Bao picked her daughter up from the park. Hu was suntanned, and her hair was in a queue down her back. She floated up on her skateboard, something Bao had resisted, but her daughter wore pads and a helmet.

“How did it go with Grandmother?” Bao asked.

“Honored Grandmother wants to move back to China,” said Hu. “She should do so. Many of the shopkeepers here are angry with her for the way she treated you. She has reformed, but she has lost face.”

“Do you think your grandmother would fare well in China?” asked Bao.

“She would,” said Hu. “At first.”

Oh ho, thought Bao. My daughter shows her true insight once again. “And why only at first?” Bao asked her daughter, curious to hear more.

Hu took off all her pads and her helmet, and then stowed them in the back with her skateboard. She slid in and plugged in her seat belt. “First, you would have to buy her a house. There are many empty places far away from the big cities that have less pollution that would be pleasant for her to live, but they would be far away from her old neighborhood. She would need to take the train or fly to visit them. The cities are very crowded, and a nice apartment would still be at least half (or less) of the space she has now. She would need to make new friends and would try to gain face by doing them favors, or by bragging about you, which is unlikely. She still doesn’t like Daddy.” Hu used the English word, not the Chinese one, to differentiate between the man she barely got to know, but revered, and her new father. “These people would be using her for favors, and they would not be real friends. So, she would become lonely and unhappy.”

Bao picked her jaw up out of her lap, started the car, and drove sedately to the farm. “So, what is the solution?”

“You must help her repair face.” Bao opened the little cooler bag full of drinks and snacks attached to the middle console of the back seat.

Bao sighed. I know, she thought. “And how must I do this?”

“You must be seen with her in Chinatown.” Hu selected some nuts and a juice, and then hungrily consumed both.

“How will I accomplish this? I mean, if she cannot say my name, nor wishes to even see me when I pick you up, it’s hard,” Bao added, wondering what insight might come next.

Hu’s eyes narrowed. “You have to find out her schedule, and ambush her there.”

Bao smiled. “I like the way you think,” she said, smiling.

“Thinking Chinese is hard sometimes,” said Hu, matter-of-factly.

“It is,” agreed Bao. “It definitely is.”

* * *

Bao knew where her mother shopped. Dragon Mother couldn’t lose face by simply disappearing. She entered her mother’s favorite tea shop, exclaimed, ran to her mother, and bowed. She nattered on about various teas and bought her mother some of her favorite tea. Bao then exclaimed about the time, bowed, and zipped back out. She did the same thing later in the week when her mother got her hair done —Dragon Mother had a standing appointment, every week, for several years now. Bao zipped in, exclaimed about how busy she was, talked about how well Hu was doing with violin lessons, left her mother a bottle of her favorite lotion, and disappeared again. She did stop in for a moment in several shops, bought things, and did the thing parents everywhere do that drive other people crazy: she bragged on about her daughter, showing pictures, including some of the paintings Hu was doing with Kurt.

She told Nico about it all at lunch over espresso, herbed bread, pesto gnocchi, and lobster ravioli. “She was so shocked, both times. I was afraid she’d have a heart attack. She played along, but she was deeply confused.”

Nico laughed. “You’re running a stalk-and-drop. Stalk someone, drop in, deliver a present and conversation, and withdraw until the next stalking.”

“I am not,” said Bao, “stalking my mother. Alright, maybe I am.” Nico laughed, and kissed her. They squeezed hands before Bao tore off some herbed bread, dipped it in the olive oil, and ate it.

“What makes this even funnier,” said Nico, “is that you’re trying to help your mom, but she doesn’t see it yet. She’s put you into a category in her brain in the section called, ‘the bad daughter,’ and now you’re not acting according to this category. She knows she was in the wrong; she tried to half-apologize to you.”

Bao laughed. “Quarter-apologize. At any rate, yeah, I’ve confused the hell out of her.”

“How long will it take for her juju or mojo; or whatever you call it, to come back?”

Bao laughed so hard she had to drop her fork onto her plate. “Mojo,” she said, in an Austin Powers voice. “My mother has lost her mojo.”

Nico laughed. “Her face,” he said.

“I have no idea,” said Bao. “I’ve never lost so much face that an entire community was totally pissed at me.”

“Well, keep it up,” said Nico. “And keep me posted.”

“And how are things going with you?” asked Bao.

Nico snorted, and cut his ravioli. “In construction, in summer…”

“Nobody sleeps,” finished Bao. She caressed his hand. “I miss you.”

He groaned. “Don’t make me think of that now. I’ll be unable to stand up in this restaurant.” She laughed. “Or, I’ll do you right here, under the table, and get arrested.” Bao’s bright peals of laughter made everyone else in the restaurant smile.

After lunch, Bao put in more time on the business side of things at home, putting in an hour on marketing. Not that much of it needed to happen in China or Taiwan. The Chinese market was hungry for new books that could be printed on demand, or that were available for the laptops and tablets of the students. But, social media had to be updated, and blog posts also had to be written.

Kurt’s mother came to see Bao that afternoon at the ranch. She met Becky Walsh on the porch, and invited her in for soda, coffee, or tea. “Cola,” said Becky, a tall woman with a graceful gait, kind of like a human giraffe, complete with a largish nose, blonde hair cut in a brush cut, and super-long arms and legs.

She wore a tank top and board shorts. Bao was thankful she had forgotten to put on her palazzo pants and that she was in shorts as well. Bao got herself a cola and leaned on the breakfast bar. Becky leaned back into her stool, rather than hopping up as Bao did.

“I’ll get to the point,” said Becky, after taking a deep drink and sighing. “Kurt and Hu have a business together, where Kurt draws pictures and Hu paints them, and Hu designed a website to sell them. Henry explained about the Wolfpack, about all the training and job rotation and requirements to pass all the parts of the Nevada High School Proficiency Exams. Kurt came to me and made a presentation that included the presentation software, Prezi. Made me dizzy.” Becky laughed.

Bao laughed too. “He’s a very intelligent young man,” she said.

“He is,” said Becky. “The ‘young man’ part gives me pause, but he just turned twelve, and he’s determined to start making his own decisions. I’m a single mom, and the homeschool was affordable, and he has learned so much. But, he wants to stretch his wings, start earning money.” Becky tightened her grip on the cola. “Money is tight, and there is no way in hell I can afford to send him to college. I was hoping for scholarships. But, this ranch program was aimed for high school students at risk of dropping out. From what I understand, some of the res schools didn’t teach bilingually, and this school allows the students to retain their native languages. And, they needed skills to find a job to pay for college. Kurt is a little different. I just… how has it worked out for Hu?”

Bao laughed. “She’s happy. She’s fine. She’s amazing. My little dynamo moves from subject to subject, job to job. They can only work two hours total, per day. Her painting counts as work, and so would Kurt’s drawings, since Hu is splitting her profits with him, so it’s a paid gig. Hu does household chores here as part of her work. They also grow, pick, and pack veggies, create sandwiches and soups and pack them, and make animal feed with Alo. They can take care of the rabbits and harvest angora by brushing the rabbits —they shed four times a year. They can card wool or fur, run a spinning wheel to create yarn, and make candles and goat cheeses with the Goat Girls on the res. The older ones fourteen to sixteen can work three hours a day, and they learn to clean houses and do childcare, and Robert teaches bike maintenance, repair, and rebuilding, and Tito teaches them all about building houses. The over-sixteen ones can work for up to four hours a day. Both Kurt and Hu will be taking CPR and learning the childcare aspect of the business. Damia, Inola, and Robert have the horses and ponies covered, but if Kurt wants to, he can learn animal husbandry on a bigger level than the rabbits. Inola rescues ponies and horses, trains them, and sells them to farms where they will be treated right.”

“Wow,” said Becky, stunned.

“Wait, there’s more,” said Bao, in an announcer’s voice, making both women laugh. “There’s my business, and the students get paid for telling stories in their native languages. They can choose to record them. Since the older boys’ voices often break, the girls do most of it. Kurt could be an illustrator; he’s got that gift.”

“I… can I…”

“Tour,” said Bao. “Let’s get some more Cokes, and see the entire farm, why don’t we?”

“That would be good,” said a dazed Becky.

“Great!” added Bao, excited to show her.

Becky got the full tour, then collapsed into a deck chair. “I… I never dreamed it was so…” said Becky.

“Awesome?” asked Bao. They were by the pool. Mike had figured out how to grow fat watermelons, so they sipped on watermelon shakes and munched on stuffed mushrooms. “Kurt can use the pool with Hu for their physical exercise.”

“We don’t live anywhere near here,” said Becky.

“What do you do for a living?” asked Bao.

“Media relations, for a little casino. To be truthful, the job and pay suck, but it pays for a little apartment. Kurt has been very good about sleeping on the couch, but he’s growing into a little man now, and I need to find a two-bedroom that doesn’t cost an arm, a leg, and several feet. First and last month’s deposit can run me to a thousand dollars or more, and I just don’t have that much saved up.”

Bao narrowed her eyes. “We’re running out of room here, but I have an idea.” She called Henry and asked him about the little two-bedroom she knew Nico had finished at the Harley school. She got a quote, asked for a contract, and hung up. “I think I can get you a job in media relations. You’ll have to learn fluent Mandarin Chinese, be very respectful toward Native Americans, enjoy spending your day on Facebook and Twitter, and learn to write blog posts. I’ll do the Mandarin stuff for the time being. The salary will be a little low at first, until we get everything nailed down, but it includes rent and utilities on a two-bedroom apartment on the top floor, above the classrooms, of Henry’s Harley school. He was going to use it for the occasional visiting instructor, but he’s agreed to use a hotel instead, and is delighted to get rent and utilities from me.”

“Stop talking,” said Becky. “What do you want me to sign?”

Bao took the rest of the day off to ride down to see the apartment with Becky. It had an entryway, a good-sized kitchen with all the latest appliances, a good-sized living room, and two bedrooms with small walk-in closets.

“It has a real bathtub!” squealed Becky. She turned to Henry. “We’ll be at the farm all day, so the classes won’t bother us, then we’ll come home, and the classes will be gone, so we won’t bother them.”

“I thought of that,” said Henry. “Your weekends may suck, though, so I suggest taking Sunday and Monday off. We do.”

“Done,” said Bao. “Where do I sign? I’m paying, she’s living here with Kurt.”

“Got that part,” said Henry, showing them where to sign.

“Okay, Lily already has you on payroll,” Bao said to Becky. “Want to give two weeks’ notice?”

“I’ll do that tonight,” said Becky. “I work graves and get to sleep while Kurt’s in school.”

“You can set your own hours,” said Bao. “As long as the work gets done. You can even do it from here, if a Nighthawks member wants to take Kurt up in the mornings. Or even afternoons; some of the teens do better on kind of a swing schedule.”

Becky wiped away tears. “Thank you so much.” The two women hugged.

Gregory came into the apartment, looking for Henry, ready for his next class, and saw Becky crying. “There’s no crying in baseball!” he said, doing his best Tom Hanks impression. Everybody laughed.

Bao went home and ate dinner in the main house. The chicken was amazing, a rosemary-basted rotisserie chicken, with a side of honey mustard sauce, salad greens, brown sugar-basted carrots, and stewed apples. Hu and Grace joked quietly. Damia sat at the other end of the table from them, with Henry and David. Ryder ate like a pig, squealing with joy. Everyone smiled at her.

Ivy and Bella were at work. Inola was relaxed, tired after a day of working with the new pony, who was coming along nicely. Callie talked with her about the horses, and about Ryder and Damia. Robert and Mike got into a serious discussion about Sigrun’s 3D printing project, and at what times they wanted to go to the lab and print 3D arms and blades for kids. Hu heard them talking and demanded an explanation. The men explained the project, and Hu and Grace pulled up schedules to find out when they could volunteer, and what classes they would have to take to qualify.

Vi finished serving and sat down at Henry’s end, prompting everyone to eat. The Owl Pack discussed beading, book creation, and about getting more angora rabbits, an idea Henry shot down, because their rabbits were multiplying just fine. They then turned their agile minds toward new sources of wool; the Navajo had excellent flocks but were not willing to sell their wool. This was because they made their truly amazing rugs with them. They decided to help the Goat Girls, which Hu insisted on changing to Goat Women, and suggested they buy more alpacas. Jake sent a text, and they moved to a discussion about baseball.

The discussion prompted a small game outside; of kickball, rather than baseball, mostly because it was far easier to kick a big red ball than to hit a baseball thrown at one’s face. They created the diamond in the side yard. Bess, the Corgi, overlooked the proceedings, ready to protect people from… something. Henry rolled the ball for his team, Bao for hers. Grace was enthusiastic, Hu more precise. Damia stayed inside to help Vi clean up, avoiding the noise and the “yucky” dust.

Bao was stunned when an exhausted Nico came over, plopped his ass down on a lawn chair, and popped a Coke that Mike passed to him. It was near the end of the game, and the Wolfpack members who weren’t studying or working rotated in when the “old folks” rotated out. She wanted to run to him, but she had a game to pitch. She rolled the ball to her daughter, who kicked it past Jake on third base. Nico stood and cheered his daughter on as she rounded the bases, resting on second. Bao rolled again, and Grace kicked it past first. She was out, but Hu made it to third. Alo came up and kicked it far past third. Both Alo and Hu made it to home base, to very-loud cheers. Bao pretended to weep in agony, and her teammates came up to console her. They decided that since they were down by two, to concede. The Blue Team jumped up and down with joy, and the other team congratulated them. Vi brought out towels for the people with their heads under the garden hose. They dried off, went back inside, and ate ice cream sundaes.

Everyone walked back home. Bao was surprised when Hu asked to sleep over with Grace. She nodded and smiled. Hu ran out to be with Grace. “Glad to see those two getting along,” said Nico. He put his arms around his wife. “And now I have time with my two best girls.”

Bao patted her burgeoning stomach. “The doctor might be wrong, you know.”

“Doubtful,” said Nico.

“Do you want a boy?” asked Bao.

Nico let his jaw drop, making her laugh. He looked into her eyes. “No, absolutely not. I get my fill of the Wolfpack boys, and Nantan and Chayton’s boys. They are around the site all day, no matter which site. I’ve got three, if you can believe it. One of the old Wolfpack is a journeyman, and he designs and installs kitchens. Hired that lady for all our work. Amazingly talented. Her boyfriend does tile work so fast and perfect it would make you cry. He just got off journeyman status, is training others. Makes me look like I do nothing all day.” He snorted. “Tito’s on me to train new project managers, but who do I choose? I decided to give up and train three of them to do project management, made them all take courses. I paid half. When this baby’s born, I’m going to have actual time to spend with you both.”

“Well,” said Bao. “That sounds lovely.”

“Let’s practice with Kiya and Aiden,” said Nico. “We can give their mamas a break this weekend.”

“I knew I loved you for a reason,” said Bao. She kissed him.

They turned off the downstairs lights and went upstairs. Nico took a shower after he made his wife a hot bath, and helped her into the tub, got her a cherry water, and washed and conditioned her hair. He scrubbed the day off him, exhausted in places, sore in others. He let the jets bash into him.

He found himself thinking about his wife. Her laugher, her ready smile. He laughed as he thought of her stalking her mother with generosity. He marveled at her kindness after the same woman had tried to destroy her own daughter’s wedding, angered that her daughter loved a man who was not Chinese. His own mother didn’t care if he married a Catholic (although Nico was, and so was his mom), or if he married an Italian. “Nico,” his mother had said to him when he was a little boy. “Italians are about family, food, and fun. The Catholic part isn’t anywhere near as important as those three. The traditions, that will come.”

His mother had been right. Bao had converted in order to marry in the Church, and they went to mass once a week. She’d been seduced by the family, the food, and the fun, and the traditions would give meaning to their lives. Bao’s Dragon Mother would get seduced, too. He would just have to woo her. I’ll get her schedule from Bao and woo her. She can’t cut me down in front of all of her friends without losing any more face. He laughed to himself at his dastardly plan.

He got out of the shower, dried himself, answered the last emails of the day, and waited for his wife to finish. She pulled the plug, so he put his tablet aside, helped her stand, gave her two towels, and helped her out of the tub. He worked on helping her massage lotion all over, especially her back, making her moan. She put on her face moisturizer, and he kissed at her neck.

“Love,” she said. “At this rate, we’ll do it here instead of the bed.” He laughed, spread her legs, and began sucking her right breast while sliding his fingers inside her.

She arched her back and moaned, then laid back as he used his fingers and tongue to make her come, again and again. He led her into the bedroom, laid her on her side, and slipped inside her. He moved slowly inside her, exhausted from the long day, and they came together on the great crest of pleasure they evoked in one another. He cleaned her off, helped her dress in her favorite, gold-silk nightie and her slinky, silken underwear, and slipped her under the sheets. He cleaned himself off and put on boxers. He slid in behind his wife and held her tight against the coming of the dawn.

Nico found out his mother-in-law’s routine over banana nut muffins, coffee for him, and a cherry water for her. He hit the road and made it to the first site, right when the pipefitters arrived. He supervised them while sending a request to the Wolfpack job board —What do you want done? In what time frame? A cost would pop up, he was automatically charged upon clicking on the icon for Do it! and the job would get done.

He called a Chinese florist his wife liked, and ordered flowers, heavy on the chrysanthemums, from where Dragon Mother loved to shop for flowers. She would come in to pick up her usual order, and then she would find an extra one for her. On the card he put, Your loving son-in-law. He paid for her hairdressing for one month plus the tips, a nice gold watch from her favorite jeweler where she liked to look for earrings, and for the yard around the triplex to be raked and watered (it was made up of very nice stone landscaping with some desert plants).

Nico then attacked the Sundial duplex with a vengeance and pushed them a little ahead of schedule by pushing through his task list like a machine. He stopped at Sonic for chicken strips, a tiny salad, and a cherry Coke, and went off to hit the other duplex before making his way to the last of the jobs at the Harley school. He pushed his list, managed to get more drywall installed than expected (by stepping in to help), and ordered pulled-pork sandwiches, fries, and sodas for all the guys, with some salad for the two vegans.

After his late lunch, he hit up Henry’s school. Once there, he found a welded rose online for his mother he thought she’d love, so he bought it and sent it to her. Then, he went up to check on Becky and Kurt. Neither one of them were home. He entered, took a look around, went over his punch list, and found everything in working order, except for a little leak in the kitchen faucet. The built-in shelves in the living room and bedrooms already had books and clothes, and the TV stand had a gaming console and a very old monitor for a computer. Nico whipped out his phone, and bought and ordered a medium, flat-screen TV for immediate delivery.

He went to go check on the classrooms, and found Toni installing the audiovisual equipment. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said. “Hand me that screwdriver.” He handed her the special screwdrivers they used for AV equipment.

He helped her finish her task, then said, “How do you feel about setting up a TV and a gaming console? It’s for a single mom and her kid.”

“Shut up and follow me to the next room then, after this job.” He grinned and followed orders. Women didn’t scare him. Pissing them off scared him. The TV arrived, and they installed it together, gaming console and all.

“I’ve got an older model console, bought the latest,” said Toni, playing with the ring in her eyebrow. It’ll make him nervous. “I can finish here, bring it back by. How long you staying?”

“Another hour,” said Nico.

“Be half that time if you help me finish.”

“On it,” said Nico.

They finished up, then Nico checked out the rest of the building. Everything was fine. He then sat down and answered emails, then refined his schedule for the next day, since he had crossed off so many items that day. Toni showed back up. They hooked up the other system, left a “Welcome to the neighborhood!” note, and took off.

Nico texted Hu. She replied that she was at a baseball game with the Wolfpack. Nico went home, showered, dressed nicely in a polo shirt and light pants, and went to find his wife at the Big House by the pool, typing away on her laptop. Bao introduced him to Becky. Her son Kurt was at the baseball game. Vi invited Becky to dinner, and Nico invited his wife to dinner. Both women accepted.

Nico took his wife out on their Harleys, and she beat him to the restaurant. They had a lovely Mexican dinner of chips and salsa, enchiladas in a special hot sauce, and fried ice cream.

Nico took Bao on a little walk through the neighborhood of shops and restaurants, and they chatted while they walked. She saw a shop selling baby clothes, and they bought little onesies, baby socks, shoes, and blankets in every color of the rainbow.

“You realize that winter here only lasts three months, right?” he asked. She just laughed.

They also bought cloth diapers, perfect for throwing over your shoulder when holding a fussy baby. They also bought tiny shirts and shorts.

He looked at the pile of things and said, “Toys?” It was the right thing to say. Soon they had teething rings that could be put in the freezer for when baby was teething. Then, rattles, and tiny stuffed animals that attached to the car seat. They selected a car seat and crib to be delivered later.

As he was stuffing their motorcycle saddlebags, Nico made a tactical error. “How many clothes does one baby need?”

His wife raised her eyebrows at him, a dangerous sign. “Why don’t you do the laundry on Saturday? Then you’ll discover the answer to that question.” He knew he’d messed up and would probably pay the price doing laundry with Kiya or Aiden strapped to his middle. He sighed, and then resolved to quit asking stupid questions.

They made it home alive and unpacked the saddlebags. His wife’s sunny mood returned, and he helped her to put the clothes in to be washed, and the toys in their spaces. He was pleased; he’d painted the room a cheery yellow, and he had added pictures of fluffy bunnies and happy puppies into the gender-neutral space. It worked, he thought.

“Do you think we want one after this one?” he asked, and nuzzled into her neck.

“Have no idea,” said Bao. “Is that the question you really want to ask me right now?”

He smiled. “Would you like to come to the bedroom with me?”

“Right question,” said Bao.

He led her in, undressed her carefully, and stroked and rubbed her all over with lotion. He took off his own clothes and used his mouth and fingers to bring her to a climax. He repeated, and she came again and again. Finally, she grabbed his cock and inserted it inside herself. She groaned as he took her from behind, slowly, then faster and faster. Then, they both cried out as they came.

He cleaned them up, then she went for a hot bath. He helped her in and out, and then helped himself to another round when she cuddled next to him. He was hungry for her, for her touch, for her love. Her whispers in Mandarin and English and the Italian she was learning from him. And the way she eyed him hungrily whenever she saw him, the tone of her voice when she caressed him. He cleaned them up again, and he stroked the baby, and talked to her. He fell asleep holding his wife, his nose in her hair, and a smile on his lips that very beautiful night.

Learning Curve

Henry arrived early at the training center. Bonnie was already there, her garage open, with the wild rock music pounding out. Her Soldier Pack was there, tearing apart a black Harley Fat Boy with its front end a mess. He set up the intake, checked that all the people would be arriving, and was glad for the early start. A man on a brand-new black Harley Fat Boy rode up. He had a paunch, a cinnamon beard, a Harley helmet, and was in full, Harley, summer-vented gear. When he took off his helmet, he had a do-rag on his cinnamon hair. He was tall and wide, and looked like a poster for the Harley Fat Boy.

“You must be Henry,” said the man, reaching out his hand.

Henry shook it. “You must be Red,” he said.

The man belly-laughed, and then stowed his helmet. “I know I’m too damn early, but this is a dream of mine, to know what makes my Harley tick, you know?”

“I do know,” said Henry. “Let’s get some breakfast, and we can talk Harley.”

“First, what happened to my bike’s brother over there?”

“Bought it from an insurance company. Rider had a heart attack. Didn’t make it,” said Henry.

“Sorry to hear that,” said Red.

“Let’s toast the rider after the class,” said Henry. “Right now, I want pancakes.”

A woman rode up on a Low Rider. “Am I too early?” She wore ancient vented leathers, well-cared for, and was older than Henry by a decade. She kept her hair in a long queue like Henry’s.

“You must be Darla,” said Henry.

“Got it in one,” said Darla.

“Pancakes?” said Red.

“You’re on,” said Darla. They all went on their Harleys two blocks down and to the waffle house.

Red and Darla hit it off immediately. “Phoenix,” she said.

“Tucson,” he said. They both laughed.

“Vegas, actually the Paiute res,” said Henry. “What clubs are you in?”

“Road Mommas,” said Darla, turning to show a woman on a Low Rider on the back of her jacket.

“Red Devils,” said Red, turning to show the stylized devil on a Harley Fat Boy on his back. “Got sixteen members, and several teens. Do a lot of off-roading. See you’ve got some for sale on your Soldier Pack website. Think I’ll check out buying one while I’m here.”

“Good idea,” said Henry. “We have about fifteen… yes, fifteen in storage for our rides, and Robert’s working on one more.” He laughed. “Probably at this very moment.”

“I can buy one offa you?” asked Red.

“If the price is right,” said Henry. “And you got someone to ride it home for you.” He thought a minute. “Could be we can get one of our Soldier Pack to ride with it, catch a plane back. If you pay for that too.”

“Soldier Pack?” asked Darla.

“Program to help soldiers recover from PTSD and get a job fixing Harleys. They’ve got a nice setup, started in Texas, but not enough spots,” Red explained. “So, the Nighthawks here,” Henry displayed his Nighthawks skull on his back, “decided to expand the program in their shop, and it spread all over Southern Nevada. Got several clubs doing it. Part of why I’m here, actually, is to investigate it, and see if we could do it in Tucson. Not the largest town, but we could sure use someone refurbishing used off-road bikes for us. We love us some desert trips.”

“Can I do it too?” asked Darla. “Need us a real good teaching mechanic, I suppose. And a garage. We could go in on it together, get a garage in each city going.”

“You got any mechanics we can borrow?” asked Red.

Henry called over the server. “Let’s order now, talk later. I’m a hungry man.”

“Sounds good,” said Red. They ordered farmer’s breakfasts, bacon, sausage, pancakes, butter, syrup, a carafe of orange juice, and one jug of coffee.

They heard the roar of another Harley, and a tall black man with big chocolate eyes, a square face and jaw, and a ready smile, entered. Henry stood. “Brick,” he said.

“Henry,” said the other man. “Real name’s Charles. Got my name ‘cause I gotta head like a brick.” He sat down. “You order yet?”

“Just now,” said Henry. The server came over with the coffee and orange juice, and he ordered the same breakfast.

“I’m with the Soul Brothers in Atlanta,” he said, in a soft Southern drawl. “Heard you got a real good thing going on here. Wanted to meet your Soldier Pack, see if we could get a garage going. They could spin off, go all around to the little towns throughout the state. Been wanting to do more than just rides for the Wounded Warrior Project for a long time.”

“We were just saying the same thing,” said Red. He shook Brick’s hand. “Red, Red Devils, Tucson.”

Darla reached across the table and shook his hand. “Darla, Road Mommas, Phoenix.”

Their food arrived, and they dug in. When they came up for air, Henry said, “You can’t have our Bonnie. Or Ghost or Killa. They are our bike builders. Bonnie you’ll meet today. Ghost and Killa work across the way at the Nighthawks clubhouse building three-wheelers.”

“Sure would like to meet them women,” said Brick. “Nice operation to have. Bet it gets an excellent return on investment.”

“It does,” said Henry. “They train Soldier Pack, too. In fact, they rotate. The Valkyries have a garage in Pahrump, Herja runs it. She has some damn fine mechanics she trained herself. The Iron Knights —they’re mostly law enforcement, ex-military, paramedics, firefighters. They have their own garage. You’ll have to talk to them. Be some damn fine ex-military mechanics in your neck of the woods, too, willing to train soldiers. Have a ride or two, build up the money to get a garage and the tools. The problem is housing them. Many of them don’t have shit when they arrive.”

“Not a problem for us,” said Brick. “We got no problems hosting them.”

Henry laughed. “We would have, too, but we ran out of room. Our club bought several renovated apartment houses and a house or two. We get rent once they start making money. The thing is, the list is huge. We get them out into the world when we can, and we help them save first and last month’s rent, or first and deposit. They room together or rent a house together. Got some I’d consider to be in their own self-made families. They help each other, complete jobs when someone gets sick or needs a mental health day. Some ended up working security instead, do the bikes part-time. Some end up hating working on bikes, can’t do it, or whatever. One of them lives in my house and works on my farm. The others ended up doing security for a local firm.”

“The security people don’t care if they’re missing arms or legs, or PTSD?” asked Red. He held his hands out. “Not trying to be politically incorrect.”

Darla snorted at him. “Logistics, not political correctness.”

“Bannon and Gregory are both ex-military. They’ve found them to be highly competent. Two of the people working for Bannon and Gregory are coders in wheelchairs. One of them is ex… three-letter agency. Keeps getting shot,” Henry said, grimacing. “She’s working from home for him.”

“We got a couple outfits in Atlanta, fit the bill,” said Brick.

“So, a tour,” said Red.

“Do it before class,” said Henry.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” said Brick. Darla snorted again.

After breakfast, he took them to see Bonnie’s operation. Staff Sergeant Tori Kym was there. She walked them through everything, from finding the bikes online (usually from insurance companies scrapping them), right through to getting them shipped, to tearing them apart, ordering new parts, and putting them back together. They were all fascinated.

Billy Bob from Jackson, Mississippi, with a club called the Delta Dogs, came by at mid-lecture. He had slicked-back black hair, dark blue eyes, and a beautifully reconditioned Harley Heritage Classic in black. He stepped in, and Tori introduced herself to him, then kept talking.

The last one, Sonja, with blue hair braided on one side and a purple smile, rode up on a Low Rider. She was dressed head to toe in dove gray, with a vented leather jacket, a soft gray top, gray jeans, and gray motorcycle boots. Tori acknowledged her, then kept talking. Bonnie then took over the class, going over the parts of a Harley, and the care and maintenance of them. They all watched intently, many taking notes.

Henry took them across the street where Ghost and Killa were setting up for the day. Ghost told them about the parts of a Harley. Darla said, “Wait! I know you! You sell the mini Harleys!”

“I do,” said Ghost. “Gotta be hustlin’ in this day n’ age. Gotta be doin’ new stuff.”

“I hear Harley let you work on their new designs,” said Sonja.

“Well,” said Ghost. “They be askin’ me to make replicas, with as many movin’ parts as possible. Got me molds I make myself. Some of ‘em be buyin’ from me since day one.”

“Herja says you’re da bomb,” said Sonja. The women fist-bumped.

“If you be done showin’ da love to my wifey, I show you how we get the job done,” said Killa. “My wifey be da best damn welder in da state. You find a bead to show these nice people, now.”

“Yes’m,” said Ghost, making them all laugh. She passed out glasses, put down her welding helmet, and made a bead. She turned off the torch and backed away.

They crowded in to look. “Damn,” said Brick. “That be a perfect weld. You go, sista.” They fist-bumped.

Henry snorted from behind him. “I could make that weld with both hands tied behind my back.” They all laughed and went back over for more training.

Gregory did his E and E class. Katya came over with the babies. They ate a barbecued chicken lunch, passed around the babies, and then the class had to evade fake children chasing basketballs into the street, and some of his operatives with laser pointers too. Then, Gregory held his sons on the sidelines. After the runs, they all drank flavored water. Gregory helped his wife put the now-sleeping infants into the car, waved goodbye, and told the riders what they did correctly and what could be improved. He said goodbye and then he went to work.

Henry brought out the dirt bikes, and the riders took a short ride out into the desert. They practiced handling the bikes in the sand, rocks; everywhere, then went back to pick up their regular bikes. Sonja, Red, and Darla all bought the bikes they had been riding on the spot, and Red and Darla paid a premium for some Soldier Pack to drive them to their homes and take a flight back. Sonja called Herja, who was delighted to help a fellow Valkyrie, and to go to Northern California. Herja came down with Rina, a Soldier Pack graduate, and they took a three-person ride after a steak-and-potatoes dinner back to San Jose. They talked in a mix of English, Spanish, and Old Norse that left everyone very confused.

They all exchanged phone numbers, and Henry gave them his information, including Bonnie and Herja’s information. They all promised to look into garages to create their own Soldier Packs. “This has been a real good day,” said Brick.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” said Darla.

“Let’s get some beer at the hotel. I’m tired of Coke and water,” said Red.

“No smashing the furniture,” said Henry. “Do you need…”

“We’ve got it,” said Red. He gave Henry a bear hug. So did Darla and Brick. “Let’s get hammered,” said Red.

“Then a late start tomorrow,” Henry suggested. “Be open-eyed for the road.”

“You want to join us?” asked Brick.

Henry laughed. “If you had any idea how many young ones were waiting on me…”

“Go,” said Darla. “Kiddies can’t wait.”

“Grandkids,” said Henry, “soldiers, the Owl Pack of oldsters, and daughters everywhere.” He smiled and went out into the hot desert night.

David met Henry by the ranch house door, with a cup of decaf coffee in hand. Henry took it gratefully. “Long day?” asked David.

Henry sat on the glider next to the door, and David sat next to him. “Yes,” he said, “but it was profitable. Sold three bikes, and the time and energy of two Soldier Pack members to drop them off.”

Robert came out and leaned against the porch railing. “Heard you sold two bikes today.”

“Three,” said Henry. “You did two of them. Do some more.”

Robert belly-laughed. “Your wish is my command.” He said, “Nearly done on the one I’m working on, actually. A blue one. Nice suspension too.”

“Good,” said Henry. “At this rate, we’ll be short for our rides.”

“Nope,” said Robert. “Tori’s a slave driver, much worse than Bonnie. They’ve got two nearly completed, just waiting on parts.”

Inola came out, baby in hand. “Eebitsa!” said Ryder.

David took her and handed her off to Henry. He held the little girl, long black hair held back with a plastic, pink, butterfly clip. She hugged him enthusiastically. She then began to chatter, waving her arms. Henry looked into her eyes and listened carefully. She used sign to say at least some of it, “play” and “eat” and “fun.” He nodded or grunted from time to time.

Finally, the toddler monologue stopped, and she put her hands onto her face. “Eebitsa,” she said.

“I’m glad you had such a fun day,” said Henry. She smiled, lighting up her face like the sun. Henry said, “Would you like for me to give you a bath after your long day?”

She signed a “yes” and nodded her head. Henry stood, held her close, and Inola held open the door for him, helped him slip off his boots, then came back out.

“What the hell is ‘eebitsa?’” asked Robert.

“Grandfather,” said Inola, her eyes tearing up, and her voice going husky. “Her first word wasn’t ‘mama’ or ‘mom’ or ‘food.’ It was ‘grandfather.’” David patted the now-empty seat next to him, and Inola sat. David put his arm around her, and they rocked on the porch. Robert just nodded and, saying nothing, went back to put away his tools for the evening.

Henry bathed Ryder in the tub, making her giggle as he washed her little feet and hands. She had a rubber pony she liked to ride on the waves with a purple mane and tail, and a little plastic brush she liked to run through its mane. She did that while he finished washing her, and then he washed her hair with baby shampoo. He rinsed her with the sprayer, making her giggle. She floated a boat and put the pony on the boat for a spin, splashing and making concentric circles. He took her out, put her in her ducky towel, and dried her well. She loved the water. He talked with her about her purple pony. She soon forgot she was out of the water and squeaked as she made the pony trot in the air. He dried her, put on lotion, slipped on a nighttime diaper and a T-shirt, combed and braided her hair, and soon had her sleepy body draped over his warm shoulder.

He took Ryder in to bed and read a Paiute book about a painted pony to her. She mouthed the words and squeaked. He nuzzled her neck, making her giggle. He slid her into bed, and David came in. Together, they sang strong medicine into her. A song of life, health, and hope. They shut the door and crept down the hallway. Inola was getting ready for bed, just as exhausted as her daughter. They waved to her as they passed.

Henry stripped down, and went to take a long, hot shower. David was already there. David washed out Henry’s hair, then Henry washed his. They kissed in the shower and held each other. David soon realized that Henry was nearly too tired to stand up, and so they settled for washing each other’s backs, then the rest of each other. They rinsed off, and David left Henry standing up against the shower as he reached for a towel. He dried off Henry, then himself, and led Henry to bed. They both put on boxers, and David had Henry sit at his feet while he put the braid back into his hair. They talked quietly in Paiute about the day, the farm, the new pony who was doing much better, the baby rabbits, and how everyone was in love with their fluffy-bunny cuteness. David stood, and got his own hair into a silver clip.

“I can’t get up,” said Henry. “Perhaps I should sleep on the floor.”

David laughed. “After the times we were awake for days? Henry, I’ve sung for days. Danced, walked; even. Remember the time the horse went lame?”

“Remember pitching a tent and camping for days?” said Henry, answering his question with another one. “I remember a sweat we did for days.”

David helped Henry stand, and they crawled under the sheets. “I remember the first time,” said David.

“We were only boys,” said Henry.

“We were,” agreed David. “I knew what I was. You knew what you were. Your mother…”

“Never understood,” said Henry. “Too much time in the white man’s church.”

David snorted. “Plenty of church people don’t condemn us. Or Inola.”

“Inola is doing so well. She is a fantastic mother,” said Henry. “In those dark days, deep inside, when I blamed myself…”

“You had a cracked skull,” reminded David. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“Then, when I came back, she was pregnant. I wanted to kill him, but you said he was already dead.”

“Yes,” said David. No one had bothered to tell Henry that Inola had been raped multiple times that night, and that they couldn’t be sure which dead man was the father.

“Ryder is the best damn thing from that horrible night,” said Henry.

“There’s more,” said David. “It got you back in my arms. It got me moved in here. It got me into this incredible family. Longhouse family,” he said, laughing.

“We keep adding members,” said Henry.

“Just remembering everyone’s name, let alone their stories, their needs, is difficult some days,” said David. “But, I do not regret a single one.”

“We are so lucky that Gregory took Mimi and the little one,” said Henry. “Running out of room.”

“Thank the sun,” said David. “Solar panels saved us from the power bills. And Nantan (and now Mike) grow us what we need, and the Wolf Pack all have jobs, and the Owl Pack sell enough to keep them all in their medicines and rent.”

Henry growled. “I did not ask them to pay rent. It is offensive to me.”

David smiled and held Henry close. “We use it to pay for food for one million people.”

Henry laughed. “Feels like one million, doesn’t it?” He turned and kissed David.

They melted together slowly, gently. Both were tired, but they needed each other’s touch. David held Henry’s face in his hands, and then he kissed him gently. They held each other close, before letting their hands wander down lower. David, with the most energy, was the one to reorient himself, kissing his way down Henry’s stomach before turning around. Henry groaned. They licked, sucked, and nibbled at one another until they both came.

David rolled off the other side of the bed and smiled as he got some wet wipes. He cleaned them both up, and they put their boxers back on. Henry was already asleep before David slipped in, and he lovingly held him in his arms.

* * *

Henry, Ivy, and Gregory had only one more day for the off-road trip to raise funds to create two new Harley garages. Funds needed to train Soldier Pack people on the list, one in Phoenix, and one in Tucson. They met at the clubhouse, got the route nailed down, got messages out to the Iron Knights, Valkyries, Gearheads, and anyone else who wanted to join in. Some of Henry’s students rode or flew back to participate and raise money for a great cause; they’d met the Soldier Pack firsthand. They would pick up the Red Devils in Tucson and the Road Mamas in Phoenix. The teens were ready with their lists of what was needed for a road trip; Ivy sent the entire checklist to everyone.

The living room floor at Henry’s place looked like a river of camping gear —tents, skillets with their nestled plates and silverware, matches in keep-dry containers, insect repellent, sleeping bags, tarps, and more. Nantan, Chayton, and all four boys were coming too. They left their side under the supervision of Mike and Chogan Little Deer, the medicine man learning from David in exchange for keeping an eye on the Wolfpack. Cocheta Reyes came, ready to rejoin the Apache tribe as one of their elders, her worldly goods stuffed in her saddlebags the night before launch. Bess sniffed it all with her Corgi nose, and thus, pronounced it good. They got the Nighthawks’ equipment divided and stuffed into packs the night before, all except for the sleeping bags.

They cooked a huge barbecue meal, ribs and chicken, and grilled corn and veggie kebabs. The younger ones got into a spirited soccer game. Babies slept in arms as Vu entertained everyone around the fire pit in the backyard, telling stories as they roasted marshmallows and made s’mores with chocolate Grahams Crackers, chocolate bars, and melted marshmallows. They sang, David’s thrumming voice intertwining with Inola, Bella, and Henry’s.

Henry had to contend with a sleeping Ryder on his lap, and they passed around Kiya, Colin, Luka and Ivan. The babies were fussy, but soon slept under the stars. Pregnant Killa, Bella, Bao, and Katya were waited on hand and foot. The moms put the babies upstairs, most in portable cribs. They left an exhausted Bella with them, and then came back down to sing some more. They switched to stories of the road, of missing tents, of bears looking for food, of idiots who forgot to pack enough beverages, and the wildlife of the road —bighorn sheep, wolves, bears, antelope, deer, roadrunners, hares, snakes, and thousands of squirrels and chipmunks.

The only member of their party that was both wide awake and not an excited young man (or young woman), was Ivy. She sang Melissa Ethridge’s Come to My Window, and Callie said, “Anytime!” after the song ended, making everybody laugh. Ivy then slipped into I’m the Only One, stalking Callie with her voice. Callie responded by singing Pat Benatar’s Heartbreaker. Ivy sang Evanescence’s Bring Me to Life, hitting the high notes with amazing perfection. They then slipped into a duet of Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time. After that, all the women slipped into Meredith Brooks’ Bitch, with all of them joining into the bravado of the song. The guys wisely kept from commenting.

“What does that even mean?” asked a confused Nick.

“I suggest not hurting your brain,” said Josh. They pushed each other, and Chayton had to break it up.

Henry took Ryder inside, put her to bed, and came back out with two drums. He gave one to David, and one to Henry. They started drumming, and the dancing began. Inola went in for her drums, and they beat out complicated rhythms. Ivy danced with Callie, a foot-stomping thing that had everyone else gasping trying to keep up. They went into 500 Miles by The Proclaimers, shouting the lyrics and jumping up and down. They went into more drumming and danced by the light of the moon, and under a million and one stars.

In the morning, they rolled out of their beds and sleeping bags, ready for the ride. They took turns cooking the eggs and bacon, and in reheating the tortillas for breakfast burritos. They ate them with salsa and sour cream and coffee or orange juice at the kitchen table, leaning against a wall, while rolling up a sleeping bag. They were silent, so as not to wake the babies; their leaving would do that, in a wide-throttle Harley roar. They finished packing the bikes with their sleeping bags. Gregory, Ivy, and Inola kissed their wives goodbye, and slipped out into the tiny burst of light at the tips of the mountains. Right as that first spear of light struck, they left for their ride.

So, they rode from Las Vegas through Phoenix and Tucson down to El Paso using the US-93 and the I-10, picking up people on the way. It was a long ride, with frequent stops for food, drinks, and sightseeing. At night they spread out, taking up space in at least ten inns along the road and utilizing several campsites, having swelled their ranks with Iron Knights, Valkyries, Red Devils, Road Mamas, and Gearheads. They raised money at each stop, some from ex-soldiers that had done quite well for themselves and wanted to pay it forward. Henry found a bank and deposited it every evening.

They ate the best Mexican food ever, and they spread out for sightseeing, dancing, drinking, and other fun events. The Nighthawks and their attached Soldier Pack went to the river to their cookouts, fires, long conversations, and intermittent singing. The soldiers told amended war stories, trying to protect the youngest among them from too much blood and guts. They had forgotten how bloodthirsty some little boys were, and their skirting around some details didn’t go unnoticed. That night, no one was awakened by nightmares. The peace of the Nighthawks had penetrated through them.

Next, they went back up to Las Cruces all the way up to Albuquerque on the 25, collecting funds on the way. Then, they took the 40 to Gallup, and spent some time at the Zuni reservation. They camped out by the river again, and they bought out half the artisans’ silver jewelry and a lot of their tiny, stone, animal fetishes, too.

The continued all the way through Flagstaff to Kingman, Arizona, being sure to play the Eagles’ Take It Easy when driving through Winslow, Arizona. At Kingman, the Vegas ones split off, and the Arizona ones went in the opposite direction. They went to Lake Mead, pitched tents, and had a potluck, with those that stayed at home now joining them, babies and all. They spent the night there, singing and talking well into the night. In the morning, they took the off-road bikes back to the school and took back their own bikes, and, after a round of hugs and an amazing breakfast that took over two diners, everyone went home.

Beginnings

Triesta stood out on the porch in the dawn. Seeing everyone again at the reservation had filled her soul full, despite the meeting with her mother. Naya had grooves so deep they were carved in the earth. She ate the same thing at the same time of day, except at the festivals. Her conversations were the same five, from the weather to the sales of her carvings (never many), to her monetary troubles (many), to the joys of her son (endless), to the travails of having a daughter (also endless).

Triesta learned from the age of six that her mother wouldn’t change, and she took every opportunity to get a scholarship. She worked hard in school and zipped ahead despite their being no program for gifted students at her tiny school. She had to go to a Navajo university to major in native languages, but it went well. She spent long icy winters and pavement-cracking summers learning crafts in order to learn the languages, and found she had a second calling. She split her fine arts major into silversmithing and glass jewelry-making, and then received a minor in business.

She worked hard, taking courses, learning everything the elders had to teach her, listening to their words, following their hands to learn to make her own voice in words, and in art. Art worn around the neck, the wrists, in the ears, but still art, nonetheless. Her best seller was a belly piercing made out of stainless steel, with a tiny Zuni fetish encircled by silver that rested in the navel. It became quite the rage in New Mexico for a while. She still sold them on her website. The money paid for her many courses. It still sold in New Mexico and Arizona; she wondered how it would do in Vegas.

The little wolf was intriguing. A little yellow wolf, smart and strong, with an affinity for animals rare to behold. Yet, the little yellow wolf had spent years locked in her own mind, and still hated loud noises, fire, and discord. Robert was certain to work on his motorcycles when she was elsewhere, in the loving arms of the elders they called the Owl Pack for their wisdom.

Robert. Now there was an intriguing man. Worn down by war, there were chunks of pain and terror still in his eyes, and a bone-weariness that never really left him, even when he was vigorously hiking on his blade leg and his flesh one, or expertly riding a horse. He was nothing like the wild boy she remembered, always ready to leap and pounce. But friendly, like a puppy. Resourceful, finding games to play in an empty desert. She was three years older than him. A lifetime in terms of children. Nothing, in terms of adulthood. His sister Suni may wail about the separation from her brother, but even Suni was insightful enough to realize that this place was like rain in the desert to Robert. A little girl loved him. And, that had made all the difference.

She bought the glass kiln from Robert and rented it out to anyone who needed to anneal their work. Robert bought a new kiln, a little larger than the one that had gone with his sister, and a new potter’s wheel. She didn’t need all the space for her glass or her silver and stone jewelry, and there were the pottery drying racks he’d built for his sister. So, she grabbed herself a corner where the light was right, and set up her rock tumbler, bead release, hammers, tongs, wire, silver clay and solder, silver stamps, jeweler’s saws, buffing machine, glass mandrels to be melted into beads and rods on which to twine them, and she clamped her torches to a table.

Men and women like Tanis Grey Horse and Rutherford Talmates came and went, renting space and kiln time, throughout the day. Trucks would drive up, unload into the kiln at dawn, and vanish, not to be seen until dark. Those that worked came and went in silence, with the occasional request to join someone in drinking a glass of lemonade. Then, it was the simple conversations of nations and family lines, of the desert heat and the health of the horses, or the latest project each one was doing.

Her apartment was small, but lovely. It looked out over the paddock and some genuinely happy horses. Robert kept some of the money from her rent, and all the people that used the shop and kiln went to fund his purchases of dead bikes and new parts, but most went to Henry for rent.

Triesta hung her jewelry on racks, photographed it, and kept the shipping company busy with shipments going out three times a week, and with incoming silver and glass. She went to the tattoo parlors on her Harley, her favorite places to do business, and sold silver piercing jewelry by the box. The little, Zuni, fetish, navel ring was still her best seller.

Robert was still awakened by the little yellow wolf to help feed the horses. Triesta wasn’t foolish. She rose as well and learned how to feed the horses. Her arms got a lot stronger as she too learned to haul hay with hay hooks, and to fill up feed bags. The little wolf now saw her as part of the background for her life and so she knocked nearly silently on her door if Robert was away, for help.

Triesta found every day to be a strange cross of res life and living on a college campus. Bright-eyed, young, First Nation people were always moving around, helping with the horses or the rabbits —the baby rabbits were cute to the extreme. They went back and forth to the Big House for meals. They worked with Robert, taking apart and putting back together the bikes. They came and went on motorcycles, trucks, and on horseback, all throughout the day. They took their lessons anywhere they wanted —in the cool of the barn, laying on hay, or on the porches of their house and/or the Big House, or upstairs with the Owl Pack.

Their Owl Pack had some amazing minds. They had stories, wonderful stories. Triesta put forth many happy hours in the heat of the day, when it was too hot for torches and kilns, and sipped peach tea and flavored waters while making her jewelry. Richard was often there, translating stories, reading new ones in Zuni. She became his female voice now that Robert’s sister Suni was back on her res, telling tales of Coyote and summer birds and rabbits. She recited the women’s stories, adding to his collection, and Vu paid her for every minute. That woman had more stories than Ana, her mother’s sister. Triesta wondered how two women could be so different. Triesta called Ana on Skype to recite her wonderful stories, and they had many happy, high-summer hours listening to the stories of their youths, and to the many Zuni women’s stories.

The Nighthawks and Soldier Pack went on many wonderful rides. They often went to the Red Rock Loop to see the climbers and walk the trails, to Mount Charleston for a sweat and feast, or to Lake Mead for fishing, cooking the bass and catfish for dinner, and long nights with songs rising into the sky, filled with a million and one stars. They would end up with Chayton and Nantan’s boys on the back of their bikes, or, increasingly, Hu and Grace. Damia stayed home, and there was always someone to stay with her.

David was their medicine man. He had strong medicine. He sang over her twice, once when she had a fever, and once when she did too much and became exhausted in the heat.

She felt calm with David around, not confused or misdirected. She felt… at peace. Which was strange. She didn’t feel truly at peace around all the Dine (Navajo), and the heavy reliance upon teaching their language. Although they were incredible artisans, the Zuni were different in ways that seemed so hard to speak of, but something she knew in her bones when she was on Zuni land. Here there were Paiutes, Hopi, Apache, Dine, Zuni, and more, speaking in a polyglot of languages, often switching languages mid-sentence. The songs sung to the horses were many, from many languages. But, the medicine here was good. Here she felt more… herself. She could be an artist, and not be that “Native artist,” or that “Zuni girl.” She was simply one of the tribe. A tribe made up of many tribes. It sounded strange, but it worked there, on Henry’s farm. It just did.

Triesta spent a happy hour playing with three babies —Ryder was beginning to speak. She loved Kiya and Aiden, and would sing to them, and make up stories, and spent hours on the floor playing with them. Triesta would sing as well, and Ryder would clap or dance, and the babies would chortle, or cry if they were hungry or wet. Triesta, familiar with res kids, could change a diaper with no tears involved on anyone’s part.

They were on the floor of Ivy and Callie’s house on blankets. The floor was cool, so she had them play on the edge of the kitchen where the tile met the dining room carpet. David came in, took off his sandals, and crept across the floor.

“Dawi!” exclaimed Ryder, and she attached herself to his neck.

David gave Triesta a hug, and sat down, a little girl still attached to him, to play with the babies. Triesta went to switch over the laundry. She folded a basket of baby clothes, then emptied the dishwasher. She brought over baby bottles of milk, a sippy cup of juice, and two bottles of spiced apple juice.

David tasted it. “That’s… weirdly delicious,” he said.

“The dwarf apple trees are doing great,” said Triesta. “They’ve bottled this, and they’re working on a nonalcoholic wassail for the holidays. The peach trees are…”

“A bumper crop,” said David. He blew on Kiya’s stomach, making her chortle. “Peach tea, peach pie, peach cobbler…”

“I can help can them,” said Triesta.

“Woman,” said David, “you know not of what you speak.” He picked up Aiden and blew on his stomach. “You’ll be trapped doing that for days, and it will eat up what free time you have.”

Triesta laughed as Aiden’s bright laughter filled the room. Ryder pulled up her pink I’m Awesome T-shirt, and said, “Wu mi.” David obliged, and blew on her stomach, making her laugh.

When she could talk over the shrieks, Triesta said, “I am ahead. Actually ahead. I make ten of everything now, or five if it’s a new design. I can take a day or two out for canning.”

“Peaches wow, and the strawberries are insane. Jams, jellies, syrups.” David shook his head sadly. “I pity you.”

“Must teach the young ones the old arts,” said Triesta. “You never know. Some of them may actually enjoy it.”

David thought a moment, blew on everyone’s stomachs except Triesta’s, and made everyone laugh again. “Possibly Mike will actually enjoy it. He loves everything about growing and preparing food.” He smiled. “The man has found his mission.” He picked up Aiden, who had been waving his feet and grunting. “Hmm, I will take care of this.”

He stood, baby in his arms, and Ryder attached to his leg. He walked with her standing on his foot, making her laugh. Ryder grinned, and Triesta spoke in Zuni to Kiya with a story about a rabbit. She acted out the story with a little stuffed rabbit. David hobbled back with the cleaned baby, and he whispered the story in Ryder’s ears in Ute. Ryder stared, now wide-eyed at the rabbit.

David did the toy pickup and the vacuuming, and then he helped Callie when she came in with groceries. “I’ll put these away, and you have fun with your kids,” he said.

He put away the groceries while Callie put away her purse, visited the restroom, and came over to sit on the floor with her babies, with her back up against the couch. Both babies attempted to jump into her arms. She sat cross-legged, put one at each knee, and took turns holding them.

“Thank you so much,” said Callie. “The Wolfpack was overextended this morning, and I needed to teach. One of the teachers at the Nighthawks homeschool went into false labor. I’m looking at staying on swings or going to days when she goes into real labor.” She switched from Kiya to Aiden, and Ryder took Kiya.

“Your wife works swing?” Triesta asked.

“Yes,” said Callie. “She went in early; there’s work being done on the bathrooms to update them. She’ll be home early, too, Cougar’s on tonight.”

“That’s excellent,” said Triesta. “Would you like me to watch the babies, so you can have a nice dinner with your wife?”

“Take her up on it,” said David, from the kitchen. “We’ll take the littlies, you have something delivered, and we’ll bring them back.”

“I have a recipe for crock-pot chicken pasta with cheese and basil-parmesan dressing,” said Triesta. “I’ll do it now. It’ll be ready when your wife gets home. Plate and eat. Just text us when you want us to bring the babies back.”

“Take her up on it,” David reiterated, hampered in his attempt to put away the woven carrier bags by Ryder’s attachment to his leg.

“No comments from the peanut gallery,” said Callie. Aiden fell asleep on her stomach, and Ryder helped move him onto the blanket next to her. Then, Ryder gave her Kiya. Kiya rubbed her eyes, minutes from sleep.

“I’m on it,” said Triesta.

Triesta diced the chicken breast, poured in dry pasta and water, then bottled basil alfredo sauce, shredded in some Parmesan, and put the chicken breast in the slow cooker, put on the lid, and turned it on. She washed up and went back over to see if Callie needed anything. Callie was asleep, her sleeping daughter in her arms. She got up, found the special roll for Callie’s neck on the back of the couch, and put it on her neck without waking her, or the infants. They slipped out and left the family sleeping.

David picked up Ryder. He sang to her and patted her back while walking back to the Big House. Ryder chatted at first, then tried to sing along. By the time they crossed in-between the greenhouse and the Wolfpack house, Ryder’s voice had slipped into silence as she fell asleep. Triesta pointed at the greenhouse. David nodded, and headed forward to the Big House.

Triesta held the door open for a person exiting with boxes above her eyes. She realized it was April after she walked by. “Bye,” said April, and headed to the van.

Samma followed her with an equally large set of boxes, the ones saying “keep-hot” instead of “keep-cold.” Triesta shut the door after checking for more people wanting to exit. She ran forward to help the ladies fill up the van.

“Thanks!” said April. “Have no idea why people order soup in summer. Unless it’s a cold one, like strawberry or gazpacho.” She shut the door. “Gotta go.”

“No idea either,” said Triesta. “Have fun.”

Triesta made it into the sorting room without being run over. Mike and Nantan were making sure all the orders had gone out, while Leafort cleaned up the counters and the two electric burners that had been installed so they could cook simple dishes.

“I was wondering,” said Triesta.

“Yes?” asked Nantan.

“Would anyone like to do some canning? I hear you have a bumper crop of some fruits. I thought spicy peach sauce, strawberry sauce, jams, applesauce…”

Nantan held up a hand. “Already bought the jars, lids, and tongs. Have the pots for it. Suggest doing it at night so you don’t cook yourself. I suggest rotating the victims… I mean, helpers. Everyone can learn.”

“I’ll help,” said Mike. “My hand’s a mess…”

“Don’t care,” said Triesta. “I did it one-handed one summer when I broke my arm.”

“Done,” said Mike. “When?”

“Are you up to it now?” asked Triesta.

“After dinner,” said Nantan. “Everyone needs a break. Set it up now, Triesta. I’ll list the fruit, and you make the labels. We even have a handy-dandy label printer.”

“Sounds good,” said Triesta. She withdrew her own tablet from the small pack she carried, and they got to work.

Dinner was the same pasta/chicken/cheese/basil recipe —apparently, David had wanted pasta. The fettuccine was amazing, served with garlic bread, and perfect served with spiced apple juice. Everyone loved the recipe. The jokes flew, and there were arguments over what movies to show on Movie Night on Friday, sci-fi or westerns. Ryder was awake, and chattering, putting her ideas into everything. No one understood them, but they all took her suggestions seriously.

Richard followed Mike and Triesta back to do the canning. Triesta diced and pureed and filled the containers. Mike sealed them, and Richard put them into and out of the hot water with tongs. They brought over two more double electric burners, stolen from Triesta’s and Richard’s apartments. They filled the tables with strawberry jam, halved spiced peaches, pear jam, applesauce, cherry sauce, cherry pie filling, peach pie filling, and they also found some pumpkins and made pumpkin pie filling. They raided the Big House for some of the spices and made a shopping list for the next day.

They ended canning at one in the morning. Despite playing rock songs at a volume set low to let Nantan’s family sleep. And they were stumbling with fatigue. They walked Mike to the Big House, then Richard and Triesta walked back to the barn. They stood at the entrance to their stairs and looked at the stars together. Without speaking, they sat on the chairs in front of the kiln and looked up. Robert reached across and touched her hand. She put her hand in his, and they let the warm wind caress their faces.

“This is home,” said Robert. “I love the Zuni land, but this is a family that makes me laugh every day. The sky shows so many stars. There is a little girl that awakens me before the dawn, so I awaken in the light.” He sighed. “I have scars, Triesta. I’m not the little boy trying to get your attention by showing bravery, skill, or intelligence. I have lost more than my leg. I have lost brothers and sisters. I have tried to put their blood back into their bodies with my own hands. I have failed at protecting the innocent. The desert was a place of blood for a long time for me. I did not think I could find healing in the desert, but the white man’s cities are so cold. I felt so lost there. This is… this is my new home. Perhaps I shall return to Zuni lands. Perhaps I shall not. I do not know.”

“I went to school to get away from my mother,” said Triesta. “My mother’s sister is the best of us. My mother is the smallest of us, in some ways. She does not understand why I neither want to speak to her nor spend time with her. She seems to have her mind in a groove, like a record, and cannot seem to have new thoughts. She speaks ill of me and speaks about Rudi as if he were all the moon and stars. Rudi has been doing drugs for years. He can’t control what he says or when he says it. He has tried to harm children when he is high,” said Triesta, shaking with rage. “And yet, he is the one who hangs the moon and sets the stars in the sky, and I, the one who did something with my life, the one that makes jewelry and has helped two of our Zuni girls go to college, am the one who is nothing.”

Robert continued to hold her hand as she kicked the ground to relieve her anger. “She sounds mentally ill. Please do not let the thoughts of one such as her continue to damage you.”

“I do not know if I can release all my anger,” said Triesta, wiping away angry tears with her other hand.

“Perhaps you should do kickboxing. The gym just inside the Las Vegas city limits permits people like me,” he said, waving a hand toward his blade leg. “I could teach you the basics, and you could have your anger released.”

“That would be… yes, please,” said Triesta. “And, we forgot our burners.”

He laughed. “Will you cook tomorrow morning?”

She laughed back. “No.”

They laughed. “Let’s sleep, and in the afternoon, I will take you to kickbox,” said Richard.

“Good,” said Triesta. “Now, I need sleep. I watched a little brown wolf, and two little ones. They are truly wonderful, but I am exhausted.”

“I’ll walk you to your door,” said Richard. They both laughed.

In the morning, they both got pats on their doors. They dressed, put on their boots, and went down to help haul hay and feed. Damia told them what to do in a quiet, clear voice. Her little smile made both of them think that she was enjoying telling the adults around her what to do. All three went out and watched the dawn.

They went for breakfast and ate strawberry pancakes with bacon and orange juice with a sleepy Inola, and then they went to work. The clay kiln bakers showed up, ready to fill it up. Neither Robert or Triesta offered to help; the creators of the objects knew what they wanted to fire and when, and Triesta and Richard were also afraid of dropping someone’s opus to shatter on the ground.

Triesta and Richard both did their hot things in the dawn. Richard soldered his new bike together and tore the next one apart, while Triesta wound hot glass around a pipe, cut off the beads, and put them into the bead kiln for annealing. They took a lemonade and sliced fruit break together, and then they headed up to the Owl Pack to record some stories.

Lunch was chicken salad sandwiches with grapes and pecans on a lovely nut bread, with carrot slices and homemade potato chips. They then took off for the gym.

Richard helped her with the stretches, then warmed them both up with jumping rope and shadowboxing. He showed her how to kick and knee a round bag in-between two ropes, first slowly, then more quickly. “It is better to go slowly with proper form, than quickly with bad form,” said Richard. “Bad form will allow injury.”

“Yes,” said Triesta. He called out moves and helped her move from slow, to a little faster.

He then showed her the punches, showed her how to wrap her hands, and helped her move her feet as she blocked and jabbed. She practiced with a heavy bag, and then he helped her cool down and stretch. They showered, and then they met out by the side door.

“Let’s get some drinks,” said Triesta.

“Was it good?” asked Robert.

“We’ll do it again in two days,” said Triesta. “So, yes. Sonic, now.” He laughed and followed her to get some lime-cherry goodness.

Back at home, they sang songs to each other in Zuni as they worked. She brought her latest necklace to the window, closer to where he was working on his bikes. Triesta finished the necklace she was working on, packed it into its box, put away her tools, and went out to help Robert.

“Show me,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. He explained what he was doing with the new bike, and they finished putting it together. He showed her how to super-polish chrome, and they cleaned the bike with the chrome polish.

“Why didn’t you paint this one?” she asked. “This one’s in matte black.”

“It was an order,” said Robert. “I do sell them done with my Zuni designs, but some people order, say, a reconditioned, blue, off-road bike. These are for Henry, so some are painted, and some not. The one there,” he said, nodding to the other one on its engine block, “it’s going to be maroon. I’ll paint that one in Zuni designs after that. Henry sold three, and Bonnie and I have to both replace the ones he sells right out of his classes, and then add more for trips. I’ve got a steady income, steady work, and that doesn’t include helping Mike with the food or Vu with the Zuni books. Once Nantan and Mike price the food we canned, we’ll all get paid a percentage of that. You’ll get paid for babysitting today, too. It all adds up.”

“I don’t need that much to live on,” said Triesta, surprised.

Robert grinned. “We don’t get paid retirement money, so talk to Lily, our accountant, about that. Definitely. Then, fund some more scholarships. I’m funding getting the next guy here on the list, and some of his living expenses.”

“Good,” said Triesta. She grinned. “Good.”

They showered and went to dinner on their bikes. She took him to a tiny roadhouse that had excellent burgers. They ate, then went for a ride in the desert. They ended up at Red Rock. Robert passed her a Coke, and they popped the tops, and watched the sun go down. Triesta held his hand. Somehow, she ended up turning to him, touching his face, bringing his lips down to hers, and kissing him. They stood there in the crimson golden light, kissing, stopping, and kissing again.

He took her empty can and stomped on it. She stomped on his. They put them into his saddlebag, then he drew her to him. He leaned on his bike, and she half-crawled on him. She mauled him with her mouth, clawed him with her fingernails. She pulled back, stepped back.

“I didn’t bring a condom.”

He laughed. “Since I put you in the ‘way above me’ category, neither did I. I have a box at home.”

She laughed too. “So do I. I want little ones but…”

“When you decide you want one,” he said. “Same here.”

“I won’t race you,” she said. “Prefer us both alive when we get home.” She kissed him, laughed, and put on her helmet. He put on his helmet, and willingly followed her home.

They were distracted from their lovemaking by Henry and David standing at the fence, looking up at the stars. “Evening,” said Robert.

“Evening,” said Henry. “We wanted to ask you both something.”

Robert felt terror in his stomach. Was he being asked to leave?

“What is it?” asked Triesta.

“We are trying to record Damia’s moments for Ivy. Damia is talking so much more, and even laughing. We hope she someday will want to move in with her mothers, before she grows up and moves away on her own. Or not. Anyway, Ivy is missing these little moments, all day long. We want to record some things from time to time for her.”

“That’s… brilliant,” said Triesta. “Of course.”

“Robert, you have helped our little girl bloom. Thank you,” said Henry.

“She is one of the lights of my life,” said Robert, his voice husky. The men hugged. “Goodnight,” said Robert.

Triesta led him up the stairs and held him as he cried. They ended up in her room, and on her bed. Triesta stripped him of his jacket and boots, and her own. She stroked his face and held him as Robert worked through his simultaneous fear and joy. She led him to bed, and simply held him.

They awoke a few hours later. She kissed him slowly, quietly. He stroked her hair, caressed her face. She took off his top, and her own, and the underlying camisole. They spent a long time touching each other, running their fingers up and down each other’s back, shoulders, and arms. He cupped her breasts in shaking hands, and then kissed and touched each one until she came from his loving touches. They took off each other’s jeans and socks, then underwear. They held each other, cupping each other’s buttocks in their hands. He was ready, so ready, but afraid of going too fast. He touched her, lower and lower, and finally found the button in between her legs that made her gasp with pleasure. She came, and came again, under his perfect fingertips.

She rolled over, grabbed the condom box from a drawer in her tiny nightstand, and tore it open. They spilled out, making him laugh. She took one, opened it with her teeth, and rolled it onto him. She pushed the other condom packets behind her and grabbed some and put them on the nightstand. He rolled her over, and slid in. She groaned and used her claws on his back. He took his time, going slowly, sweat beading down his back. She came twice, and then came with him at the end. They held each other, stroked each other’s arms and backs, silent with pleasure. Then, he gave her one final kiss, and went to his own room down the hall. She understood; they would have a little yellow wolf knocking on their doors in just a few hours. She found the condoms, put them back in the box, took a late-night shower, put some underwear and shorts on, and slept.

“The idea when you make additions, is to make everything better than before.”