It’s Just A Fantasy

An adult stories – It’s Just A Fantasy by qhml1,qhml1 It’s Just A Fantasy

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Looking back, I still find it hard to believe how my life changed because I was targeted by a delusional madman who was wrapped up in a fantasy. Custer, my ass!

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I sighed when the blue lights came on, and turned into a parking lot. I pulled my wallet out and grabbed my license, making sure he could see the motorcycle endorsement. Idly wondering why he pulled me, I noticed the pissed off look on his face. Some just don’t like bikers.

My helmet was off, to make sure he could match the face to the license. I was pulling it out when I looked up, just in time to see the fist coming. He hit me right between my eyes and it knocked me completely off the motorcycle, and when I hit the ground he put the boots to me. I was unconscious in five minutes.

I woke up in a jail cell, aching all over. When I got cognizant, I asked a jailer why I was there. He looked through his computer and came back to me.

“Driving while impaired. Speeding. Resisting arrest. What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I need a phone call.” It took a little convincing, but when I told him I was a lawyer, well versed in my rights, and that anyone who denied them to me was in a world of shit, he called his supervisor and they couldn’t get me a phone quick enough.

I got to call my boss. “Hey Glen, what’s up?”

“I’m in jail, facing a shit load of charges, none of which I’ve done. I need help fast.”

I heard his feet hit the floor with a thump. He tended to lay back in his recliner when he was relaxing. “Where are you?”

“At the city jail. I’d tell you what happened, but I don’t know. I’ve been unconscious for two hours. I’ve also been beaten. My head hurts, my body hurts, and I’m not thinkin’ too good right now. I need you in a major way.”

“Unconscious? Why? Never mind. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

He was true to his word, and he didn’t show up alone. All of the partners were there, and none of them looked happy. Harry went to the desk captian, and soon I was in one of the interview rooms. I told them all I knew, that I had been pulled over and the cop started beating on me as soon as he got out of the car.

Harry grunted, made about six phone calls, got me released, and took me straight to the hospital for blood work. I had zero percentage of alcohol in my system, and if I had been drunk three hours ago, there would have still been traces in my system. Monday we met with the DA. Harry didn’t give him a chance to say hello. “We need the arrest report, a copy of the breathalyzer test, and most importantly, the body cam footage. Somebody stepped in shit, Bill, and they’re about to splatter it all over you.”

Bill, the DA, looked a little pale. “I have the report in front of me. It says your client was combative and uncooperative, and had to be subdued by force for the protection of the officer.”

“My client has a hairline fracture of the jaw, a broken rib, two bruised ribs, a black eye, and assorted bruises and contusions. If he hadn’t had that heavy leather jacket with kidney pads, it would have been a lot worse. I see nowhere in the arrest record where he was seen by a medical professional or offered assistance. He was in the hospital overnight to treat his injuries, and placed on concussion protocol. Bodycam footage, Bill, within 24 hours.”

We got up and walked out, and Bill spent a couple hours scrambling before calling back and saying there was no footage. The officer had forgotten to turn it back on after using the restroom. We had expected something like that, and Harry had our investigators going along the route I took, looking for security footage. The parking lot I was pulled over at belonged to one of those 24 hour medical clinics, and they had excellent footage of the incident. It was pretty obvious what had happened.

I was fairly calm until I asked where my bike was, and they told me it had been stolen before the impound wrecker could get to it. I shouldn’t have left the keys in it. The clinic footage showed the bike sitting there for seven hours before it was stolen. A guy just walked up, turned on the ignition, and rode away. It was later determined a wrecker was never dispatched.

I had an alarm and antitheft software, neither mattering if the keys were in the switch, but it did have GPS on it. It was traced to a local bike club, and after a warrant was served, they found most of the pieces. The rest had been stripped and shipped away. That bike was a custom job, and I’d sunk a ton of money into it. Somebody was going to pay.

Four days went by, and Harry told them if we didn’t reach resolution by Friday, we were going public with the footage, along with a press conference asking pointed questions about the police department and DA office. I wondered what the stall tactics were about, it would seem the department would have wanted this settled as soon as possible, until one of our investigators walked in, grinning.

“Do you have any idea who the arresting officer is?”

“An asshole, sadist, powermad jerk?”

“Probably all that and more. Officer Jenkins is the son of Senator Horace Jenkins, and daddy is up for reelection. This might get a little tricky.”

Well now, this put a whole new spin on it. My family were at the forefront of the opposite party. This was getting stranger by the second. I saw the name on the report, but didn’t make the connection. Harry called me, telling me to drop by his house. I was home, recovering.

There was a man with Harry that I didn’t know. He introduced me. “Glen, I’d like you to meet Morris Adsolum of Adsolum, Frazier, and Harris. He is going to represent you in any preceedings related to your arrest. One of his junior partners will be representing you in the civil suit. You cooperate in any way they tell you, and don’t argue. You hear me?”

Know what’s worse than having your father be your boss? Work for your uncle. He’ll love you, but not enough to let you by with anything. Still, I grinned, shook hands, and signed the paperwork. I asked how I should address him, and he grinned. “Address me as Morris, Mr. A, or use my full name, in the respectful tone I would expect from a man whose ass I’m saving.”

“Mr. A it is then.”

He had me go over the events of the night. It was pretty simple. I had taken my girlfriend out to dinner, and had the video evidence of what time we came and left. Then it was off to a club, also fully covered by video, where we danced for three hours. It also shows me drinking nothing but mineral water, backed up by the receipts when I closed out my tab.

“What did you do then?”

I grinned. “I spent all evening wining and dining an attractive woman, then I took her home. What do you think happened?”

He tried to hide his smirk and asked if she could co-oberate my movements of the night. “I would, if I could find her. She’s disappeared. I’ve called, texted, and messenged her, but she appears to have ghosted me. The investigators said she left town just after I was arrested.”

“If you got her into bed, why didn’t she spend the night?”

“She had to be home to take care of her father. Her family has a shift system in place, and Saturday morning was her turn. That’s why I was on the bike so late at night. Avery loved to ride it, she said it got her own motor running.”

“Have you met any of her family?”

“Just her mother. An unfriendly woman, but if my husband was slowly dying, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“How long had you known her?”

“Four weeks. That last night was the only time we had sex, other than that if was kisses and a few light gropes.”

“Do you know the officer that arrested you?”

“Never saw him before, and I couldn’t pick him out a lineup if I had to. I only saw his face for a few seconds before he started kicking the hell out of me.”

Mr. A showed me a photo. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place why. Then it hit me I’d seen him in the papers, af his father’s rallies. He often wore his unifrom, and nothing appeals to the law and order base like a cop for a son. I joked when I said it must be politically motivated. Mr. A’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

I told him who his father was, and he went pale. Then he stood up and snapped his briefcase shut, and looked at my uncle. “Sorry, Harry, but the firm can’t represent him. We do a lot of work for Jenkin’s family, and this would be a conflict of interest.”

Harry got it immediately. Adoslum was their fixer. “Sorry you feel that way, Morris. I would remind you that everything here has been said in confidence and can never be repeated. I want your word.”

He held out his hand. “You have it,” he said as he shook, then he said something to Harry and left.

“What was that all about?”

“It would seem politics run in their family. Daddy was grooming his son for a run at public office. When what he did hits the paper it could ruin any chance he has of ever achieving that. Buckle up, boy, it might get bumpy. Daddy will do anything in his power to get this to go away.”

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Monday afternoon he walked into my office and handed me a card. “Your appointment is for six, they’re giving you special consideration by staying late. They got a really good reputation son, and best of all they’re not local. Carla will be driving you.”

Carla was his administration assistant, a warm woman of forty three. They had been together almost from the time my father started the partnership. That’s right, I was a lawyer, but we specialized in business law and rarely saw the inside of a courtroom. Our roles were more of negotiators and arbitrators, specializing in contracts for multinational corporations. It paid very very well, often millions were at stake, and you got what you paid for. We were the guys you hired to make sure nothing ever went to civil or criminal courts.

I apologized to Carla for taking away from her family and she laughed. “I’ll get home to empty soda bottles and beer cans, with pizza and dirty dishes all over the kitchen and living room. They consider this a gift, because I prepare healthy meals most of the time. Don’t worry about it.”

We pulled into a small office building and found what we were looking for on the second floor. One small sign, “Watson & Watson, Attorneys At Law.”

There was a young girl at the reception desk, looking bored out of her mind. I saw her shut a book and put it away. I recognized it, an English textbook I had used as a a high school student. She smiled brightly and said, “Hi! I’m Emily, my Dad is expecting you. Right this way.”

She led me to a small office, opening the door to see a middleaged man with a cluttered desk. He rose and shook my hand. “Hi, you must be Glen. Harry sent you here via Mr. Adsolum. Interesting trail, that. I asked not to be told the specifics of what you need, so why don’t you fill me in.”

I still had the remnants of the black eye, and while my bruised and broken ribs were healing, I moved cautiously. I only had to bump them once to teach me not to ever do that again. I started my tale, and he held up his hand. “Before you go any farther, I’d like my partner to sit in.”

His partner was a woman. A much younger, attractive woman with a nice smile and the ability to look you in the eye like she was a human lie detector. If she was married, I bet her husband didn’t get away with diddly. I shook her hand and started from the beginning, telling them everything, including the political ramifications. Then I provided the video, and watched them as they watched it. The man frowned, the woman looked horrified. When it was over they sat for a second.

“This wasn’t a random act of a psycho cop. It was either personal, or political, or both. You sure you don’t know this guy?”

“I’d never seen him before that night. Even though my folks are shakers and movers in their party, I stay away from politics. It makes my job easier and to be honest, the events bore me to tears.”

The woman asked me about my girlfriend. “That’s a bit strange. My firm’s investigators traced the video trail of that night back to the restaurant, and they pulled a pretty good photo. They have resources, so we should know something in a day or two.”

“What name did she give you?”

“Avery Dixon, why?”

The male lawyer chimed in. “Because it sounds fake, which makes me think she was either setting you up, or hiding something. We have our own resources, so we’ll follow up as well.”

I signed the forms, gave them a substantial deposit, and shook their hands. They gave me a warning. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on here, so you need to stay away from dark alleys and keep situational awareness at all times. If something doesn’t look or feel right, call someone immediately. Understand?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve kept a pretty low profile since all this started. I also have a carry conceal permit, but I’ve never used it, didn’t think it was neccesary until now.”

Paige, the female lawyer, frowned. “If it’s legal and makes you feel safer, carry it. Just so you know, if you shoot somebody, even if you’re in the right, it will be a monumental pain in the ass. You’ll get charged, have to go to court, and the trial could drag on for months, while your lawyer, and I assume it will be us, can run up some pretty hefty billable hours.”

I grinned. “I bought one of those special insurance policies. If I shoot somebody, the insurance company jumps in and handles everything up to a million dollar limit.”

“Please don’t take that as a get out of jail free card.”

I laughed. “Remember, I’m a lawyer as well. I’d rather talk them out of something than shoot them.”

Carla was sitting with Emily, who had her algebra book open, helping her with her homework. She looked up at us and grinned. “What? You think I was just gonna sit here bored out of my mind? I saw her book and told her my son went through the same class last year, and she asked for help. It managed to make the hour go by pretty quick.”

Emily hugged her, and with handshakes all around, we left.

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I had a meeting with the partners and our lead investigator the next morning. Our investigative arm was pretty talented, but when you dealt with millions at stake, you wanted to be thorough. If one client had done something a little shady, or had a lover on the side, an illigitimate child they was secretly paying support on, or any other skeletons in the closet we wanted to know about them going in. Sometimes it was the difference between taking a client or wishing him the best of luck. Jim, the ex something or other, started it off. A slide of Avery popped up on screen. “Avery Dixon doesn’t exist.”

He let me digest that before continuing. “However, Andrea Doughtery is alive and well, and living two states over. Currently she’s unemployed, but lives in a luxury apartment and seems not to need money. There are a few misemeanors on her record, the product of growing up rich and being something of a wild child. We haven’t made contact yet, but we will when the time comes for testimony, if necessary.”

It would seem her parents were very active politically, and were close associates of the Jenkins. “Do you think she set me up?”

He grunted. “We can’t find motivation. Her parents give her a living allowance, mostly to keep her away from them. Though her parents are very political, she seems to care little for it. Our agents will stay on her.”

“This is costing me a fortune, isn’t it?”

“The numbers are rolling up, but we’ll recoup that and more in the civil suit. Besides, you have the money.”

Well, he was right there. My grandparents on both sides were quite wealthy, and Dad wasn’t broke when he had the heart attack. It would take a lot to run me bankrupt. I sent all the information we had garnered to the Watson’s, and scheduled another meeting with the DA.

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Bill looked like he had aged ten years in the three weeks since I’d seen him last. After the pleasantries were made, Ms Watson got right to the point. “Why haven’t the charges been dismissed? There is clear evidence our client was attacked without cause.”

“He still has the DWI against him.”

“What proof to you have? There was no breathalyzer, no bloodwork, because he wasn’t taken to a hospital. All you have is the opinion of the aresting officer. You’ve seen the evidence, sir. We can bury this office and the police department. We still can’t reach a decision in how much to ask for in the civil case, but we assure you the number will be in the seven figures. This is a career killing case, Mr. Adderholt, why are you pursuing it?”

He told us, without coming out right and saying it, that he owed a lot to the Jenkins for support in winning his election, and he was handling it with kid gloves, trying to get it settled as discretely as possible. My anger had been building, and when he stopped talking and looked at us with hope on his face, I gave him the bad news.

“Officer Jenkins attacked me without provocation, caused grevious bodily harm, had me jailed without cause, and managed to let my motorcycle get stolen because he never notified anyone to pick it up. Honestly, fuck discrete. He gets his ass fired without ever being able to hold a job in law enforcement again, I get a full and very public apology from you as DA, and another from The Chief of Police, the replacement value of my motorcycle, all medical bills stemming from this paid in full, double my loss of revenue from this, or the video goes viral in 24 hours. Then I’ll hold a press conference and announce my fifty million dollar lawsuit, your reputation will be ruined, making reelection virtually impossible for you, as well as the Chief’s badge. I’ll also present my evidence to the State Bureau of Investigation, who have whole divisions for situations like this. Since he’s white and I’m Native American, I’ll get the Feds invovled for hate crimes. You’ll drown in the shitstorm coming. Twenty-four hours Bill, and the clock starts when I walk out of this office.”

I strode out, leaving a shocked Ms. Watson behind me. She told me later about the brief conversation she had with Bill before she followed me.

“He’s pissed, Mr. Adderholt, with good reason. I’m not from this town or county, one of the contributing factors in hiring our firm, so I have no dog in this fight politically. It’s evident you’re going to do everything in your power to bury this, so I’m going to urge him to go public immediately.”

Then she grinned and shared her parting comment to the DA. “I’d tell you to have a good day, but I have a feeling your good days are about to be few and far between. You’re holding an empty gun, Mr. DA, while he’s got a missile system he can’t wait to trigger. Might want to dust off you resume, I have a feeling you’ll need it soon.”

When she got to the car she chewed on me a little, then grinned. “If I know the DA, he’s on the phone right now trying to get that video surpressed. If you can, release it now.”

I had it cued up on my phone, and posted it to all the local news outlets, Facebook, Youtube, and Twitter. They could probably get it shut down, but by the time there will be so many copy and paste jobs it will stay viral for days.

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The blowback was enormous. His father denounced it, saying it was all lies. The DA said they were still investigating, and the Chief of Police said the incident was being ‘reviewed’.

I countered by showing my medical report, as well as a picture of me with my bruises and contusions. People were starting to comment, and most of it was unflattering to Officer Jenkins. He’d been reviewed five times for police brutality, the last resulting in a demotion and a warning. Do it again, and it won’t matter who your father is.

When I hit him, the police department, the DA, and Officer Jenkins personally with a $75,000,000 lawsuit, things happened. I had gone back to carrying my pistol, and spent a lot of time at the range. It came in handy when a couple of men tried to ‘mug’ me one night in my driveway. I had the pistol out before they could get closer, and had them on their knees when the police got there. I gave them a copy of my surveillance video, telling them I wanted a copy of their report, and if the men were let go, I would add another lawsuit. I was not exactly popular with the city police department, but I had enough pull to make them cautious.

Since I was a lawyer, I knew I’d never see seventy-five million, but I knew if I kept the pressure on they would have to fight or fold, and if they fought everything would be in the public domain, and the press could report on it. No, with the Senator facing an election next year, as well as the DA, not to mention Jr or the Chief of Police, they were going to want this to go away as quietly as possible, but I had told the Watsons I wanted at least five million and Jr. barred from law enforcement.

Paige grinned. “Gee, you think small for a lawyer. We should get double to triple that, after our fees. Let me share a little information with you. Jr. has been taken off patrol duties, but he’s still with the police on a desk job. He’s trying to get his union involved, and probably will, even if they know it’s a disaster waiting to happen. They can’t afford not to at least appear to back him up or their reputation will be damaged.”

Her brother joined in. “The criminal case is stalled, thanks to the DA. We have every right to demand a speedy trial, and they don’t have a leg to stand on if they deny it. If they don’t drop the charges soon, they face another set of lawsuits, and the DA and police can be charged with all kinds of crimes, false arrest and obstructing justice, just for starters. It looks like it might get really ugly really quickly.”

“That already happened when he beat the shit out of me without provocation. What are the plans going forward?”

Page grimaced. “We have a friend in the FBI, and she looked the case over. She says if we go with a hate crime, it’ll be pretty cut and dried, especially with his past interactions with minorities. If convicted, there won’t be community service, he’ll do time in a federal prison. A lot of time. That will be the sword we hold over their heads if they don’t fold soon. Thanks to the video, there is a lot of pressure on the DA’s office and the Police Chief, but so far they’re not commenting except to say it’s an ongoing investigation. I don’t know what’s motivating them, or more importantly who, but the pressure they’re under must be tremendous. Eventually, one will fold and try to throw the other under the bus. That’s when they find out it isn’t a bus coming, it’s a train. A train with a lot of steam.”

They changed the subject. “Has it impacted your career? We can use that in the civil suit we file, if it has.”

I grinned. “Surprisingly, very little. My family has been in this area for centuries. We were here when the first Europeans showed up. If we knew then what we know now, we would have probably killed them, or at the very least run them out. Most of our business is with First Nation clients, oil rights, casinos, startups in the technology sectors is a growing part of our business now. We’re representing a group now that has developed new software to pinpoint possible oil deposits, as well as minerals like silver. It’ll give whoever uses it a tremendous advantage all over the world. The big boys are sniffing around, but if they acquire rights they’ll probably shelve it to maintain the status quo. The owners want to make sure it’s actually used, so it might develop into a fight. It might impact my grandfather’s ranch, so I have a personal interest. So no, what a crazy white guy does won’t impact my company in the grand scheme of things.”

“They don’t need to know that. You still have emotional trauma from the assault, right? Surely it makes it hard to concentrate or focus on your clients.” Paige was grinning while she said it, and I laughed.

“Well, now that you mention it, I have been a little off since the attack. Maybe I should take a sabbatical until a doctor examines me.”

“That’s a very good idea, Bent Feather. You should do that as quickly as possible.”

I had to wonder how they found my First Nations name, but it didn’t really matter. What friends I had called me a variety of names, many not as complimentary as one would think, given my wonderful personality and giving nature. Two days later all charges were dismissed, and any mention of it expunged from the records. I insisted the DA and Chief of Police make a formal apology, on the air, and they did, while admitting no wrongdoing in the case.

Jr., of course, got fired, and the odds of him ever holding a job in law enforcement disappeared forever. The formal story was that he resigned to pursue other opportunities with his fathers’ campaign. Paige got hold of the termination paperwork and published it online, to clear up any doubt. The Senator, usually a media hog, went silent for a month.

Then the civil trial started. Jr., the DA, and the Police Department were all served separately, meaning each would be tried independently of the others. The DA folded quickly, resigning from his position as a condition of settlement, and not wanting to go to trial, we settled out of court for 2.8 million. The Police Department had already fired Jr., but the evidence was overwheling, and I got 3 million for my pain and suffering, plus an extra 55,000 for my customized motorcycle.

The trial of Jr. was time consuming, and I had a pretty good idea his legal bill was over a million dollars. Paige got me a judgement for 11 million, which Jr. claimed he couldn’t pay “You’re right, you can’t, not now, but in four months your trust fund comes in, and that will only take two thirds of it.” He tried to file bankruptcy, and there was a lot of legal posturing, but in the end, he was denied.

Then it got much worse for him. The state dropped all charges, outraging the public as well as us, and the Feds stepped in and charged him with a hate crime. His lawyers tried to claim double jeapordy, but since charges were dropped, he hadn’t been prosecuted for anything, so the way was clear.

………………………………………………………………………………

Jr. was so incensed he called my office, and really lit into me. “You sonofabitch! I’m gonna scalp your Injun ass and hang it on my rearview mirror, as a reminder of what happens to people who fuck with me.”

“What the hell is your problem? Do you just pick someone out of thin air and kick the shit out of him, or is it just minorities? I’d never seen you before in my life. I’ve never spoken to you or had any interaction at all with you before that night. Why did you pick me?”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! You show up with your fancy bike and your long hair, flashing a wallet full of money, and my finacee just up and fucks you without a backwards glance. I’m just sorry I didn’t fuck your junk up.”

“What in the world are you talking about? I make it a habit to avoid women in relationships, and I’ve never been out with someone engaged.”

“You not only went out with her, you fucked her. Andrea Dougherty is her name.”

Everything clicked into place. “She told me her name was Avery Dixon, and didn’t say a damn thing about being engaged. It sounds like you got problems that have nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, I’m done with the bitch, so that problem is solved. Now call off those lawdogs if you know what’s good for you.”

“I have no control over federal agents. They charged you only when the state made it clear they weren’t going to. Hate crimes carry pretty stiff penalties, so if I were you I’d have your lawyers try to reach a compromise, give you a lighter charge. Still probably going to do time though.”

He was still screaming when I hung up, glad we had a policy of recording all calls, in case a client develops a faulty memory. I gave the recording to the Watsons, who turned it over to the FBI.

The trial stretched out for four months. I only had to be there for three days, and it was a foregone conclusion he would do time. The woman had to testify, his lawyers thinking it would get him sympathy, but she was pretty harsh on him, letting the court know she had broken the engagement three weeks before we dated, because he had gotten abusive, and she suspected drug use. Jr. came off his chair railing at her, which didn’t help him any. In the end, with a harsh sentence on the horizon, he folded and took a plea deal of seven years, minimum, if he stayed out of trouble. I made it a point to attend the sentencing. His eyes were wild as he stood for the judgement, pure hate oozing out of every pore, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and save his parole. The judge made it very clear what he expected.

“Mr. Jenkins, you are luckier than you know. Make sure you keep that lucky streak going, because the least bit of trouble, and you do a lot more than seven years, double that or maybe more, depending how badly you screw up. You hear me, son?”

It took everything he had to remain calm and say “yes sir” to the judge.

“So ordered. You will have two weeks to get your affairs in order and present yourself to the federal correctional service on the specified date. I strongly advise you not to be late.”

………………………………………………………………………

Paige and I went out to lunch after the sentencing. She grinned at me, flipping her long blond hair out of her eyes. She had taken it down from her professional bun after we left the courthouse.

“You know, this ends our professional relationship, so, say, if you asked me something personal it would not be a conflict of interest.”

“You forget I’m a lawyer as well. I made reservations last night. Seven Saturday work?”

She fanned her face. “Oh my! This is so sudden! Let me thi… make it seven-thirty. I expect you to impress me, so nowhere fancy. Show up on your bike, in jeans. I’ve had all the business attire and demure dresses I can handle.”

Then she surprised me with a quick kiss and swayed out of the bistro.

……………………………………………………

I told my uncle about my date, and he thought it wa hilarious. Then he got a sober look on his face. “Take her somewhere safe, all right? You’re not the most popular person to the local police force right now.”

I thought about it for a while, deciding on somewhere out of town that was known to me. My new Indian (what else did you think I’d get?) purred as I rolled along, and I’d had enough modifications done to it I knew if I twisted the throttle it would take off like like a scalded cat. It was one of my Uncle’s favorite expressions, and I always wondered how much experience he’d had with scalded cats.

There is no other way to describe it, she strutted out of her apartment door. Skin tight jeans, little crop under a jean jacket, and high heeled boots with three inch heels, her hair back in a ponytail. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and looked surprised when I handed her a helmet. “You don’t need a helmet in this state.”

“You do if you ride with me.”

She put it on reluctantly, but she grinned as I revved the engine. I didn’t burn rubber when I took off, but it was pretty close. Her arms locked around my chest as squealed in excitement, followed by a laugh. The helmets had built in radios, so we could talk as we rode. “Wow,” she said, when we got to our destination.

It was a barbeque place, a ‘joint’ would be a generous description. It was an old house in the middle of nowhere that looked like it would fall down any minute, but it had stood there for at least a hundred years. They did pork, but they also did beef, chicken, sheep, and goat. The din inside was outrageous, you almost had to shout to be heard. She looked at the menu, and decided on a sample platter, choosing beef, chicken, and mutton. You could get fries, rolls, hushpuppies, vinegar slaw, and baked beans as sides, and she chose all but hushpuppies. I grinned, wondering how she would like riding a bike on a full stomach.

I chose goat. It was tender, moist, well seasoned, and I really liked it. Paige was a little tentative about the goat, but when we were done I noted there were still a few bites of beef on her plate, but the goat was gone. She rubbed her tummy before she got on the bike. “How come I’ve never heard of this place?”

“It’s a tribal secret. If I had told you about it beforehand, I would have had to scalp you.”

Paige was wide eyed for a second before smacking me on the arm. “You better adopt me into the tribe, then, because I plan on coming back.”

I grinned. “It’s only a secret because they’re usually sold out by the end of the night. If they advertised, they couldn’t keep up.”

Paige changed the subject. “Where are you taking me now?”

“I’d thought we’d ride a little, let the food digest. Can you dance?”

The look she gave me made me think I had insulted her. “Take me somewhere with music, and you’ll see.”

We rode for about an hour, the interstate for a while, but the rest on twisty little backroads. Paige would whoop every once in a while as we hung a tight turn. It made me grin, most women would have squeaked and complained. Finally we pulled into a saloon/dancehall on the Reservation. The parking lot was full of old cars and trucks, and quite a few bikes. We walked in and were greeted with shouts and grins. These were my people. I had grown up with most of them, and had been coming here for so long I’d been thrown out three times for underage drinking. The day I turned legal, the crowd got me so drunk I thought I was going to die the next morning. I hadn’t drunk that much since.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Paige immediately went into the bathroom to fix her hair, and my friends pushed a few tables together so we could join them. Paige came out with Wild Feather, a woman I went to high school with. If anyone could tell Paige stories about me, Brenda, her white woman name, was it. We exchanged virginities just after we had both turned eighteen, in the back of a ’68 Chevy truck, under a full moon. Every time I see her I flash back to her in the moonlight, naked and writhing under me as we tried to figure out what we were doing. We were an item all that summer, breaking up when I went to college. Her decision, not mine. She said I’d be surrounded by college girls away from home for the first time, ready to experiment, and I’d be like catnip to hungry pussies. She was grinning, but she had a tear in her eye.

By the time I got home from my first year, she was engaged. It didn’t work out, and as far as I knew she had been married twice. I asked her one night, and she said she kept trying to find another me. Brenda and I did date after her first cratered, but the magic was gone and we both knew it. She decided we’d be friends and we were both happier.

Paige looked a little uncertain when she saw my friends. The Warriors weren’t exactly a gang, but they weren’t above mixing it up if they were pushed. I was a member, though I didn’t ride with them as much as I used to. In the early days, if there was fighting, I was usually right there with them.

My grandfather had a long talk with me when I passed the bar, stressing my need to take my responsibilities seriously, and stop fighting. I still had my vest, and every once in a while, if they had a poker run or charity event, I wore it.

Those vests caused a lot of fights. Where most clubs were raggedy denim vests, ours were finely tanned leather, with intricate beadwork. All it took was someone making fun of their vests for the fight to start. Most weren’t as pristine as they once were because blood is really hard to get out of leather, but eventually they were left alone. I was also their lawyer of record, after I lay down some ground rules. I wouldn’t defend them on drug cases high enough to rate a felony charge, but I did a lot of DWI, damage to personal property (mostly from bar fights), and assaults charges. They had a reputation with law enforcement, and they came to a mutual decision not to fuck with each other.

Paige was a little nervous at first, but soon was joking and laughing as they told her stories of my misspent youth. She had a pretty good buzz going, while I limited myself to three beers, over a two hour period. We all left together, and Paige got to see what riding with a group was like. She giggled into the radio.

“I like your friends.”

“They said you weren’t too bad for a white girl.”

“Brenda said you had a thing for old pickup trucks, especially if there’s a naked girl in the back.”

“It’s really cool when you’re a horny eighteen-year-old. Now I prefer big comfy beds.”

“I’d like to try it sometime.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She was still laughing when we pulled up in front of her apartment. She stood, taking her helmet off wistfully.

“I had a rea… ” was all I got out before her mouth smashed into mine. I don’t know how long we kissed, long enough for one of her neighbors to come by and giggle. “Jesus, Paige, take it inside.”

She jumped back like her lips were on fire and even in the semi-darkness I could see her flush. When she got her breath back, she smirked. “I’d ask you in, but if I did that I might not let you out. Goodnight, honey. You better call me tomorrow.”

I watched her sway all the way to her door, then she turned, waved, and disappeared inside. Normally I love riding, but it was pretty uncomfortable because my erection wouldn’t go down.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I called her early the next day. “You like country music?”

“Not so much. You?”

“Not really, but there are a couple of acts that will be performing tonight at the casino. Not big names, yet, but on their way. They’re more country rock than country.”

I gave her names and she perked up. “Ohh! I love one of their songs. Married But Not Stupid is hilarious. What time?”

“We’ll dine at the casino. Seven too early?”

“I’ll be ready.”

Grinning as I pulled up, I wondered how she would like our ride. It was a ’68 Chevy stepside. More importantly, it was THE stepside. I’d borrowed it that night, and when the owner passed away his son drove it until it died, then pulled it into a field and left it. I got it for practically nothing, but the restoration cost me fifteen grand. Now it looked brand new inside and out.

Paige laughed when she saw it. “Is this just like the one you lost your virginity in?”

“No not like it. This is it.”

She turned a little pink and giggled. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

She slid over next to me. Thinking about her being able to snuggle up to me, I wondered when and why bench seats fell out of favor. She kissed my cheek as she snuggled. “Well then, if our relationship progesses, maybe we will get a chance to rewrite history.”

My pants suddenly got very tight as I imagined it. She grinned, knowing what she had caused. We got to the casino, and were treated like royalty. I was one of their attorneys of record, and most of my time was spent on casino business, so I was in and out a lot. The manager greeted us, the chef greeted us, even the valet who parked the truck was on a first name basis.

“Jesus, do you know everyone here?”

“Not all of them, but a lot. It comes with the territory.”

We were seated at the most upscale of the three restaurants in the casino, and the food was of top quality. We talked and flirted lightly, then walked over to the concert hall. It held about 2500 people, and it was packed. Of course, I’d called ahead and reserved one of the tables up front, with an excellent view of the stage. Our waitress was my cousin, and she looked every bit the Indian Princess she was. Tall, lean, her jet black hair hung almost to her waist in two braids. Her breasts were a little bigger than normal in our race, and the tight dress she was wearing hid little of her charms. She kissed me on the cheek, shook hands with Paige, then leaned in and whispered something to her. Paige went a little pale and after she walked off to get our order, I asked what she’d said to her.

“She said you were a good guy, one of the best, and I was lucky you chose me. Then she said if I ever broke your heart, she would scalp me. Alive.”

I tried not to grin. “I wish she had never said that. I almost didn’t get her off the last time she got charged. In case you’re interested, her tribal name is Sharp Knife.”

She jerked and stared at me until I grinned. Then she laughed and slapped my shoulder. “Sometimes your sense of humor is a bit off.”

I just smiled, remembering when a guest had tried to rape her and she did go after him with a kitchen knife. Security got to him quickly, and was holding him when I showed up. After she got done crying, I asked if she wanted to press charges, or do it the Indian way.

Her grin was evil. “Go Dog Soldier on his ass.” I went to the holding room they had him locked in.

“Here’s the deal. This place is covered by cameras in every public place, everything except the bathrooms, and it falls under tribal jurisdiction, and not the local police departments. We even have our own court system. You’re on tape attempting the assault, so it will probably be one of the fastest trials in tribal history. A background check was done, and it seems you have a drinking as well as a gambling problem. You also have a very pretty wife and a small child. Wonder how she’s going to take you being tried for attempted rape?”

By then he was starting to sober up, and soon he was begging. I let him go for a minute before holding up my hand. “I’ll give you a choice. We can handle it the white man’s way, do the whole court thing, or we can do it the First Nations way. There won’t be any permanent harm, but you’ll remember the lesson the rest of your life. What’s it gonna be?”

“I can’t let this get out. My boss is very conservative and I’d be out of a job so fast it’ll look like warp speed. My wife would divorce me without hesitation. What will happen to me if I pick this way?

“Not telling. You either do this or you don’t. Just remember this: there’s a lot of us spread through the prison system, people who have nothing to lose. Pretty little blond white boy like you, you’ll end up being some buck’s squaw before a month’s out. That is if they don’t kill you when they find out why you’re there. You got two minutes.”

We never touched him. What we did do is tie him up and take him for a ride through the desert. After ten miles of being thrown around in the back of the truck, we took him back to the casino. His lip was split, and two of his teeth were still in the truckbed the next morning. His nose was broken, his scalp was gashed so badly it took nine stitches to close the wound, he had two broken ribs, and a dislocated wrist.

He told the doctor we had on call he had been mugged and had no idea what happened after the first blow. They called the tribal police, who nodded sympathetically, filled out a report, and told them if they found anything they would be in touch, then disappeared the paperwork before he was out of the parking lot the next morning.

……………………………………………….

The first band was almost pure country and didn’t impress us much, but when the second hit the stage the energy went through the roof. It was six piece outfit who could play so many instruments we lost count. There were a few pure country songs, but their best work was the harddriving, rock tinged compositions.. They did a cover of an Allman Brothers Band, One Way Out, and another of Sweet Jane, that the lead guitarist shredded for about six minutes. They closed the set with their biggest hit, a soft ballad called Everything You Hoped Would Happen. They got a standing ovation and had to do two encores.

Paige and I had backstage passes, and they were a pretty articulate group of people. The woman who did most of their keyboard work and Paige talked a lot, sharing a beer or two. It surprised her to find we were both lawyers, and I asked the singer about a 360 contract, and he frowned.

“That’s a sticking point for us. We self produced our album, under our own label, but with our success the big boys have come calling. We need a distrubution contract, and they want us to sign a two record deal. None of us really understand the contract, and they’re pressuring us to sign before we let a lawyer look at it.”

“That ought to tell you something. I’ll give you some free legal advice. Do not sign a contract or agree to anything verbatim. They probably record conversations in their offices. Get a good intellectual rights lawyer and let him handle it. We have one in our firm, because of all the entertainment facets of the casino. If you’d like, I’m sure he’d consult, at the very least. I’ll make sure he doesn’t cost you anything for the consultation, and he’s a good guy, so listen to him.”

They couldn’t thank us enough, and we were on an emotional high as we left. She snuggled up to me. “Let’s go look at the stars.”

I took her to the top of a mesa thirty miles from anywhere. There was virtually no light pollution, and it seemed like you could touch the stars. We got out and sat on the tailgate, just looking.

“I wish you’d brought blankets. I’d like to lay back as we look at the sky.”

I grinned and pulled two thick blankets out from behind the truck seats. She sighed as we lay back, snuggling into me. After a few minutes the kissing started, then the caresses. It didn’t take us long to get worked up, and then she pushed me away, sitting up, her chest heaving.

“That… that was intense, honey, but it’s too soon. I really like you, and if this continues one day in the future we’ll revisit this. When we do, make sure there’s an air mattress available. I’d like to spend the night. Okay?”

It was all I could do to keep from dragging her down, but I sat up and hugged her. “I’ll let you set the pace, baby, and follow as long as you want me to.”

That led to another twenty minutes of kissing. It was almost daybreak by the time I got her home. After a few more flaming hot kisses, she went into her apartment, smiling as she shut the door, leaving me very happy with the night, and an erection that had been coming and going since she first got into the truck.

………………………………………………………………

After a month of steadily increasing intimate touches, I took her to meet my grandparents. My grandmother wore modern dresses most of the time, but my grandfather wore traditional clothes our ancestors had worn for a hundred years or better. Despite looking like an extra in a B movie Western, he was exceptionally sharp and a good businessman. He owned a five thousand acre ranch and made a good living off sheep and cattle, one good enough to send his son to law school, and to foot half the bill when it was my turn.

Grandma welcomed her with open arms, but it took a while for my grandfather to warm up. He admired the fact that she was a lawyer, and when she started talking about how much she wanted children after she got married, he warmed up considerably. Grandma just grinned and pulled out the photo albums, showing her a lot of pictures of me when I was small. They giggled together over them while the old man grinned.

That all changed when she told him she’d never ridden, and was afraid of horses. “Nonsense, girl. Have Glen bring you out next weekend, and plan on spending it with us. We’ve got plenty of bedrooms, but I want to make it clear, we’re a little old fashioned, so it better be just you in your bed. I got just the horse for you. Annie’s a little old, has a gentle disposition, and a smooth gait. You and her should get along just fine.”

Paige promised she’d think about it, and was pretty quiet when we left. “Is it important to you for me to learn to ride horses?”

“You’re important to me, so if you don’t want to ride, I could care less. I don’t want you doing things just because you don’t want to disappoint me. If you never even pet a horse for the rest of your life, it’s fine with me.”

That cheered her up a lot. We had made it to the point fo being invited in, and we’d had some pretty intense sessions, but had yet to stress test her bed. This time I had her shirt and bra off, sucking on her puffy nipples while she cooed and moaned. Her hand was locked down on my erection, and I thought this would be the night, but at the last minute she stopped. “Not yet, baby, but soon. Now would be a good time to leave.”

I gave her a couple more kisses and started for the door.

“Glen?”

I turned, jaw falling open. She had slipped her jeans and panties off, standing there in all her glory. I noticed she wasn’t smooth, but well trimmed. “Just a preview to let you know I’m worth the wait. Goodnight, honey.”

She laughed as she turned and shook her well toned ass at me. It was another long night for me.

……………………………………………………..

Paige decided to spend the weekend at the ranch, which made my grandparents happy. Then she called, almost in tears, saying her brothers’ mother in law had fallen in the bathroom and fractured her hip, and he and his wife were flying out, leaving Emily with her for the weekend. She felt so bad she called my grandma to tell her how much she regretted it. Grandma sympathized with her for a minute before asking a question.

“How old is your niece?”

“Sixteen.”

“Well then, just bring her along. It doesn’t matter where she sleeps if she’s safe and comfortable, does it? She can even learn to ride if she likes.”

Emily was over the moon. They lived in a bigger city with very little open spaces, and was super excited (her words) to spend the weekend on a real ranch.

I got hung up in litigation that afternoon, but Paige had taken a half day, and she and Emily were at the ranch well before I got there. I wondered how the girl would do, but I found her following my grandfather around as he tended to the horses, while Paige was in the house with grandma, helping cook the meal.

They made the sides, and when it came suppertime, we grilled bison steaks. Bison is a lot richer tasting than beef, with more subtle flavor. I didn’t know where she put it, but Emily ate two, so stuffed she went to sleep cuddled up to Grandma on the porch swing. Paige and I were on the other swing and Pops was in his rocker, humming quietly. We didn’t talk much, just enjoying the night, and at ten Paige gently got Emily up to get to bed. She shocked my grandfather when she kissed his cheek, gave grandma a full hug, and snuggled into me. “Thanks, Uncle Glen. Goodnight.”

Paige gave me the most intense kiss of our time together at her bedroom door, and went inside. I was a little unsettled, so I grabbed a beer and went back outside. My grandparents were still there, but now they were snuggled together, a light blanket over them. They rocked in silence for a while, before they spoke. “We like her, Glen, and her niece is a little doll. Try not to screw this up.”

I agreed with their assessment, and told them I’d try my best.

…………………………………………………………

It seems my head had just hit the pillow before Emily was banging on my door. “Uncle Glen! Breakfast is ready, so get dressed. The quicker we eat, the quicker we can ride.”

Paige was looking nervous and just nibbled, while Emily was bouncing off the walls. After breakfast, I helped saddle up the horses, while Emily hovered over us, trying to see what we were doing, Pops promised her he’d teach her to to saddle them herself later on.

Paige seemed agitated when I brought Alice over to her. Alice was a bay, and despite her age she was a really pretty horse. “Pet her for a minute, honey, lead her around a bit while we saddle the others, get her used to you.”

Soon she was leading Alice around the corral, stopping to pet her once in a while. Alice liked being fussed over, and she was prancing by the time we were ready to ride. Grandma was on her black, a stallion with a lot of spirit, but gentle as a baby when it came to her. Nobody else liked to ride him. Pops was on his gray gelding, and Emily was thrilled when they showed her the white mare she’d be riding.

Pops was famous for the way he trained his horses, and they were all well behaved. He led off, taking us down an easy trail. Emily was behind him, then Grandma, then Paige, and me. Paige and Emily seemed to be concentrating too hard, but we worked with them, and they gradually relaxed.

We would ride for a while, then get off and lead them a bit. It was more for the benefit of the girls than the animals. If you’d never ridden before you would be sore as hell if you stayed in the saddle too long, and we wanted them to have good memories. Our destination was a stream that meandered through the trees, creating small pools at every turn. Pops, Grandma, and I carried small soft sided coolers, with our lunch and drinks.

We found a good pool and spread out our lunch, relaxing in the shade and enjoying the breeze. I took a small camera with better resolution than our phones, making sure I had plenty of pictures of Emily and Paige, before turning it over to Emily. She must have snapped two hundred photos.

We walked the bank of the stream, just looking, when I stopped the girls. We were in the shade, and there were bare rocks on the other side of the deep pool.

“Do you see that?”

“What?”

“There’s a big rattler laying on that rock. See him? See how’s he’s lying? He’s waiting for a fat trout to swim by.”

Emily was snapping pictures when a trout got a little too close to the rock. The snake uncoiled, coming up with a ten inch fish in his jaws, backing away from the stream and waiting for it to stop flopping. We looked later, and she had caught the whole sequence on film, including watching the jaws unhinge as it swallowed the fish. Paige took it to a photo shop, where they cleared it up a little and framed it in a sequence, from the strike to the swallowing. Her school had a photography contest, so she entered the sequence, and it gathered a lot of attention. She came in first in her age group and second overall. The local paper put it up on their website, to a lot of acclaim.

It turns out that both Paige and Emily loved horses, and when they hugged my grandmother, she whispered something in her ears that had them in tears. They were quiet on the way home, but Emily had a hard time letting go of me when we hugged. Then she hugged Paige almost as hard and bounced into the house.

Her parents were smiling. “Why do we see horses in our future? I’ll have to see about boarding costs and a hundred other things.”

Paige grinned at her brother. “No, you won’t. We have an open invitation to the ranch, and instructions to make frequent visits. You better be careful or your daughter will go native on you.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “I think she may be following an example. Thanks again for taking care of her.”

We talked a bit about his mother-in-law. “It’s going to take a while for her to recover. She lives alone, and she’s going to need care. We’re moving her in with us. She doesn’t really want to, saying she doesn’t want to be a burden, but she really has no choice. I don’t mind, I really like the old girl. Emily loves her grandma, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Paige, I’m sorry honey, but I’ll probably have to scale back a little in the near future. Can you handle that?”

Paige smiled and hugged him. “Doesn’t look like I have a choice, does it? Relax, I’ll be fine. Keep your priorities aligned, Dan. Trust me, it’ll all be there when you get back.”

She did have to work harder, and it cut down on our time. She apologised repeatedly until I stopped her. “Baby, my heritage is big on family. You do what you have to do to keep your family going. Of course, I miss you, but you’re doing the right thing. We’ll just make the most of what we have. It’ll get better, I promise.”

She sagged into my arms, sniffling, and was asleep in minutes. I lay her down gently and put a pillow under her head, then went and cleaned the kitchen. I looked at her an hour later and decided enough was enough. I roused her and led her to the bedroom. She was barely cognizant and seemed not to mind when I undressed her to her panties, and put her in my bed. I went down to my boxers and slid in besidse her. She immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me into a spoon position, snoring slightly. After my erection went down, I decided I liked it very much.

I had set the clock, but I was an early riser by habit, so I was up before the alarm went off. I may have left the sheet up a little longer than normal, drinking in her beauty. After I had prepped breakfast, I woke her up, as gently as possible. Surprisingly, she didn’t flip out, pulling up the sheet a little and looking down, then looked up grinning.

“So, what did you think of the goodies?”

“I think your ‘goodies’ are very nice, but I’d have to spend more time looking at them to make absolutely certain. Now, get up, take your shower, get dressed, and come down to breakfast.”

I had the meal all laid out, but had to pause for a moment. She had grabbed one of my tee shirts, and that was all she had on. She was tall, so it showed a good bit of leg. Paige giggled like a little girl at the way I was gawking. “This is Saturday. Let’s relax, enjoy our breakfast, then you can take me home so I can change. We have to pick Emily up at ten, so we don’t need to goof around. I bet she calls before we finish breakfast.”

She did, bubbling with excitement. “Are you coming yet?”

“Emily, it’s only eight. Give us time to have breakfast and we’ll be right over.”

If she was excited before, she was absolutely bubbling now. “Breakfast? We? Is Aunt Paige there?”

I had the phone on speaker and Paige joined in. “I am, Em. Now don’t be a Nosy Nellie and calm yourself. We’ll be there soon.”

We could hear her giggling and calling out to her mother. They met us at the door, Em shooting by us to get in the car. Her parents just grinned and told us to have a good time.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to ride. Pops had hired a ranch manager to handle stuff while he eased into retirement, and discovered after a few months that the man had an afflicition all too common in our race. A low tolerance for alcohol that was starting to affect his decisions. Besides the manager, there were five regular ranch hands living in a modular version of a bunkhouse.

Pops had hired the wife of the manager as a cook, to take the burden off Grandma, and the woman did a very good job. She made sure there was always enough for my grandparents, and about all grandma cooked now was breakfast. It was the wife that brought his condition to our attention, afraid they would lose their jobs. They lived in a three bedroom modular Pops had bought, tearing down the old house to make room for it. They had a daughter a little younger than Em, and she often came over to help Grandma clean the house. She was surprised when they gave her fifty dollars a week, and Pop explained it to her. “You live on the ranch, you work on the ranch, you get paid by the ranch.”

It surprised them no end when she asked them to keep half her pay and put it up so when school started she could buy clothes. It made them wonder what the man did with his money. It all came to a head when two of his hands, men who had worked for him for twenty years, told them they were quitting because it was impossible to work for a drunk. He talked them into staying, saying he would handle the problem.

I was coming to either talk him into straightening out, maybe get him in a program, and if he resisted we would let him go. His wife and daughter knew something like this was coming, and were terrified. My grandparents assured them that no matter the outcome, they had a place with them.

Em and the daughter were very close in age, and they hit it off immediately. They bonded over horses and whatever else drives teen girls, giggling as Rodrigo taught them how to properly saddle a horse, making them put it on and take it off the horse four times before he was satisfied. Then he told them they were to pick a horse, and it would become theirs, while they were there. In exchange, they had to take care of the feeding, cleaning the stall, and currying their mounts. I would have loved to have seen his face when the girls jumped into his arms, hugging and crying at the same time.

Em picked the white mare, and Sarah chose a little pinto gelding with a wicked gleam in his eyes, but after a month he behaved like a puppy around her, and they got along fine.

Grandma took Paige, Grace, and the girls out riding, for a ‘little girl time’, while Pops and I rode out with the manager. It was barely noon and we could already smell the whisky. He tried to put us off, but Pops insisted, and we rode out to a remote part of the ranch to check fencing. We stopped on a little hill, under some trees for the shade, and Pops laid it out.

“Here’s the thing, Bob. You’ve been slipping steadily for about three months now. Things aren’t getting done, the hands are ready to quit, and your wife and daughter are afraid I’m going to fire you. I have to tell you that I will, and very soon, unless you come around. I know it’s alcohol related, hell, you’re pretty close ot being drunk now and it’s just barely past noon. I’m pretty sure you have a bottle in your saddlebag, and you’ve been falling behind a few times, no doubt taking a nip when we’re out of sight. If you need help, we can get you help. If you’re strong enough to overcome it by yourself, we’ll be there for you, but either way, it stops today. If I smell alcohol on you after today, or suspect you’ve been drinking or drunk, my hands will be more than willing to help you pack. You understand what I’m telling you? I can’t have you falling off your horse, or make a bad decision with a bull. You think about that while we ride home, and I’m going to need to know what you intend to do when we get back to the ranch.”

Pops wasn’t loud, or threatening, but Bob got the point. He rode in front of us the whole way, so he had no chance to slip anything out of his saddlebag, and he was jumpy when we got back. We tended to our horses, and while we were in the barn alone Pops asked for his decision.

“I’ll stop. I promise.”

For the first time, I stepped in. “Promises won’t do it, Bob. You need help, and they are several programs out there that would fit and still let you do your job. I’ll send the information, and you pick the one that you think will help you best.’

“I ain’t no alky!”

“If you’re not, you’re getting there. If you don’t get help, your days here are numbered, and that’s all I’m gonna say about it.” Pops turned and walked out, with me right behind him.

……………………………………………………..

I asked him as we walked to the house what he thought was going to happen. He sighed. “You can’t help those that won’t help themselves. I believe he really will try, but in a month he’ll be back to his old ways, and I’ll get rid of him. I’m going to try to keep Wanda and Sarah, but Wanda is one of those women who will stick by him no matter what. I don’t see a good end to this.”

The ladies weren’t home, and we read the note. “Had to pick up some things in town, and took the girls with me. You have sandwiches in the fridge, some potato salad, and cold tea. I’ve laid out steaks, so get the grill ready.”

We opened the door, surprised to see our sandwiches labeled. Pops grinned. “Wanda is probably the most attentive woman I’ve ever met, almost as good as your grandmother. If you ask the hands, they’ll tell you that she knows what each like on their sandwiches, and makes every one to suit the person eating it. The men love her, as do we, so we’re going to do everything in our power to keep her with us. Standing Rain (Grandma’s native name) treats Sarah likes the granddaughter she never had, It shouldn’t surprise you she treats Emily the same way. I bet she’s having a ball right now. I hope she doesn’t break the bank on them.”

I laughed. My grandparents were loaded. Grandma would have to spend a million to make a serious dent in their finances. After we ate, and cleaned up the kitchen, we took a little Polarus off road truck to the wood pile, loading it three quarters with white oak, topping the load with seasoned mesquite. Pops didn’t believe in charcoal. It seemed like a lot, but we weren’t just feeding ourselves, we were feeding everyone on the ranch, and judging by the steaks, a few visitors. We got everything prepped and ready, then made ten pounds of coleslaw. We found four dozen ears of corn, and there must have been twenty pounds of potato salad in the refrigerator. Best of all there were three cakes and four pies on the formal dining room table. We knew better than to touch them, but it was a strain.

The ladies returned around five, laughing. Em and Sarah were giggling like mad, holding hands as they rushed up to us. “Look! Grandma said we had to have proper boots to ride, wearing trainers could be dangerous.”

They both had on roping boots, cowboy boots that laced up instead of slip ons. They were very comfortable. I had three pair. I looked at the brand, and knew they were the best money can buy. Maybe Grandma broke the bank after all. They also got three pair of Wranglers, three ‘western’ shirts, with mother of pearl buttons and fancy embroidery. The girls also got working shirts suitable for the range, and a vest apiece. In the 1800’s, pants didn’t have pockets, so men wore vests that did. Even after pockets became popular, most range men still wore vests, because it was a lot easier to get into a vest pocket than a pants pocket while you were sitting on a horse. The finishing touch were a hat for each, narrow brimmed Stetsons in black.

Paige was grinning as the girls excitedly showed us what they got. “Your Grandmother got me close to the same things, and wouldn’t let me pay for them. I think they’re trying to convert me, honey.”

I hugged her. “It’s part of the plan, Babe.”

…………………………………………….

The big brick grill was going, the red hot coals shoveled in when needed. My grandfather was particular in the way he cooked steaks, they had to be marinaded for a minimum of four hours at room temperature, and you couldn’t touch it once it came off the grill until it had rested enough to suck all the juices back in. A woman from town once asked my grandfather to make hers extra well done, and he refused. “I’ll not ruin a good steak by turning it into a piece of leather. Try it the way I got it cooked, and it might surprise you.”

The woman sniffed, but sampled a little bite. Then she grinned and finished the whole sixteen ouce T-bone, and taking two with her on her way home.

There were several neighbors over, along with a few of their hands. Most were old like my grandparents, but there were a few sons and daughters along, as well as their children, ranging from a six month old baby to a couple of teen boys the age of Sarah and Emily. The girls were decked out in their new duds, hair in pigtails under their hats, wearing matching shirts and tight fitting jeans, and I wondered how I never noticed how good girls look at that age. They didn’t look like that when I was that age. If they did, I was officially the biggest fool in the world for missing it.

The teens gravitated towards each other, but there were a lot of parents and grandparents around, so they had pretty good eyes on them. They sat together as we ate, giggling and laughing like crazy. Paige and I were sitting at a table with two more sets of parents close to our age, and Paige had locked down on the baby so Mommy could eat in peace. She looked at the baby, then over at the girls and boys, and grinned. “I have a feeling we’re in for a very long ride.”

Then it hit her what she said and she flushed to the roots. I just hugged her and grinned.

It was almost eleven when the last guest left. My grandparents had already gone to bed, so we and the girls cleaned everything up before we retired. Sarah was staying with Emily in her room, and I got a feeling they would be up for a while. We were pretty beat, so we showered and hit the bed. I woke an hour later when the door opened, seeing Paige. “I can’t get to sleep,” she said, sliding into the bed,and snuggled up to me as we drifted off. Morning found us wrapped around each other, her hand locked down on an almost painful erection, while I had one hand gripping her tight ass and the other filled with firm breast. We woke with a start but didn’t immediately let go.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the door. “Uncle Glen! Aunt Paige! Get up!”

I flew to the door, and two teens girls rushed in, falling on the bed crying. It took us a few minutes to get them coherent enough to find out what was going on. Bob, despite his promises, got quietly drunk at the party, then finished the bender when he got home. Wanda jumped him, and he slapped her so hard it knocked her out, then stormed out and jumped into his beat up old pickup, tearing out.

It took Wanda almost an hour to get up, and she woke my grandparents. Pops immediately called the tribal police, who notified the state patrol. They found him half way to town, his truck nose down in a ditch. He got banged up pretty bad, one broken leg, one broken arm, a broken nose because the truck was so old it didn’t have airbags, and three teeth knocked out.

They got him in an ambulance and soon he was at the tribal hospital, a state of the art facility thanks to casino money, in traction over his leg. He was off tribal land, so the state police had jurisdiction. His blood alcohol level was almost twice the legal limit despite not being found for almost two hours, so they charged him with DWI, telling him later how lucky he was he didn’t hit somebody else.

The truck was totaled, so they hauled it off for scrap. Wanda was almost hysterical, and it took all Grandma and Paige could do to calm her down. We took her and Sarah to the hospital, and I was glad he was still out, so he couldn’t see the shame on their faces.

We took them home, and Grandma insisted they stay in the ranch house. Pops went over later in the day to check the house out, and he had trashed it in a drunken rage. The damages cost six grand to repair.

Bob spent sixteen days in the hospital, and when his trial came up four months later he was found guilty, and immediately put in involuntary rehab, at a state facility, for four months. He came out sober and remorseful, and Pops let him come back to work, not as a manager, but as a regular hand. He’d already found a new manager, recommended by Paige. The woman was in her thirties, single, with a degree in animal husbandry, specializing in herd animals.

She didn’t talk much for three weeks, riding the range on a horse and our little four wheel drive trucks, before presenting Pops with a list of suggestions. He spent the evening reading it, and gave it back to her the next morning, with instructions. “Do it. You need me to let go of some money, you tell me, and you’ll get it.” Then he gave her a 2500 dollar bonus.

Wanda and Sarah were still living in the house, and grandma was dead set against them moving out. We put Bob in a line cabin to keep him away from temptation, with all the amenities he’d need, and Wanda would often spend the night, trying to see if they could salvage the marriage. We all thought they were going to make it when Bob literally went off the reservation, riding six hours on horseback to the closest market and picking up two gallons of bourbon. He tried to hide it, but Wanda caught him. I don’t think she said another word to him, and Paige handled the divorce. I was a little worried about Sarah, but she was firmly embedded with grandma, her mother, Emily, and Paige, and she was all right.

Em was at the ranch three weekends out of four, and when school was over for the year she moved in with my grandparents, as a working cowhand, going home every third week for four days. Her senior year was coming up and she was thinking about college. Both her Dad and Paige assumed she would go into the family business, but every time I saw her on a horse, it looked less and less likely. Sarah was usally right beside her.

They worked with the regular hands for two weeks before the new manager, Cherry, took them under her wing, using them on the special projects she had started. She used five hundred acres, subdivided into hundred acre enclosures, so they spent a lot of time building fences. Then she bought the cows she wanted, and started experimenting. She put Belted Galloways in one pasture, a heavy breed famous for eating almost anything in front of them, and Simmetals in another. One enclosure was for the thirty Longhorns she’d bought, huge fierce looking creatures with enormous horns. Cherry was very careful working around them beause of their uncertain tempers and hardly ever let the girls close to the enclosure with them. One of the other pastures had cattle from Mexico, an old breed that ran small but could survive on almost anything. In the other she put ten cows from each breed, along with a Simmertal bull, to see if she could breed the best of all breeds into them. It was estimated to be at least a five year project, and Pops would look them over every week.

I rode with him a couple of times before grinning. “Give it up, Pops, you’re not gonna know anything until next spring at the earliest.”

He grinned, pushing his hat back. “I know. Still fun to watch, though.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

There was a tribal celebraton coming up. A once a year, early fall celebration of our heritage. It was originally a celebration of the autumn hunt and the accumulation of the roots and dried vegetables that would feed us during the winter. But, like Buffy Saint-Marie sang, it was a new world now that the buffalo was gone. Now we were celebrating the fact that our heritage was still intact and thriving.

The white man had made three serious miscalculations about us. One, the land they gave us as a reservation was mineral and oil rich. If they had known, they would have found another patch of poor land. As it was, the owners of the land were wealthy in their own right, and they made sure the tribe’s coffers were filled, at first. Then the wave of casinos hit the First People, thanks to clever manouvering by lawyers like my father, and later on, me. Third was the sheer determination of will to remain a nation, despite all the attempts to amalgamate us into white society.

My grandmother, Wanda, and the girls were flitting about in excitement. When I showed up at the ranch to escort the girls to the celebration, I found out why. Em and Sarah were dressed in traditional dress, the beads and feathers of their buckskin dresses standing out against the tan from their summer working the ranch. Their hair was in matching braids, and from a distance they could have been twins.

I heard someome clear their throat, and turned to see Paige, dressed the same as the girls, her blond hair also in braids, and the dress was almost white, stopping at the knees and showing off a lot of tan leg. I literally couldn’t speak, and my grandmother was laughing her butt off as she snapped pictures. By the time I recovered, I had all the women under my arms as Pops snapped more pictures. Then it was his turn and he glowed red as the women kissed him.

Grandma pulled back and grinned. “Your clothes are in your bedroom. Now go get dressed. I do not want to be late!”

After I donned the buckskin shirt, I put on the lioncloth and leggings, finishing it off with kneehigh moccasins. Paige knocked, saying she had to do my hair. She braided it, weaving in bits of leather and beads. She grinned as I looked into the mirror, snuggling up behind me.

“Did you mind what I’m wearing? I was a little nervous, but your grandmother insisted, and it’s really hard to tell her no.”

“Everybody has a hard time telling her no if she really wants something. You know what your dress signifies? It’s the wedding outfit of my people.”

She went about eight shades of red while I thought about the box in the glove compartment of my truck. This could work out really well for me.

“I didn’t know! No wonder your grandmother and the girls were giggling when they saw your look. I can change, so people won’t… ”

“No you won’t. Would it be so bad to be my wife?”

Paige went a little pale, then her spirit came back. “I could probably live with it, if I had a choice.”

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Grandma and the girls rode with Pops, in his shiny new SUV. His pickup had done until recently, then he suddenly acquired two granddaughters and a new daughter, and possibly a granddaughter-in-law, and Grandma deemed it a necessity.

We got to the powwow, and Paige was astounded at the people. She was shocked when we pulled up besides Grace and Rodrigo, there with our horses. It took Grace a little time to get over her divorce, but when she did she and Rodrigo started spending time together, until now it seemed when they weren’t working they were joined at the hip. Sarah really liked him, telling me once Grandma had told her you could tell a lot about a man by the way he treated horses. He was our resident blacksmith and wrangler, and spent a lot of time with the girls to make sure they were safe on the horses.

Paige had Annie, Pops was on his gelding, the girls had their horses, matching pintos, Grandma was on her big black, and Grace was on a chestnut mare, an exact match to the one Rodrigo rode. We fell in two by two. My grandparents were in front, followed by Paige and I, then the girls, with Rod and Grace bringing up the rear. Quickly finding our place in the procession, we made a complete circle around the ‘camp’. I could sense the excited whispers as they saw Paige and the girls, and I think it was almost possible to see the grin on Grandma’s face, even from behind. There were more than a few admiring glances at Grace, that had Rod bristling. I had to hand it to her, Grandma knew how to make an entrance.

After the procession, the horses were handed over to the wranglers hired for the event. I was quickly surrounded by friends, and Grandma had Paige by the hand, tugging her towards the women. I smiled at the look on her face.

I caught sight of her from time to time, the girls in tow, showing them off, no doubt. Dad had died before they had a chance for more children, so I was it. Mom moved away about two years later, to live in Chicago with her new husband. They lasted three years before they split, and he was sorely disappointed when he tried to get some of her money. It was all tied up in a trust fund for me, to protect them.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

She came home for a few months, then went to California, marrying again. This husband seemed to be the one, and they had been together ten years. He seemed like a good guy when they visited, scared to death he was going to say something to offend us. We finally had a discussion, and Pops told him it was his right as my stepfather to give me shit. Albert grinned, then turned, and asked how soon they could expect grandchildren. Both his daughters were gay, and the odds of them giving him any were mighty slim.

Pops told him he was going to fit right in. Mom came to me later, hugging me as she smiled. “Al and I talked it over. We’d like three, sex doesn’t matter, although both of us would really like a grandson. Help us out here.”

I loved my mother, and was fourteen when Dad died. When she married again, I told her point blank I was not leaving. My life was here, and besides, I didn’t like the guy all that much. She didn’t argue, much, and she made sure we kept in touch. I’d usually see her three to four times a year. Al was a big hit, and got his First Nations name on his second visit. He had practiced it, and asked Mom what it meant. It took most of her will to keep from laughing when she told him it meant “Man Afraid Of His Horse,” because of his inability to ride. He thought it was hilarious, and very accurate.

They were there, and it was the first time she had met Paige. She looked like she was appraising a brood mare for a minute, then looked at me and smiled. “Three, remember” she whispered when we got close. She took off with Grandma and the girls, leaving Al with us. He was happy to see us, and when he saw Paige he also grinned, turning around to speak. “Don’t start,” I said. “Mom’s already planning the wedding. In fact between Mom and Grandma, they should have it finalized by the time you guys go home.”

He and Pops wandered off while I got ready for the events. When my turn came, I was stripped down to my loincloth, my body and face painted, looking like I would have fit right in two centuries ago. I was riding my favorite horse, a zebra dun with excellent cutting skills. In my event, I had to snatch up a spear while riding at a full gallop, make a long turn back, and toss the spear into a straw figure as I thundered past.

My first toss was right through the heart, and the crowd cheered. I had practiced this for ten years, and it showed. Eight others had their turn, and six managed to get their spears to seat, so it was down to seven. My second run was wasn’t as clean as the first, but I still hit the target. One guy missed his spear grab, and that was automatic elimination. Three managed to hit their targets. In this competition, it didn’t have specific rounds, you threw until one won. Eight rounds later it was down to me and one other, a persistent bastard that was really good. Finally, he missed, and as I thundered up to the target I deliberately threw my spear into the ground, in honor of his efforts.

The crowd appreciated the gesture, and my opponent and I did the traditional arm grasp, before talking. He seemed nice, and had a beautiful Choctaw wife he’d met on a business trip. She and Paige hit it off, and Grandma added one more to her retinue.

Lester, I found out, was a dentist, and was just setting up his practice here. He would have plenty of work, most in the outlying areas equating dental care to mean extractions, and he wanted to change that. I wished him luck.

The meal was served, traditional dishes mixed with burgers and steaks, the kids swirling around, the teens clustered together, awkwardly flirting, the young couples married and single grouped together. The middle aged and the Elders were in their own group, discussing weightier things no doubt, but there was still laughter, gentle teasing as the widowers and widows, and the divorced forged new connections. Rodrigo was hovering over Grace as others tried hitting on her, until she giggled and plopped down in his lap, giving him a big kiss that declared her relationship status, and the guys left them alone afterwards. I had a feeling Pops was going to be buying another modular soon.

The meal over, the preparations for dancing began. While that was going on, the presentations were made, introducing the tribe to new members through marriage or birth. My grandmother stood tall as she presented Grace, Small Bird, declaring her a daughter.

She burst into tears and Paige held her. To be introduced like that in council was roughly the equivalent of adoption papers. Thereafter, in tribal circles, she would be known as Grace Small Bird, daughter of Morning Light and Small Bear, brother to Bent Feather and Sunglow.

I was a little confused until she pulled Paige into her circle, introducing her as Sunglow, daughter and mate of Bent Feather. Paige had been learning our language, and she burst into tears as Grandma made the announcement, before collapsing in my arms. I petted her as Grandma introduced her granddaughters, Likes Horses (Emily), and Blue Flower (Sarah).

They clung to her tightly, tears streaming down their faces. It was a pretty emotional scene, and then I stepped up and put it over the top. Dropping to my knee, in front of most of my tribe, I held up the box to Paige. “Paige Sunglow Watson, will you… ”

“YES!” The scream was so loud everyone that wasn’t paying attention before was now. Grandma and Grace were crying, while the girls were screaming and jumping up and down. They tackled Paige and led her away, but not before I got a few very nice kisses.

The men, including all the ranch hands, my grandfather, and two of my uncles and cousins, gathered around me. We all took a drink from the small flask Grandpa had brought, a toast to my happiness. I think he knew this was coming, and was prepared. One drink was all we had, honoring an unwritten rule of the celebration to keep alcohol to a minimum.

Late that night, on an air mattress in the back of a ’68 Chevy truck, high upon a mesa, we sealed our union, under a full moon, while coyotes sang, from joy I hoped.

…………………………………………………………………..

Six years later, I was in my office, when my daughter came running in giggling, her mother right behind her. I picked her up and gave my wife a cuddle, wondering about the look in her eyes.

“Honey, Suzette has something to tell you.”

Joy of Spring, her real name, spoke up. “Guess what, Daddy?”

“What, pumpkin?”

“I’m getting a little brother! Does that make you happy?”

What it made me was speechless. We’d been trying for a year, and I was about to think maybe our daughter would be all we ever had, and I was suddenly very glad I was wrong. We must have kissed and cuddled for an hour before they left.

Of course, we had to announce it to the family. My grandmother was getting frail, and I was saddened to think she might not be with us much longer, but very glad she would know. She was barely coping with the death of Grandpa, and maybe this would make her hold on a little longer.

Cherry had moved on, to manage a massive ranch in Texas, and they had promoted Rodrigo. He did an excellent job, but he didn’t have the knowledge or foresight of his predecessor. His biggest asset was his wife and daughter. Grace ran the nonranch business, while Sarah used her degree to help her stepfather.

Emily surprised us by going into the family business, and had just passed the bar. She shocked her father by going to work for me, immersed in tribal business. She has a boyfriend, but I don’t think it was serious, because he absolutely refused to get on a horse, and didn’t like the area much. One of the tribal police is around her often due to business, and I think there may be a little spark there, both both are honorable enough to stay off that path while she’s still in a relationship. I’m pretty sure that there will soon come a time when she finds herself unattached, and we’ll have to see what happens.

…………………………………………………………

Our investigators are a pretty thorough bunch, and they’re like elephants, they never forget anything. They had flagged my old nemesis, and when he got paroled, it triggered a notification.

Bill, the new security chief, came to see me, bringing a folder. “Some light reading,” he said with a grin. “I thought you might like to know what’s going on with an old friend.”

Time and prison had not been good to Horace Jenkins Junior. I barely recognized him, his nose was misshapened, there was a scar on one cheek, and he now walked with a limp. The most notable thing was the tattoo of crossed tomahawks on his other cheek. I looked up at Bill with raised eyes.

“It’s a bitch patch. You know what that is, right? It’s a prison gang called the Dog Soldiers, mostly Cheyenne with a few Sioux and Crow. It seems he belonged to them for the last three years. I understand they were sad to see him go.”

I sat for a minute, trying to imagine the hell he must have suffered, being a sex slave for years to people he despised. “Where is he now?”

“His Daddy has him, in Washington, after he spent three months in psychological rehab. They took the facial tattoo off, as well as a few in other places. They left scars, and he tell people a version of the truth, he got them in jail.”

“Well, thanks, I guess. I’d feel bad for him, but he brought it all on himself by being a racist jerk. As long as he says in Washington, as far away as possible, we’ll be fine.”

Bill frowned. “We’ll still do a spotcheck now and again. He made a lot of threats, both before he went to prison and all through his stay, saying once he got out he’d settle the score.”

“Surely he can’t be that stupid. Any move he makes against me will put him back in jail. The same statutes remain, it would be a hate crime, a second offense, so the sentence would be harsher.”

Bill sighed. “The old adage about prison changing people is still true. If you spent years in prison, being abused by a race you hated, your thought processes might get a little flawed. Just thought you should know.”

I thought about it after he left. The Senator hated First Nations in general, and me in particular. The tribe had spent a lot of money fighting some of the measures he wanted to impose on us. Most of what he tried to sponsor was so toxic no one would touch it, but he had a growing power base, and was watched closely.

………………………………………………………………………

I told Paige after dinner and Joy’s bath was over, her story read, and kisses were rained down on her head. She mumurred just before she went out, “love you Daddy, love you Mommy, love you, little brother.”

We smiled all the way back to the living room, and as we snuggled, I told her what Bill had told me. She stiffened in my arms, and I had to explain that he was 1500 miles away, and was being watched. I also told her a short version of his prison experiences. She almost laughed when I decribed the Dog Soldier mark, but restrained herself.

“I know part of your beliefs is to be forgiving, but I think it was karma, repaying him for all the bad stuff he’d done up until then. I doubt he learned anything except how to hate harder. Maybe Daddy can control him.”

…………………………………………………………….

Three weeks later the Senator came home, on the campaign trail, way earler than usual, but his ratings were drooping, and he thought he needed all the head start he could get. I wasn’t going to tell Paige, but I forgot the lawyer network, and another lawyer told Dan. He immediately called Paige, and she was not the happiest to see me that night. She held it in unitl we had our daughter down, and then she quietly unloaded on me. We had never kept secrets from each other before, and she wasn’t about to let me start now. After I groveled for the proper amount of time, she grinned.

“Well, glad we cleared the air. Just so you know, I sent your best suit to the cleaners, and I’m getting a new dress. We’re going to the town hall meeting, and I’ll make sure we’re sitting front and center, so don’t make a fuss. I want them to know we’re not scared of them or their little dreams of grandeur. Understand? Oh, and I mentioned it to Morning Mist, and she said she’d make sure Melvin knew.”

Of course I understood. Melvin’s wife worked for Dan, as a paralegal, starting just after she graduated. Her husband was a friend, the newly elected leader of the Warriors. They had cleaned their reputation up, with a little help from us, and were considered a little more than a social club now. We often rode with them on poker runs, and sometimes just for fun. Still, they never forgot their beginnings, and every once in a while, one of them needed our help. That usually fell to Paige, being closer to her end of the universe. She was like a mother wolf with them, and I had no doubt that if anyone ever harmed her, by the time they found the scalpless body, it would be so eaten and torn by coyotes they might never find all of it.

The event was well touted on the news media, and was held on the campus of the local college, so as many people as possible could attend. Word went out among the Nation, and the Senator was surprised to see a packed, standing room only crowd.

He was all smiles as he walked to the podium, grinning and waving to the crowd, until he saw how many of us were in attendance. He recovered with a politician’s skill, and made a few remarks, touting what he’d done for the community, before opening the floor for questions. The head of the local county commission was the moderator, and people threw him enough softballs to make him comfortable. Then it was my turn.

“Senator, could you tell me why you’re opposed to the Wind River Reservoir, especially in light of the droughts we’ve experienced in the last few years? Farmers, ranchers, even average citizens are suffering. You know many of the people you represent depend on water to make the difference from being successful to be barely surviving, don’t you think the reservoir, with the ability to release water wisely when the time comes, would be a good thing? That doesn’t even count the electricity it could generate, supplying pretty close to half of the needed power of the area, especially as the population grows.”

He was sweating by the time I was done. There were a lot of factors in play here, one of the biggest being the reduction in revenue the power company that existed would have. They were one of the Senator’s biggest donors, on and off the books, and they expected a return on their investment. Another factor was the plans made by the company to build another reservoir right on the edge of the state, a local one would make theirs unnecessary and redundant.

He stuttered through as best he could, spouting platitudes and halftruths without committing to anything, until my time ran out. He thought he’d have room to breathe, but the second speaker behind me went back to it. He was a former reporter and now county commissioner, and he knew how to ask questions. “Senator, I’d like to share some information, all legally obtained and in the public records. Grantville Power was your largest contributor to your last campaign, and the CEO, as well as the rest of the board, gave the maximum allowed by law. It totals,” he paused to check his notes, “almost two million, and that doesn’t counts the money PACs under their control donated, three point one million if you add it all together. Your opponent only raised eight hundred thousand, and you won handily. My question is, how much of your decisions are for the good of the people you represent, and how much of it is a nod to your donors?”

The Senator spit and sputtered, shooting glares in my direction. In the end, the ex-reporter told him this was too serious a subject for a three minute soundbite, and he would be pleased if he would respond in writing, giving him a time limit. He thought he’d dodged the bullet, but there were more surprises. Guillermo Santos, a local rancher, asked him some pointed questions about his track record among people of his ancestory, citing examples, followed by the President of our tribal council, giving a record of his actions towards the tribe, which included fighting almost everything proposed that would help them.

The ex-reporter had dropped hints to a few of his former collegues, and there were two television stations, half a dozen radio reporters, and five print journalists. The town meeting was suddenly canceled when the Senator took ill. There were quite a few jeers as he left the podium. The local politicians loyal to his party stayed around to do damage control, until the crowd started asking embarrassing questions, and they shut the meeting down.

It made the national news, and a few streaming news outlets locked down on the situation like rabid dogs, and his popularity hit an all time low. There were rumors that the federal authorities were looking into ‘alledged’ improprities.

We all saw Junior, sitting off to the side. Even from where we were sitting you could see the smooth patch of skin where his tat had been, and when I caught him staring once I rubbed my cheek and grinned. He went red, then pale, and scowled at me the whole time.

While his postion was sinking, the oppositon party in the area he represented were looking around desperately for someone who had even the remote possibility of beating him. I was surprised a month later when a contingent of Elders summomed me to a conference room at the casino hotel. Nerves made my back crawl when I saw who was there. My uncles, the Elders, the power players of the Latino community, Dan, and a few county officials from the party. I was a registered Independent, but I still had a bad feeling. Paige was there as well, grinning like crazy.

They grinned, listing the reasons I should run. I was honest, I was dependable, I had a good reputation in the community, everybody liked me, yada, yada, yada. Best of all, they grinned, was the fact that I was backed by both the opposition party and the Independents, a growing number in our area and the whole country. It would show unity and the willingness to work together for the common good.

“I always thougth I’d look damn good on the arm of a politician,” Paige whispered as she snuggled up against me. They hemmed and hawed until I lost my patience and told them to spit it out.

“You ever thought about politics?,” one of the commissioners asked.

“You mean without revulsion?”

Not the answer they were looking for. The Elders tried a different track. “We, and I’m talking about the whole area here, need someone like you in Washington. Not the fact that you’re First Nation, but the fact that you’re a solid part of the community who can be fair and make sure we’re represented. We’ve asked around, discretely, and think you have a real chance.”

“Even if I wanted to go, where would we get the money to run a campaign? We’re talking millions here, and if we lose, that’s like tossing it away.”

My uncles grinned. “You let us worry about the money. We’ll be running that, and we’ll make sure every contribution is above board and open to public inspection. Every T will be crossed and I will be dotted. You have our word.”

“What about my family? My whole life is here, and I’m not happy about being away from them, or dragging them with me.”

Paige squeezed my hand. “I’ve heard enough about hot little interns and porn stars to ever let you out of my sight. Try it for one term, honey. If you can’t stand it we’ll come home when the term is over.”

It took them a month to convince me, and even then I had my doubts. There was a lot of backroom meetings, and privacy was protected fanatically, but when the summer break came for Washington, billboards, print ads, and television spots popped up, touting me as both the past and the future of our district.

The Senator was said to have trashed his office when he found out, screaming that no red bastard would ever take his seat. Unfortunately, his door was open and a couple people filmed parts of it. It was on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook before he ran out of furniture and breath.

Nobody ran against me from my party in the primary, but they went to the polls and voted anyway, running three to two over the amount the Senator got.

Three debates were scheduled, but he refused to do any more after the first one, where he dropped four points in the polls. His campaign was interesting, doing ads saying that I was ‘woke’, and a bad idea. That bit him in the debate.

“Senator, would you define ‘woke’ for me?”

“What?”

“You’ve said in print and television that I’m ‘woke’, and I’m not sure what you mean, so I’m asking you to define it for me.”

He couldn’t do it, and I was amazed his handlers hadn’t prepared him for the question. He made several more blunders, one large and many small, until it was almost neck and neck coming down to the wire. Then Jr. stepped in, and tanked his campaign.

He had picked up a habit after he got out of prison, or maybe while he was there, and he was always some level of high while he was awake. Feeling like daddy was going to lose, he decided the best thing to do was take me out of the race, permanently. Melvin and a former tribal policeman ran my security, which I thought was unnecessary, until it wasn’t.

We were coming back from a four day campaign trip, and I was exhausted. Paige was with me, and we were in the back seat while Melvin drove, making out like teenagers. It had been a while and we knew we were finally going to get a few days in our own bed, and not all of it was going to be sleeping.

Melvin was grinning until the big SUV came barreling up behind us, lights on bright. Melvin didn’t like it much, and warned us, just before we were rear ended. In a feat of driving skill I’d never be able to match, Melvin kept us on the road, while Paige lit up the phone. Two county cops were close, as well as a state trooper. Their estimated time of contact was three minutes.

Unfortunately, we only had two before he roared up beside us and hit our back quarter panel, sending us into a spin, going off the road and flipping over. The tires screamed as the SUV stopped and backed up. Paige was unconscious, with blood running down her face. Melvin was dangling upside down, one arm hanging at an angle, but he took his good hand and passed me his weapon, a.44 magnum revolver. I’d grin every time I saw it, thinking it was overkill, but right then I was glad to have it.

Junior ran up yellling incoherently, waving a shot gun. I shot through the door panel, hitting him hard enough to send him sideways. He stopped, raising his weapon,and I didn’t have an angle to return fire. I thought we were done for and bitter regret coursed through me, when amazingly bright lights bathed the scene and we heard the shouted commands.

“County Sheriff! Drop your weapon and raise your hands! Do it NOW!”

Junior didn’t look around, bringing the shotgun to bear. If he’d had another half second Paige and I would both have been gone. I was trying to cover her when three pistol shots rang out and Junior dropped like a rock. We ended up staring at each other through the window. Then the cops were on him, rolling him over and cuffing him, while other cops were trying to get us out of the car to assess our wounds. Five minutes later three ambulances were on scene. Melvin went first, then Paige and I, and finally Junior, who surprisingly wasn’t dead, was loaded into the last.

It made national news and sank Daddy’s campaign completely. We were interviewed relentlessly, and it made good media when the pictures showed Melvin, his arm in a sling, Paige with a huge bandage on her cheek, and me. I didn’t escape unscathed, not discovering until the adrenalin had worn off that the wreck had broken my ankle. What the press didn’t say because they didn’t know is his first wound was from the gun I had been holding. It hit him just above the crotch, and messed him up so badly he lived the rest of his life wearing a bag on his side to pass his urine.

The trial was held without fanfare. His lawyers tried to get him off by saying he was under the influence of the drugs he took, and was mentally unstable stemming from his prison experiences, citing his diagnosis of paranoia and disasociative behavior, and recurring hallucinations. There was more than a bit of truth to that. He kept insisting he was the reincarnation of Custer, sent to avenge his death. It didn’t matter that we weren’t one of the tribes that did him in, we were to blame. We nearly lost our lives for something that was just the fantasy of an unhinged lunatic.

His conditions were probably all true, but he still got sentenced to seventeen years, the first three in a medical institution, where they got him off drugs and gave him counseling. He died in his fifteenth year of natural causes. His father never visited, and didn’t claim the body.

He had his own problems while the trial was going on, a reporter had uncovered a string of emails that led to him and several of his campaign donors, including the CEO of the power company, being indicted in a basic ‘votes for sale’ agreement.

He went to jail for two years, in a camp cupcake facility. I think the CEO was his bunkmate. He’d resigned from the Senate, and his replacement was in a word, pathetic. His party didn’t even offer him support for the next election, and he faded away. I won by such a wide margin the pundits called it by noon on election day.

When he got out he found his career was over, and tried being a lobbyist for a while, but once you’ve been caugth at something, everyone was leery of using you ever again.

Paige and I went to Washington, and were miserable the whole time. We missed wide open spaces, people who didn’t have hidden agendas while offering you friendship, and when our time was up we couldn’t get out of that snakepit fast enough. I really disappointed the party because I was a lock to win reelection, but honestly, I never wanted it in the first place. Emily had come with us, and lasted eighteen months before the climate, physically and emotionally, took a toll, and she went home.

I’ll be remembered as the long haired Indian who didn’t take a lot of shit, and on the wall in my office is a picture of me in just a loincloth and high mocassins, in full paint, carrying my spear and stalking through the halls of government while shocked onlookers gawked. I did it to make a point, and it worked.

…………………………………………………………………….

I had just retired, and was sitting on the veranda of the ranch house, enjoying the breeze, when a chestnut pony streaked by me, carrying an eight year old with hair that went to his waist. He was yelling out a war cry, brandishing a stick that was supposed to be a spear. Right on his heels was a small white horse, carrying his older sister with war cries of her own. Our two oldest grandchildren by my daughter. My two youngest were with their grandmother, inside. The were from my son. Our youngest daughter is eight months pregnant, another girl. She and her husband are due in the afternoon, for the family gathering to celebrate my retirement. Paige stopped working at forty, declaring wrangling wild little Indians a full time profession.

Paige came out with the little ones in tow, her long hair in plaits, the silver mixing with the blond, and grinned. “Get up, husband! We have two little warriors here that need a ride, so saddle up!” We rode up the trail we’d taken so long ago, me holding a three year old grandson in front of me while Paige had the five year old granddaughter. I could hear her lobbying Grandma for her own horse, as the two oldest trotted in front of us.

I felt the breeze ruffling my own gray braids, and closed my eyes, breathing in the smell of horse, sage, and grass, thinking I could hear the call of ancestors generations gone before.