Ajai texted the new information to Wraith and Skuld. Skuld was in a class and didn’t get the information immediately. Wraith did, and she called over to the jail to find out when and how Bodaway had died. She grabbed her leather jacket and rushed to her bike. She put her headphones in her ears.

“Bodaway Teton got out on bail,” said the corrections officer.

“How the hell did that happen?” asked Wraith. “He attacked my niece in broad daylight.”

“Dunno,” said the officer. “The only thing I know is that the FBI is involved. Don’t you people talk to each other?”

“You would think,” said Wraith. “Thank you.”

She hung up, called the prosecuting attorney, then hopped on her Harley, heading for the station that would process Nantan. The prosecuting attorney had been replaced, so Wraith endured a runaround until she got to the correct person.

“This guy shouldn’t have been out of prison,” said Wraith.

“Weirdest shit I ever saw,” said Lacey Halge, the prosecuting attorney on the case. “Some sort of FBI business. Witness, I think.”

“To what?” asked Wraith. “I’m DEA, and I have contacts in ATF. This man was not a dealer or seller of anything, just a violent user of drugs and alcohol.”

“Dunno,” said Lacey.

“Please give me the FBI contact on the case,” said Wraith. “How did Bodaway die?”

“He’s dead?” asked Lacey. “First I’ve heard of it.” She rustled some paper. “Frank Wilson. Special Agent.”

“Not for long,” said Wraith.

Wraith called the “dirty FBI” for help. “I think I have a bad agent,” she said.

“Fuck that shit,” said Stankovic, the one she’d worked for before. “Who is this walking dead person?”

“Frank Wilson, Special Agent. Have no idea out of what office. I’ve worked with the Vegas office many times and never heard the name.”

“What did this prick do?”

“Let a guy out of prison who murdered his wife and physically attacked my niece, all while violating two restraining orders on private property.”

“Fuck,” said Stankovic.

“The fucker they let out is dead, so that’s good, but they arrested my friend. I need to know the date, time, place, and manner of death. My friend has physically been with me all week, so I know they’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Looks like a long game,” said Stankovic.

“I think so, too,” said Wraith. “With my friend, who was physically protecting this dead asshole’s kids when the asshole was arrested. It’s unfair he’s caught up in it.”

“Fuck me,” said Stankovic.

“’Fraid not,” said Wraith. “I’m spoken for.”

Stankovic laughed. “Talk to you in a few.” He hung up.

Deep Waters

Nantan sat quietly in the concrete room with the metal chairs, making mental lists —picking lists, shopping lists, ideas for lessons in Sioux and Apache. The Wolfpack were learning Paiute from Henry and David, but some of them wanted to learn Apache and Sioux, too. There were already online learning modules for Dine (Navajo) and Hopi. He thought he could improve on them a little. He would stop, stare at a wall, and think before writing each item.

His Sioux lawyer showed up nearly three hours later, having flown in from Phoenix. She had long black hair, a chiseled nose, and the erect manner of their people. Ana Whitehorse was very young, and very smart.

“Get these cuffs off my client,” she snapped. Nantan couldn’t hear what the guard said. “Did he resist arrest? No, he did not. Has he been convicted of a violent act? No, he has not. Uncuff him, NOW.” Her voice grew very, very vicious.

The man with the black suit and a hint of a paunch opened the cuffs.

“Chains? Really?” said Ana. “You felt that unsafe? One guy shorter than all of you?” She kept making cutting remarks until the paunchy guy left the room and shut the door behind him.

Nantan quietly explained the situation and she made notes on a yellow legal pad. She asked to see the pictures from the California trip, and Nantan relaxed more, ever so slightly. He knew he hadn’t done it, but now he would have proof that even the FBI could not ignore. He showed picture after picture, including a shot near a bank.

“Did you use an ATM there?”

“Twice,” he said.

“Where and when?” She sat, pen ready to write.

“The closest bank to the south end of the hotel.” He gave her the name of the hotel, and the bank —probably Wells Fargo.

He remembered a red sign —and what he could see from that ATM. He gave the other one, on the road at a truck stop. He also used his credit card to buy gas, go to restaurants, and buy groceries.

“How much credit is on that card?” she asked, and asked to see it.

He handed it over. “It’s reloadable. I asked Henry to load it up once a month with my spending salary. I prefer not to carry cash, but the Wolfpack sometimes wants candy or other small things. I keep track of their salaries for Henry, and give the information to him.” He showed her the notes he took on the trip. “Each one gets a cut of the sales and money for delivery fees for packing, and the delivery of the grocery box business, too.”

“What is your salary?” Ana asked. Nantan told her, and she gave him a predatory smile that made it clear she was a Valkyrie. “I can tell you this,” she said, “Wraith gave me the date and time of death, and you couldn’t have been there.”

“Why, was he out of prison?”

Ana smiled that predatory smile again. “I believe there is someone in the government, probably FBI. They thought they could use Bodaway to do something illegal, and not get information, as they claim. He was a low-level res drunk, not some sort of kingpin. He shouldn’t have been out of prison; the man murdered his wife in front of his children. Twice, he was let out. I think this is an attempt to throw blame anywhere else than where it belongs.”

Nantan looked at her with kind eyes, but it still didn’t change the predicament he was in, right now.

She smiled again, and almost made him recoil with its fierceness. “They thought they had a dumb, violent Indian on their hands, but the facts are the opposite. Even when he confronted you, the girls hit him, not you. That’s on record. Someone didn’t do their homework before setting you up.” She sat up and stood. “I’ll get this party started. I assure you, Wraith and I are hanging someone out to dry for this.”

“Thank you,” said Nantan.

“You benefit the Sioux,” she said. “We take care of our own.”

She went over and tapped on the door. Three men came in. The paunchy guy with the thinning hair stood behind Nantan. Ana glared at him until he backed off into a corner. A male in his forties with a requisite black suit, red tie, and shiny shoes sat down and stared at Nantan. He had small black eyes, a Roman nose, and long, thin fingers. Just like a pianist.

He had several files in front of him. “I’m Special Agent Ruon Harris, and beside me is Agent Garik and Agent Quinn is in the corner. Is it alright if I make a recording of this interview?”

Ana snorted. “You’re already taping it,” she said.

He opened one of them and laid out the autopsy photos of Bodaway, who had been beaten before being shot. “Recognize your work?” he asked.

“My client did not kill Bodaway. Why was Bodaway out of prison? He had charges against him for murdering his wife.”

“Look closely,” said Agent Harris. “This is your work.”

“One more time, since you apparently have a hearing problem. My client did not kill Bodaway. And, one more time, what was Bodaway doing out of jail? Did you lose him?” Ana smiled gently, as if she was doing it to a very young child.

“He was an informant,” said Harris.

Ana snorted. “Of what? I’m from the res. Bodaway was a drunk who sometimes used drugs. He wasn’t involved in anything except petty crime —and beating his wife and children. Did you knowingly engage the services of a dangerous felon, Agent Harris?”

“Special Agent Harris,” he said. “Why did you beat and shoot Bodaway, Mr. Nachos?”

“Nachas,” said Ana, once again speaking as if to a small child. “Date, time, and place of the murder?”

“We’re asking the questions here,” said Special Agent Harris.

“That’s funny,” said Ana. “You’ve only asked one, and it has been answered twice. Do you have difficulty with your hearing?”

Harris fumed, then pointed at a closeup of Bodaway’s beaten face. “When was the last time you saw Bodaway?” he asked.

“My client saw Bodaway at the same time Bodaway attempted to assault my client on his property, as well as a sixteen-year-old girl and a woman with a tiny baby; she’s still nursing. At that time, Bodaway’s wife was still alive, right after Bodaway hit her over the head with a baseball bat in front of their children. She died right after the attempted assault on my client. Once again, why wasn’t he in jail awaiting murder charges?”

“He was an informant,” said Harris.

“Is it the habit of the FBI to allow killers to walk away?” asked Ana.

“Did that make you angry, Mr. Nachas?” asked Agent Harris. “That he attempted assault?”

“Date and time of the murder of Bodaway Teton?” asked Ana.

“Your client killed a man in cold blood,” said Harris, “And, you’re letting him get away with it.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” said Ana Whitehorse. “You can’t have him fuming with rage and coldly murdering a man at the same time. And, we can prove he wasn’t there, if you would bother to give me the date and time of the man’s murder.” She smiled at Agent Harris, as if she had taken his soul.

“Saturday, between eight and nine fifteen pm,” said Agent Garik. Agent Harris glared at him.

“Why did you bother to bring in my client and charge him with anything before bothering to find out exactly? Where. He. Was. At. The. Time. Of. The. Murder.” She knocked her hand on the table each time. “He was in California on a trip with the Nighthawks, the Valkyries, and the Iron Knights. There is ATM footage of him at a bank just before the murder. Someone from law enforcement is there right now getting the footage.” She smiled. “So, don’t think you can erase it or cover it up. We also have cell phone pictures from multiple cell phones, stamped with geo-location, date, and time. He. Wasn’t. There.”

She stood. “Have a nice day, gentlemen. We are leaving. I will be filing a lawsuit for false arrest, immediately.”

“We wouldn’t cover up anything,” spluttered Agent Garik.

“He would,” said Ana Whitehorse, pointing at Harris. “In a heartbeat.”

“Sit down!” raged Agent Harris. “Your client paid someone to do it.”

“With what funds?” asked Ana, as Nantan stood. “He has a rechargeable credit card with about two hundred dollars in it for spending money. He occasionally uses an ATM to withdraw cash off of it. His salary from both the hydroponics farm and the work with the Wolfpacks goes into buying a stallion, and its room and board.”

“Stallion?” asked Agent Garik.

“A rescued stallion, with good bloodlines, who can also be used as a stud,” said Ana. “A very valuable horse. Not along the lines of a racehorse, but several years’ worth of room, board, and vet bills.” She whipped out her cell phone. “I have a scan of the agreement right here. Agent Garik, I’ll be happy to email it to you. This man, not so much.” Garik texted her his email and Ana sent it to him, while Special Agent Harris fumed.

Wraith came in the room. “Bye, Nantan. Ana, nice meeting you.” They shook hands across the table.

“Who the fuck are you? And, they can’t leave,” said Special Agent Harris.

“Yes, they can,” said Wraith. “They just proved to you that Nantan could neither have killed Bodaway, nor paid someone to do it. Unless you believe that the fictional transporter from Star Trek beamed him to Arizona to commit the murders?” Agent Garik smirked as Nantan and Ana left the room. “Ana’s going to have fun with the false arrest thing. In front of his kids, no less.”

She circled around the table until she was facing Special Agent Harris. “I am Special Agent Annika Jensen, DEA. We have our very own special prosecutor for the likes of you,” she said. “Planting evidence. We know you planted a bandanna with Nantan’s DNA near Bodaway’s body. How did you get it? Sneaking on the property? Steal it out of Nantan’s car?”

She stalked Special Agent Harris, stealing around the table towards him. “We know you paid Bodaway to beat up guys, especially in so-called barfights. Your very own enforcement racket. You paid him in drinks, guns, and the very baseball bat that killed his wife. We just found your fingerprints on it.”

Special Agent Harris went white. “I didn’t…”

“We have you on camera meeting the man.”

“He was an informant!” said Special Agent Harris.

“No, he was your personal bully-boy. And, you just tried to pin a murder on a Sioux and Apache national, and that makes it a hate crime. Thought Indians would be dumb and stupid? Or not have lawyers?”

“You can’t prove he was in California,” said Special Agent Harris. “With some biker gang called the Nighthawks. They’ll say anything to defend him.”

“He was also with the Valkyries and the Iron Knights. There are a lot of law enforcement in both groups. I have signed affidavits from seven law enforcement members who were with him in California near the time of the murder,” said Wraith. She dropped a fat file on the table. “Signed, sealed, delivered. Now, tell us about your little scheme.”

Four more people entered the room —Special Agent Harris’ boss, Special Agent in Charge (Havar Chastain), the Special Prosecutor for the State of Nevada (Thalissa Cayan), and the Assistant Director (Warner Oliver), FBI.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Wraith, standing right next to Special Agent Harris, “shall we begin?”

* * *

Nantan was greeted with a huge chicken and biscuit dinner, including almond-caramel ice cream. He ate and joked, and the Wolfpack put on music and danced. Vu danced with the Owl Pack, and David and Henry gave a modified powwow dance they taught to the Wolfpack members who wanted to learn. Henry instituted a game night, and they had lots of fun playing.

Wraith came by after the night was finished with. Tam and Nico were in their pods, and she gave Nantan, Henry, David, and Inola a rundown in the sorting center.

“We’ve uncovered a lot of malfeasance on the part of Special Agent Harris. He’s been using Bodaway as his special enforcer for years. Getting him to do things, including beating information out of people, taking out people that interfered with his business, planting evidence, getting people to ‘confess.’ I was so right to be called in; he was running drugs. And not through the res, but around it. He knew how to protect his mules. Turns out they’re young sociopaths from both on and off the res. He ordered them to kill Bodaway so Bodaway wouldn’t tell what he knew, in exchange for getting off on the murder charge.”

Henry narrowed his eyes. “That bastard.”

“We’re still getting the proof; FBI people know how to cover up crimes, but we’ve put a lot of the puzzle together. He’s got four burner phones, and a code we had my pet codebreaker crack.” She snorted. “My codebreaker now gets a consultant’s fee for working for government agencies. She’s good. She uses us to create pots she can use in poker.”

“The codebreaker found…” asked Inola, burping the baby. Ryder let loose with a resounding burp, making everyone laugh.

“The messages on his burner phones were coded, but he wasn’t working with genius. Mayyan broke it in ten minutes. She translated codes to kill, to maim, to run drugs, and where and how to pick them up and drop them off.” She smiled. “Ever since I started hanging out with the Nighthawks, I’ve busted quite a few negative individuals.”

“What’s going to happen to this ‘negative individual’ asshole,” asked David.

“He’s going into a very deep hole and not coming out,” said Wraith. “We’re picking up all the little sociopaths he used and we’re nailing them. We should have a full case in six to ten days. The special prosecutor is wriggling with excitement. She loves this case and says she’s going to have fun “cleaning up the FBI.” No one else has been implicated, and his partner has been on sick leave for a long time —his wife has cancer, but she’s expected to make a full recovery. So, he didn’t see the signs, and was distracted with worry over his wife. The FBI is happy that the bastard’s going down and that no one else was involved; taking down a bad agent is a good thing for them, because it shows they’re policing themselves.”

“They didn’t,” said Nantan. “You did.”

She smiled an evil smile. “I let them take credit if they did me a solid,” she said. She held up two fingers. “I get two future favors. And, I get permanent assignment in Vegas because I was willing to work and play well with others.” She snorted. “Not my usual style.”

“You rock,” said Inola, hugging her with one arm. The other was full of baby.

“I rock,” said Wraith. “Always have, always will.”

On that note, they broke up the party so the exhausted Wraith, Nantan, and Inola could sleep. Everyone hugged Wraith, and Henry pulled her aside.

“Once again, if the Nighthawks can do you a favor…”

“Henry,” said Wraith, “another one of your little cases netted me my main man. I can’t pay you back for that. But, if I ever need the Nighthawks, I’ll call.”

“Good,” said Henry, and he hugged her again. She pushed him away, laughing. She headed to her Harley, and rode out into the night.

The next day, he was the celebrity. Everyone came to “help” —with pointed questions about what happened and how he was doing. He answered as best he could, mainly stating that he had been really, really bored. Nantan was finally able to draw some of them off to the point where he could speak to Tam and Nico privately, in their bedroom, with the door wide open.

“Your dad is passed on,” he said. “He was murdered. The guy who had him killed was the one who had me arrested. I did not kill your father. We were all in California at the time he was murdered.” Nico looked angry. Tam looked terrified. “My attorney is Sioux,” Nantan continued, “she has spoken to the Sioux Nation and they know what really happened. They want you to stay here.”

Nico still looked angry, but Tam visibly relaxed. “We don’t have to go?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course not,” said Nantan. “None of us did anything wrong. And you are Sioux and you belong with Sioux. I am Sioux, so you belong with me.”

Nico’s eyes flashed. “I hate Sioux! They did nothing to help my mother!” He kicked the bed.

Nantan nodded. “That is true and not true. The women offered many times to take you and your brother into a safe home, but she refused. You all lived just off the res, and that’s county territory, so the law didn’t help much, either.” He sighed deeply. “They know they have done wrong by you, and they knew you would not be comfortable on the res. They knew this was a safe and happy place, so they sent you here.”

Nico kicked the bed again. “Why couldn’t I have had a normal dad?”

“Because,” said Nantan. “I would not have had such wonderful boys. And, the ponies would not have boys their size to ride them. And, the plants need our songs, our time, our care. And, the Wolfpack are your brothers and sisters. Some will stay nearby and some will go, but they will always be with us in our hearts.” He gently touched Nico’s arm. “And, you have the ability to help women like her someday; to love them, protect them, and keep them safe. To work with people like Bodaway and tell them of another way. To be a father and brother to boys just like you.”

Nico threw himself into Nantan’s arms, alternately hitting his chest and bumping his head into him. Nantan stood, like a rock, letting the boy get out his rage. He decided it was better that he be bruised than the boy breaking his foot on the bed. Eventually, Nico howled, and the tears finally came. Nantan held onto his son, and felt his heart break and heal at the same time.

“Howl, Little Wolf,” said Nantan. “Howl.” Tam attached himself to Nantan’s hip and he cried as well.

He held them both, until Ajai came in to see if they needed a snack, and she immediately stepped forward to hold Tam. Tam cried like the little boy he was, and Ajai rocked and rocked him, and texted Henry.

Henry came on his horse, and led the stallion and both ponies on a picket line. He stood outside, and hollered, “Ride time!” The boys wiped their eyes and noses, and ran full pelt down the stairs.

“Thank you, Ajai,” said Nantan.

The ride was chilly —Nantan put his leathers on, and brought the boys’ jackets out to them.

“Nantan’s going to be our dad because he’s Sioux,” said Tam, proudly. Nantan, on his other side, wondered at the boy that used to be terrified of horses now sitting on a pony’s back, chatting away.

“Not just because he is Sioux,” said Henry. “He is also a very good man.”

Nico nodded. “Not like our old dad.” He thought a minute. “Our dad is dead, so’s our mom. So, we’re orphans.”

Henry laughed. “Of course not! You have Nantan, and me, and David, Inola, Bella, Ajai, Wraith, Alo…”

Nico nodded. “Does that make Ryder my sister?”

“Cousin,” said Henry.

“Cousin,” said Nantan. “And, like a big brother or cousin, you must protect her.”

Nico nodded. “I will.”

Ajai, who brought up the rear, laughed merrily. “Just until she’s old enough to fight for herself,” she said.

“Woman has a point,” said Nantan.

“She does,” said Henry.

“Women don’t have any power,” said Nico.

“Oh, Creator,” said Henry.

“Don’t kill him, he’s just a boy,” said Nantan.

Ajai laughed. “No, Nico. Women have plenty of power. Who has the babies? Raises the crops? Fights in wars? Ever seen a mama bear fight?”

“I have,” said Henry. “Never piss off a mama bear.”

“Your mom was a special case,” said Henry. “She had the spirit in her to fight, but it got knocked right out of her. Her father or brothers or neighbors probably hurt her, and she did not know the Way of the Warrior.”

“We need a program,” said Ajai. “For res women.”

“Good,” said Henry. “Make one.”

“Don’t say you need something,” Nico stage-whispered to Ajai. “He’ll make you figure out how to do it yourself.” All of them laughed.

They came back from the ride, to see Wraith and Ana Whitehorse outside the Wolfpack house, talking with Alo. Henry and Nantan slipped off their horses to helped the boys down, but they were already down. They led off their horses, and Henry got back on his mare to lead the stallion.

“So, this is the famous stallion?” asked Ana. “He’s wonderful.”

“His name is Kuchu. He’s a smart horse. I can ride him bareback with just a halter. Haven’t tried with no halter yet,” said Nantan, petting his horse’s nose before Henry led him away.

“I get now why you’re willing to give up years of your life to buy him,” said Ana. “It felt like indentured servitude to me, but now I get it.”

“How is it all going?” Nantan asked Wraith. He hugged her.

“Great!” she said. “Ana wanted to give you the good news.”

“They settled so fast it gave me whiplash. The sum of fifty thousand dollars, after my cut, will go into a trust for the boys,” said Ana.

Nantan relaxed. “College,” he said. “Was wondering how I was going to swing that.”

“Won’t have to,” said Wraith. “Gotcha covered.”

“Then something good did come out of this horrible mess.” Nantan touched his eyes.

“I am so sorry this happened to you,” said Ana. “Man left so many breadcrumbs to his guilt that he’s already starting to confess.”

“I got him in the box,” said Wraith. “Man didn’t see how we could crack his code. I said, ‘We have experts for that.’ Eventually got him talking. Didn’t want to admit to ordering the hit on Bodaway, but I walked him right into it. Just like walking a horse into a paddock.”

“You rock,” said Ajai, coming up on Nantan’s side. “Man seems to have wound up Bodaway like a toy and set him out into the world for him to do harm.”

“He’s responsible, in part, for Bodaway being allowed to harm his wife and children,” said Wraith. “If he didn’t have all the other counts on his nasty, Special Agent of Doom head, I’d prove that one, too. But, the boys don’t need to testify to that. Better to let them heal.”

“Absolutely,” said Ana. “I also wanted to tell you that the Sioux are very happy with you. Wraith showed me where the boys sleep, and what they do. I talked with some of the other Wolfpack, too. I’ll be writing quite the glowing report for your file, as an officer of the court.”

“Thank you,” said Nantan.

A bell rang, clanging out across the yard. “Want to stay for dinner?” asked Nantan. The Wolfpack streamed out of the house, racing each other across in front of the paddock.

“Vi’s cooking is absolutely to die for,” said Wraith, taking Ana’s hand and dragging her toward the house. “What’s the pie tonight?” she asked Ajai.

“Peach, apple, and I think there’s a peanut butter pie.”

“Oh my goodness,” said Ana. “Sold.” Nantan laughed, and they strode toward the house.

It was a huge meal —grilled steak sliced thin, potatoes with dill and sour cream, biscuits, and a huge salad full of shredded veggies with homemade, ranch and honey mustard dressings available. They fell onto the food, laughing and joking. Tam and Nico proudly talked about the trail ride, and laughed at how Ajai got roped into making a “women’s thing” on the res. Wraith and Ana got more information, and promised Valkyrie help. The coffee went well with the pie.

They had a movie night, a cartoon thing about a chameleon on a quest, and they popped popcorn and drank caffeine-free sodas and laughed. Ana went home to make her report, and Wraith stayed over, after stealing Ryder from Inola and Bella to cuddle.

Nantan herded his sleepy kids home, and ended up having to carry Tam. He made it upstairs, put them in their pod, and kissed them goodnight. He left the night light on, and realized that he was a father. It made him feel like the hawk he was.

“Goodnight, Little Wolf. Goodnight, Little Fox.” He left the door open and went to find his own bed, his heart full.

Definition

Henry sat with David in front of a roaring fire. Both men had variations of coffee. David liked his doctored with hazelnut cream, and Henry took his straight.

“I’m going to climb Mount Charleston, then throw myself off it.”

David nodded slowly. “The climb may kill you first. Any reason for this suicidal thinking?”

“The amount of paperwork it takes for two apartments. All for the Owl Pack who need more help.”

“Still trying to rescue elderly people who Bella and Lily rescued from the old folks’ home? The one run by evil people stealing the money and putting it up their noses?”

“And in their veins. They were selling the money for the elderly people on the internet and using it to buy more drugs. And sampling some of the product.”

David cringed. “I don’t like to swear, but, fuck them.”

“I hear Wraith found a hole for them that is very, very deep. They have so many counts against them they aren’t going anywhere.”

“That woman —calling her a lady seems a little tame.”

“She’s a naked sword,” said Henry. “A crystal, naked sword with a metal hilt.”

David laughed. “You’ve been in the room when the students play video games.” He took a sip of coffee. “But it is an appropriate assessment.” He took another sip. “Paperwork?”

“And zoning, and fifty other things. I want two beds, home health care nurses, and non-Alzheimer’s patients. Heart conditions, that sort of thing. No more bedsores, all that horrible stuff from the other place. And, just two. Not a huge unit. But, the amount of paperwork and variances…” Henry mimed banging his head against the side of his wingback chair.

David patted his shoulder. “Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck, no,” said Henry. “Those people need to be with Paiutes. They still speak Ute. We need to get them here. We need their stories, their language, everything they know and love. It’s all going to waste in some place where they aren’t allowed out of their rooms and are drugged so much they can’t talk.”

“Might tattle on their current place if they got moved,” said David.

“You have a devious mind,” said Henry. He sighed. “Once more into the breach.” He stood, grabbed his laptop on its table, pulled it over, tilted it toward him, and started typing. David sighed, opened his tablet, and pulled up a book.

Vu came in and, nearly silently, put her tablet down on a little table. She padded past them into the kitchen, and poured herself coffee. She doctored hers with a tiny bit of cane sugar. She sat, put down her coffee, and opened her tablet.

“You are a social worker, are you not?” she asked David in a whispery voice.

“I filled out what I could,” he said.

“Do more,” she said. David sat, and thought, and then sent a text. He sent two more, then he opened up his book again. “Thank you, Vu,” he said. She smiled, patted his hand, and they read their books as Henry swore over the paperwork.

* * *

Inola woke, stretched. She heard burbling from next door. Bella kissed her and said, “I’ll bring her in here, then make breakfast.”

Inola smiled, and propped up the pillows behind her. Ryder screeched when she saw her “feeding mama” and attached herself to Inola’s breast. Inola cradled her.

“Damn,” said Inola. “I’m stunned. It worked!”

“Either that,” said Bella, “or our little one is the most amazing baby on the planet.”

“She is,” said Inola.

“There you go,” said Bella. “Either way, she slept through the night.” Inola beamed, and Bella kissed Inola on the lips and her daughter on the head. She walked down the stairs and to the kitchen.

Vu was already up, and she gave Bella a tray with a carafe of orange juice, two glasses, a platter of bacon, grits with butter, biscuits with honey, and scrambled eggs. Bella kissed Vu’s cheek, and slowly walked up the stairs. Vu walked after her, stopped, then opened the door to Inola and Bella’s bedroom.

“Thanks,” said Bella.

Vu waved. “Off to help with the beading.” She zipped down the stairs.

That woman belongs in a nursing home, my ass, thought Bella. She closed the door with her foot.

“Breakfast,” she said. She put the tray on the bed, poured the orange juice, and burped the baby while her wife ate like a wolf. The baby burped, and Bella took turns feeding herself and her wife as Ryder ate her own breakfast.

“The plan for the day?” asked Bella.

“The usual,” said Inola. “The horses, training horses, making sure the kids don’t fall apart emotionally because they have to do chores.”

Bella snorted. “I need a fucking hobby, or I need to go back to work.”

“What’s your side project?” asked Inola.

“Side project?” asked Bella.

“What do you love to do? I mean, other than raise our daughter, have hot sex with me, and tend bar?”

“I love sex, but you’re right. You raise horses and train them and sell them. And the young ones help with the rabbits; feeding them and collecting their fur.”

“Making money,” said Inola. “But, I love every minute.”

“Making money the hard way. If you didn’t have a Wolfpack helping you, you would be in deep doo-doo.” Bella snorted. “Literally.”

“Now that I can sleep through the night,” said Inola. “I’m thinking about making tack. Or buying used but good tack, then cleaning it up.”

“Well,” said Bella, “looks like I need a side project.” She finished her bacon, then took Ryder to burp her.

Inola wiped out the rest of the food. She took the tray, and walked it downstairs.

“Looks like it’s just you and I, little one,” said Bella. Ryder cooed at her, and tried to grab her nose. Bella laughed.

Nantan dropped Bella (and her unnatural amount of baby things) off —with baby bag, and the stroller that attached to the bottom of the baby carrier that also snapped into a car carrier. They made it to Numa’s shop. Numa rushed to open the door.

“Bella and Ryder!” she said.

Tourists were everywhere; women in expensive jeans, long-sleeved shirts, and leather jackets in black and red. The men were also in jeans, but their jeans were nowhere near as expensive as the women’s. They wore long-sleeved, plaid flannel (or blue) shirts. Accentuated with belts with heavy metal buckles, and string ties around their necks. Some wore Stetsons, some wore ball caps. The men looked intently at the string ties, embedded with stones. Either turquoise or patterns of stones, such as Kokopelli, the piper. Jake, an Owl at the farm, had made very intricate ones that sold well.

The tourist women made a beeline for the baby. “Cute!” said one, with crinkly, smiling-blue eyes and mouse-brown hair sprayed to an inch of its life.

“Her name’s Ryder,” said Bella, as Numa expertly took off her turquoise earrings and put them in her jeans pocket. She threw a burp cloth over her shoulder and held Ryder in her arms.

“I’m the auntie,” Numa said proudly. She hummed an ancient lullaby as she went to help a woman pick out a sweater. “Natural angora,” she said, “farmed locally from some fat, happy rabbits. We have one dyer and two weavers nearby.” The women swarmed her, picking out sweaters in shades of brown, black, and gold.

One plus-size woman in a pair of jeans and a very sad, floral blouse, found not one, but two sweaters. “Changing room’s right behind you,” said Numa. The woman came back out, wearing one and carrying the other, with a credit card in hand, her face alight.

Bella sat on a wingback chair, put her foot up on the footstool, and watched Numa work. Lots of silver and beaded jewelry were carefully wrapped and put in lovely black and red boxes. Several scarves were tied on expertly as one of the rich woman held the baby. Many of the women were laughing and looking at themselves in the mirror. Numa helped with the string ties, and three more angora sweaters were worn straight out of the shop as Numa took the baby back. She smiled, stepping back and forth with the credit cards in a little retail dance. The women and men all left, laughing, with to-go cups of hot coffee in hand from a little machine in the corner near the front.

Numa smiled, brought back Ryder, and sat down on the other chair. “Whoo!” she said.

“The shop’s even more lovely than the last time I saw it,” said Bella. Ryder cooed and reached for her nose. Bella smiled at Ryder.

“It’s a good thing that the rabbits breed like… rabbits. I hear the Wolfpack checks every day for fur. They only shed four times a year.”

“Got a crop of babies,” said Bella. “The Wolfpack girls are gaga over them. Baby bunnies go way up the cuteness scale.”

“The Wolfpack girls want to work in my shop. I may let them, if we stay this busy.” She rose and said, “Coffee?”

“Please,” said Bella, adding a begging tone to her voice that made Numa laugh.

“Kenyan?”

“Why the hell not,” said Bella. She took the cup, and sipped it while Ryder held some plastic keys in her hand and waved them about.

“What’s up?” asked Numa.

“I need a side project,” said Bella. “You’re the expert.”

Numa laughed. “Beading, silverwork, all the steps for making angora sweaters, painting scarves —bet that all leaves you cold.”

“’Fraid so,” said Bella.

“We sell a lot online,” said Numa. “Got half the res working on something for here. The Alpaca Women, or something coming out of the farm. April Martinez takes Nantan’s apples and makes the best fricking apple juice and apple cider you’ve ever had. Ruger Riding Horse —his mother liked the idea, and makes frozen fry-bread pizzas using the goat cheese from the Alpaca Women and veggies from Nantan. He is selling them to Vegas specialty stores. The Owls make beadwork, and we sell their many stories —in their original voices, and transcribed and translated. Great Wolfpack history project, I hear. Vu’s reading lists are popular —I’ve actually sold them for a dollar. A printout, can you believe it! On nice paper, but still. Not what you would expect.”

“Fricking?” asked Bella.

Numa laughed again. “She may not understand me yet, but she eventually will.”

Bella sighed. “I guess if Inola has to give up caffeine for, like, another year, I guess I can give up cursing around Ryder.” She kissed her tiny head.

“What did you get out of that, except my cursing?” asked Numa. “Or not, as the case may be.”

Ryder burbled and Bella let the baby clutch her fingers. “I love slinging drinks. Get to hear the best stories. Rides, fights, wild nights, fishing trips, ride-and-hike deals. Catching some bad people doing some bad things.” She flashed a smile. “One pair caught some guy punching out a girl. They wanted to remove his ‘nads. You could hear him howling all over the little town they found him in. They took the girl, put her on their bike, and made her one of them. One of them apparently married her. Now, she’s a kickass, foulmouthed ex-wife of an Iron Knight… who lives in Reno, apparently.” She laughed.

Numa laughed at the story. “Well, side job then. What do you hate?”

“Can’t grow shit. Hate it, and it makes me itch. Love singing, but I’m not even as good as Ivy, let alone Herja. Have some illustrated books…”

“Come again?” said Numa.

“I tried comics,” said Bella. “But, so little dialogue, and scene after scene after scene, and having to be too dramatic to get the point across.”

“I can see how that would be a problem,” said Numa.

“And the idiot boys wanted robots, spaceships, or girls with big boobs,” said Bella.

Numa barked out a laugh. “So, these weren’t your comics?”

“Nope,” said Bella. “But Bobby Ng actually went on to have some success. He invented a little boy superhero with some guts. Caught on in Tokyo. Anyway, I was the girl doodling in art class, and in every other one. Couldn’t afford art school; was always just this side of starving to death no matter what the fuck I did. So, bar back. Coolest thing that ever happened to me was working with Ivy. Fun times. Now, I got Sunny as my bar back. She won’t be a bar back for long. But with Ivy and Ace both doing the baby thing, and now me, she’ll bartend a few days a week. And Nina’s graduation is way too soon. Girl zipped through her classes.”

“We’re going to lose her,” said Numa. “I’m proud beyond belief that she’s doing so well, but she’ll be a tremendous loss for the res.”

“We’re keeping half the crop of the Wolfpack,” said Numa.

“So, you’ll need another barn.” Bella laughed.

“Gimme back my niece.” Bella handed her over.

Numa stood, then walked over to the counter. She pulled something out from under her register, and took a piece of paper from a display. She fished out a folder. She brought the things over and dropped them one-handed unceremoniously on Bella’s lap.

“Show me,” she said. “Make me a rockin’ border for Vu’s list.”

Bella looked in her lap. Colored pencils —a nice set, with both silver and gold, a folder, and Vu’s list in a soft font that wasn’t too fussy. Bella sketched as Numa pulled out more sweaters, both angora and alpaca. Numa expertly fished out the packing tissue, and hung them up one-handed, all while the baby was trying to chew on her own fingers in the crook of her other elbow. Numa hummed ancient songs, and helped two separate pairs of customers, more Texans in Stetson hats and designer jeans. She laughed with them, and helped them find sweaters and jewelry. One woman bought a lovely carved statue of Kokopelli for her office. Several of the men bought string ties.

Bella came over with a gorgeous paper. A sketch of Vu was in the bottom, right-hand corner. In the other corners were tiny pictures of books, e-readers, and computers. The screens seemed to glow. The paper now looked like soft violet parchment; Numa had no idea how Bella had done that.

“Creator, woman,” said Numa. “You have a real talent.”

“Dunno how to make money this way,” she said. She stroked the sleeping Ryder’s head and gave her a feather kiss.

“Don’t you go waking her,” Numa said. “Neither one of you are getting enough sleep.”

She pulled out her cell phone, and opened one of her e-reader programs. She pulled up the cover of her favorite book, one with a kick-ass female vampire.

“See this?” she said.

“Cool,” said Bella.

“The cover is the key to buying the book.” She went back to the e-reader and pulled up some more. “See this book? Might be an excellent book. Would you buy it based on the cover?”

“No,” said Bella. “Snoozeville.”

Numa laughed, and pulled out her tablet. “Pull up the program and poke around. Genre doesn’t matter. Just poke around, see which covers make you want to buy, and what you hate.”

“Can’t read the fonts on half of them,” said Bella.

Numa made a soft pinging sound. “Woman gets it in one. Yes, the fonts have to be readable.”

Bella poked around some more. “Most of this art is just… sad. And fiddly. Can’t see the fiddly bits on a tiny e-reader.”

Numa made the pinging sound again. “Two more points.”

“And the colors don’t draw the eye.”

More pinging. “Sweep the category.”

“Gotta kind of punch you in the face, and give you a hint of the story. To tell you the writer and the title. Gotta be clear in teeny, tiny print.”

Numa pinged again. “So, do you think you can do this?”

Bella nodded. “Don’t know how to make money.”

Numa snorted. “Online work. Be making peanuts at first, and you’ll have to advertise yourself online. Several sites for that, like Fiverr and more. Top people make a hundred bucks; some double that, per design. Some designers are so busy, people are on waiting lists.”

“How do you know this?”

Numa laughed. “Paid a pretty penny for my last one. I write books, Bella. I have a degree in history, and I specifically write Paiute history. Got orders from other tribes, too, mainly Hopi. The Dine have plenty of scholars. I don’t make expensive or pretty books to make you feel smart. No, I write in English, Paiute, and Spanish. My eBooks make money. There’s more than a few Paiute around.”

Bella stared at her friend, her jaw on the floor. “Da-amn, woman.”

“Side business,” said Numa. “Now, despite my joy, my arm is falling asleep, and when this one wakes up, she’ll be screaming for mama.” They did a very careful handoff that didn’t wake the baby. “Nantan’ll be back soon.”

Numa took out a twenty and a five from her register and handed it to Bella. “What’s this?” asked Bella.

“You did a service for me. I’ll sell these like hotcakes, raise the price too. That’s more money for both me and Vu. We will sing your praises when the money starts rolling in. Now, stay here a minute while I scan this.”

She withdrew to her office, leaving a bemused Bella behind. Bella waited on a customer, copying Numa’s behavior and mannerisms, until Numa popped out to finish the sale.

When the woman left, Numa laughed. “You could do me,” she said. “Come in and learn my stuff, and you can cover for me if I fall and break my leg like an idiot.”

Bella did the complex movements needed to slip the baby into the carrier without waking her. She succeeded, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“How do you use this particular register? You’ve got twenty until Nantan swings back.”

Numa laughed. “No pressure,” she said, and started showing Bella how to run the shop.

Nantan picked up Bella and the baby, and took them home. The Wolfpack had lots of chatter about their deliveries, most were laughing. They serviced single moms and older people on their food delivery route. Vi had started making soups, once she found out some of them were widows and widowers who didn’t want to cook. There were a few vegan college students, too.

The Wolfpack debated the college and universities in Las Vegas, comparing them to ones in Reno and all over Arizona. The girls were thinking about staying put, the boys thinking about Reno. Nantan was stunned. He’d had individual conversations with the Wolfpack members, mostly about going to school online. But, they were genuinely making money —they received cuts of the delivery business, the sale of horses rescued and trained, and a daily labor rate. Henry and Numa dug deep for scholarships, and they spent specific time twice a month applying for them. They were talking about futures, something they certainly didn’t do when they arrive.

Bella had her own future on her mind. But, it all went out of her head when her daughter woke and went into fussy squalls. Nantan pulled over so Bella could change Ryder, then they hit the road again. They made it back before the fussy squalls turned into screams. Inola was right there, ready to go, when they pulled in. She took the baby into the horse barn to nurse.

Alo rubbed his ears. “No kids for me until I’m damn good and ready,” he said.

Yas nodded. “I’ve been over to the big house when Ryder gets mad.”

“Try three o’clock in the morning, and four, and five,” said Alicia. Nantan nearly cheered.

Alicia and Yas were getting close. Both would turn eighteen soon; he’d been getting worried. He and Inola had the requisite conversations about sex with them, but they were teaching them to make good decisions. It made him feel fantastic that they were thinking about consequences —the last thing teens tended to consider.

“Ding,” said Nantan, as he unloaded the last of the canvas bags with the dirty plastic containers, before he shut the van door. The teens rolled their eyes at him, but his timer sound made them move quickly.

They put the containers in the cutting-room dishwasher, turned it on, and split up; some to create more boxes for the evening deliveries, and some to continue with their lessons. Yanaba, Gwen, and Elu came in, bushel baskets full. They expertly cut the tops off the strawberries and rinsed them. Yanaba and Gwen had sucked Elu into coding, and they discussed where they were in getting one of their coding certificate. The conversation taking place while they prepared spinach and strawberries for a salad.

Nantan made the homemade five-grain pasta. He ground his own flour with an electric mill. He put in wheat, quinoa, buckwheat, millet, and spelt into the grain machine, and then turned it on. He got out the pasta machine; the eggs, salt, oil, and two bowls. One with spinach and one red bell pepper, along with a mortar and pestle to crush the vegetables. He then stepped back when Alo washed his hands, and measured the grain. He left Alo to make the pasta doughs, green with spinach and red with the bell pepper. Nantan emptied the mill and put in a new formula, this one with rye.

He took out another bowl, and Yanaba came over. “Making rye bread?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said.

She pulled out the eggs from their own chickens, and oil, yeast, and salt. Yanaba loved making bread dough; she had an aggressive side. She liked beating and rolling dough. She mixed the dough, covered it, and put it in the refrigerator to rise. Gwen and Elu finished boxing the greenery mix for the salad, mixing in slivers of purple cabbage, strips of bell peppers, and a side container of slivered almonds. They cut veggie mixes for snacks; Callie had shown them how to make bento box lunches, and there were quite a few moms that used their service. Callie had shown them how to cut veggies into cute sticks, and circle and flower shapes for fruit. They packed the bento boxes and put them in cloth bags ready for the refrigerator. Waiting for the evening drop-off service, sitting neatly and stacked well.

Nantan made a dinging noise, and they all ran off to the bathroom, or to flop down on a chair to play with their phones. Nantan washed his own hands, and went over the checklist of what had been done. Nico and Tico came in, bursting with energy; they had been out on a ride. They washed their hands, and took over with the pasta.

They took the resting pasta dough, divided it, rolled it in the pasta machine, and made ricotta cheese, spinach, pine nut, and green onion ravioli. Tico was very good at making shells with a knife and a special board. Nico stuffed the shells with the ricotta mixture. Nico and Tico took turns rolling pasta dough flat and cutting it into lasagna sheets, and folding it to make noodles —angel hair and fettuccine.

Catori came in, saw what they were making, and put diced cheeses and veggies into little containers. She added glass jars of their own tomato and basil sauce, made with a wide variety of tomatoes. She tagged and bagged, and included the cooking recipe cards. Nantan made a dinging noise, and went down the checklist. The garlic knots were last, and Catori loved making and baking them, so they were almost finished.

He was astonished to find Bella helping the Wolfpack load the van. “Don’t you have the bar?”

“Sunny wanted to have her first bartending thing, and Cougar asked if I would trade. Sounded good to me. Can you drop me off at Numa’s?”

“Sure, but we don’t have many evening deliveries.”

“Fine,” she said, swinging up into the front seat. “I call shotgun.” Nantan laughed.

Bella came bursting into the shop as Numa counted her loot, entering things into her tablet. “What’s up?” she said.

Bella showed her the illustration on her tablet. “I found a couple book covers I hated. I emailed the authors via their web pages, said I would do a redo for the low price of twenty-five dollars, because I was just starting out. One of them actually got back to me. Usual sci-fi nonsense; he mixed guns, and swords, and busty women.”

The previous cover had a vapid, busty woman drawn too large, with her eyes too big. The author’s name and even the title were practically unreadable; the font was strange, and the colors involved peach and magenta.

“Now, the after. I created this.”

She showed a fierce woman, a sword strapped to her back, with a blaster in her hand. Her eyes were blazing with rage. She had straps and buckles on her uniform that hinted at curves, but that’s not what drew the eyes. The woman’s laser-like focus was mesmerizing. The name of the book and the author’s name were clearly visible.

“My God,” said Numa. “This is incredible.”

“I thought so,” said Bella. “So did the guy.” She showed her PayPal account; it had exactly twenty-five dollars in it. “I did that!” She jumped up and down. Numa laughed, and pulled her close. “I rock,” said Bella.

“Yes, you do,” said Numa.

“Gotta go,” she said. “There aren’t many night clients on the res. Have a great night!”

“You too,” said Numa.

“Thank you,” said Bella. “You helped.”

Numa smiled. “You did the work,” she said.

“Now, if I can make two to five hundred a night like I can at the bar…” said Bella.

Numa snorted. “Side project.”

“Yup,” said Bella. “Side project. But how could they allow such bad art to live on the internet?”

“Some people are just too damn stupid to live.”