head, then kissed her. Diana cooed.

"She likes her aunt," said Xenia.

Reece sighed. "Go home soon. Hospital watches suck."

"Two hours," said Xenia. "Robin's bringing back steak, potatoes, and baby carrots."

"Nice," said Reece. "Tell him to pick up two."

Changes

Tito wasn't as put out as Henry thought he would be. "Just mirror the previous work. Already measured, planned, done. We can do the pour... today, I think. Already graded. And the Wolfpack has already helped build the other side, so this is just a rinse and repeat. I'll charge you a little less if we involve them more; they're cheaper. Not slave labor; apprentices. Some are ready to test out, so we'll have two of them do the work and have someone look over their shoulders. Be good training for them."

"Sounds good," said Henry. "Send me a bill in parts."

Tito laughed. "Not so many segments with this one, but okay."

All four of Nantan and Chayton's boys --Little Nico, Tam, Josh, and Nick --had to get involved in the pour. They helped pound the stakes, put on gloves, and helped move the pour in, then helped to smoothed it out. They loved every minute, even the salsa music. They sang songs in Spanish. Tito failed to explain the lyrics of Luis Fonsi's Despacito to them. They waited impatiently for the concrete to set, so Tito had Raul and Ursula do the framing with the Wolfpack; the boys, too.

They loved pounding nails and "checking twice, cutting once" on the circular saws, with work gloves and child-sized safety glasses --and their own smaller construction helmets with the wolf emblazoned on the side. They laid the frames on the back of the barn, ready to go the next day, along with the boxes of roofing tiles. Vi cooked up a mess of ribs and barbecued chicken, with corn, beans, mango salsa, tortillas, and apple pie, topped off with cinnamon ice cream for dessert. They ate like the wolves from which they took their name. They laughed, joked, played with the babies, and planned to be framing at an unlikely hour of the morning.

The next day, they got the framing up lickety-split, after watching the sunrise together, coffee cups in hand. The boys got a fine mocha blend with lots of cream and sugar. After they got the frame up and nailed together, the electricians, pipefitters, and glass installers went to work, so they went into the house for breakfast egg and sausage burritos. They then relaxed into schoolwork until they got the okay to go out and work with the insulation, then drywall. They were allowed to go, one at a time, onto the roof and nail on the shingles with a real nail gun. They were so excited they were dancing with it, making everyone smile and crack jokes.

They had pulled pork sandwiches, pickles, and chips for lunch, along with coffee, sodas, and flavored waters. The boys fit right in, and the workers were careful to say things in such a way a lot went over their heads. Then, the boys got to hang glass tiles, all wired together in sheets, in the bathroom, and on the backsplash behind the working sink. And well set into a wide counter for Alo, to make his preparations. They took turns helping with the bamboo flooring, switching off in pairs to put together the huge number of baskets on rollers Alo would need them, and the shelving as well.

To give them something fun to do, Tito brought out a tarp and some leftover silver spray paint from another job. He had them spray all the baskets, shelves, and rolling baskets. It got them out of the way while they finished off the walls and floors, and installed can lights. They had the boys come in to help disassemble, carry over on a cart, and reassemble the pod that had been in the girls' room, and put it back together. They were let loose with Emilia Vargas, their painter, and he taught them taping, sectioning, cutting in, and how to roll on bottom and top coats. The outside was spray-painted, and the boys got to trade off running the sprayer. They polyurethaned the floors, and took dinner while waiting for that to dry. Dinner was meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, butter, and conversation. The laughter flowed freely. The boys helped pack everything up, and went to get a story from Vu. She was good with Coyote stories. Then, they hauled back to their own beds.

Henry, David, Nantan, and Chayton sat cross-legged on floor pillows in the living room, playing cards. "Wish we could do projects like that, all the time," said Henry. "Those boys were delighted. Never seen them so happy."

Nantan laughed, and played a card. "They'll sleep like rocks, too. And, they have many new skills, now. I will talk to Tito and see if he is willing to let them do small jobs."

Chayton said, "With Dave doing so much work, Nantan has a lot more time, and I just finished a new book, so I'm taking a break, too. Having the boys off all day for two days was incredible. Nantan does love his horse." He played a card.

Nantan's skin shaded a tad darker in the flickering candlelight. "Great horse," he said.

"We went to see how David's proteges were doing. Everything was fantastic. Then, the tribal elders wanted to meet to discuss more businesses, and sharing the kiln for Suni," said Henry, and he drew a card.

"No problem," said Chayton. "I can't imagine Suni making enough to keep it running all the time. Her work is really good, and sells well."

"A little one goes for one hundred dollars, and ships UPS. I think we can build one, in the old way. Or, we can get several small ones, one for ceramics, and one to make glass beads. There are some that do both," said David. "Most of my beads are stone, bone or clay. I do think glass beads are beautiful, and we can sell them, or the jewelry we make." He drew a card.

"I researched them as well," said Nantan. "I think we should have both types of kilns. That way, each group of artists can work. I also suggest buying larger ones, at least for the pottery. Be nice if we had a glassblower. That stuff is lovely."

"And complicated," said David. "And would draw onlookers. I don't want strangers here. One on the res may work."

"Then, that's for them," said Chayton. "I'll help fire the kiln. And find a way to get the boys interested."

"Anything that gets them all out of the house," said Nantan. They all laughed. "Uno!" he said. Despite Chayton only just changing the color to yellow, he won.

* * *

The kiln was delivered, and set up a week later. Suni was delighted, but confused. "Brother," she said to Robert, "I did not order these. This one is a good size, but what is this little shallow one?"

Robert called Henry, got the data, and hung up. "The bigger one is for you, and the potters on the res will also fire their pots here. You will have a Google spreadsheet to pick the time."

"Are the people on the res so stupid to open the door on another potter's work?" asked Suni.

Robert laughed. "No, but it helps them to see that there is all this empty time." He waved his hand. "Time waiting to be filled with the skill of potters."

Suni laughed. "And the little shallow one?"

"That is for making glass beads."

Suni stared at it, intrigued. "That would be a new skill to learn." She nodded once, then twice, to herself, then went into her shop. She came out with a little cart with various pots on them in white, black, red, and yellow. "Time to fire the glaze," she said.

"How did you know to put the glaze on?"

"Henry sent me a text." Robert roared with laughter, and helped his sister plug in the larger machine, and read the directions while she filled it full. She closed the door, and turned it on. "No need to read that, brother. I used one of these in college." Then, it was her turn to laugh.

* * *

Damia woke up at five in the morning. She liked sunrises. She could hear the horses chuffing and stamping below her. They knew perfectly well they liked to get up early, and were getting ready. Alo had things set up so she could feed them with a smaller scoop, and feed half one trip, then half the next.

She was getting stronger. Inola had her lifting smaller hay bales, and soon she would be able to lift heavy sacks of feed, if she kept working at it. She did her songs to the Great Spirit as David taught her, then watched her glitter bottle to calm her spirit. She went downstairs to fill up the feed, and stepped out to watch the dawn. Sometimes, it was just Inola or David, sometimes Henry, or even Numa. Someone was always there to watch the dawn with her, unless it was rainy. On those days, she walked the ponies inside, then the horses, unless it was warm, then they could go out if they wanted. She cleaned and mended tack, a fun job that meant the horses were “happier.” She worked with Alo to make feed.

She also loved the rabbits. She made sure they had food and water. David brought her an Adirondack chair, sized small for a girl. "You're a little slip of a thing," he said. "But you're strong and smart, and that's what matters."

She liked to sit there in the mornings with her physical science, then math, then Paiute, then Chinese, then English. She liked to watch the rabbits. They had to build onto the rabbit condo and increase the food and water. Henry had told the Wolfpack to double it in size, so they did. It was before she moved into the barn, so she didn't have to hear the sounds.

She had a belt with spots for her water --she liked cherry or grape --and her glitter soother. Mama had showed her how to boil water in the teakettle, pour the water into a glass jar, and add the glitter glue. Then, when it cooled some, Mama let her pour many glitter colors into the plastic water bottle, then the warm water went on top through a white tool. It was called a “funnel.” Then, Superglue went on the cap ring, then the cap went on, then glitter tape. She shook it when she felt overwhelmed, and it soothed her brain. Mama said it was like her brain. And sometimes, things moved around a lot, but if she sat still, like the bottle, things calmed down.

The rabbits were happy to see her. She petted Bright Eyes and Smartie, and Sophie and Belle. Then, she went to the Big House for breakfast. Vi knew to make her finger food, like pockets or sticks. She did not like messy food. If it was in a pocket, it could be mixed, which tasted very good. If it was not in a pocket, she could have a bento box with its separated sections, or a plate with separated ridges --so her food didn't touch.

Inola said, "We'll do the littles first, then the big ones." She ate her own pocket, standing up over the sink.

"Then muck the stalls," said Damia, out loud, because her hand held her pocket, and the other held her orange juice.

"Sure," said Inola.

Damia knew better than to take too much time. Inola liked the horses and ponies out where she could see them, to check for problems. The new pony, Blackie, took short, mincing steps. He'd been checked over, nose to tail, withers to hooves, but just seemed... he had that ugly feeling in his stomach that Damia got when people were angry with her, or when she did something she knew was stupid. She wondered how to help him make that feeling go away.

Damia washed her hands, then told Inola about the sick-stomach feeling. "Like on an elevator, but real-bad," said Damia.

Inola nodded. "That's exactly how it feels. When you feel that way, you can talk to one of us, or you can use your glitter soother. He can't do that. So, we must think of other ways."

"Warm food, walks. Brushing him."

"Maybe whisper to him, or sing to him the songs you sing for your grandfather," said Inola. "You are never loud, which is perfect for Blackie."

"Good," said Damia. People always used to tell her to speak up. It was good to know her softness now had a purpose.

She reached the barn, then walked very slowly to Blackie's stall. She gave him a little sugar cube, and walked him out to the paddock. She walked him around, then let him go. He stared at her with one eye. She took a step forward, and he did too. She walked around, hand on his neck, and he gladly walked at her side. Henry and Inola were at the fence line, and David walked out to join them. They all stared as the pony looked at her with adoration.

"Imprinting," said Henry. "Only, that's not a duck."

"We can't let go of that one." Inola sighed. "He'd just pine away and die, waiting for his beloved Damia to come and get him."

"I'll buy him," said David. "Got a lot of interest in the kiln, the glass-bead one. Got it booked for three weeks solid."

"You're kidding," said Inola.

Sure enough, a pickup with a man and a woman from the res came up. It parked on the end near Robert and Suni's end. Suni came out, shook hands in the dawn light, and turned it on for them. She helped them take out a little table and three chairs for them to relax. She went back in, and came out with two mugs and a vacuum container of what was probably coffee. One of them got a container out, and the beads went into the machine. They sat, drank coffee, and chatted, then they got in their pickup and walked away.

"They'll come back in eight hours to pick them up," said David. "Then, the next group will come in. Gives them time to do other stuff. They heat up recycled glass bottles, torch them, the glass, drop the drops in water, roll them around, and poke them through with awls. Or, just wrap the molten glass around a mandrel to get the hole. You can stick them in a warm pot of vermiculite to anneal them, but this is more even. Less cracking and splitting of beads."

"Verma --what?" asked Inola.

"A mineral," said David. "Pretty blue and black rock. Mined primarily in South Africa, Brazil, China, and Russia."

"Okay," said Inola.

"Think we'll have to set up a picnic table out there," said David.

"I'll get the Wolfpack to build one. Nice size, too. Maybe big enough we can move it to take meals." said Henry.

David snorted. "Just tell them to make two. It'll keep everyone busy."

Henry nodded like a bobblehead. "Busy. Good."

Inola looked at each of them. "Why is busy so good?"

Henry said, "Wears them out."

Inola sighed. "I'll let the other horses out to the paddock before Bella kills me for leaving her alone with our child." Henry and David laughed.

Robert washed his hands, and went in to have breakfast. Suni followed after, checking the kiln temperature. The "ranch hand" breakfast included Mike, half the Owl Pack, and Bella and Ryder. Inola washed up and took her child, and they sat together, commiserating in baby talk. Everyone ate breakfast pockets, with eggs, cheese, and sausage or bacon. They drank orange juice, filled up the dishwasher, turned it on, and disappeared to do their chores. Mike and Robert headed off to the grow room, and the Wolfpack spread out to do chores or lessons, switching off.

Josh and Nick did some laundry, and each had a shadow; Little Nico or Tam. They went out as a foursome on horseback with the first round of deliveries to the res in coolboxes, and came back loaded down with more goat cheeses from the Goat Girls, unwashed and uncarded wool for the Owl Pack, and Jackson Running Wolf on his own horse to check out Suni's pottery --and become her student. The kid was sixteen, and, like many res kids, a part of the "unofficial" Wolf Pack. He studied at home for his GED under a supervised program. His dyslexia was making it take longer to complete the coursework. He wore green-tinted glasses to read; he said it made the words on the page stop moving.

Suni welcomed Jackson with coffee and a hot pocket swiped from the kitchen, and set him to sweep out the studio. Robert came back, and worked on a bike he'd bought, and that Ghost had delivered. He had the engine on the mount, and he was slowly taking it apart. Inola checked on the horses, and worked with White Socks, training the horse to be a trail rider. She took Damia out for a slow ride, bareback, on her beloved Blackie. Blackie quit taking the mincing steps, and strode slowly but purposefully.

Henry said goodbye to David and the Owl Pack, a busy hive of beading, carding wool, spinning, and typing, while Vu read a story in Vietnamese, and stopped to translate. Henry rode his bike, and went to the Nighthawks’ clubhouse. He went to the bar, refilled his coffee, and sat down at a table. He researched businesses. There had to be a way for him, personally, to make money or trade. He taught a few days a week at the club homeschool, but he didn't get paid much, more the cost of materials. He had a working farm that he had owned free and clear for decades. They were basically running a horse and teen rescue, and other people did most of the work for that. Now, he had to commit to something.

He called up some off-road Harleys that were for sale. He walked out to Bonnie, whose face lit up. "Was getting sick of only trikes. Let the other ladies do those. We'll do the off-road ones. Want them for the club, for trips?"

"And to rent out," said Henry, "to other clubs. We lose one or two, won't break the bank."

"Whoa, more used than I woulda thought," said Bonnie. "How many?"

"How many can we store?"

Bonnie looked at Henry as if he'd grown three heads. "Buy that property there. Just saw a 'For Sale' sign this morning."

The place across the road was old, falling down, and an eyesore. He'd wanted to buy it, but the old woman living there wouldn't sell it, nor let him fix it up, even for free. She sat out there, morning and evening, smoking pot, watching the club grow, the bikes go in and out. That place had long been zoned commercial, but they couldn't get her out because the city had grown up around her. Henry nodded, and set out.

He crossed the street. Someone was dragging things out of the place. "You the one selling this place?"

"This dump? Zoned commercial?" said a woman dragging a white chair (faded to yellow) out. The chair smelled strongly of marijuana smoke. "Be a pain in the butt." Henry helped her get it out the door and out to the street. She flicked off the cigarette ash, and laughed at her pun.

"Ma'am, you selling it?" he asked. "The sign says, ‘For Sale By Owner.’"

"I'm Imagene. Mama Zelda was a weird old bat. Died last week."

"Sorry about that," said Henry. He wondered how to ask the same question again. "Who is selling this?"

"Oh, I am," she said, taking another drag on her cigarette. "You interested?"

"Want to build some storage," he said. "Still commercial. If the house is salvageable, we could use that to store stuff too."

"You don't want it," she said. "Vermin." She shuddered.

"If we buy it, we can do all this cleaning up for you. Got a company that does it for us. But, be an expense for us..."

She waved him into silence, pulled out her cell phone, entered the code, and pulled up a calculator. She typed in a number. He did the same, and typed in a slightly lower number. She typed in the median of the two, and they shook.

"Oh, thank god," she said. "Didn't want to do all that cleaning and lifting."

"You have to prove it's yours, will and deed and such," he said. "Then we gotta go to the county clerk's office, get the deed, put it in your name, then you can sell it to me."

"Lead on," she said, stalking to her tiny Datsun.

"Give me your number," he said. "I'll text you the address of the clerk's office in case you get lost."

He quickly texted the Nighthawk's lawyer, Denise, to meet them there. Bonnie checked it out, and by the time he got there, he knew Zelda was really dead. Imagene was really her daughter according to county and DMV records, and he also found out that some brokers were sniffing around to offer to find a buyer. She met them, having messaged ahead to the city clerk and paid the fees. They got the property in Imagene's name, completed the sale in Denise's (real estate lawyer friend's) office, and signed a boatload of documents that marked the property and all its buildings as "as is." There were a few hundred dollars in property taxes, which Henry paid, and they were in business.

"Thank you," said Imagene. "I had no idea I could get it done in one day."

"Not usually," said Henry. "But I know people."

He called Tito. "Tito, it’s Henry. You're gonna kill me dead."

"What did you do?" asked Tito.

"I bought the most horrible property anywhere," said Henry. "The only thing worse would have been a falling-down shack in a hurricane zone that also has earthquakes --and is inhabited by rodents."

"Good god!" said Tito. "You bought Zelda's place." He hyperventilated, threw both shoes into the wall, and got back on the phone. "You bastard... pendejo... idiot..." He started cursing in Spanish, English, and some other language Henry didn't recognize. "I'll give the Wolfpack Hazmat suits and two giant dumpsters." He slammed down the phone.

"That went well," said Henry to Denise.

"Lucky he doesn't come over and shoot you dead," said Denise.

"I'll go teach some kids. He can't kill me. Some of them are his. Murdering someone in front of your kids is against the Code."

"You better run, old man," said Denise. Henry laughed, thanked her, and went back toward the clubhouse.

Bonnie, Herja and Bandit of the Iron Knights took the delivery of sixteen battered off-road Harleys from all over the southwest, with equanimity. They had the Soldier Pack, and they had the tools and time. The Wolfpack welcomed hazmat pay. David took the farm going into the red to purchase the bikes with equanimity. Ivy was not so happy about the Nighthawks going into the red with the property purchase --and the boondoggle that cleaning it up would be. Ivy came down to sit on the Nighthawks' porch and watch Henry, Tito, some of the Soldier Pack, and a lot of the Wolfpack in full "condom suits," out there tearing apart the house and going over the yard to get all the accumulated trash out of there. Callie sat with her. Bao was inside teaching the students.

"Be smarter just to knock it down, or burn it down, than tear it down to the studs," said Ivy.

"Can you imagine the contact high if you burned it?" asked Callie. They both laughed.

"Found well over the ten to twelve plants you're allowed to grow individually," said Ivy. "Henry explained that they hadn't inspected the property, and showed them the paper to do it. That’s what he said when he called Wraith's friend at the DEA. She told him to sell the plants to licensed growers in the dead of night, since they couldn't arrest a dead woman. So, he did." The words were making Callie double over laughing again. "The vermin were mice trying to eat the plant food. Henry sold it all, grow lights and all, and some animal rights activists actually trapped the mice and moved their nest somewhere."

Callie laughed. "Henry the mouse savior. Who woulda thunk it?"

Ivy snorted. "Now, they're tearing it to the studs, and that part to the right will be a sort of large barn/parking lot for Harleys."

"We can expand the school," said Callie.

"No need now, is there?" asked Ivy. "And, if you move Bonnie's garage, she'll throw heavy wrenches at your head."

"How does Henry plan to make the money back?" asked Callie. She sipped her soda, watching the white, antlike bodies of the workers.

"He plans on starting a Harley training program --getting your motorcycle license, how to purchase bikes, maintenance, a list of clubs to join, how to handle emergencies, trip planning, the whole enchilada." Ivy snorted. "I know he can do it, I just don't see him paying back the clubhouse thing, anytime soon. He also wants to build other businesses on the property, Nighthawks-started businesses."

Callie said, "Why do you snort, woman? Henry's trying to bring home the bacon in the best way he knows how. This can really work, really take off. Never, ever discount the man."

"I can't, can I?" asked Ivy.

"Love someone --at any price. Love has its dividends."