Echoes of a MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 12)

by Bella Knight

  “The military found stuff we didn’t,” she said. “He won’t get out of it.”

  Saber grunted. “Guy’s not getting out of Leavenworth alive.” His breathing slowed, losing the sharp pants of grief. Saber held Wraith close, talked into her hair. “I need to catch some more. Not all of them, but some more. Not for Dani, anymore. But for the world. So then, the sad, sick, twisted shit stays out of families like ours.”

  Wraith grabbed his hand, then touched her stomach with it. “Families like ours,” she repeated.

  He gasped, smiled, then picked her up and twirled her around. “Families like ours.”

  Scouting Ahead

  Grace moved, using the Empty Step, weight on her back leg. The six-year-old in San Francisco, Yang Mei, did the moves precisely. The camera was set back, so they could see each other’s entire body, on Skype. They finished the Yang Short Form, using the proper breathing. They finished, grinned, and started it again. The form took five minutes, and they had worked their way up from doing each move separately, to doing one, right up to doing three. They did the second one faster, and the third in double time. They bowed to each other. They both sat down again, grinning like loons.

  “I like this,” Mei said, in English.

  “Yes,” said Grace, in Mandarin. “I am allowed to learn Wing Chung when I have mastered the Long Form.”

  “When shall we do the Long Form?” asked Mei, switching to Mandarin.

  “We can learn today,” said Grace, keeping herself to Mandarin.

  “Let’s,” said Mei, now in English. Grace pulled up the video, split the screen, and started the first move. They did it for ten minutes, then sat down. “How are your sisters?” asked Mei.

  Daisy the Dachshund came in and sat down on Grace’s feet with a plop. Grace picked her up and put her on her lap, and then she stroked the velvety ears. The dog sighed with pleasure.

  “Cute!” squealed Mei. “Honored Mother says that I may have a cat. I am looking at a Persian with a squat face.

  Grace said, “My brother Aiden is louder than my sister, Kiya. Damia’s in the barn every morning, feeding the ponies. Hu and Jie are doing fine.”

  “That’s why you’re teaching me,” said Mei. “To learn more Mandarin.”

  Grace grimaced. “They speak at three times my speed,” she said, still in Mandarin. “I had no idea Hu had slowed herself down so much to talk to me.”

  “Then, we speak faster,” said Mei, speeding up her English.

  “Let’s do faster Mandarin,” said Grace. She readied her clicker.

  Bao had found a way to code a clicking device while listening and speaking. One click was for when Grace heard a word from Mei that she didn’t understand. Two clicks were when she couldn’t remember the Mandarin word she needed. They showed up as blue and red lines on the playback. Mei did the same thing on her end.

  “Ready… and go.”

  Mei talked about her mother, a server in a restaurant studying to be a physical therapist. Grace talked about her brother and sister, the babies working toward standing up. She tried not to get frustrated at the number of times she clicked. The buzzer buzzed, and then they said goodbye, and bowed. Grace cut the call, then spent ten minutes typing out all the words she’d missed or didn’t understand in both English and Mandarin, with a special overlay on her keyboard.

  She got up, stretched, used the restroom, grabbed her sunglasses, and ran out to the barn along the trail. The day was hot, the sun white-hot, casting sharp shadows. Damia was cleaning a saddle in the tack room. Grace said hello, then went to a bridle. She got out the box with a jar of water, a sponge, three dry cloths, a big towel, the metal polish, and the leather cleaner, conditioner, and oil. She put down a towel, then took the bridle apart, checked it carefully for ripped seams or damage first, then wiped it all down with the sponge dipped in a little of the water. It was folded in half, so she could draw the leather pieces through the sponge folded in her hand.

  She put the bit in the water. She then dried the bridle, then rubbed in the leather cleaner, then conditioner, and oil last. She finished with the metal polish on the bit and all the metal studs and buckles. She got the girth, dirty from being around the horse’s belly, and cleaned it with more water. She then used the leather cleaner and conditioner on it, and then cleaned the metal parts.

  “Movie night, tonight,” said Damia.

  “Yeah,” said Grace. “The Parent Trap. Kinda good. Prefer some Star Wars, though.”

  “Let’s negotiate,” said Damia. “Two Star Trek episodes.”

  “The old one, The Next Generation, or Deep Space Nine?”

  “One of each,” said Damia.

  “Agreed,” said Grace. “Hu and Jie are off making sleeping pods with Ace, using Mom’s design.” Callie, her mom, had created the design, used in Grace’s own room. The two other pods were sometimes filled with Hu and Jie, sometimes not. Damia slept in a little apartment directly above the tack room. It got lonely some nights, but Grace knew she deserved it. She’d been a controlling monster, and she had to learn to do things on her own.

  “Help me,” said Damia. “Please.”

  Grace stood and helped her put the saddle back where it belonged, on its saddle “horse,” or shelf. Grace remembered what Henry had said about encouraging Damia to ask for help as she slid the saddle into place.

  “It’s good to help you,” she said.

  “Let’s get the blankets out of the wash,” said Damia. They took out the horse blankets, meant to go under the saddles, out of the dryer. They put them in the tack room, folded them, and put them on their shelves. They then put the bridle back together and put the girth away. They bumped fists. “See you at lunch,” said Damia.

  “See ya,” said Grace.

  Grace circled to the back of the barn. The heat hit her like a hammer. She found Robert around the corner, painting a Harley gas tank in the cool shade of his outer shop. “Hello,” he said in Zuni.

  “The day is hot,” said Grace, in Zuni. She stretched, took a cloth, and took the chrome cleaner out.

  Robert laughed. “They’re all hot in a Vegas summer.” He turned on the second fan, and they worked. “Have I told you about Hoya the Hummingbird?”

  “No,” said Grace. “I would like to hear.” Robert had asked her to come over, as his jewelry maker girlfriend (Triesta) was visiting the Zuni res.

  Cleaning chrome was relaxing to Grace, a time to let her mind focus on Robert’s voice. Her Zuni wasn’t too bad, and she only had to ask for an English translation six times. She worked on the red bike, completed the night before. Robert painted in black, white, and yellow, making a bold design, as he told the story.

  An Uber car came up the drive, and Robert carefully finished his line. Grace stood, stretched, and peeked out. Henry came out of the house, and talked to the woman, wearing black motorcycle boots, black leather pants, a royal blue top, and a vented, summer-weight jacket over her shoulder. Her skin was a deep reddish brown in the sun, and she had an aquiline nose, blue-black hair braided on one side, and eyes like shiny black stones, that glinting in the sun. Henry pointed to Robert’s covered, screened porch, which was covered to keep out the dust as he painted. Robert rolled up the screen, and the woman walked toward them.

  Grace gave a last polish to the mirrors, then stepped back. The woman entered, and said, “Yah-ah-tay,” the Navaho greeting.

  “Yah-ah-tay,” said Grace. “But, Robert is Zuni and Apache.”

  “And your nation?” asked the woman.

  “My grandfather is Southern Paiute,” said Grace.

  “I am Doba,” she said.

  “I am Robert, and this is Grace,” said Robert. He put his paintbrush down and wiped his hands. “This is…”

  “Mine,” said Doba, walking toward her midnight-blue, glittery Harley Sportster. She walked around it, stalking it like a puma. Grace stepped back, and then put away the polish and threw the rag in the dirty-rag plastic crate. Doba circled the bike twice, then sat down on it.
Robert handed her the key. She walked the bike out, turned it toward the road, and started it up. It started with a purr. She grinned and rode off.

  Grace said, “Did you get paid?”

  “In bitcoin, last night, when I sent her the photo,” said Robert.

  “What’s bitcoin?” asked Grace.

  “Online currency. Money that only exists online. That’s the future. Eventually, paper money and coins are going away.” He folded down the enclosure and went back to his painting. “Go on in and help set the table for lunch, but wash up first,” he said. “I’ll be in as soon as I finish this design.”

  “Okay,” said Grace. She ran in, delighted to be out of the heat.

  She set up the high chairs, first for three of the babies, Kiya, Aiden, and her cousin Ryder. Her brand-new cousin, Tarak, slept in a carrier or was in a pouch on someone’s stomach most of the time. Bess, the corgi, positioned herself under Aiden’s high chair, a wise move, as the boy liked to fling peas across the room. Then, she put down the woven placemats, dyed pale blue, on the table, then the cloth napkins in a darker blue, then the silverware. Then, she put out three serving spoons and salad tongs, and several salad dressings to cater for everyone.

  Vi finished lunch in the kitchen with Sofia, her kitchen helper. Sofia was halfway through her culinary degree. Her salads now included local greens and nuts, and her dressings included things like stone-ground mustard. Sofia loved Mama’s rock, so all three of them danced to Meat Loaf’s “I Would Do Anything for Love.”

  Next, Mom came in with Aiden, and then Mama with Kiya, and got them in their chairs. Mama danced with Mom, making everyone laugh, including the babies. Grace helped to bring in the salad, a bowl of smoked chicken salad with grapes and almonds, stone ground mustard, whole grain bread on a cutting board with a bread knife, olive tapenade in a jar, a bowl of blackberries, and lettuce and tomato for the sandwiches. Bella came down with Tarak, and Inola came down with Ryder. David and Henry came in from outside, Robert just behind them. They all sat down at the table. David sang, and then they began passing the food.

  Grace told Mom about Damia’s agreement about Movie Night. “I’ll come over for that,” said Henry, inviting himself over.

  David grinned. “My science fiction man.”

  Henry pretended to shoot him with a phaser, and David pretended to slowly topple over. The babies thought this was hilarious, and they let out with belly laughs. Even Tarak smiled. They talked about the farm, the new pony who was slowly recovering from abuse, his coat getting shiny, and Game Night, set for the following evening. Grace helped everyone clean up, and then went back to her room for a nap.

  When she woke up, groggy, she stumbled downstairs. She put lime juice and a handful each of ice and frozen strawberries into the little blender, then put a bendy straw in her strawberry juice. She put on earphones and got busy listening to Will Smith, getting jiggy with it. She danced as she did her two, fifteen-minute chores, her cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming the living room.

  Then, Grace sat on the floor with the babies, and rolled the ball to Aiden as Mom took Kiya for a change of clothes. Aiden screamed with laughter when Grace pretended to fall over when Aiden rolled the ball back to her and hit her in the foot. Mama came in with Damia, and they started making dinner.

  The smell of jerked chicken wafted into the living room, making Grace super-hungry. She tired of the ball, and then gave Aiden a drum that lit up when he hit it. He banged on it.

  “That’s my boy!” said Mama. “Drummer for sure!”

  Damia set the table and put out the tortillas and mango salsa. Damia then helped Mom make fresh guacamole, and Mama came back down. Grace helped put Aiden in his high chair, and Damia fed one baby, while Grace took the other, leaning back so as to not get carrot chunks, peas, or oat circles in their hair, or on their clothes. They sat down, and Grace sung the song David had taught her. They made the tacos and chatted about which games to do for Game Night.

  Mama and Mom went upstairs so Mama could sing the babies to sleep. They did so while Damia and Grace put everything away, and then worked to fill up and run the dishwasher. Damia and Grace ran upstairs, and they then put on their Star Trek uniforms. Grace dressed as a Bajoran, complete with the earring, and Damia came down in the blue of a Medical character.

  Henry came over with the popcorn for the popcorn maker, resplendent in his red uniform of Command. David kept to his jeans and a soft blue shirt that said, “My other vehicle is a spaceship.” They set up the popcorn and toppings for later, and they made fizzy water from lime juice and carbonated water. Damia had watermelon and water.

  They sat down, and put in the first show, Deep Space 9. They cracked jokes and talked about silly things from time to time. Mama and Mom came back down and sat down to watch. After the second show, they were ready for the popcorn. Damia liked hers with tiny M&Ms. Mama and Mom loved butter, salt, and peanut butter M&Ms on theirs. Henry and David kept themselves to butter and salt. Grace loved caramel corn, but she mixed in a few caramel-flavored, chocolate-coated, Milk Duds, instead. After the shows, they played a short Trek game, and then the grandfathers held Grace close, and touched Damia’s hair, which was all the touching she allowed. Damia was exhausted, and went with them on the walk home, talking about an early morning.

  Grace looked at Mom and Mama. “I know I pushed everyone away. I was a dick, as Alo says.” Mama laughed. Mom just stared. “I get lonely,” she said.

  “Other little girls love having a room all to themselves,” said Mama.

  “She’s missing her sisters,” said Mom.

  “I hate to point this out, but you did this to yourself,” said Mama. “You’re doing much better. It seems like you need to do some stuff, the stuff only you like to do. Paint, write a short story…”

  “Puzzle?” asked Grace.

  “Yes,” said Mama. “Mom is probably tired, so she’ll probably go up before us.”

  “In a little while,” said Mom.

  They rolled out the puzzle, one with a million cats, and began putting it together. Grace found her eyes closing, even more than Mom’s. Mom took her hand while Mama rolled up the puzzle and put it away. They went upstairs, and they both took showers. Mom came in, her own hair braided, and braided Grace’s hair while Grace read her a story about a half-human, half-alien girl who could move things with her brain. Grace slipped into her pod, and Mom kissed her cheek and shut the door. Grace tried to read, but she slid into sleep. The day had been long.

  Henry, David, Bella, and an exhausted Inola, all sat on the couch and the chairs in the living room, sipping tea or decaf coffee. “We’ve got to go,” said Henry. “For two weeks, or maybe more.”

  Bella shot him a shocked glance. Inola stared at him, glassy-eyed. “You what?”

  “Several people with ranches want to do what we do. Different focuses on different ranches. The Zuni have already implemented a program for young artists, but they have not invited youth from other Nations. The Dine have youth weavers and shepherds. The Hopi have desert tour guide training, for youth. The idea is to implement our program so the students in danger of not graduating from high school can graduate.”

  “Our list of students that want to come is getting longer, not shorter,” observed David. “Others want to know what we do and how we do it. Duplication is better than an endless list,” he observed.

  “We wrote a handbook,” said Henry. “But, there are deer hunters, canoe and hiking specialists, and horse riders in Wyoming, animal husbandry experts in Idaho and Montana, and much more. Setting up a ranch like this can’t be shoehorned, but must be developed naturally, and connections made within and in between Nations.” Henry took another sip of his decaf coffee. “The students come up with things to expand, like Alo’s animal feed business based on Nantan’s greenhouse products. The pursuit of money to keep something like this going is endless. It starts with places for them to stay, then tablet computers. Wireless just doesn’t work in many places. Satellites do, but that cos
ts money. Then jobs for them to earn their room and board, along with learning new skills. We’re close to Vegas, with houses to build and clean, babies to watch, and the like. But, many reservations are in very remote regions, with far too much land and people. Additionally, with far too little money to buy products or services. Online sales help artists, and Alo sends his feed all over, but there’s no such thing as virtually cleaning houses or watching babies from afar.”

  “Wish that worked,” said Inola. “Two babies. A quarter of the sleep.”

  “Nantan, Chayton and the boys are going to help you while we’re gone,” said David. “And, the Wolfpack will help with the ranch, keep it clean.”

  “Good,” said Bella. “I want to head back to work and I can’t if we don’t get help. Only three nights a week, and I’ll open and leave early.”

  “Wait two weeks,” Henry suggested. “We’ll be gone two to three weeks.”

  “You just want to get out of the Vegas heat,” joked Bella.

  David laughed. “That too.”

  “Do you really think you can get Wolfpacks all over?” asked Inola.

  “We think so,” said Henry. “The problem is the funding. Bao is donating money, and so is High Desert Security.”

  “But it’s not enough,” said David. “We have an online funding page. The Wolfpack set it up.”

  “We could do a ride,” said Inola.

  “When we get back,” said Henry. “For now, we’ll head out.”

  “Wait, who’s teaching at your school?” asked Bella.

  Henry laughed. “Gregory, and two of his soldiers,” said Henry. “All have been through the class, and Bonnie is getting her Soldier Pack to help, too.”

  “This is important,” said David. “The res is doing much better, too. Like ripples in a pond, the business the Wolfpack does has rippled out. There are more new businesses. Numa is selling angora sweaters from our own rabbits, and literally can’t keep them in stock. Richard Running Deer on the res, he specializes in plant dyes, and he and his daughter are making enough to live on because Numa buys his dyes. The Goat Girls are selling their goat cheese, the harnesses for the dog boxes that go on the back of Harleys, and Ghost and Killa have farmed the boxes off on the Soldier Pack.”