Once a Father (8 page)

“Do you know where I might find him?” The woman lowered her gaze and said nothing. “It's…he's training a horse with me.
For
me.”

“She's come to see a man about a horse, Janine.”

Mary turned to find a man wearing a badge standing behind her. He wasn't smiling, either. “Get back on the highway.” He raised a hand to point the way. “Head west for a couple miles and look for a log house on the south side.”

“Could be he has an office there,” the woman said.

“Is there a sign?”

The woman almost smiled. “You mean, with his name on it?”

“It's the only log house out there,” the man said. “You won't have no trouble finding it.”

A tall, full cottonwood tree stood a few yards abreast of the small house in otherwise unbroken sod. The yard was immaculate—not a stray tool or toy or piece of trash in sight—and the only sign of human occupancy was the familiar pickup and horse trailer parked behind the house near a pine rail round pen twice the size of the portable one Logan had put up at camp. It was close to six feet high. There was a metal pole barn with an attached paddock and a small fenced pasture. Nothing fancy. Nothing pro claiming its owner to be “the best there is” among horse trainers.

He appeared at the top of a rise riding a flashy paint and ponying Adobe at the end of a long lead. Mary wasn't sure he saw her. She'd left the pickup in the sparsely graveled driveway and seated herself on the wheel housing on the shady side of the horse trailer. He varied the horses' gaits, taking an unhurried and indirect approach to the barn. The gate to the paddock stood open, and she made ready to close it behind rider and horses. On second thought,
she stepped within the confines before securing the latch.

“I could've used your help loading him,” he told her as he swung down from the saddle.

“You could've called me.”

“Figured you were busy. How's your mom?”

“Doing well, thank you. I'm sorry you had to…” She noticed the halter Adobe wore for the first time. It appeared to be homemade. “It's like having a child, isn't it? Get a sitter or take him with you when you have to go somewhere.”

“It was time to get him around another horse.”

She stayed near the fence and watched Logan approach the mustang with a quiet word between them. One quick, deft pull on the end of some magical cowboy's knot and the halter fell away. Adobe jumped away, and Logan spoke to him again, his voice so low that Mary couldn't make sense of what he said. The two went separate ways as Logan led the saddle horse toward Mary. They exchanged the kind of smiles proud parents might share over baby steps.

“Next time he'll go easy,” he said.

“And then we were four,” she said, admiring the beautiful white paint with sorrel markings, including ears and a headband that looked like semaphores signaling from a snowbank.

“Not quite, but we're gettin' there. We had a good run.” He handed Mary the reins, flipped the stirrup
over the horn and loosened the cinch, talking all the while. “Hattie's instinct is to lead. Some might call her a Judas horse. I think of her as a bridge between two worlds.”

“Different terms for different trainers?”

“Different way of thinking.”

“I like yours.” She rubbed her thumb over the supple rope rein. “What are these made of?”

“Horsehair. I make them myself.”

“Is it part of the Indian way?”

He chuckled. “It's part of
my
way. That's called a
mecate.
An old
vaquero
put me onto this type of rein years back. Works great with the hackamore, which is the way I like to start horses.”

“So your way isn't necessarily the traditional Indian way.”

He gave her a growl and a scowl. “It is if I say it is.” And then a smile and a wink. “I wrote the book.”

“And you
stole
from the Spanish?”

“Hell, we stole the horses from the Spanish.” He grinned. “And anybody else too slow to catch us. Sitting Bull said, take what's good from the immigrants and leave the rest.” He lifted one shoulder. “I gave ol' Mario credit for being the one to teach me how to make them. Someday I'm gonna set up shop.”

“Call it Mario's?”

“Callin' it Track Man's. Here's the logo.” He made a hand creature, pinkie and forefinger raised as wolf
ears, two middle fingers tapping the pad of his thumb as it wended its way in her direction in the style of the old video game.

She was mesmerized until the critter dove for her neck. She rewarded him with a girlish giggle. She had the presence of mind to keep it small for the sake of the horse.

“Do I have a winner?”

“With five-year-olds.” She couldn't stop smiling like one. “You and my mother. She's quoting Crazy Horse to me today.”

“I liked her right off.” He pulled the saddle. “So you came looking for me.”

“For my horse.” She glanced at the pole barn. “This is a nice setup. Will we be moving our base camp?”

“We could.” He glanced at her and nodded at the headstall. “Do we want to?”

She took the hint and removed the last of the paint's gear. “I like the back of beyond, but you're the one sleeping on the ground out there. What does Adobe say?”

“Ask him.”

The mustang stood at the far end of the paddock, all ears. “He says you should try sleeping on your feet.” Mary raised her eyebrows. “Oh, and if we promise to take him back to the sanctuary, he'll load right up.”

“You hungry?” Logan followed her through the gate. “I've got a sister, wants to meet you.”

“She knows about me? I mean…”

“I told her about you. Serving in the Middle East, among other things. Her son's over there.”

“I'd love to meet her.” She slid the lock. “What other things?”

“Nothing bad. Don't worry. She won't be gunning for you.”

An X-ray technician, Logan's sister lived near the tribal office building in Indian Health Service housing. Logan waved at two children who were playing with a trio of roly-poly multicolored puppies in the fenced yard. The boy hollered “Hey, Lala Logan!” and hoisted a whimpering yellow pup overhead.

“Nice one,” Logan called out as he opened the back door.

“He shouldn't do that,” Mary said under her breath.

“They're my nephew's kids.”

“What
ev
er.” She poked him in the side. “Didn't you hear the bitch growl?”

He turned and flashed a double take as he crossed the threshold. “I'm gonna go with
better her than me.
Hey, sis, I brought you a guest!”

Logan's sister, Margaret, was older, smaller and more gregarious than her brother. She offered hot coffee, cold tea and a sample of the fresh fry bread scenting her kitchen. She'd been expecting Logan,
and it was clear that he never needed permission to bring a friend. She doted on him.

Her interest in Mary might have been merely an extension of her brother's—he introduced her as his
new partner
—but Mary had something else going for her. Like Margaret's son, she was a soldier. Mary traded service details with Margaret—outfits, posts, time served, universal complaints—without speaking of troublesome specifics.

“My son doesn't like that part of the world, but he doesn't mind the army,” Margaret said as she refilled Logan's coffee cup. “He liked Germany. Says the people there really like Indians, especially the Sioux. So he was a big hero there. But now he's counting the days. I hope he doesn't get too lonesome, like my little brother did. He doesn't need to be hookin' up with—”

“What about those puppies you got outside?” Logan said. “Too old for soup, are they?”

Margaret patted her brother's shoulder. “Depends on who's cooking.”

Mary rolled a small bite of chewy bread from one cheek to the other, her gaze from one face to the other. “You're kidding, right?”

“Mary's a dog trainer,” Logan said.

“You train them to find bombs?”

“I train for lots of jobs, but sniffing for explosives is maybe the most important one right now.”

“Maybe you trained the one that saved my son's
unit.” Margaret glanced at Logan. “Did he tell you about that? One of those dogs found a bomb in a kid's toy. Can you believe that?” She gave Mary a knowing smile. “We don't eat dogs.”

“Not anymore,” Logan said, and Margaret punched his shoulder. “Okay, sis, jeez. Probably not since—” he caught her warning glance “—the turn of the century. I know I've never tasted it.” He smiled at Mary. “Have you ever tasted horsemeat?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Which century?”

“Which
ev
er,” he said, imitating her. “Somewhere in the world somebody's eating horsemeat as we speak. And that somebody is not Lakota.”

“You make a good pair,” Margaret said. She grinned as her gaze ping-ponged between them. “A good pair.”

The back door burst open, and the two children scurried inside. The boy carried the pup he'd shown off in the yard, and the girl followed with an eye patch pup under one arm and a squirmy black one under the other.

“Keep those dogs outside,” Margaret ordered.

“But Lala Logan…”

“I'll be out in a minute, Teddy.” The kids did an about-face and zipped out the door singing an
okay
duet. “Teddy and Selina,” Logan told Mary. “They live next door, more or less.”

“It's nice that you can help out while their dad's overseas.”

“Third tour,” Margaret said. “Selina just turned five, and she hardly knows him.”

“A military career can be hard on families these days,” Mary said.

“My son's in the Guard.” Margaret lifted one shoulder. “He's grown up a lot. I'll say that.” She craned her neck for a peek out the window. “They're standing there waiting for you, little brother.”

Logan liked to give Teddy and Selina special attention. Their dad had been gone too long, but he was serving honorably. The kids wondered whether Randy was ever coming back to stay, and Logan wondered sometimes, too. The boy had seemed distant the last time he'd been home.

Logan knew that faraway look, the one that settled in a person's eyes when she felt like she was missing some excitement somewhere. Some people cut the ties gradually and started drifting. Others hacked into them all at once and bolted. Logan rarely thought about his wife anymore except in connection with the boys. Randy's wife and his mother were making up for his absence, and the kids were thriving. Logan had stayed angry too long. If he had it to do over again, he'd start by separating Tonya's eyes from the boys'. They were not the sum total of two people who'd skipped out on them. They were his sons.

And the woman who knelt in the grass between
them was his new partner. She laughed when Salina called her “Lala's girlfriend.” She'd really laugh when she found out what
lala
meant. Leave it to kids to cut to the chase, he thought as he watched Mary show the children how to hold the puppies. She pointed out that they all had different personalities.

“I'll bet this one will be a good fetcher,” she said of the black. “The quiet one might be a sniffer. What do you have in your pocket, Teddy?” The yellow pup was determined to find out.

“I don't know.” He plunged his hand inside. “Oh, yeah, beef jerky. We get to keep one, and one of our cousins wants one, so there's one more left. If you want one, you can take the boy.”

“One bitch is enough,” little girl echoing what she'd clearly been told. “Or else we have to get rid of Peaches.”

“Sounds like your mom laid the law down. You should be able to have Peaches spayed just as soon as everyone's weaned.” And it was about time. Peaches needed an ally in that regard.

“I'll take care of it,” Logan said. “If you keep one of the pups, I'll take them both in. Which cousin are you talking about?”

“Maxine. So we get to keep one?”

“That's up to Grandma, and Maxine's dad has to take care of Maxine's puppy. I'm just helping you guys out.”

“Like you always do, Lala Logan.” Teddy nodded
at the black puppy. “So you can have the boy if you want. Boys are easier to train.”

“Where'd you get that idea?” Mary took the yellow dog from Selina. “Let me show you how smart this girl is.” Within a few minutes—and with the help of Teddy's beef jerky—Mary taught the puppy to sit by applying pressure to the scruff of her neck, reminding the kids that this was where Peaches picked them up.

“She likes you,” Salina said. The puppy nuzzled Mary's hand.

“She knows she can trust me. That's the first thing an animal wants to know about you. Are you going to hurt it? Are you going to feed it?” She laughed as she cuddled the dog to her breast. “Oh, yes, I'd gladly take you with me, but I can only have one dog where I live, and that has to be my partner.” She glanced up at Logan. “My
canine
partner.”

“You've got all kinds of partners,” Logan observed quietly.

“Peaches is part police dog. You could make her puppy an army dog.”

“We don't take puppies. In six months, eight months, if I'm still…” She ruffled the fur on top of the puppy's head and made its ears flop like two babies waving bye-bye. “Yeah, you'd make some MP a fine partner, wouldn't you?”

“That would be so cool,” Teddy said. “You could
keep him for her until he's old enough to go in the army, Lala.”

“One deal at a time.”

She waited until they were back at his place loading the horse before she asked the burning question. “Is Lala a nickname?”

“Sort of. It's short for
tunkasila
.”