by Bella Knight
“I heard that,” said Thandie, into Jerry’s ear. He always wore an earpiece and throat mic if any of High Desert’s people were on duty in the club, in case an emergency happened. “And agree with you.”
“And the other one?” asked CrystalLine.
“A woman named Ivy,” said Jerry. “Actually, it’s a twofer. Her best male friend, Ace, too. Down at Dirty Rock. Club across town. They run the Nighthawks under Henry. Nicest people in the world, unless someone is in trouble.” He smiled a not-nice smile. “Then, they’re like hammers.”
“Good to know,” said CrystalLine. “I’ve heard Gregory talk about the Nighthawks.”
“He’s in them, too,” said Jerry. “See Shiva’s side braids?”
“Wondered about that,” said the young woman.
“Valkyries,” said Jerry. “Scariest women in the universe. You need help, and Gregory’s people aren’t there, go to the Nighthawks or the Valkyries. They’ll protect you.”
She inclined her head. “Good to know.” The song ended, and she slid out of her booth and stood. “Good to see you again, Jerry. Be willing to work with you anytime I’m in town recording.”
“Anytime,” said Jerry. “You have a voice like liquid mercury, all metallic, and strong and bright.”
“Thank you,” she said, flashing him a megawatt smile. She went back up for a last set, and Jerry went with her.
He didn’t sleep for days, thinking, dreaming of Fire, his girl. Woman. Pillar of fire. He brought over dog treats, and people-treats, homemade brownies or Vi’s biscuit mix in a glass jar. He brought over dog toys, small for the little dogs’ mouths, but not so small they’d choke, six of them. Everything he brought was in sixes. Couldn’t leave anybody out. He asked about winter; found the wind was cold coming off the mountains. He commissioned scarves from the Goat Girls from alpaca wool, and brought over two rag rugs, one for the kitchen, and one for the living room. The dogs promptly piddled on them, but cleaning just took time in the washer.
He found out the Rock Soldier Pack wanted to move onto the Valkyrie property from their apartment, and raise the dogs on the farm. He spent all day with Tito and the surveyor marking out a good site for the house on the four-acre property.
When Tito told him they could buy a farmhouse and move it, he was stunned. “You what?”
“Yep,” said Tito. “The ones over a hundred years old were made with hardwood. Get us one of those, or a property in good repair, just winch it up, put it on rollers, roll it on a really wide trailer, and move it. Slow process, but less expensive than building one from scratch.”
He asked Wraith about it, and she put someone called Daisy Chain on the job. “Got a free one,” said Wraith. “Historical farmhouse, built in 1889. In Wyoming, believe it or not. Not too bad of a move, if you get a move on. I’ve told Tito, and he’s gonna get you to help him, first with the concrete pour before you go get it, and then with getting it shipshape for the ladies. Five bedrooms, den, living room, kitchen, four baths.”
“Damn,” said Jerry. “I’ll do whatever the fuck he needs.”
So he was there for the grading and concrete pour. He did some session work, picked up people from the airport. Finished two bikes, watched them being picked up, one by a grizzled Harley rider named Harvester, and the other by a tiny woman that came up to his armpit who lived over by the Great Divide who wanted an offroad bike.
Then, he went with Tito, sat in the back of the king cab with Raul, an experienced hand with moving barns, and Gana sat in front, a huge woman with a bright smile. They went with the same company that moved the barn, and they inspected the house, jacked it up onto steel beams, and put it on a special trailer with many wheels. They followed with the truck, a super-slow ride that avoided the interstate and any overpasses. They took frequent breaks, and once they got out of mountains, Tito had a last discussion with the movers, and they went on back to the farm. Two days later, the house was on its concrete pad. The house had a gorgeous, intact porch.
The Soldier Pack was impressed. The Valkyries were pissed. “You have a nicer house than ours,” complained Fyrst.
“We can build you a porch,” said Tito.
Fyrst nodded. “We’ll have to play more gigs,” she said.
“And build more bikes.” Logi grinned. “I’ve sold my first build, ladies.”
Fyrst flipped her off. “Fine. We’ll all build one.”
“Should cover it,” said Tito. “I think.”
“Let’s get to work, ladies,” said Fyrst.
“Wait until we’ve got the masonry work done,” said Tito. “The old houses weren’t built square. Gotta be sure it’s all on the level.”
Two masons were busy measuring everything, making sure of what they had to do before the masonry was built so the house could be lowered.
“Okay,” said Fyrst. “More Harleys!” The Soldier Pack was already on two shifts, so some could stay home with the puppies. Everyone cheered, and went to the barn to build them.
Reunion
Xenia smiled at Vetta, her son Chad’s mom. She was thin, dressed in blue jeans and a soft pink shirt. “Did you bring Chad?”
Xenia grinned. “Nope, need to move into your halfway house first.” She drove her there. “Thirty days.”
Vetta groaned. “I know. Lots of visitation. Hated being in lockup spin-dry. Kind of like a prison.” She smiled at Xenia. “Thank you so much for the letters and pictures from him. He’s a good kid, happy with you, it looks like.”
“As happy a kid can be in a house with a newborn,” said Xenia. “Diana has no intention to sleep through the night.”
Vetta laughed. “She sounds like a handful.”
They stopped at the used clothing store. “Time for you to fill your drawers with clothes,” said Wraith. “Jeans, shorts, shirts. We’ll head to Wal-Mart for the underwear.”
“What?” said Vetta.
“Got two hundred dollars in my pocket from the service, goes away if it isn’t spent on you. Got a hundred for Chad.”
“Ugh, okay,” said Vetta.
Vetta kept picking clothes that were too large. “You lost weight, doing drugs,” said Xenia. “Hence the new clothes. You’ve gotta look good, simple, sweet, innocent for the DCFS people.”
“Got it,” said Vetta. “So this is to keep Chad.”
“It is,” said Wraith. With her son on the line, Vetta took more of an interest.
She found her correct size, and got four pairs of jeans, two blue, one pink, one black. The shorts were khakis or black ones with pockets. The blouses were in blue, black, pink, and maroon.
“Okay, now work stuff,” said Wraith.
They got khakis, black pants, nice blouses, and several lightweight jackets, and one pair of nice black ballet flats, and trainers in excellent condition. They found shorts and tees for Chad, too.
They swung by Wal-Mart and got underwear for both Vetta and Chad. They went to a Burger King with a child’s playground, and Xenia made Vetta eat some of her chicken fingers and fries until she saw Chad. Chad ate his meal, and then they went out back to play.
Sheriff Bob grinned at his wife, and kissed her. Chad superglued himself to his mother, and finally disentangled himself enough to steal his mom’s fries and chicken fingers. They talked nonstop.
The caseworker was late. She observed mother and son play on the playground, made notes, and zipped away, stack of files in a case. Bob told Chad and Vetta they’d gotten every-other-day visitation rights, and Chad was teary, but went off willingly with Bob. Vetta wept in both joy and pain, but got herself together by the time they reached the group home.
“Meetings every day,” said Xenia.
“On it,” said Vetta. “Thank you.”
“No problem. It will take time, and lots of baby steps, but we’ve already got a line on an apartment.”
“Good,” said Vetta. “Thank you again.”
“Let’s go,” said Xenia. “Meeting in twenty minutes.”
The other women w
ere in various states, from empty-eyed to teary, from angry to resigned. The house mother got her in, helped Vetta put her stuff in the drawers of her rooms, introduced her to her skeleton-weight, teary-eyed roommate, and let her into the meeting. Xenia hugged Vetta, and went to drown her troubles in real food at the cafe.
Dee sat dispiritedly at the counter, pushing a fry around with a fork. “Your cousins will come back,” said Xenia, as she sat at the counter.
“I agree,” said Bob, taking a seat on the other side of his wife. “They will. Our boy’s in school, and playing,” he said. “Being with his mom made him feel better.”
“I like Chad,” said Dee. Bob ordered a Reuben sandwich and fries, and Xenia prepared to drown her sorrows with a BLT, fries, and a tiny salad.
“So do we,” said Xenia. “Kind of tough having a kid in the house that you love so much that you know is going to live with his mom, but it’s awesome that his mom is getting better.” She laughed when Kema gave Xenia a chocolate cola. “This is awesome!” said Xenia.
Bob’s was a cherry cola. “Nice! You doing a soda-fountain thing?”
“Thinking about it,” said Kema.
Dee smiled. “Mama’s awesome.” Her mother took her plate.
“You have math, then you can turn it into a plan to throw a rock in a trebuchet,” said Kema. “Good for extra credit.”
“Awesome!” said Dee. She wiped her fingers, slipped out her tablet, and began working. She sighed, and then slipped off to an empty booth.
“Wish I could have done stuff like that for extra credit when I was in school,” said Bob. “I love this concept.”
“Me too,” said Kema. “We had actual books, too.”
Xenia grinned. “I take law enforcement courses online, now. Take a seminar to finish them up, get actual continuing-education credits. I’ll end up with a master’s degree at this rate.”
Bob laughed. “Doctorate of law enforcement.”
“Don’t know if there is one,” said Xenia. “Cyber protection, stuff like that.” She grinned. “I might get my law degree.”
“With a tiny baby?” asked Kema, handing over their sandwiches.
“Not so tiny,” said Xenia. “I had to quit breastfeeding because of… teeth.”
“Ow!” said Kema. “I’m glad to hear little Chad got to see his mama.”
“So am I,” said Xenia.
“A boy needs his mama,” said Kema. “How did the apartment turn out?”
“The people move out in two weeks, giving your mama time to get it cleaned,” said Xenia. She bit into her sandwich, and moaned with pleasure.
Kema laughed. “We’ll do it together. Dee shoots the glass with glass cleaner. Never thought we would own an apartment building.” She grinned.
“Profit invested,” said Bob.
Kema filled up coffee down the line. Her servers zipped back and forth, and the kitchen hummed. She swung back. “This place we got for a good price, and even with food service being difficult, people like simple, good food, at good prices. We listen to what our customers want. We even pay ourselves, and half goes into reinvestment. The back of the building was good to go!”
There were apartments above the shops, and two built into the back of the buildings along the back of some of the shops, too. Kema and her mother Tallee, in the kitchen, originally bought the front of the building, with two apartments above. The back two apartments had been converted into condos. One by one, the condo owners wanted to sell. One woman wanted to buy a ranch just out of town, and another man needed to move to Georgia to spend time with his ailing mother. Kema and Tallee bought both units. They had both upper and lower levels, and a spiral staircase to separate the two small bedrooms from the lower kitchen, den, and laundry room. Above the restaurant were a smaller one-bedroom and a larger two-bedroom apartment. Tallee had the smaller one, and Kema and Dee the other one. So, now they owned the whole building.
“I’d like to get more women on their feet,” said Kema. “But, we need money coming in, so we’ve got another business owner moving into the other one, with a son of her own, about six. It’s a widower dad. Owns the bookshop down the street, Loaded Books.”
“I know Erron,” said Xenia. “Good guy. Took it over when his mother retired and moved to Tucson.”
Kema grinned. “Put the moves on me, in a sweet, shy sort of way. Had to tell him I bat for the other team these days.”
Bob worked to keep his jaw from dropping. Xenia just grinned. “I know some Valkyries that would be… fun,” she said, and ate a stray piece of bacon.
“When’s Freya coming back?” asked Kema.
“End of the summer,” said Xenia. “She’s learning how to do what she wants to do, run a garage made up of ex-soldiers. Help them learn a skill, get a new start.”
“Can’t be good at everything,” said Kema.
“Nope,” said Xenia.
“But my wife is good at almost everything,” said Bob. Xenia grinned at him, and stole a fry. He laughed out loud.
Xenia worked hard, going through piles of paperwork. She met with her deputies, caught up on their cases. They’d caught the smash and grab artist that specialized in ripping off pawnshops. Xenia read her law enforcement magazines religiously, and she’d learned a lot about patterns. The smasher had been working his way through California into Vegas, so she was ready for him to flee to Pahrump, patrolling pawnshops at dusk when he liked to grab. She ended up grabbing him with Ochoa, her huge deputy with the gentle eyes and incredible speed.
She and Ochoa had a lot of paperwork to do, and California was quite happy to add on charges. The thief’s truck was full of his swag, which he sold to various legitimate jewelers, or melted down gold and silver. They had Michaelson catalog it all, and they took turns with the pictures and writing descriptions. It was tedious work, and stuff that must be matched with pawnshop inventory from the string of them from Los Angeles through high desert California.
“Nail Frank Gramason,” said Wraith. “Then, spend countless hours putting all the nails in his coffin.”
“The gift that keeps on giving,” said Ochoa. They laughed.
Xenia spent her late afternoon giving out traffic tickets, then drove around. She visited Rachael Roundtree, a very smart but supremely terrified girl. The school suspected abuse, but the girl wouldn’t talk. Xenia liked to swing by, right when her father came home from work, ostensibly to help the girl remain up-to-date with her homework, and suggest projects for extra credit. The girl seemed to like the attention, and was slowly coming out of her shell. She always brought a little snack for herself and the girl to share, with some left over for the father, such as cookies from a local bake shop or from the endless stream of bake sales from local schools and places of worship. Xenia jokingly told Bob she needed to keep a fund just for relentlessly cheerful children looking for sales. Tonight it was chocolate chip, and almond milk. The girl loved almond milk.
“That milk’s expensive,” said her father, Adam Roundtree.
He was huge, which may have been the reason for the school’s nervousness about him. He was a railroad man, out getting drunken fools off the tracks at three a.m., leaving his twelve-year-old daughter home alone in the middle of the night, twice a month.
Xenia shrugged. “I like to make hot chocolate out of it.” She pulled out three pouches of powdered caramel hot chocolate and laid them on the table. “Wasn’t going to do this, but Rachael, you’ve gotten a great science grade this week. Way to go.” They gently bumped fists.
“On what?” asked Adam.
“A huge project,” said Xenia. “Tell him, Rachael.”
She stood up, left the room, found coffee cups for the almond milk. She heated it in the microwave as Rachael told her father, in a halting voice, about the project, and how Carla got sick and couldn’t complete building the model of a bridge. That part fascinated Adam, so Xenia piddled a bit getting the hot chocolate together. She came out, drank her chocolate, fed the thin girl cookies, smiled a bit, and
headed out.
Adam followed her out to the porch. “She’s talkin’ more,” he said.
“Good,” said Xenia.
“I can’t figure you out. She fell. She didn’t tell anyone because she’s shy, and she didn’t want to go to the doctor. She knows money’s tight. Do you think I would hurt her?”
Xenia shook her head. “You’ve got it backwards. I’m proving that you didn’t. I suggest, next time you have to go out, call this number.” She handed over a card. “That’s Tammy Fields, local girl, seventeen, needs money. Five an hour until the girls both go to school. Cheaper than hiring a lawyer to get your daughter back.” She handed over another card. “This is Matt. I’ve seen your bookshelves. They’re good. Sometimes he needs help with projects. Builds. Bring your daughter; he has one named Cassie. You’ll earn enough to cover hiring Tammy.”
Adam stared at her. “Thank… thank you. No one seems to… to care about us. Got called a dirty Indian today.”
“That’s assholery,” said Xenia. “Some people are just assholes.” She shrugged. “The teachers had to report their suspicions. Don’t hate them. I think your daughter is just painfully shy and is grieving her mother. The school counselor says she’s making progress. She could use an antianxiety medication, but simple hot chocolate seems to have the same effect.” She handed over three more packets. “Just sit down and talk over some chocolate.”
Adam grinned. “I will.”
“And take her to the res, introduce her to your elders,” she said. “She needs to know her people.”
“They weren’t happy when I married a white woman,” he said.
“Then they’re idiots, and go to the Paiute,” said Xenia. “I’ll text you the number. Call David. Have him sing over your daughter.”
“Will do,” said Adam.
“And the almond milk is worth it. Get her to smile, Adam.”
“Will, Sheriff,” said Adam. He sighed with relief as she walked down the walk and hopped into her vehicle.
Xenia picked up basil honey chicken, rosemary potatoes, and some cans of Coke from the diner. She came home, took her daughter from her husband, and tied her daughter around her belly. Estrella, their nanny, left the moment one of them entered the house, eager to get home to her two high-school kids. She cooked at their house, and brought it back to her own, and they paid her for her double batches so they could refrigerate and freeze it.
