Bao took the curvy road from her new home to Dragon Mother's triplex. Strange, she mused. That was a home full of memories. I almost had the place the way I wanted it, then Dragon Mother saw fit to treat me as if I were a child. Such a thing would be acceptable if I were still that hard worker married to a happy man, with a beautiful little girl, she thought. But we’re all older, Hu has two sisters, and we go back and forth between two households. What about the fact we have all changed, did she not comprehend?

She leaned into the curves, letting the ride relax her. Tensing up would only make the situation worse, and probably give her a headache. Her mother was no dragon, in actuality, just an old woman trying to make her present match her past, and it did not. They were in America now, coasting down the freeway to a new life. A life of jokes, laughter, and the best education possible for her children. She did not take a hand off the brakes to touch her belly. But, she knew. Her child would grow up with the full measure of Chinese languages, history, and culture, but without the weight of the past. China knew better. It sent its people into the world, to make their fortunes and send their money home, to have businesses that straddled the ocean, spreading their resources wide, including their human resources. But her mother could not see the enormous treasure she had, and so, she would lose her daughter.

She arrived at the house. She had debated long and hard about bringing a gift. Her mother needed to see how badly she had lost face. She had compromised. The gift of tea was small and in the right-hand pocket of her leather jacket. It was the absolute best, and a small quantity would be appreciated. And if her mother did not have her mind in the past.

She got off her bike, looking at the triplex. A curtain twitched. Children's toys were in a lidded plastic box just outside the front door; one soccer ball peeked out. There were two tricycles and a bicycle. Bao raised her eyebrows. So many, so young! No wonder the people in the middle section had come to America. They were looking for opportunities for the children. The third section; the far one, had nothing in the front yard, so she did not know anything about them except for another twitch of the curtains. She looked like a white devil on the bike. She took off her helmet and stowed it. The curtain twitching stopped.

She stepped up to the door. Her mother opened it, her mouth a hard line. "Come in, then," she said, with nothing of her former graciousness. She wore a red print top and black pants, dressed conservatively as ever, even in the rising heat outside.

"Thank you for welcoming me to your home," said Bao, in perfect Mandarin, her voice gentle and positive.

Dragon Mother stepped back. "Enter," she said.

Bao slipped off her black motorcycle boots, the ones that didn't zip up. She slid on the slippers, and went toward the kitchen. "Shall I make us some tea?" she asked.

"Sit," said her mother, imperiously. "I will make the tea."

"Perhaps this blend would suffice," she said, and handed over the round, green container, tied with a yellow ribbon.

Her mother raised her eyebrows, and took it. She went in, and heated the water. Bao looked around. The place was as Chinese as could be, from the position of the sofa, to the prints on the walls. She nodded to herself, and sat. Her mother was making the tea, true. And it would take time to steep, true. But she spent an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen.

Her mother brought out the second-best tea set. Bao raised her eyebrows alone. The set was for the tea, not for her. It deserved more than the common household pot. She stood to help, but her mother waved her away by pointing her chin.

"Sit," she said imperiously.

"Am I a dog?" asked Bao.

"You are one of those spiked creatures. A pig with quills."

"Porcupine," said Bao. "I could say the same of you. I came with tea, not to stab you."

"Yet you find fault even before I have sat my elderly self in a chair."

"It is your tone," said Bao. "Shall we speak to one another with respect? Mothers and daughters should respect each other."

"Stupid American idea," said her mother. "You should treat me with respect."

"And when you make every effort to make my wedding, one of the happiest days of my life, a place of selfish anger?"

Her mother stared at the teapot. "You married a white man," she said.

"I married the man I love," she said. "Hu is Chinese, with a Chinese father. I have produced a Chinese child. What more do you want?"

"You haven't produced a Chinese son."

Bao narrowed her eyes at her mother. "To do what? Take care of his grandmother in his old age?"

"To carry on the family name!"

"Are there not thousands of people with our name? Millions? And what does it matter? We no longer live in China."

"Bah!" said her mother. "Did you take leave of your senses? You're still Chinese!"

"You own this triplex," she said, softly, so her mother had to strain to hear. "You have been assured of an old age that will be prosperous. Are girls –women, really that unimportant to you? It is my money that bought this, to pay you back for raising me and helping with Hu, and so many other things. I took the initiative. I learned the best Mandarin, got the certificate. I run the business to sell Chinese books to China and Taiwan. The one thing the Chinese never tire of doing is reading."

"Bah. You own it with others."

"No, we split the business. I still help with the nonprofit side, fund it really, but I own the profitable side. I have employees. I conduct business." She stopped talking. "Will you ever find value in me, or in what I do? Am I speaking to a wall?" she said.

"I am not a wall," huffed her mother. "I am but a peasant."

Bao huffed. "After Honored Father died, you came to America with your brother, and my daughter. And you had enough money to buy a restaurant. And, the restaurant does well. You are no peasant." She poured the tea. She wanted to try one last time to get through to her mother. She let it sit a moment. "When are you taking your granddaughter somewhere? And not to the restaurant. She likes to do little, special things with you. There is a park with ducks that she would like to see with you, for a pleasant walk. A lovely time with an intelligent, beautiful girl."

"You have forbidden me," said her mother, "To speak of you to her."

"To speak ill of me divides my daughter's heart, and so damages her. I do not speak ill of you to her." Bao took a tiny sip. It was truly excellent oolong tea.

"You dare tell me how I should act? You made me lose face in front of people I must do business with!"

Bao sighed. "You decided, without speaking to me, how my wedding should be. I made restitution, and these people have as much or more business from me --or that I have recommended. I was a bride, it was my day."

"What does it matter? You were marrying a white man! You could have had the worst of it all! I went to good merchants!"

Bao saw snapping eyes, nearly closed with rage. When had her mother become a porcupine, pleased with nothing? "I did not say they were bad merchants. I just told you I made up their losses. I would not have done so if I did not believe they were good merchants. But, you made choices for me, without consulting me. You should have seen this as a time of joy, for our heads to be bent together making these choices, a chance for growing closer. Instead, you saw this as an opportunity for more control." She put her tongue to the back of her teeth, stopping short of accusing her mother of deliberate sabotage.

"You are an ungrateful daughter," snapped her mother, grabbing her teacup with ill grace.

"I brought you fine tea," said Bao. "I gave you the deed to this house. It is yours to do with as you wish. You have the restaurant. You are well cared for. I am raising a lovely daughter who speaks, reads, and writes Chinese --so she may speak to you in all things. How am I ungrateful?" Bao sipped more tea. Its smell was heavenly.

"You ride a motorcycle! You braid your hair, only on one side! You raise your daughter among white devils! You dare to tell me I should not be consulted on your wedding!"

"Consulting is different than making all the decisions for yourself," said Bao. "And, you had no problem letting Ivy and Callie help raise Hu before. They brought in a woman to teach Chinese to her, and to her sister, and the entire school. They did not deny Hu her language or culture, and Grace and Hu spent many hours with you. What has changed, and why now? Especially since I am home, and teaching her many things. She helped me choose this tea." She smelled it, and sipped some more.

Her mother rose. "It is obvious to me that I have an ungrateful child. Until you stop this... nonsense, you cannot come here."

Bao finished her tea. She sat down the cup. "You should see a doctor. I worry that you have some imbalance. You went from being happy when we moved in here, to wanting to control our every movement --in just a few weeks. What made you decide to act in such a way? We were happy before. Why are you not happy now?"

"So I am sick? I have some disease? You useless idiot! How dare you speak that way, to me!"

Bao stood carefully, so as not to knock the table and risk damaging the lovely tea set. "I love you," she said. "But you have indicated with what you say and do that you no longer respect or love me. I will not tolerate that from anyone, even my mother. You do not act in honorable ways. If you do not speak of me negatively, you may see Hu. I can bring her to you, and you can have lovely walks in the park, or she loves your cooking, so you could do that. There is so much potential in her. I hate to see her damaged by your lack of love to me."

"How dare you speak to me about not loving you! You are a fool! You have changed, and become American!"

"If you love me, then you love me even if I change. The Americans call it unconditional love. There are no conditions on my love for you, but you damage me with your behavior, and your lack of unconditional love. Such things are damaging to me, and to my daughter. She needs that unconditional love to thrive, and deserves love."

"You live on a farm! With horses! We spent our entire lives moving away from farms, living on scraps of rice in the city. How dare you go back to the mud and filth we spent our life's blood to leave?"

Bao smiled sadly. "I live on a farm, with horses my daughter loves. We live in a farmhouse big enough for all of us, with children and other parents, and my love, Nico --and our children. Our life is very rich. And, two of my best friends grow food for us. They are not peasants, but engineers. Be careful which words you use."

Her mother stiffened her spine. "You are having a baby who is not Chinese?"

Bao nodded. "And that very sentence is why you shall have no part in our baby's life. Your prejudices are truly disturbing. Please see a Chinese doctor to renew your spirit. You are not the mother I knew when I came here. I hope you change into someone who would welcome a new child into the family. I cannot support the mother I see before me. Goodbye." She turned, walked to the door, kicked off her slippers, and pulled on her boots. "I am not the one that caused you to lose face, Mother. You did that to yourself."

She opened the door, and stepped out. The curtains twitched. Bao had never raised her voice, but her mother certainly had. She bowed, and her mother slammed the door in her face, not bothering to bow back. And these people will tell others, and all of Chinatown will know that my mother has treated me this way. She will lose face again, and she may not recover this time.

She rode to Chinatown. She needed to give another gift. Mrs. Chang met her at the door. "Mrs. Chang," she said, noticing the bustle.

There were two separate saleswomen offering tea to customers. They showed beautiful garments and sketches on laptops to the customers. An assistant was nearby each saleswoman, ready to get anything that was required.

"Bao! Entering my shop so soon after your honeymoon! Was it glorious?"

"The most glorious," she said. "I have some tea I would like brewed for us, and perhaps these pleasant women would also like a cup. It is a modest oolong." She withdrew the can from her other pocket. Mrs. Chang barely glanced at it, and handed it to a girl next to her.

"Mei, make three pots of this," she said, and handed it over. The other two ladies inclined their heads. Bao inclined back. "Please, sit."

"Oh, do not make a fuss over me," said Bao. "Please, give me a tablet. I want to see what has all of Chinatown so happy."

Mrs. Chang actually blushed, and handed over a tablet. "You are too kind. I think the blue and white heron one would look lovely. For a dinner, perhaps." Mrs. Chang leaned over her, to slide that slide for Bao to peruse. Bao sat, and waited on the tea.

Bao was stunned. One of the girls... the ones on scholarship. That was fast, she thought. She had put the money for Mrs. Chang to use immediately upon their conversation, and knew that it had been taken out, but this was... wonderful. The tunic glimmered and glistened.

"Is this in my size?" she asked. "I am very sorry, wrong question. Do you have it today to alter, or shall I come back next week?"

"Today," said Mrs. Chang, standing up. "Li, please get this one." She held up the tablet, and the girl moved like the wind. Soon, Mrs. Chang had hung up her jacket, and she was being fitted. "A black jacket would go well with this," said Mrs. Chang. She gestured, and Mei finished putting down the last tea tray, and came back with the tablet. "This one, or this," said Mrs. Chang, tapping, then swiping, between two options. The first was black, fitted with a Chinese collar. The second was a softer jacket, more tapered, that went farther down the back.

"The second," said Bao. "And the first in silver with little beads."

Mrs. Chang nodded, and before she could blink, the jacket was over the tunic. Bao held her hands out, just so the jacket didn't catch on the pins. She carefully lowered her arms until her elbows were a bit out from her sides, then held her arms out again. It was whisked off of her, then the tunic fitting was finished. She was back in her silk tee when the raised-collar silk tee went on, and it was assessed for fit. It came off, and Mrs. Chang showed her blue silk pants to match the tunic, and a lovely black and silver top to match the silver jacket. She put her tee back on, handed her credit card to Mei, and sat down to tea, little almond cookies, and tiny, green, tea cakes.

Mei whispered as she served the tea, "Honorable Mrs. Hua Bao, we wish to thank you for our scholarships. But, Li will never speak of it, but she wants to change to fashion design and art school. Mrs. Chang does not want to tell you, as it would cost far more."

"And what do you want?" asked Bao, pretending they were exchanging only pleasantries. One of the other ladies was being given the same treatment as Bao had just had, so Mrs. Chang was quite busy.

"I will go to dental school. I am enrolled."

"I didn't ask where you are enrolled. I asked for what you want."

Mei bowed her head, her hair obscuring her face. "The same. But Li is so talented, she must get it first."

"These are her drawings?" she said. Mei nodded. "And you sew and create?"

"I sew," she said. "Li is the genius."

"So, someday you will have a shop together, or Mrs. Chang will expand. So, yes. Enroll in the correct school and classes with my blessing. I will write to your parents and explain that their daughters are truly gifted and will need extra schooling, and that the scholarship committee agrees."

Mei quailed. "What committee? Must I speak to anyone else?"

"I am the committee," said Bao. "But let's not tell everyone."

"Of course not," said Mei, struggling not to let the tears fall.

"Your parents will be so happy," said Bao, "That you can work to support them in their old age."

Mei nodded, and wiped away a tear. “Thank you.”

The other lady stealthily moved to the chair next to Bao. "Take the scholarship, girl. Nod your head, say 'I'll be right back', and go wash your face."

"I'll be right back," said Mei, and she vanished as if she was never there.

"I'm Guo Huan Min," said the woman.

"Picado Bao," said Bao. They bowed to one another.

"I have heard of the woman who married a foreigner, making her mother so angry. I am sorry for the family strife. Your daughter plays the violin with my Katie. I, too, married a foreigner after my Chinese husband left us. He insisted I keep my Chinese name."

"Mrs. Zhao is an excellent teacher," said Bao. "She remembers to make it pleasant and fun."

Mrs. Guo smiled. "I am so happy with her as well. My daughter enjoys the play, and says your daughter doesn't treat her differently because she is only half Chinese."

"If she did, I would speak to her, but she is being raised with two American girls." Bao sipped the excellent tea.

The other woman drank from her own cup. "And how does that work? It sounds like a complicated story."

"When my honored father passed on, my mother took our daughter and my brother and moved to America. He had some funds, so she bought a restaurant here and did very well. We were to follow, my husband and I, but he was killed by a man moving rocks that had been drinking beer most of the previous night. My mother took in a tenant, who then married a woman. This tenant treated my daughter and the woman's daughter the same. Her name is Ivy, and she married a woman named Callie, and their daughter is..."

"Grace," said Mrs. Guo. "I know that bit of the story, and I have seen Callie pick up Hu with Grace. Inseparable, aren't they?"

"Yes, so we bought a duplex together. I bought them out and gave the entire triplex to my mother, and moved with them when they moved into a bigger house. Ivy has a daughter with autism. Damia is brilliant with horses."

"Yes, I know that part, too. And now you have married, and moved an entire farmhouse to be close to Ivy and Callie --and their children."

Bao nodded, and sipped more tea. "The girls are so happy together. To separate them would be cruel and stupid on a very fundamental level. Both are working at far above grade level. I am a Chinese instructor at the homeschool for the motorcycle club. It’s called the Nighthawks."

"I have heard of them. At first, it made the people nervous that it was a tong, but they are not criminal gang people. I have heard of their programs to help soldiers by teaching them to rebuild motorcycles."

"You are well informed," said Bao. "I am sorry I did not recognize you. You and your daughter are often not there when I arrive to pick up Hu."

"She has another class after that; mathematics is the one. She is brilliant. But I worry I am putting too much pressure on her."

Bao nodded. "If you ask the question, you are. Ask her to choose. Tell her she must learn what interests her, and take off the controls for her to learn it. Diving deep brings in so much other knowledge. For instance, if she wants to perform the violin, she must use mathematics to determine the speed of the music." She took a sip of tea, then poured more. "Pushed children become accomplished, but they don't have time to be healthy, normal children. And, they begin to think they are loved only for their accomplishments."

Mrs. Guo nodded. "I am so glad we have the chance to talk. We must bring the daughters together. There is a park nearby with ducks. Perhaps we could all take a nice walk?"

Bao held back her tears. Someone who understood, and that, in itself, was such a great gift. "Of course," she said.

The women chatted, and exchanged numbers. Bao even stayed for Mrs. Guo's fitting. She looked lovely in gold and black. They took their purchases, and went to lunch, swimming on a sea of tea and chat.

* * *

Later that night, Mrs. Chang went to see her old friend at the triplex. She was shocked. Her friend seemed to have aged before her eyes. "Let me get some tea," said Mrs. Hua.

"Oh, no," she said. "I have drunk a river of tea with my customers. I would just like to sit a bit and rest my hands."

"Business is good?" asked Mrs. Hua.

"The tablet computers and Li's drawings are bringing in many, including your daughter." Mrs. Hua looked away. "She is so beautiful, and prosperous."

Mrs. Hua snorted. "Prosperous? She sells books. She's not even a real teacher."

"She sells books to China and Taiwan, eBooks and print books. I have seen them. The illustrations are truly brilliant. And, she is certified in China and almost finished with her US certification." Mrs. Hua snorted again. Mrs. Chang kept on. "She bought several of my best pieces, and Li and Mei shall go to art and fashion design schools. Those schools run at seventeen thousand dollars a year, and your daughter is paying for them both to go --as a scholarship."

Mrs. Hua realized she'd dropped her jaw. "My daughter?" she choked out.

"Your daughter, with the beautiful, accomplished granddaughter, who did not marry a white man to anger you. She married him because she loves him."

"She could just as easily love a Chinese man." Mrs. Hua's mouth was a thin red line.

Mrs. Chang snorted. "And what would be the difference? She teaches Chinese language and culture, every day. She takes her daughter to violin lessons with a Chinese teacher. She had a Chinese wedding. My husband and I were there. We have bought some refurbished places from Bao's husband's company. There are ties there, to the Chinese community. What do you want? To go back to China? To go back to a tiny apartment that sleeps seven? To having your bathroom next to your bed? To work every day? My husband has taken me to trips to China. We can afford that. We have visited other countries, too. And here you moan, in your triplex your daughter gave to you."

"You call me ungrateful? I gave birth to her! I raised her! I sent her out to work, and I stayed home with my granddaughter! I should not have brought her here."

"Why?" asked Mrs. Chang. "Do you not have a better life? Better than any you could have dreamed of in China?"

"She refuses my words! She will not let me guide her!"

"She is a grown woman, married, with her own household. She is rich and accomplished. What guidance does she need?" asked Mrs. Chang, perplexed.

"She won't let me live with her," shouted Mrs. Hua. She knew she sounded like a crazed person, but she had to speak. "She threw me out. She said I am responsible, that I must call my own plumbers and carpenters --and all from the list of trusted people she gave me. She will not even make a phone call for me! Certainly, now that she lives with a white devil, she won't let me live there."

"She won't let you live with her," said Mrs. Chang, "Not because of the man she married, but because you treat her as if she were seven years old. She is a grown woman. Can you not see that? Can you not speak to her gently? A willow branch bends with the wind, and is not broken."

"She... she is wrong about me," said Mrs. Hua. "She said today that I am sick, that I need to see a Chinese doctor. I am not insane!" she cried out.

"My friend," said Mrs. Chang, "Your daughter is right. You act strangely. When in your daughter's house, you tried to tell Bao and Hu what to do, but you also tried to do the same thing with Grace and her mothers. Who are you to determine that you know how everyone around you should live? You are also screaming at me, you seem to have aged ten years in two weeks, and you are wearing a robe at only eight at night. Where is the kind, gentle woman who used to serve me the best rice?" Mrs Hua froze, and looked down at herself. "Sit down, relax," said Mrs. Chang. "We will talk to Mr. Leong in the morning. He will give you some teas and some acupuncture, and you will feel like a new woman."

Mr. Leong sent Mrs. Hua to a Chinese medical doctor, Mr. Lin. Mr. Lin diagnosed her with very low blood sugar and hypothyroidism. The medications, combined with Chinese herbs and many walks with her granddaughter, helped Mrs. Hua to recover. The anger toward her daughter dissipated, and she realized she had done irreparable harm.

When Bao came to pick up her daughter, Mrs. Hua sent Hu to throw bread at the ducks. "When your own daughter does not want to live with you... I blamed it on American influences, not my own behavior."

Bao patted her hand. "Hu saw all of those behaviors. It damaged her. That's why you couldn't, and can't, still live with us. Not now. Besides, you're getting a good income as a landlord, and I don't want to deal with the triplex."

They sat in the sun. After a time, Mrs. Hua said, "I was sick. I didn't know what I was saying."

"I know," said Bao. "That's not a real apology, but that's a start. Try actually saying the words 'I'm sorry,' and read a book or two about control. You already lost me, but you have a chance at keeping Hu in your life. Over time, if you learn to behave with respect toward me and my husband, we would be happy to bring you into our lives. But, I will not be spoken to as if I am nothing, and you shall not speak ill of my husband. You were the one that taught me to go out into the world, to do the best for us. I did that, as you did with the Chinese restaurant. Start finding out who I really am, who Hu is, without that ridiculous lens you use of Chinese --or not Chinese, as a dreaded, racist compass. Start with us being people, and work from there, and I'll do the same with you." She patted her mother's hand again.

"You will not forgive?" asked Mrs. Hua.

"I already have," said Bao. "But, that doesn't mean I accept bad behavior."

"You are a hard woman," said Mrs. Hua.

"I am your daughter, but so much more. I waited as long as I could before I moved you out. Please, please realize that I am not hard. I am protective, of me, and of my daughter. I love you, but you must act as if you love me. Find out who I am, and work from there."

"Am I such a bad person?" asked Mrs. Hua.

"The fact that you keep begging for an apology I have already given means you have not yet changed," said Bao. She stood. "Come on, Hu, my precious." Hu ran and plowed into her mother, making Bao laugh. "Let's go chase down some dinner things."

Hu ran to her grandmother, and hugged her too. "See you later," she said, then bowed prettily. She took her mother's hand, and they walked away.

Loss

The problem with their daughter, Diana, wasn't that she peed and pooped constantly. And it wasn't her alternately smooth and wrinkled features; she was cuteness itself, even if she was a little lopsided from coming out of the womb. No, she was actually a pig. A baby pig. But, not for truffles, but for his wife's breast milk.

Robin, Reece and Xenia all took turns feeding her throughout the day. Xenia was great at expressing milk; she did it while she read or watched TV. The problem was the fact they had only one human cow, and that was Xenia. Her breasts would get sore if Diana woke her up, so she would feed the baby even if she was too tired to stand. She'd just lay on the side of the bed and fall toward the bassinet. This disturbed Robin, not because he had to change sides of the bed to fit the bassinet. And also, not because of the “thunk” she made lunging toward the bassinet. That had been the noise that was made to catch herself, before she fell in a heap on the floor that usually woke him up. No, what bothered him most, was that his wife never slept. She got circles under her eyes, lanky hair, and a glassy stare. She would watch TV or read a magazine, and have no idea what she watched or read. Both Robin and Reece convinced her they would take care of everything, and high school student David Lazy Bear, called Bear, who wasn't actually lazy, came over to clean up everything for a few hours a day. But, Xenia's hindbrain would not, under any circumstances, register the concept of rolling back over and going to sleep if she actually heard her baby cry.

So, Robin and Reece engaged in the strange behavior of stealing the baby, or the entire bassinet, to let Xenia sleep. They snuck her away the minute Xenia's eyes closed. Bear was in on it. He'd give the signal that Xenia was asleep, and the baby would disappear for as long as they could disappear her. They took her to the kitchen, to watch TV, or to the laundry room to do the incessant loads of laundry. Robin wondered how the occasional load became a daily thing. He would do a load with his baby in a papoose pouch on his stomach.

He sang to tell her exactly what he was doing. "Putting the laundry in the washer, oh, oh, adding the soap, oh, oh."

It made Reece shriek with laughter inside her skull to see her buttoned-up boss sing to a baby about the chores. Reece sometimes went through the house with her hand over her mouth, shaking with laughter, when Xenia was asleep.

The whole Reece thing baffled Robin, too. All their parents were dead, so no help there. They had Bear. But, somehow, Reece was suddenly living at his house and taking care of his wife. Not that he minded. She still went to her shifts, EMT and sheriff's deputy. She came back tired, but would instantly talk about something so boring that Xenia would sleep, and she would steal the baby. It was probably a Valkyrie thing. That, he understood. Valkyries took care of Valkyries. There was probably a side-eye or secret hand gesture that meant, "Come home with me and take care of me and my infant for a while." Not that he minded. Anything to make his zombie-wife sleep, was a good idea for now.

He did a save that night that had him patting himself on the back. They were both asleep in the bed, and Diana gave a little cough. Robin managed to move his cop bulk around the bed, snag the baby, and sneak off with her before the cough became a wail. He got her into the living room, and changed --she'd wet her entire outfit, somehow. He went into the kitchen, where he warmed up the bottle of breast milk. He made moo noises until he flung the microwave open just before it rang. He checked the temperature on his wrist, and she suckled down the milk like the baby pig she was. He left only the light on over the oven, snagged a kangaroo pouch, slid her in, and laid back in the recliner. He told a nonsense story about bears and fish, and a stream, and she ate and stared into his eyes.

Robin wondered how she'd taken his heart. He was pretty sure his heart was Xenia's, but he realized he must have two of them, a hidden one, that only came out for Diana. Diana had his second heart. He burped her, fed her some more, and burped her again. He put her in the kangaroo pouch, next to his heart, and put a hand in there --so she knew Daddy had her. He fell asleep with her in his arms.

Two hours later, like clockwork, he did it all again. He burped her twice. Reece came down, stole the baby and the kangaroo pouch, and sent him to bed. He did, and was excruciatingly careful not to wake up Xenia. He did anyway, when his alarm went off. He had taken to leaving his phone under his pillow on vibrate.

He hit the vibration alarm (twice) before stumbling toward the shower. "Honey?" asked Xenia. "I need Diana." Diana was asleep in the bassinet.

Then, Diana coughed delicately, then let out a wail. Xenia did the lurching thing, changed Diana, and attached her to her breast. Baby and mama sighed with relief.

"What... who changed her? She was wearing the yellow one last night. You did, she's snapped wrong."

"She peed on the whole thing, too," he said, and got the bathroom door closed before she could use her interrogation skills on him.

He got out, dried off, shaved, dressed, and went to the kitchen. He zapped a frozen breakfast burrito and blessed himself (and all of his ancestors) for buying an automatic coffee maker. He had two cups before his eyes opened. He poured himself a large go-cup, went back to the bedroom, kissed his wife and daughter, unlocked his sidearm from the safe, put it on, found his gun belt, realized he'd done things backward, then found his go-cup and headed out.

He got to work without wrapping the SUV around a tree. He slapped himself awake a couple times, made sure he was buttoned up right, and hadn't missed a spot when shaving. Then, he very literally, put on his Sheriff Bob Hunter hat, and went in to work.

During the first hour, he found out the night was quiet, except for an excitable, drunken jackpot winner in a small casino --who spent all of his winnings, then woke up with a pounding headache and thought he had been robbed. Casino security had hours of tapes of his burning through the money. Then, he went through his first mound of paperwork, found out who was wanted, and shared the information with the small nearby casinos, in case a bad person showed up there. It wasn't that common; most wanted felons, had figured out that casinos had security cameras. He waged war with his inboxes, both physical and electronic, fielded some calls, and went out for a look-see around town.

Sheriff Bob Hunter parked, ready to tiptoe into the house. He got away for lunch, and had his wife's favorite lunch of the week; the BLT on brown pecan bread, with a side Caesar salad. He had the basil tomato soup and tandoori chicken, pita pocket that Reece liked, and the same BLT for himself. He entered, and found his wife asleep, the baby in a kangaroo sling on her stomach. His wife was in shorts and a different shirt from that morning.

Reece was in light yoga pants and a Deputy “Do It Better” T-shirt. She took the bag from him as he carefully shut the door. Reece heated the soup in the microwave, careful to open it before it dinged. They ate together at the breakfast bar in absolute, blessed silence. Robin quietly opened the refrigerator, happy that he'd asked for the dressing to be on the side. Reece waved, slipped into the recliner, silently laid it back, put the jewel-toned red cover over her legs, and slept. Robin slipped out, grinning like a fool, and stepped out into the sunlight. He put on his “Sheriff Bob” face again, and walked to the car.

He turned the radio back on; he had it off, so the squawks wouldn't wake the baby. "S-34, back on from lunch. Anything I should know?"

"Yes S-34, please be advised that Deputy Tanner is on a call, a fender-bender just outside Tonopah."

"Good to know," said Bob, pulling out. He turned left, then right, without a backward glance. That would haunt him later.

He found a black-and-white border collie wandering by the side of the highway. He picked it up, gave it water, and aided it on a towel next to him. He drove it to Darla's Dogs. Darla would get it to the vet, and get it in shape. She routinely kept dogs out of the shelter. Ranchers always needed another dog, and border collies were good ranching dogs. He rode the streets on patrol, covering the area Deputy Tanner was supposed to take. Tanner called in to say the fender-bender was resolved, so Bob went to get some mozzarella sticks, a small salad, and a cherry-lime iced drink at Sonic. He ate quickly, then went back to the office.

He did piles of paperwork, talked to the mayor briefly about a slight rise to the budget --due to having to purchase new tires for Tanner's truck that he drove over some caltrops getting to some suspects. He also promised to find something to cut to make up for it later. But what, he didn't know. Maybe winterizing the trucks. He'd been moving money around in a shell game, trying to get everyone trained, but having the Valkyries nearby took care of some training needs. He just sent his people for sparring and paintball. They'd come back bruised with paint in odd places, but they'd pay a lot more attention when they came back. He pulled up the budget, and cut out a rather useless seminar --for himself. Seminars were great, but this one matched the cost of the tires, almost exactly. He texted the mayor to say he'd taken care of the problem.

He did more paperwork, then Tanner came in to chat. Deputy Keith Tanner was huge, with an even bigger heart, his black hair cut short, his eyes a dark blue. He could run, fight, and even kickbox with that size. He hoped Tanner would find a significant other that didn't want to change his size, or his personality.

"Heard you picked up a dog," Tanner said as he took off his hat and took a seat.

"Yep, just received a call from Darla. She's seven months old, sweet and smart. Worn pads and dehydration, wolfed down food, on an IV, has some cream on her pads, but she'll be fine."

"Signs put up?" asked Tanner.

"Online and offline, and the shelters have her info. Why?"

"I'd like to take her."

Tanner lived on a small ranch with his father, and his sister Crystal who worked on the meat and cheese counter at the supermarket, and three horses.

"We're thinking of getting alpaca to sell the fur or wool, or whatever. Hear they're nice but they spit. Dad says he doesn't want cattle or sheep, and they can bring in good money and are good creatures. The dog can keep everyone in line." He laughed, "Even Dad."

"Any other pets?" asked Bob.

"Nope," said Tanner. "That old tabby cat of my sister's up and died. Big marmalade, we’d named her Jam. Anyway, I'd like the dog."

"Sure," said Bob. "Head on by Darla's on the way home."

"And, I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I know it's a bad time for that, with Reece maybe being late --because of her driving a bus." Law enforcement tended to call ambulances "buses."

"That's fine," said Bob. "I'll go where you're supposed to be. No biggie."

"Good," said Tanner.

"Anything else? Any problems? Situations? Issues?" He drew out the last word.

Tanner laughed. "I'm good."

"See you tomorrow," said Bob.

Bob finished off more paperwork and stood. "Got a wife and baby," he said under his breath, just to himself.

He shut off the computer, and took the case with his personal laptop and a few journals. His wife read them assiduously, and he had to be ready to discuss things with her, and he was working with his backlog. He figured when his wife came back from leave, she'd argue with him about them. He’d hated coming back from leave after only a few weeks, but such was life. He turned off the lights, locked the office, and went to the company truck.

He stopped off for potato and blue corn chowders, small salads, and pecan pie for his family, then took a swing over to grab some baby wipes and diapers. He was fast realizing there was no such thing as "too much." He then headed home, sucking on a soda to keep his eyes open.

He drove up, and saw the door slightly open. He left the things in the car, and called dispatch. "This is S-34. There's an intruder at my house, 3555 Sunflower Drive."

He dropped the mic, and ran toward the house. He used the tip of his gun to open the door. Two of the stools at the breakfast bar were smashed. No one was there, no baby in the crib. The ruby blanket had been slashed, which chilled him. He made his way upstairs, then back down. He went back out, and circled the house.

He went back in, and found Tanner in the house, still in uniform. "No one here. There was a struggle, and someone had a knife." He pointed to the two lamps he hadn't seen on his first walkthrough. "Someone ripped those out of the wall and used them as missiles. My wife and Deputy Reece are missing, and our baby Diana," he said. "We need to get the word out. My wife's car is still here. Call the FBI. This is a kidnapping."

He did a second walkthrough, in case someone had hidden the baby, using gloved fingers. Nothing. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Herja a 412 code, which meant kidnapping, and his address. Herja would find who did this, and between the two of them, they would pound the son-of-a-bitch into the ground and get his family back.

He dialed again, this time to Agent Rita Beck, a longtime friend. She was based in Reno. She said, "Just got it from the Vegas office. On my way. I'll bring Frenchie." Frenchie was Cinna French, FBI, also a Valkyrie.

"Bet Frenchie knows already," said Bob.

"No bet," said Beck. "Sit tight."

Tanner stopped talking on an open mic. "CSI is on their way. The FBI has been called."

"Who the fuck called Vegas?" asked Bob. "Reno would know this area better. Special Agent in Charge, Beck, is on her way with Special Agent French."

"Good," said Tanner. "Your wife's truck is in the garage. Nothing is missing?"

"Not even that pack of baby wipes there," said Bob. "And we've got valuable things. I checked the safe. It's hidden well, and no one breached it." He took a breath. "That's actually bad. If my wife and baby got away, they have nothing; no food, water, baby wipes, diapers, clothing, money, IDs. My wife's purse is there." He pointed to it. "I didn't look in it, but the tip of her wallet is there. I doubt she had much on her. Carrying your ID around inside the house (as a new mother) is not normal."

"No," said Tanner. "It isn't." He blew out a breath. "I don't think your wife was injured, or anyone, because, no blood. No trace. And if I ask who you think would want to hurt your family, I think it would be 'everyone I arrested, or my wife arrested' and 'no one.'"

"Got that one," said Bob. "I can't leave, because of a possible ransom call, but there isn't much for me to do here. I can go on a grid search; my wife and daughter, and Reece --are probably on foot." He sighed. "Did you eat yet?" he asked.

"What?" said Tanner. "No. Why?"

"I'll eat in my car, and I'll blow protocol and take this house phone." He took pictures of it, and so did Tanner. "You'll grab the food and go on a grid search, and I'll stay here and wait for..."

The CSI van pulled up. "Go," he said.

They fast-walked out to Bob's car. He gave Tanner half the food, and he sat in the car and methodically ate the food that tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He took a bottled water from the little cooler in his truck, and waited for Herja.

Instead, Sergeant Dani Ramos came, one of Herja's Soldier Pack. "We're deployed, Sir," she said. She had dark skin and deep brown eyes. She was compact, like a fireplug, and strong. "Herja's got us on a grid, and is looking for places for food, shelter, and communi..."

Bob held up a finger and answered his phone. "Sheriff Hunter," he said.

He sat up straight, threw his food containers back in the sack and threw it in the rear. He tilted his head, and Dani ran around and hopped into his car. They buckled up while Bob ran through his own lawn to get around the CSI van.

"Got one dead. He's nearby, about six blocks down, with a broken neck. CSI is there to catch any ransom demands. I don't think this is going to end well." He smiled grimly. "For them." Dani looked at him with a wild, familiar, Valkyrie look in her eye.

"Some people you just can't reach, no matter the prize, or the price."