Disclaimer:  I do not own anything related to Emergency, and I extend my heartfelt gratitude to Universal and Mark VII Limited for allowing me to play with their toys.  I am not making any money on this so please do not sue me.  You won’t get much anyway.  This story is the fourth in a series.  It will probably make a lot more sense to you if you read the other three first.  They are:  Dark Before the Dawn, Vision Quest, and Stars.  This story begins three months after Stars ends.

Don’t Ever Cry, Just Remember

By Morningwolf

They took the land, they took control

They robbed my father of his very soul

To be like one of them.

But I was born a native son, and I will never be another one

To give it all away.

                                                                                                --Dan Fogelberg

I must have stood for hours

The mist of dawn still rising

Brushing from my face cold tears of finally knowing.

I now return here a survivor

The rest have vanished to thin air.

Don’t ever cry, just remember.

Born to a fallen world

Longing for a morning star

Held on high…for me.

And this vision comes to close

The last footsteps ever wander here

They echo in my mind

Never to return

                                                                                    --C. Ingles, W.B. Allman

And down in the canyon the smoke starts to rise,

It rides on the wind till it reaches your eyes.

When faced with the past, the strongest man cries.

                                                                                              --Dan Fogelberg

“Everything looks good, John.  I’ll give my report to Kel, so he can sign off on your work papers.”  Orthopedic surgeon Todd Andrews jotted some notes in Johnny’s file.

Johnny breathed a sigh of relief.  Andrews’ assurance that he had fully recovered from the injuries he sustained as a result of a vicious assault six months earlier, and the surgery to repair a dislocated knee that happened during a fire and explosion in the barn at his ranch were the ticket necessary for his return to work.  He had already been examined by Dr. Brackett, had passed the fire department’s strict physical.  Now that he had been declared fit to walk, climb, lift, and carry, he could expect to return in two weeks.  That gave him just enough time to take a trip to South Dakota.  “Thanks, Doc.”  Johnny hopped down off the table.

“Now, just like with your hip, it’s possible you may experience some aching in your shoulder or your knee after a particularly strenuous shift.  A hot shower and some Tylenol should be all you need.”

“No problem, Doc.  I know the drill.”  Johnny shook hands with the older man and reached for his clothing.

“I know you do, John.  Too well.”  Andrews mused as he walked out the door.  “Now I don’t want to see you back here again unless you’re bringing me a patient, okay?”

Johnny flashed his famous grin, thrilled that he would soon be returning to the job he loved.  “You got it, Doc.”

zzz

“Goooood morning!”  Johnny bounced into the day room to find his shift mates seated around the table.

Cap looked up from his paperwork.  “John!  Good to see you, pal!”

Johnny exchanged greetings with Cap and the others, accepted a cup of coffee from Marco, and took a seat on one of the chairs.  In his usual fashion, he sat up on the seatback, resting his feet on the seat.  “Just came from Rampart.  Andrews said everything looks good, and Brackett said I’ll be back in two weeks.” 

A chorus of congratulations and other expressions of joy that the A-shift family would again be intact rang out through the large room.  Roy was particularly glad to be getting his best friend and partner back.  He stood and gave Johnny a hearty pat on the back.  “That’s great!  So, you’ll be coming back the day after you get home from South Dakota?” 

Roy was aware of Johnny’s desire to return to the Pine Ridge reservation, the place where he had spent the first 16 years of his life.  The assault Johnny had endured last September had triggered long repressed memories of his childhood.  He had remembered the abuse he and his mother had endured at the hands of his father which culminated in his mother’s murder, which he had witnessed as an eight year old boy.  From there, the memories became hazy.  He remembered waking up in a hospital off the reservation after a head injury and being told by his grandfather and everyone else that he and his parents had been in an automobile accident, and that his parents had been killed.  That was the story Johnny had believed his entire life up until he remembered what had actually happened to his mother.  Now, he had been left with unanswered questions about what really happened back then, as well as a feeling of angry betrayal surrounding the lies.  He was scheduled to leave in the morning, and hoped to return with some answers.

“Yep.”  Johnny avoided direct eye contact with Roy.  He knew his friend wasn’t happy about his making this trip alone.  The Pine Ridge reservation had been in the news for all the wrong reasons the past few years.  A group of angry young Native American militants had decided they had dealt with enough broken treaties and lies by the United States government so they banded together as part of the American Indian Movement, or AIM.  A few years ago, the FBI and National Guard had stepped in to halt the uprising in a 71 day stand off at Wounded Knee.  Since that time, murder and crime had run rampant on the reservation, effectively turning it into a war zone.  Just over seven months ago there was a highly publicized shoot out between AIM activists and the FBI in which two FBI agents and one activist were killed.  And just a few weeks ago, Pine Ridge had again found itself fodder for national news when a Native American woman, also a member or AIM, had been found shot to death along the side of the road.  In truth, Johnny was apprehensive about the trip himself, but he needed answers, and the explanations would only come from the rugged land where he was raised, a land he thought he had long forgotten, he and seemingly the rest of the world.

Cap broke the silence that hung heavily in the air.  The danger associated with this trip was not lost on any of the men, but all knew how important this was to Johnny.  There was no point in beating a dead horse.  “Well, why don’t you stick around a while, pal?  I’m getting ready to whip up some of my famous clam chowder.”

Johnny patted his stomach as he got down from the chair.  “As good as that sounds, Cap, I gotta be getting home.  I’m leaving first thing in the morning, and I promised Hannah we’d spend the day together.  We’re going riding this afternoon.”

Roy stood and faced his friend.  “Ok, well…I guess we’ll see you in two weeks then?”

“Yep.”  Johnny could see the concern on Roy’s face, and couldn’t hold it against him.  After all, he was concerned himself.  “Listen, it will take me two days to get there.  I’ll probably stop in Salt Lake City tomorrow night and drive the rest of the way on Sunday.  As soon as I figure out where I’ll be staying, I’ll call Hannah, and she’ll let you and Justin know, okay?”

Chet polished off his cup of coffee and stood, crossing over to where Johnny and Roy were standing.  “You gonna take a gun?”

Cap admonished the stocky fireman.  “Kelly…”

Johnny raised a hand in order to let Cap know he would fight his own battle on this one.  “No, Chet.  I’m not taking a gun.  I don’t even own a gun.”

Marco chimed in his two cents.  “Chet, sometimes when you expect trouble is when you find trouble.  Guns have a habit of causing more problems than they prevent.”

Chet sighed, knowing he was outnumbered.  “Hey, alls I’m saying is that maybe Gage should have some protection.  I would take a gun.”

Mike chided, “Yeah, and you’d probably take your foot off along with it.”

After the laughter Mike’s comment brought about dissipated, Cap’s expression turned serious as he planted a hand firmly on his young charge’s shoulder.  “Just…be careful, John.  Right?”

Johnny forced an uneasy smile as he waved his goodbyes.  “Aren’t I always?”

Roy carried his coffee cup to the sink and dumped it.  Yeah, Junior.  You are.  But trouble always has a way of finding you anyway…

zzz

“Hi, honey!  I’m home!”  Johnny whistled an off key tune as he walked into the kitchen and threw his arms around Hannah who was standing at the stove, stirring something that smelled almost as enticing as she did.

Hannah turned to face Johnny, wiping her hands on her apron as she accepted his kiss.  “You sound just like Mike Brady.”

“Yeah, well you’re a whole lot prettier than Carol.”  Johnny planted another kiss before asking, “What’s for lunch?”  Johnny reached for the spoon in Hannah’s hand to sneak a taste.

Hannah batted his hand away.  “For your information, it’s not lunch.  It’s dinner.  It’s mulligatawny stew.”

“Huh.  I hope it tastes better than it sounds.”  Johnny’s eyes sparkled playfully.

“Well, if you don’t want any, you don’t have to eat any.  More for me.”  Hannah turned the burner down to simmer and moved past Johnny toward the refrigerator.  His close proximity was intoxicating.  Hannah berated herself.  It was noon for godssake.  “I thought we’d pack lunches for on the trail.”

Johnny stepped up behind Hannah once more and whispered close to her ear.  “You’re the only sustenance I’ll be needing.”  Johnny began nipping and nuzzling at Hannah’s ear and neck.

Hannah tried resisting at first, but soon found herself tossing the pack of cheese in her hand onto the counter as her lips met Johnny’s and held on.  Soon she was being lifted off her feet and carried toward the bedroom.  When Johnny placed her on the bed and began untying her apron, she spoke.  “John…the stew is still on the stove…”

Johnny spoke between kisses.  “Something’s simmering in here too…”

Hannah pretended to scold Johnny for leaving an unattended pot on the stove.  “You’re a fireman!”

Johnny began unbuttoning Hannah’s blouse.  “Uh huh.  I like it hot.”

Hannah returned the favor by pulling Johnny’s T-shirt up over his head.  “You never told me how your appointment went…”

“Later…”

Time and space faded away as Hannah felt herself being lowered to the bed.  She couldn’t remember a time when she felt this happy or her life felt so right.  All her unspoken fears about Johnny’s impending trip melted away for the time being as the couple began their impassioned dance.

zzz

After dinner, Hannah sat on the deck with a glass of wine.  She was waiting for Johnny to finish packing.  She tried to still the anxious squirming in her stomach as her mind wandered back over the events of the past six months.  Last September, she had fled from her abusive husband in Pennsylvania to her brother’s beach house in LA, leaving behind a successful large animal veterinary partnership.  Her brother, Justin, was Johnny’s physical therapist and friend and had introduced the two of them, recognizing that Johnny had needed help with his horses at that time due to a shoulder injury, and would also be needing a veterinarian to help with an upcoming foaling.  Soon it became apparent how much she and Johnny had in common, and when he had been brutally beaten by Justin and Hannah’s brother, Hannah had been the only one who truly understood the emotional baggage he was carrying.  The experience, although awful, only served to bring them closer together.

 After Johnny’s barn was destroyed by fire from a lightening strike, he used the insurance money and some of the money she had received from the sale of her half of her former practice to build a veterinary hospital on his property, complete with stalls for their own horses.  Hannah had already been staying at Johnny’s ranch at the time of the fire, helping him to recuperate, and had officially moved in soon after Johnny returned home.  The past few months had been pure bliss for both of them, each giving the other something that neither had ever been able to find before, each having felt assured they never would.  Hannah’s divorce had become final on the same day Johnny’s assailant had been sentenced to a 40 year jail term.  It was a day they had marked on the calendar as a new beginning for both of them.  But now, Hannah’s insides roiled as she thought about Johnny’s trip.  She knew how important this was to him, and although she longed to go with him, she respected that it was something he felt he needed to face alone.  Further, she knew he would feel responsible for her safety if she went, and that would take his focus off where it needed to be…finding the answers he sought about his father, about his past.  She was resolved not to voice her fears for Johnny’s safety, but as she sat alone in the dark, the trip only hours away, she was petrified.  She couldn’t lose him.  That would be too cruel and unfair.

Johnny sat on the edge of his bed, turning the small velvet box over in his perspiring hands.  It wasn’t as if he had never proposed to a woman before.  There was Valerie, although there had been no ring that time.  Something about the ring made it so “official.”  Besides, he had never felt the depth of emotion for Valerie or any other woman that he felt for Hannah.  Johnny realized in recent months that this was probably the first and only time he had ever actually been in love.  There had been a lot of girls, that much was true.  But Hannah was the first woman Johnny had ever been able to be completely honest with.  She knew him better than anyone, better than Roy, better than he even knew himself.  Johnny stood up and paced the length of the room, raking his fingers backward through his shaggy hair.  Why am I so nervous? Johnny was reasonably sure Hannah would say yes, but that fact did nothing to quench his parched mouth or slow his galloping heartbeat.  He had originally intended to do this after he returned from Pine Ridge, but he figured there was some sort of protection that came along with this significant ritual.  Surely the spirits wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow something to happen to him if he was engaged to be married.  As flimsy and crazy as that sounded, Johnny held onto his belief as he slipped the box into the front pocket of his jeans, took a deep breath, and headed for the deck.

Johnny took a moment to look at Hannah in the light from the moon and stars.  She was beautiful, her long chestnut hair, which she normally pulled back when she was working, now falling in soft waves around her face.  He took a deep breath of the fresh, mountain air and walked outside.

“All packed?”

“Yep.  I’ll load up the Rover in the morning.”  Johnny moved to the chair next to where Hannah was sitting and took a sip of wine from the glass she had poured for him.  Neither he nor Hannah said a word about the trip, each sensing the other’s feelings on the subject.

The couple engaged in small talk, everything from the animals Hannah had seen that week to Johnny’s upcoming return to work.  Finally, out of things to say, they sat in accepted silence, basking in the warmth of each other’s company.  Finally, Johnny downed the last of his wine and knelt down in front of Hannah, taking her hands in his.  “I am going to miss you so much.”

“Me too.”

Johnny stared down at the wood flooring beneath him for a long moment before speaking.  “Hannah…there was a time in my life that I never thought I would ever have…I just never thought it was possible to love someone so much or to be this happy…”

Hannah swallowed hard.  She had an idea what was coming, and her heart started beating faster.  She had been through this before, with Kent, but it had held none of the magic, none of the power that this moment did.  She suddenly was glad for the chair underneath her as all the strength seemed to leave her knees.  She remained silent, waiting for Johnny to continue, not wanting to break the spell.

“After I was hit by that truck…when I thought I wouldn’t be able to go back to work…I thought my life was over.  I had no idea it was just beginning.”  Johnny looked up and found Hannah’s eyes.  “You see, if it weren’t for that accident, I may never have met Justin.  We might not have become friends, and…I would have never met you.”

Hannah held onto Johnny’s hands a little tighter.

“I guess there was a part of me that knew my life would never be the same after that.  I just never counted on it changing for the better.”  Johnny took a deep breath and continued.  “Hannah…I never told you this, but…there were days…after what happened last fall…”  Johnny paused.  He still found it awkward to discuss his assault with Hannah and Justin since it was their brother who had been responsible for it.  Although they were solidly on Johnny’s side, a certain pang of guilt still coursed through him at the thought.  Johnny swallowed hard and continued.  “There were days when I just felt so…so…”  Johnny wasn’t sure how to put his feelings into words.  He had felt ashamed, his self confidence shaken.  For the longest time, he recoiled from any type of human contact, yet simultaneously found himself craving it.  His friends tried hard to convince him that they understood how he felt, but really, there was no way they could.  Hannah had been the only person who understood completely, sometimes without his even having to speak.

Hannah squeezed Johnny’s hands and moved her head so that she could look directly into his eyes.  “I know, John.”

Johnny took a deep breath.  “Well anyway, I never thanked you for that, so…thank you…for everything.”

“But you did thank me, John.  In more ways than one.  Just being with you…that’s thanks enough for me.”

Johnny straightened up in order to make access to his front pocket a little easier.  “I like being with you too.”  Johnny sighed.  This was it.  The big moment.  He tried to slow his heartbeat and hoped Hannah didn’t notice the perspiration on his hands.  “Hannah…I know we’ve only known each other for six months.  But, so much has happened in those months…and well, I’ve never felt so sure about anything in my life.”  Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, causing Hannah’s breath to catch once again.  She remained silent, allowing him to continue, savoring the moment.  “What I’m trying to say is, for a long time I’ve wanted someone to come home to, someone who would be waiting for me after a long shift.  Someone who would laugh with me in the good times, and help me through the bad.”  Johnny opened the box and removed the precious ring inside.  He stared at it for a second or two before looking up at Hannah with love in his eyes.  “Hannah Quinn…I would be honored if that person was you.  Will you marry me?”

Hannah found it impossible to believe that at the age of 34, she could be rendered speechless by a romantic gesture.  After all, she had been married before.  But as she gazed into Johnny’s dark eyes, she saw years of self doubt melt away into love and acceptance.  She allowed her eyes to wander to the ring that Johnny held and extended her left hand to accept it.  It was a simple ring, but beautiful.  Just like us, Hannah thought.  There was a simplicity and beauty in the relationship she and Johnny shared that neither one had ever known before.  Once the ring was safely on her finger, she allowed herself to speak.  “The honor is mine.  I would be honored to be your wife.”

Hannah leaned forward to accept Johnny’s kiss, and before she knew what was happening, found herself in his lap on the deck.  They remained there in each other’s arms, feeling as though they were suspended in time.  It all came down to this moment.  Suddenly, not much else in their lives mattered.  Hannah held her left hand out in front of her and moved it side to side, admiring the way the diamond sparkled in the moonlight.  “Shines brighter than the stars…”

Johnny planted soft kisses on Hannah’s neck.  “You’re my shining star.  You’re gonna be what leads me home…always.” 

As the couple once more gave in to their passions, realizing this moment would have to hold them for the next two weeks, Hannah prayed that Johnny was right, that he would always come home to her, while Johnny prayed that Hannah would always be there to come home to.

zzz

Roy awoke to the sound of a ringing phone.  Groggy from sleep, he looked at his alarm clock.  It was two in the morning.  A ringing phone at that hour usually brought bad news.  Roy swallowed his fear and grabbed the receiver.  “Desoto’s.”

“Roy?  It’s Johnny.”  Johnny was calling from his kitchen, but he whispered anyway so Hannah wouldn’t awaken.

Roy’s mind raced as it tried to calculate the possible reasons Johnny would call him in the middle of the night.  Was he hurt?  Or sick?  Had something happened to Hannah?  “Johnny?  Are you all right?  Why are you whispering?”

“I’m fine, Roy.  And I’m whispering because I don’t want to wake up Hannah.”

Roy was becoming more than a little exasperated.  Johnny still hadn’t offered a reason for calling him at this unusual hour.  “Well then why are you calling me?  For that matter, why aren’t you getting some rest, Johnny?  Aren’t you leaving in a few hours?”

“Yeah.  I couldn’t sleep.  She said yes, Roy!”

Now Roy was really confused as he tried to shake the fuzziness from his sleep deprived brain.  “She said…who…she said what?”

“Hannah!  I asked her to marry me, and she said yes!  We’re going to get married when I get back from Pine Ridge!”

Roy was genuinely happy for his friend.  “That’s great, Johnny!  But…so soon?”

“Yes…Hannah doesn’t want to wait.  She said she would call Jo in the morning and ask her to be her matron of honor.  They can do all the planning while I’m gone.  We just want a simple ceremony, Roy.  It can be right here at the ranch.  Nothing fancy.”

Roy was still allowing the news to soak in.  It was unbelievable.  In a few weeks, Johnny would be a married man.  “Sure, Johnny.  Whatever you two want.  Congratulations!”

“Thanks.  Oh…and, Roy?  I’d like you to be my best man.”

Roy was temporarily speechless.  “Your…well sure, I’d be honored.  But…I thought…well, Justin is your friend too, and Hannah’s brother…”

“Roy…”  Johnny’s tone grew serious and he stopped whispering.  “Justin’s my friend, and soon he’ll be my brother in law.  But you…well, we’ve been brothers a long time.  Always will be.  Justin and Hannah know that too.  So…what do you say, partner?”

“You got it, Johnny.”

“Thanks, Roy.”

“Oh, and Johnny?  Be careful, okay?”

“Always am.  I’ll call when I get to Salt Lake.  ‘Night!”

“’Night.”  Roy hung up the phone with a smile as he watched Joanne sleeping beside him.  There was nothing that could compare to a strong, supportive woman by your side, someone to come home to after a bad shift…or any shift.  For a long time, he had wished the same for his best friend.  And now, it was happening!  Be safe, Johnny.  Please be safe.  Roy settled down in bed beside his wife and wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to push his fears about Johnny’s trip out of his mind.  After Hannah’s phone call in the morning, there would be no time for worry.  They had a wedding to plan!

zzz

Camarin Raven Sky peered out the dirty window at the small parking lot outside the small diner where she worked.  Her coffee break was almost over, not that it mattered much.  Business had been slow, thanks to the violence and unrest in the neighboring Pine Ridge Reservation where she lived.  Camarin took a slow sip of the bitter brew and closed her eyes.  She was one of the lucky ones.  She had a job, as menial as it was, and an old car that her ex husband had left behind.  It was 20 years old and needed work, but it got her to and from the diner.  The tips she used to rely on, easily earned through charming the tourists, were scarce now.  No one wanted to come here anymore, and who could blame them?  The way things were going, she would be lucky if Jake could even afford to keep her on anymore.  She stood slowly, feeling every one of her 39 years.  At least she didn’t look a day over 25 with her waist length, black hair, her sleek tanned skin, and figure made lean by hard work and minimal food on the table.  That was good for business, Jake always said.  Tourists seemed to enjoy being waited on by a young, pretty, “Indian” girl.

But there were no tourists today.  And Camarin wondered if there ever would be again.  She carried her mug to the kitchen.  “Hey, Jake!  Is it all right if I take off early?”

Jake sat at a small table in the back, smoking a cigarette.  He had owned the Harvest Moon Diner for twenty six years.  While it had never made him rich, it had allowed him to make an honest and comfortable living.  Again, he was one of the lucky ones.  But if business didn’t pick up soon, he would be forced to sell and move on.  He had already laid off most of his waitresses and line cooks.  The problem was, who the hell would he sell to?  “Yeah, sweetheart.  We may as well close up.  Not one customer in the past three hours.”  Jake snuffed out his cigarette and walked to the front door.  He was just about to lock it up when he noticed a pair of boots standing just outside.  Startled at first, he looked up and the face looking back at him through the glass caused him to drop his keys.

“Are you open?”

Jake picked up the keys and stared at the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts.  He looks like…but he can’t be…

“Sir?  Are you all right?  I’ve been on the road a long time, and I’m looking for something to eat.”

Jake stood and opened the door, admitting the tall, dark haired man.  “Uh…I’m sorry…it’s just that…well, we’ve been so slow…”  He gestured toward the empty dining room.  “Have a seat anywhere you like.”  Jake walked to the kitchen to let Camarin know she had a customer, keeping a wary eye on the man who had seated himself in a booth in the corner, next to the window.

Camarin tied her apron around her waist, and pulled her hair back into a pony tail.  “We got a customer?  Who is it?”  These days, the only customers they seemed to have were locals.  Camarin noticed the strange look on Jake’s face and knew this customer was not a familiar person from the reservation.  In fact, it looked as if her boss had seen a ghost.  “Jake?  Who is it?”

“I don’t know.  Said he’s been on the road a while.  Go see what he wants, huh?”  Jake watched Camarin through the pass through window to the kitchen as she walked out to the booth.  His fingers reached underneath the counter, and he pulled off the revolver he had hidden there.

When Camarin approached the table, the customer had his back toward her.  She could only see the shaggy dark hair and the red patterned shirt he was wearing.  His arms were lean and well muscled, and tanned as dark as her own.  She pulled out her pad.  “Good evening.  What’ll it be?” 

When the stranger’s dark eyes met hers and Camarin got a good look at his face, she felt the room start a slow spin around her.  Oh my God…it can’t be…

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, two milks, and a cup of coffee, please.”  The man’s expression turned to one of concern as he noticed the waitress’ skin color lighten two shades in front of him.  “Ma’am?  Are you okay?”  Funny…seems I just asked that question…

Camarin stuttered, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry.  “I…uh…are you…”  She swayed just for a moment and steadied herself on the table.

“Ma’am, why don’t you sit down?  You look like you’re not feeling very well.  Are you sick?”

Camarin sat down on the seat directly across from her customer.  She stared at him in disbelief.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”  The stranger reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.  Something about the compassion in his voice, and the gentleness of his touch told Camarin she had nothing to fear.  But his eyes…there was something about his dark eyes…

“Oh my God!”  Camarin’s exclamation was a whispered gasp.  The man looked about 30.  That would be about right.  Could it be…?

“Ma’am?”

Jake waked out into the dining room, keeping a watchful distance, and ready to use the gun in his belt if he needed to.  Camarin saw him and made eye contact, letting him know it was all right.  She turned back to the thoroughly confused man across from her and spoke quietly.  “Running Wolf…”  It was a statement rather than a question.  His eyes erased any doubt.

Johnny dropped the menu he had been holding and sat up straight, his eyes narrowing as he looked from Camarin to Jake and back again.  Running Wolf had been Johnny’s name on the reservation, but John was the name written on his birth certificate.  It had been his maternal grandfather’s name, and Gage was his mother’s surname.  Johnny didn’t know what to do.  He wasn’t sure who these people were, and he was a little apprehensive about admitting his identity just yet.  But something about Camarin was so familiar.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but somehow he knew she could be trusted.  “Not for a long time.  It’s John…John—

“Gage.”  Three voices chimed in unison.

The room was silent as the name hung in the air, each person remembering a time that was better off forgotten.  A chapter of reservation history that had been long since closed was suddenly reopened and there was no telling just where this would lead.

Johnny swallowed hard and studied Camarin’s face.  She certainly knew him, but he had no recollection of her at all.  Still, there was something familiar…something safe.  “That’s right.  Who are you?  How do you know me?”

Camarin exchanged a glance with Jake before speaking.  “I’m Camarin Raven Sky.  And you look just like your father.”

zzz

Justin Quinn sat in the doctors’ lounge in the emergency department.  He often came here when he was on a break and wanted to think.  It was usually much quieter here than the lounge on the orthopedic floor, and he didn’t like taking breaks in his office.  The stacks of paperwork on his desk never seemed to allow him a moment’s peace.  He took a sip of stale coffee as he thought about his sister’s excited news yesterday morning.  A smile crossed his lips as he pondered the fact that in a few short weeks, Johnny would be his brother in law.

As happy as he was about that, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, and he hated himself for it.  As much as he tried to stop it, his thoughts kept traveling back to Abigail, the fiancée he had lost over twenty years ago.  Jonas, his twin brother, the same man who had almost killed Johnny last year, had killed her too, by deliberately running her car off the road.  A knot still formed in Justin’s throat when he thought of her, and the future they were supposed to have together.   He supposed that experience was the reason he had never allowed himself to become very close to a woman since.  And now, at the age of 44, Justin realized he would probably never know the happiness that Johnny and Hannah had found.

Dixie McCall entered the lounge and noticed Justin sitting alone on the couch.  He looked a million miles away, and didn’t seem to notice her.  As she stepped a little closer, she thought she could make out a hint of sadness in his eyes, and she had a feeling she knew why.  “Hey, handsome.  Penny for your thoughts.”

Justin looked up and smiled.  “You know, you really should stop calling me that.  People are gonna start to talk…”

Dixie smiled and sat down on the couch beside Justin.  “Well if they do, that’s their problem.  Something’s on your mind.  You wanna talk about it?”

Justin stretched his legs out in front of him.  “You always could read me like a book, Dix.”

“Well…that’s because I’m a woman.  If we didn’t have those skills, we would never know what men were thinking, because men never want to discuss their feelings.  Now, spill it.  What’s wrong?”

Justin sighed.  “I was just thinking about John and Hannah.  Dix, I’m excited for them.  I really am.  It’s just…”

Dixie reached over and placed a hand on Justin’s arm.  “You’re wondering if you’re ever going to find the happiness they have.  Believe me, I understand completely.”

Justin felt guilty.  Dixie was a few years older than him and had never been married either.  She certainly understood what he was feeling, but he didn’t mean to rub her nose in it.  “I’m sorry, Dix…”

“About what?  I happen to know I’m going to find that happiness one day, Justin.  And so are you.”  Dixie leaned a little closer to the attractive physical therapist and spoke softly in his ear.  “I thought I found it…once.”

Justin swallowed hard, but he did not back away.  “That was a long time ago, Dix.”

“Yes it was.  And here we are all these years later, and neither one of us has found what we said we were looking for back then.”

Justin didn’t respond.  Dixie had a point.  He raised his head and looked at her, and before he knew what was happening, he was leaning in and accepting the kiss she had been ready to share.  Breaking it off before it turned into something he wasn’t ready to handle, Justin stood up shakily.  “It was a long time ago.  I’m sorry, Dix.  I can’t.  I just…can’t.”

Dixie stood and rubbed Justin’s arm.  “It’s okay, Justin.  I understand.  But, if you ever change your mind…”

Justin stared at the floor as Dixie approached the door.  “Right, Dix.  I know where you are.”  He waited until he heard the door close, then plopped heavily down onto the couch again, resting his head in his hands.

zzz

Joanne looked over her list.  “Okay, so Roy and Justin…Dixie and me…the fire department chaplain is available that day…are your parents flying out?  Will your dad give you away?”

Hannah sat across from Joanne at the Desoto kitchen table.  Her eyes saddened at the mention of her parents.  “I was really hoping they would make it.  They haven’t even met John.  But, Dad’s health isn’t the best, and he’s not really up to making the trip.  Mom won’t come without him, so…”

“I’m sorry.”  Joanne remembered how proud her father had been the day he offered her hand to Roy.  Her mother had been a different story. 

Hannah sighed resignedly.  “It’s okay.  No sense fretting about it.  John and I just want to be married.  That’s the important thing.  We plan to fly to Pennsylvania sometime this summer to visit them.”

Joanne smiled.  “That will be nice.”  Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and then sparkled with an idea.  “Hannah, this is just a thought, and of course you can say no, but I was thinking.  Johnny has always looked up to Hank Stanley.  He’s been sort of like a father figure to him in a way…”

Hannah read Joanne’s mind.  “Jo, that’s an excellent idea.  Do you think Hank would walk me down the aisle?”

“I know he would!”

Hannah took a sip of her tea.  “Well, then that’s settled.  How about flowers…and food…and cake?”

“Whoa!  One thing at a time!  I already talked to Marco about the food.  He and his mother will take care of that.  You’ll just need to let them know what you want.  There’s a florist on Sepulveda who will get you the daisies and freesia you wanted, and as for the cake…well what are you thinking there?  Do you want a traditional wedding cake?”

Hannah leaned back in her chair, pondering Joanne’s question.  “Well, this is my second wedding.  And John said he doesn’t care what we plan, but still…he hasn’t been married before.  I think he deserves a real wedding cake, don’t you?”

Joanne giggled.  “Of course!  And the way Johnny loves sweets, I think it should be the biggest, tastiest one we can find!”

“And chocolate!”

“Yes!”

The animated discussion died down, and Joanne noticed a far away look in Hannah’s eyes.  “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Hannah sighed.  “Yeah…he hasn’t called yet today.  He thought he would make it to Pine Ridge by now.  I wonder how he’s doing.”

Joanne looked at her watch and noticed it would be nearly six o’clock in South Dakota.  “Well, knowing Johnny, he’s probably stopped off for a couple of burgers, or maybe he’s looking for a place to stay.”

Hannah turned her pen over and over in her hand.  “Yeah, maybe.”  She focused on the pen for a few moments in silence, before setting it down in front of her.  “Jo…I can’t help but be worried about him.  I’m trying not to be…”

Joanne reached across the table and took Hannah’s hands in her own.  “Hannah…you’re about to marry a fireman.  This is something you may as well get used to.  Believe me, the worrying never stops.  I still worry about Roy every time he leaves for work, and I pray that he’ll make it home to us at the end of every shift.  You know, Johnny made a promise to me one time…that he would always do his best to see to it that Roy made it home to his family.  I like to think that Roy will return the favor.”

Hannah nodded, trying to will back the tears that threatened to spill.  “Yeah, I think you’re right.  But…Roy’s not with John now.”

“No…he’s not.  But Johnny’s smart, and he knows the area.  He’ll take care of what he needs to take care of, and then he’ll be home.  And then…”  Jo stood up, picking up the floral headpiece she helped Hannah pick out earlier and crossed to stand behind her chair.  “You’ll be walking down that aisle…”  Jo continued to speak as she positioned the piece on Hannah’s head.  “And Johnny will be standing there waiting for you…looking so handsome in his dress uniform…with that huge grin on his face…

“Yeah, I love that grin.”  Hannah smiled and closed her eyes, hoping she would be seeing Johnny’s smiling face really soon.

zzz

Johnny stood to leave, suddenly having no appetite.  He was stopped by a gentle touch to his arm.  “Wait, Run—John.  Where are you going?”

Johnny pulled his arm away from Camarin’s grasp.  His eyes studied her face, his memory fighting for some recollection of who she was.  A chill coursed up and down his spine and he began to wonder if coming here was such a good idea.  But still, there was something familiar—“I….uh…I need to get going.”

Camarin refused to give up.  Images of a long forgotten time played back in her mind.  She had long ago accepted the fact that she would never see Running Wolf again.  And now here he was, standing in front of her.  She tried to ignore the fact that he was a dead ringer for Red Elk, and instead chose to focus on the memory of a little lost boy, his eyes haunted by fear and sadness.  Gazing into Johnny’s eyes now, all these years later, she could still find it there.  “But…but you said you were hungry.  At least let me make you something to eat before you go.”  Camarin tried another tactic as Johnny turned to leave.  “On the house.”

Jake spoke up now.  “Camarin!  What the hell?  We can’t afford…”

Johnny raised a hand to halt the man’s words.  “It’s okay.  I’ll pay.”  He looked back to see relief grace Camarin’s features.

“So…you’ll stay and eat?”

Johnny settled back into the booth and folded open the greasy menu.  “On one condition.”

Camarin pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  “What?”

Johnny looked at Jake and then Camarin, wanting to make sure his next words were clear to both of them.  “That you never compare me to my papa again.  I’m nothing like him, got it?”

Camarin felt her heart squeezing inside her chest at the look of pain and hatred in Johnny’s dark eyes.  It was the same look she had seen in the mirror far too many times.  “You’re right, John.  You’re not.  You never were.”

Johnny looked up at Camarin suspiciously.  “How did you know my papa?  How do you know me?”

Camarin opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, so she changed the subject.  “What do you want to eat?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Camarin glanced nervously at Jake before answering.  “Look, how about some chili?  Jake makes the best you’ve ever eaten.”

Johnny tucked the menu behind the napkin dispenser on the table.  “Fine.  With two milks and a cup of coffee.”

Camarin called over to Jake, who was still fingering the gun.  “Chili, Jake.”  Camarin watched as Jake hesitated, as if he didn’t want to leave her alone with Johnny.  Finally, he headed for the kitchen.  Camarin walked to the area behind the counter to retrieve the coffeepot and pour two glasses of milk. 

After Johnny had been served, he called over his shoulder, a mouthful of saltines muffling his words.  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Camarin started for the table, but was quickly sidetracked by her boss.  “Camarin!  Come back here a minute!”  She walked to the kitchen to see what he wanted.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean, Jake?”

Jake waved in Johnny’s direction, his voice a fierce whisper.  “I mean…him!  You’re not going to go getting friendly with him, are you?”

Camarin was a strong woman.  Life and circumstances had made her that way, and she did not appreciate being told who she could be friendly with and who she couldn’t.  “Why not, Jake?”

“He’s a stranger, Cam!  With everything that’s been happening around here…well, you can’t just go trusting anyone and everyone who walks in here.  How do you even know he is who he says he is?”

Camarin waved her arm in the direction of Johnny’s booth.  “Jake, look at him!  He looks exactly like Red Elk!  I mean, sure his hair is shorter, but…”

Jake had owned the Harvest Moon for decades, and had always lived peaceably among the red men and women of the reservation.  But, he sometimes had trouble telling one from another.  “I admit, he looks like him, sure…but Camarin, be careful.  What if…”

Camarin’s tone was certain, and her eyes brimmed with tears.  She had let Running Wolf down once a long time ago.  She would be damned if she would let that happen again.  “I know, Jake.  I can see it in his eyes…believe me.  I know.”

Jake nodded knowingly.  Who was he to doubt Camarin’s certainty?  After all, she had been close to Running Wolf, and his mother, Elizabeth.  She should know.  He sighed without speaking and began cleaning the grill.

Camarin stood across the room and watched Johnny eat.  What are you doing back here after all these years?  Why would you come back to this godforsaken place?  Well, why not, Camarin?  You did.  She slowly sauntered over to the booth and stood there until Johnny looked up at her.  “You want anything else?”

Johnny wiped his mouth and grabbed another napkin.  “Just the name of a motel or someplace I can stay for a while.”

Camarin’s eyebrows furrowed.  “Well, there are no motels around here.  Shane Ten Bears used to rent rooms out, but he doesn’t do that anymore, with all the…well, with everything that’s happened.”

Johnny nodded, understanding why the locals would be hesitant now to open their homes to strangers, especially white ones.

Camarin continued thinking.  “The closest motel would probably be across the border, down in Nebraska.  I don’t even know how many of them are still doing business these days.”

Johnny handed Camarin a five dollar bill and stood to leave.  “Ok.  Well, thanks anyway.”

Camarin looked down at the bill in her hands.  “Let me get you your change.”

“Keep it.”

Camarin walked toward the cash register.  “Your meal was only $2.00.”

Johnny started to tell Camarin again to keep the change, but he stopped himself, realizing that she might be insulted.  He remembered the scorn his mother had felt toward the white tourists who paid more for the jewelry she made after seeing the poor, little Indian boy sitting beside her. As young as he was, it hadn’t bothered Johnny much, and he would often find himself arguing with his mama about taking the money they so desperately needed.  Johnny took a deep breath, surprised at the long hidden memory, and wondered how many other memories were lurking around the dark, forgotten corners and dirty streets of Pine Ridge.  “Okay, fine.”

Johnny paid his bill and handed Camarin a fifty cent tip which she pocketed.  His back was toward her and he was almost to the door, when her voice stopped him.

“John?”  Camarin watched the retreating figure of the boy she had loved so many years ago.  Could it really be him?  And if so, she wasn’t about to just let him walk out of here.  No way.  They had way too much catching up to do.  “John, wait!”

Johnny turned to see Camarin approaching him.  He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could make out the blur of unshed tears resting precariously behind her eyes.  There was something so familiar about her...He waited for her to speak again.

Camarin let out a deep breath, fully aware of the potential danger her next words held, danger not only for her and her people, but danger for John.  There were some on the reservation who would not trust him, who would not welcome him with open arms, and worse yet, there were some who would hate him simply because he was half white.  And what had happened to him in the past several years?  Time had a way of changing people.  Where had he been?  Why was he here?  What if he was working for the FBI…or worse?  And why didn’t he remember her?  Camarin pushed all thoughts aside except for the ones that included a frightened, little boy…a boy who she had promised she would protect forever, a boy who grew up knowing that promise was never kept.  “I have a place on the rez…I have an extra bed.  It’s not fancy, but…”

Johnny shook his head.  “No, I couldn’t impose…”

“You wouldn’t be.  I spend almost all of my time here at the diner, to make enough money to buy food and gas.  There are a lot of repairs that need done.  Maybe you could help out with some of that…in return for a place to stay.  You’d be doing me a big favor, really.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed as he carefully watched Camarin’s eyes for any hint of deception.  Could he really trust her?  He wanted to, but what did it really matter?  He needed a place to stay.  Besides, there was still that comfortable familiarity about her he couldn’t quite put into words.  “Ok, good deal.  Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  We’re closing up now.  We can leave in a few minutes.  Help yourself to another cup of coffee.”

Johnny looked around the small diner.  “Camarin?  Is there a phone at your place?”

Camarin’s voice could be heard in the kitchen, in a hushed argument with Jake, who no doubt wasn’t crazy about her idea to allow Johnny to stay with her.  “No phones on the rez.  There’s a payphone across the street at the old Arco station.  It’s closed, but the phone should still work.  Just be careful if you’re gonna walk over there.  Not everyone around here is as friendly as Jake and me.  In fact, I would take your car if I were you.”

“Ok, thanks.”  Johnny walked to his Rover, looking forward to the sound of Hannah’s voice.

zzz

“I was beginning to get worried.”

Johnny turned around in the small phone booth, wanting to keep a close eye on his surroundings.  “I know.  I’m sorry, Han.  I stopped at a diner just outside of the rez and had something to eat.  I talked to the waitress.  She…uh…she has rooms available, so that’s where I’ll be staying.  Oh, and I’m on a payphone.  That’s why I called collect.  This is probably the closest phone to where I’ll be staying.  Here’s the number for the diner.  If you need to reach me, call there and ask for Jake or Camarin.”  Johnny waited for Hannah to get a piece of paper and a pen.  “Okay, ready?  393-555-3239.”

“Ok, when will you call me again?”  Hannah didn’t like the idea of not being able to reach Johnny whenever she wanted.

“Tomorrow.  I’ll call you tomorrow sometime, okay?”

Hannah sighed as she leaned her head against the wall of the Desotos’ kitchen.  “Okay.  I miss you already.”

“I miss you too.  But, I’ll be home soon.  You and Jo have a wedding to plan, so concentrate on that.”  Johnny hoped he sounded more collected than he felt.  The truth was, he wanted nothing more than to be lying in his own bed, with Hannah by his side.  His eyes wandered the perimeter of the parking lot, and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention when he spotted two young Lakota males, somewhere in their teens.  They were standing over near the abandoned gas pumps.  “Uh…Hannah?  I need to go.  I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“So soon?”

Johnny swallowed hard.  The boys seemed to be watching him.  He tried to convince himself they were only curious.  “Yeah, I know.  I’m sorry.  Look, I really have to go.  Love you.”

Hannah shivered at the sound of Johnny’s voice.  She hoped she was imagining things, but she couldn’t help but think she detected a sort of nervous trepidation.  “Love you too.  See you soon?”

“Yep, soon.”  Johnny hung up the phone and stood watching the youths.  He tried to believe that if they wanted trouble that they would have come looking for it by now, but it wasn’t working.  He slowly pushed off of his heel and moved quickly toward the Rover which he now wished he had parked right beside the phone, instead of in a parking space twenty yards away.  As Johnny approached the vehicle, the boys moved closer.

“Hey, mister.  That’s a real nice looking truck you got there.”

Something in the boy’s voice told Johnny that he wasn’t simply complimenting his ride.  He gripped his keys, and moved closer to the driver’s side.  He was stopped when the second boy slapped the door and looked at him menacingly.  “Well…looky what we got here, Chaz.  Looks like a ‘haspa’ to me.”

Johnny recognized the derogatory term, Lakota for “apple.”  It was used on the reservation to describe someone who was red on the outside, but white on the inside.  “Look, fellas.  I don’t want any trouble.”

Chaz stepped behind his friend, his hands raised.  “No one ever wants any trouble, but…somehow trouble seems to find a lot of people these days.”

Johnny sized up the situation.  He tried to determine if he could fight off the two boys if he needed to.  He remembered the pocketknife on his belt as he wondered what type of weapons they might be carrying.  And what if more boys were waiting, somewhere out of sight?    He sighed and raised his hands in a gesture of peace.  “Look, is it money you want?”

Chaz looked at his friend and smirked before looking back at Johnny.  “Oh, we’ll take your money, haspa.  And your car too.”

While Johnny was busy trying to figure a way out of this mess, he was startled to hear a gunshot followed by a female voice.  “Leave him alone, Chaz!  You too, Tag!”  He looked incredulously over at Camarin, who was walking toward them, holding a shotgun.  His stomach flipped while his mind swam.  They were on a main road, and here was Camarin, firing a shotgun.  “Just back off!  He’s a friend of mine!”

Tag and Chaz backed away, feigning innocence.  “Hey, calm down, Miss Raven.  We were just…welcoming your ‘friend’ to the rez.”  Chaz spoke and then turned and spit in Johnny’s face.  He walked past Camarin, scowling.  “Whatcha thinkin’?  You’s friends with a lousy haspa?”

Camarin’s voice was unwavering.  “You know I don’t like that term, Chaz.  Now, go home.”

Tag turned to Johnny, who was wiping his face on his sleeve.  The young man didn’t speak, but his eyes seeped with cold hatred.  The threat was not lost on Johnny, who realized this would likely not be the last time he encountered these two boys, and that the next time, they would probably bring some friends.

Camarin stood her ground until Chaz and Tag were far down the road.  Finally, she spoke.  “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Johnny’s heartbeat was slowly returning to a normal rate.  “I thought I was being careful.”

“Do you have a gun?”

Johnny couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “I don’t believe in guns.”

Camarin tossed him the sawed off shotgun she had been holding.  “Well, you’d better start.  I have a revolver at home you can borrow.  Keep it with you at all times.  People around here don’t need much of a reason to start something.”

Johnny sighed incredulously as he got into his car.  “I’m beginning to see that…”  He started the engine and watched as Camarin walked back across the road and slid behind the wheel of an old, rusty Thunderbird.  He waited for her to pull onto the two lane road that would lead them onto the reservation, and then he took his place behind her, closely following.  A few miles down the road, a weathered, wooden sign welcomed him to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.  A metal road sign next to it was riddled with bullet holes.  As the asphalt turned to dirt beneath his wheels, the scenery hit him in the throat.  Dilapidated trailers dotted the landscape, some with dim yellow lights burning in the windows, most without any light at all.  Johnny wondered if those houses were uninhabited or if they simply lacked lights.  The air was quiet and no one walked the streets.  Anger mixed with betrayal and formed a lump in Johnny’s throat.  So, this is what had become of his people?  Had the country learned nothing from its past?  He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the taillights on Camarin’s car, turning into a single story structure he assumed was where he would be staying.  The front door hung on one hinge, and a dim light shone thru one of the broken windows.  Throwing the Rover into park, he got out and looked around.

Camarin pushed open the door and ushered Johnny inside.  He couldn’t see much in the dark and when Camarin didn’t flick on any lights, he realized there were none.  She invited him to follow her into a sparsely furnished room where he was surprised to find two girls reading by the light of an oil lamp.  One looked to be about 10, the other was much younger, probably no more than 5.

“Kaya, Rose…this is John.  He’s a friend of mine, and he’s going to be staying here a while.”  As Camarin took in their frightened faces, she prayed she had made the right decision.  What if John couldn’t be trusted?  What if she was putting the girls in danger?  She had to believe he was the same kind-hearted, compassionate boy she had known years ago.

Johnny smiled at the girls, sensing their fear.  He turned to Camarin with a questioning look.

Camarin ushered Johnny out into the entryway.  “Orphans.  Rose’s parents were killed in the crossfire between AIM militants and the goons—FBI.  Kaya’s mama died from TB a year after she was born, and her papa drank himself to death.”

Johnny swallowed the aching in his throat.  He knew what he had gone through as a child on the reservation was not atypical, but being reminded of the fact that not only had conditions for his people not improved over the past several decades, but had actually gotten worse, caused his temper to bubble just beneath the surface.  “How old are they?”

“Kaya is 12 and Rose is 8.  They stay with me now.”  Camarin’s eyes told Johnny that she would not hesitate to end his life without question if he was deceiving her and harmed the smallest hair on either of the girls’ heads.

Johnny was momentarily speechless.  Did she say the little one was eight years old?  She looked so small.  Johnny’s mind catalogued all the reasons why…poor prenatal care, malnutrition, disease.  It hardly seemed fair that he worked as part of one of the most advanced and sophisticated medical systems in the country, while his people were dying purely from lack of the basic necessities.  “They’re beautiful girls.”

Camarin tossed her head toward a door at the end of the hall.  “You can stay in there.  We have no running water here, but there are some bottles of water under the table in the kitchen.  The ones that have been boiled for drinking are labeled.  The outhouse is out back.  There’s an oil lamp and some matches on the table by the bed.  I’ll be up at six to make breakfast for the girls.  You’re welcome to eat with us.”

Johnny pulled out his wallet.  “Camarin, I’m going to give you some money for groceries…”

“No!”  Camarin stopped and rubbed at her eyes.  “No, that’s not necessary.  We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to what we have.  We can talk about the repairs that need done in the morning.”

Johnny pocketed his wallet and shouldered his duffle bag.  He looked at Camarin, trying to get a read on her expression in the dark.  “Don’t you even want to know what I’m doing here?”

Camarin’s thoughts traveled back to her life before she left the reservation and later returned.  She thought of Elizabeth Gage and her young son, of Red Elk and the tragedy that occurred so many years ago.  Nausea threatened as she pondered the senselessness of it all, but it was absorbed by the strangely common familiarity of a situation that happened all too often here.  Camarin had a feeling she knew why Johnny had returned.  He was searching…searching for closure.  His childhood…his parents.  He likely had questions that she could help him find answers for, some that she could supply herself.  “I know why you’re here, Running Wolf.”  With that, she returned to Rose and Kaya, leaving Johnny standing alone in the dark, wondering again who Camarin was and how she could possibly know why he had come here.

zzz

Hannah replaced the receiver and stood with her back to the kitchen table.

Joanne stood and walked toward her friend, concerned.  “Hannah, what’s wrong?  Is Johnny okay?”

Hannah turned but avoided eye contact.  “I don’t know, Jo.  He seemed okay, but…there was something about his voice, like he was trying not to tell me something.”

A delighted squeal from the direction of the living room told the women that Justin had arrived.  A few seconds later, he entered the kitchen, toting young Jennifer Desoto in his arms.  Jennifer was the first to speak.  “Was that Uncle Johnny on the phone?”

Joanne made eye contact with Justin, and took her daughter from his arms.  “Yes, honey.  It was.  How about I tell you all about it while you get your bath and get ready for bed?”

“But, mommyyyy…I’m not tired!  I wanna play with Hannah and Justin!”

Justin was prepared for the protest and planted a kiss on Jennifer’s forehead.  “Tell ya what, princess.  I’m off tomorrow.  How about you ask your Mommy if she’ll bring you and Chris out to your Uncle Johnny’s place and we’ll do some riding.  Would you like that?”  He looked to Joanne for approval.

Joanne cast Justin an exasperated, yet thankful look.  “Well now, how can I say no to that?”

Justin shrugged and smiled at Jennifer, giving her nose a friendly tweak as he had seen Johnny do on numerous occasions.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Yay!”  Jennifer’s conversation about where she would have Justin take her on their ride tomorrow and what picnic foods she would pack could be heard as she and her mother retreated farther from the kitchen.

Justin turned to his sister, the worried expression that she had hidden from Jennifer again lining her face.  “What did John have to say?  Something happen?”

Hannah walked past her brother and took a seat at the table.  “That’s just it, Justin.  He didn’t say much.  And I could tell he was hiding something.”

Justin’s brow knitted.  “Well, where was he calling from?  Did he make it to Pine Ridge?”

“He called collect from a payphone near a diner just outside the reservation.  He said it was the closest phone, and that we should call the diner if we needed to reach him.  He’s going to be staying in a room that one of the waitresses lets out.”

Justin took a seat near his sister.  “Hmmm.  Well maybe he kept it short because it was a collect call.”

Hannah played with her engagement ring, turning it slowly around her finger.  “I wish I could believe that, Justin.  He sounded like…well, like he was worried about something.”

Justin placed a hand over hers, stopping her nervous fidgeting for the moment.  “Hannah, I’m sure just being where he is…seeing familiar things…it’s probably bringing back some painful memories for him.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.  I just wish these next two weeks were over.”

Justin smiled.  “What?  And miss all the anticipation that goes with planning your wedding?”  He picked up the notebook that was sitting in the middle of the table.  “So, what color monkey suit are you making me wear just so my only little sister can marry my best friend?”

Hannah forced a smile.  Her brother always knew how to make her feel better.  “You can wear whatever color you want.”

“Oh, so I can wear my purple polka dotted leisure suit then?  With my orange flowered tie?”

“Okay, now that might be pushing it just a little…”

Justin snapped his fingers.  “Oh, that’s right!  I lent that one to Kelly Brackett anyway.”

“Then he’ll probably be wearing it!”  Hannah shared a hearty laugh with Justin.  The handsome doctor’s unfortunate lack of a fashion sense was no secret to anyone who knew him.

After the laughter died down, Justin again turned serious.  “John will be fine, Hannah.  He knows how to take care of himself.”

“Like he did with Jonas?”

Justin’s throat tightened at the memory of finding Johnny on the floor of the barn that night.  “That was different.  No one expects to be assaulted on their own property.  John will be keeping his eyes open for trouble, he’ll be prepared.”  Justin wanted to add that Johnny would blend in, due to his having inherited his father’s Lakota genes, but he knew that the locals would still spot an outsider a mile away.  And he figured Johnny would be considered “white” simply because he had some money and possessions.  The fact that he looked like an Indian wouldn’t be good enough.  Keep your eyes open, John.  Stay safe.

Hannah sighed, her stomach twisting into knots.  “I hope so…”

zzz

Camarin sat on an old lawn chair on the small slab of cracked concrete that served as her back patio, drinking a can of coke.  It was just after two a.m., and the air was quiet and still.  Squinting her eyes in the moonlight, she could just make out Chaske Silver Feather returning home with his usual stagger.  Her eyes drifted toward the west and the abandoned single room structure that neighbored Chaske’s trailer.  As far as Camarin knew, no one had lived there since that horrible day over twenty years ago.  Her brow creased in sorrow.  She knew now why Running Wolf didn’t remember her.  He didn’t seem to remember much of anything after that day.  A pang of guilt stabbed through her as she thought of the lies…the lies he had been told to “protect him.”  She supposed that much was true.  But even though Camarin was only a young girl at the time, she knew the lies were not merely for his protection.  A shudder brought her back to the present. 

Camarin’s mind grappled with the unbelievable idea that Running Wolf was here.  She didn’t see much of him after he had gone to live with his grandfather, Sukawaka Luta, or Red Horse.  She knew that was because the man was trying to give his grandson a better life off the reservation, was teaching him about ranching and the ways of his ancestors.  But, Camarin had often wondered why Suka wasn’t part of the boy’s life until after that horrid day. 

Camarin had fallen in love with a white dairy farmer named Tate a few years later and had moved to Nebraska, returning to Pine Ridge when Tate abandoned her and left her with nothing but the clothes on her back and a car.  She had been 24 then, and her mama informed her that Red Horse had died in a house fire, and that Running Wolf was gone.  No one seemed to know where he went.  “And now here you are, Running Wolf.  And you look like you’ve made a good life for yourself…”

Camarin carried her empty can inside and sat it on the kitchen table.  She padded softly down the hall and knocked lightly on the door to Johnny’s room, hoping he would be awake.  She wanted to talk to him, and she knew there would be little time in the morning.  When there was no answer, she cracked the door slightly.  The sound of quiet, even breathing told her Johnny was asleep.  She stood a moment in the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust to the small amount of moonlight that crept across the figure on the bed.  Johnny was on his back, his left arm resting over his eyes.  Camarin’s hand came to her mouth as she was instantly transported back in time.  She remembered the nights when Elizabeth would come over crying, begging Camarin to sit with her son, because she was either hurt too badly to do so, or simply concerned that her appearance would frighten him.  She remembered sitting next to Running Wolf’s bed, while he would cry himself to sleep with a skinny arm over his battered face, as if he could somehow block out all the darkness in his life.  She remembered singing him lullabies long after he was sleeping, because it was the only thing that helped her deal with the hatred and disgust that burned paths across her own soul. 

Camarin had no idea how long she had stood there watching Johnny sleep before she finally turned and walked toward the girls’ room.  Rose and Kaya were asleep as well, on the well worn mattress that they shared.  Camarin settled down on the floor beside them, and curled her arms around herself.  She didn’t sleep well that night.

zzz

Johnny saw the soiled sheet hanging between his mattress and the rest of the house ruffle slightly.  His breath caught in his throat, thinking papa had come back.  His stomach unknotted when he recognized the young girl who lived a few houses away.  He accepted the piece of licorice candy she brought him and savored the taste of it, the strong, sweet flavor overpowering the stale taste of blood.  “Mama?”  The one word question was enough.

Camarin helped Johnny lie down and gently smoothed his long, tangled hair.  “She’s all right.  She went for a walk.  She asked me to come over for a while…”

Johnny closed his eyes as the last of the candy melted in his mouth and ran down his throat which still ached from crying.  He tried to drape his arm over his face, but tonight it hurt too much.  The honeyed scent of sweet grass and sage wafted into his nostrils, and instantly calmed him.  He drifted off as the clear strains of Camarin’s lullaby soothed him to sleep…cante washte hoksida ake istimba, hanhepi kin washte…

Johnny awoke peacefully, and in that disoriented moment between sleep and consciousness, he took a deep breath, searching for the intoxicating prairie scents that had calmed him.  Camarin wasn’t singing anymore, so either she fell asleep or she went home….Camarin? 

Johnny sat straight up as recognition returned and he realized where he was.  He ran a shaking hand through his damp hair and worked to slow his breathing, his heart pounding behind his breastbone.  The first light of morning peeked through the tattered fabric that served as a curtain over the small window.  He tried to organize the jumbled memories that assaulted his brain by clamping both hands to his temples and squeezing his eyes closed.  He remembered a young Lakota girl who used to spend time with him, singing him songs, and telling him stories.  She would bring him little presents and they would go for walks together, making up games with whatever they could find.  Camarin…oh my god…could it be?  No…no…she’s too young…but…maybe…

Johnny threw back the covers and stood up, stretching the muscles and joints which still ached occasionally from the injuries they had sustained.  Still dressed in his jeans from the day before, he grabbed the first shirt he could find out of his suitcase and put it on, not bothering with the buttons for now.  He cracked open the door to the hallway and listened.  The house was quiet.  A quick glance at his watch told him it was just after five a.m.  He pushed open the back door and stepped out onto the concrete slab, intending to walk to the outhouse to relieve himself, when something caught his eye.  A hawk spun in lazy circles above him before swooping downward and out of sight, causing Johnny to notice the old, one room dwelling about a hundred yards away.  Inexplicably drawn to it, he began to walk, his brow knitted in concentration.

As soon as his hand touched the weathered railing outside what used to be the front door of the small building, his head exploded into a storm of rapidly moving images.  His papa’s face, red with rage and drunkenness, his mama smiling as she sat on the stoop, threading beads onto a thin piece of hide.  Johnny could feel his breathing quicken as his eyes darted around the property.  There was the tree he fell out of when he was six years old, mama’s garden in the corner, overgrown now with dead weeds. Chaske’s house was to the left…and if I look over there…Johnny sat down on the cold ground outside his childhood “home” and looked back at the house he had just come from.  Mama’s best friend had lived there.  She used to go over there when papa was at work, or out drinking.  She had a daughter who had been like an older sister to me…a daughter named Camarin.  While Johnny was busy pondering the chances that the first person he encountered on this trip was someone who had been such an important, albeit largely forgotten part of his past, he didn’t notice the two young men walking toward him as he leaned back against the board covering what once was his front door.  He closed his eyes and shivered, wishing he had taken the time to throw on his jacket.

“Whatcha doin’ here, haspa?” 

Chaz’s words caused Johnny’s eyes to snap open.  He swallowed hard as his hand traveled to his hip in search of his pocketknife, not that he thought he had what it took to use it anyway.  He breathed a heavy sigh at the realization that he had left it on the small table by his bed.  He looked up at the two young men, his expression asking them whether they really wanted to cause trouble so early in the morning.  “Look, my being here doesn’t affect you, so how about we just leave it at that, okay?”

Tag sidled up beside his friend, his posture taking on a threatening stance.  “And how do we know that?  You ain’t foolin’ no one, ya know.  I can smell a wasicu a mile away.”

“Half wasicu,” Johnny corrected.

Tag appeared to be slightly taken aback at Johnny’s knowledge of the Lakota language.  “Oh, so now you think you can talk like you’s one of us?  You don’t know nothin’ haspa.” 

Johnny rose to his feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable looking up at these two.  “I know plenty.  Now, I would appreciate it if you would just go about your business and let me go about mine.”

Chaz stepped around until he was standing behind Johnny’s back.  “I got a better idea.  How ‘bout you go back to wherever it is you came from, and then we’ll leave you alone?”

Johnny sighed.  “This is where I come from.”

Tag let out a laugh and Johnny could smell the bitterness emanating from his rotting teeth.  “Oh, now that’s funny.  You come in here with your wasicu clothes and your wasicu car…and you say you come from where we come from…you don’t know nothin’ about where we come from.”

Johnny interrupted, a tinge of anger to his voice now.  “I grew up here.  This…” He turned and gestured at the structure behind him.  “This was my house.”

Chaz looked over Johnny’s shoulder at his friend.  “You know what I think…I think he’s working for the goons…”

Johnny closed his eyes.  “I’m not working for anyone.  I’m…”  Johnny was just about to say he was looking for some answers, but decided that based on the assumptions being made here, that could be easily misconstrued.  “Look, I have a right to be here.”

Tag knelt down and began tracing his fingers in the dirt.  “Oh, you have a right?”  He looked at Chaz and smiled.  “Haspa says he’s got rights….I’d say you gave up any rights you mighta had whenever you decided you were too good to be here.  Now, you come back, and you think you got rights?” 

Johnny knew in the briefest instant of time that it was too late to do anything now but defend himself.  He knew it the second he saw Tag look up and make eye contact with his friend.  Amazingly in that tiny fraction of time, Johnny could only feel compassion for these boys who he knew were only acting out of learned fear and distrust.  He didn’t want to hurt them, but resigned himself that he was in for a fight.  He had come to this conclusion a split second before his eyes closed involuntarily from the handful of dirt Tag threw in his face, quickly followed by a shrill whistle Johnny knew could only mean more young men had been summoned into this fray.  As soon as that unwelcome thought entered his mind, he felt the air leave his lungs as he was tackled to the ground.

Johnny had just enough time to get to his feet before he was thrown to the ground again, only this time, the ground felt hard and cool underneath his cheekbone.  He opened his eyes, and when his diaphragm stopped spasming enough that he was able to draw in a gasping breath, he smelled something familiar…something that took him back, but he couldn’t quite place it.  It was overpowered by the damp, dusky scent of a place that had been closed up for some time.  It was then that he noticed the chipped and peeling linoleum, the pattern he would never have remembered had he been asked five minutes prior, but now came back to him as if he had never left this place. And it brought with it a hundred other forgotten memories.  As Johnny felt his body being riddled with kicks and punches, his brain became detached, and he found he could no longer feel any pain.  Suddenly he was a little boy again, his hands clawing at the exposed floor boards while his papa struck him over and over again.  He knew better than to try and fight back, because it would only make things harder on him later on.  And above all he knew better than to speak or cry, having learned the hard way that he was expected to take his punishment like a man.

Chaz took a break long enough to realize their target wasn’t putting up a fight.  Somehow, that made things less challenging, and therefore less fun.  He spit on the man curled on the floor with his hands protectively covering his head.  Chaz sneered toward his comrades.  “Haspa’s not even fightin’ back.  That wasicu blood’s makin’ him soft…”  He looked over at Tag, who had also stopped fighting, with a questioning look. 

The young man’s expression seemed to have changed from one of hatred to one of understanding as he backed away from the proceedings.  “Hey, let’s just get outta here.”  Tag began pulling his friends off of the downed man.

Chaz looked at his friend, confused.  “Man, what are you doin’?”

“C’mon, Chaz.  He ain’t workin’ for the goons, or he’d have a gun or somethin’ or they’d a been watchin’ us and come in here shootin’ up a storm by now.  Look, he ain’t even fightin’.  Let’s just leave ‘im and get outta here.”  Tag looked down at Johnny’s protective posture, noted the way he didn’t even cry out when painful kicks connected with his ribcage.  It was a position the young man knew very well.

Chaz wasn’t sure he was finished with Johnny, but his growling stomach told him he was hungry.  There would be time to finish this later on.  He planted one more well aimed kick.  “Welcome to the rez, haspa!  Consider this a warning.  You quit pokin’ your nose around here, or next time…we won’t be so friendly.”  A quick jerk of his head and a whistle, and the rest of the boys followed him outside.

Tag remained for a moment and stood staring at the figure on the floor.  Finally he pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and knelt beside him, offering him a way to staunch the blood flowing from his nose.  “You…uh…you really used to live here, man?”

Johnny didn’t answer, but accepted the bandana, pressing it to his nostrils with a wince.

Tag laid a hand on the injured man’s shoulder.  “Hey sorry, man.  I didn’t know…”  He stood to leave, turning back to look at Johnny one more time.  “I didn’t know…”  With that Tag hung his head, and slumped out the door, knowing Chaz would be asking him questions he didn’t feel like answering.

Johnny lay on the cool floor for a moment, not moving.  His eyes were open and he stared straight ahead at a spider skittering its way across the floor.  Finally he rolled over onto his back and the pain that he couldn’t feel before abruptly made itself known.  As he tried to figure out how he was going to get up and get back to Camarin’s place, his eyes tracked the ceiling until suddenly it seemed as though all the air had been sucked from the room.  His throat tightened when he saw it…an old sheet, made yellow by the years, hung in tatters from the ceiling.  His eyes traveled downward until he found the pictures he knew would be there, simple stick figures painted near the bottom, pictures that spoke of the happier life a small boy had dreamed for.  Finally, tears leaked from Johnny’s eyes as they stayed locked on those figures, never averting, until he drifted into unconsciousness.

zzz

Camarin gave the thick oatmeal a few stirs and then turned the burner down on the old propane camp stove.  The girls were awake and getting dressed in their room, so she knew they would be here shortly to eat.  The door to Johnny’s room was closed when she passed by it on the way to the kitchen so she wiped her hands on a towel, preparing to go see if he was awake.  She was stopped by a knock at the back door.

“Miss Raven?”

Camarin moved to the door and peered through the cloudy window, surprised to see Tag standing outside, rubbing his hands together against the crisp morning weather.  She opened the door, but did not invite him in.  “Tag?”  Camarin’s eyes traveled around the perimeter of her yard, looking for others who may have been accompanying the young man.  “What do you want?”

“Please, Miss Raven.  Let me in.”

The urgency in Tag’s voice compelled Camarin to act.  She opened the door, and allowed him to enter, quickly closing the door behind him.  “So help me, Tag.  If this…”

“Look, I only got a minute before Chaz and the others will come looking for me.  It’s your friend…the guy you was with last night…he needs help.”

Camarin glanced down the hallway at the closed door.  “What do you mean, ‘he needs help?’”

Tag eyed the oatmeal on the burner appreciatively.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a good, hot meal.  “He’s hurt…you better come quick.”

Camarin continued glancing over her shoulder at Tag as she hurried down the hall, ignoring it when she saw him pick up a spoon and heft a hearty portion of oatmeal to his mouth.  She knocked, then opened the door to Johnny’s room, and her heart fell when she found it empty.  Her mind concocted several different scenarios on the walk back to the kitchen.  “How did John get hurt, Tag?”  Camarin had a feeling she already knew the answer.

Tag stammered out his reply.  “We didn’t mean nothin’ Miss Raven.  We thought maybe he was working for the goons or something.’  We was worried that he might do somethin’ to you.”  Tag stared at the floor, embarrassed by the half truths.

“How bad?”  Camarin called out to the girls that breakfast was ready and that she would return as soon as she could.  Then she grabbed her coat.

“I-I-I don’t know...”

Camarin stopped and looked at Tag, her eyes telling him in no uncertain terms to be straight with her.  “How bad, Tag?”

“He was…bleedin’.  Chaz and me and the guys…we worked him over pretty good.”

Camarin shook her head.  On the one hand she understood why Tag hung out with Chaz and the others.  They treated him more like family than his own ever had.  But, she couldn’t understand why someone who knew the pain of being beaten would inflict that suffering and humiliation on someone else.  She motioned for Tag to show her where Johnny was.  “Come on.”

Tag led the way through the dusty patches that served as yards between houses.  “He’s over there.  In that house.”

Camarin stopped and looked at him.  “In that house?”

“Yeah…said he used to live there.”

Camarin swallowed the sadness of not so distant memories.  “He did.”  She called after Tag when he started to make his exit.  “Where are you going?  I’m going to need some help.”

Tag shook his head and avoided looking directly at Camarin.  “But…but Chaz…he’ll be lookin’ for me…”

Camarin said nothing, her eyes communicated all.

Tag sighed and nodded his head, following her into the quiet house where he had left Johnny.

zzz

Camarin approached the still figure on the floor while Tag kept a lookout at the door.  She gently traced the dried tears that had left tracks on Johnny’s cheeks and her heart remembered countless other times when she had wiped away tears from this very face, tears that he had been both ashamed and afraid to shed.  Her hand moved to cup his cheek when Johnny began to stir.  “John?  Can you hear me?”

A faint moan escaped Johnny’s lips when he tried to move his head.  That voice.  It sounded familiar.  Camarin.  “Mmmm….wha?  Camarin?”

“Yes, John.  It’s me.  It’s over now, you’re okay.”  The words were there before Camarin could stop them.  How many times had she used these same words?

Johnny pried his eyes open and tried to blink away the blurry haze.  Camarin looked different somehow.  Her face was different.  And where was the flower she always wore in her hair?  “Is he…he gone?”

Camarin continued to caress Johnny’s cheek, her chest aching that he had been hurt.  Wasn’t what he had gone through as a child enough suffering to last a lifetime?  “Yes…they’re gone.  They won’t hurt you anymore.”

Johnny’s face contorted in confusion.  If papa caught him talking to Camarin, he would get angry again.  “They?”  His eyes roamed the relatively small space.  “Mama…all right?”

It was then that Camarin realized Johnny’s mind was somewhere else.  Well, not really somewhere else.  She knew it was here, in this house, but the grown man in front of her was suddenly a seven year old boy.  “John, listen to me.  It’s 1977.  Your mama’s not here.  Do you remember what happened to you?”

Johnny’s eyes took on a panicked expression as he struggled to process what Camarin was telling him.  When his gaze rested on Tag, standing nervously by the door, a spark of recognition ignited his memory.  “Camarin…I…I gotta get out…get out of here.”  He tried to sit up.

Camarin allowed Johnny to sit, but kept a supportive hand on his back and on his arm.  “Take it easy, John.  Tag’s here to help.”

“Help?”  Johnny closed his eyes and remembered the young man kneeling beside him, and his shamed apology.  “Yeah…okay.”  Johnny’s hand moved to his head, and he moaned again, louder this time.  “Man, they really did a good job.  Guess I musta done something to deserve it.”

Johnny words were meant to be sarcastic.  But, to Camarin they were as heartbreaking as they were years ago, when she used to work hard at convincing an innocent child that no matter how much he may have misbehaved, he still couldn’t have done anything to earn the punishment his papa inflicted upon him.  No, John.  You didn’t deserve it then, and you didn’t deserve it now.  “Do you think you can get up and walk?”

Johnny placed a hand on Camarin’s shoulder for support.  “Yeah…”

Camarin called for Tag and he moved to Johnny’s opposite side.  Carefully, they helped him to his feet.

“Ahhhh, man!”  Johnny allowed his arms to be supported as the waves of pain coursing though his middle and the throbbing in his head swirled and dissipated, leaving nausea in their wake.  “Damn it, not again…”

Camarin chose not to speculate on exactly what Johnny meant by ‘again.’  “Can you walk if we help you?”

Johnny tried to wriggle out of their grasp, but was unsuccessful.  “Yeah…I’m…okay.”

Once Camarin decided Johnny was steady enough to stand on his own, she directed Tag to go get her car.  Then, she slowly helped Johnny outside.  “Well, just to be on the safe side, we’ll get you checked out at the hospital.”

Johnny remembered many visits to the local ‘hospital’ when he was growing up on the reservation, a small, barely adequate clinic provided by Indian Health Services.   He wondered if Camarin was speaking of the same place.  He quickly took stock of his condition.  If he were at home in LA, he would have undoubtedly agreed to a trip to Rampart for some X-rays and possibly some pain medication to get him through the night tonight.  But, although his memories of the IHS hospital were vague, he wondered how much more they would really be able to do for him than he was able to do for himself.  “No…no hospital.  I’m…okay.”

“It’s not a problem to take you, John.  We have one right here in Shannon County.”  Camarin hesitated, wondering what type of health care Johnny was used to now.  “If you’d rather go to a big hospital, we can do that.  But the closest one is in Rapid City, over 100 miles from here…”

Johnny wondered if that was the “big city” hospital he awoke in after his parents were killed.  Camarin seemed determined, and Johnny didn’t really feel like arguing so he gave in.  “No…let’s just go to wherever’s closest.”  He allowed himself to be helped into the passenger seat of Camarin’s car.  Johnny called after Tag as the youth turned to leave.  He took in his appearance and noticed his body appeared to be about 13, although his face looked older than his years, telling Johnny this young man had probably experienced more in his life than most teens face in a lifetime.  He figured the boy was probably 15, and Johnny suspected his home life was similar to his own.  “Hey, man….thanks.”

Tag looked around for any signs of his friends, and finding none, leaned his hands on the frame of the car window.  “No problem, man.”  Tag’s eyes spoke of embarrassment and remorse in a way that words never could.

zzz

Johnny moved slowly through the waiting area at the IHS hospital.  He thought it was the same place he remembered, but he couldn’t be sure.  He eased himself into a hard, wooden chair and imagined his bones creaking in unison with the well worn piece of furniture.  While he waited for the admitting nurse to come over and take his information, he looked around.  The waiting room was nearly full of dark-skinned mothers holding their sick children.  Assessing them from afar, he noticed the feverish expressions and the mysterious rash covering their arms.  Some of the mothers looked as sick as their offspring.  Any concern over whatever affliction was apparently affecting the reservation in alarming numbers was overshadowed by the sickening feeling Johnny felt when he wondered whether this hospital was equipped to handle whatever illness this was, whether they even had the room.  And what would they do with the ones who came after all the beds were filled?  Turn them away?  He was just about to tell Camarin to take him home when a petite nurse appeared with a clipboard in her hand.  After the preliminary questions were asked, the nurse inquired about whether Johnny was employed.

“Yeah.  I’m a…a firefighter/paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department.”

The nurse exchanged a surprised glance with Camarin as she accepted Johnny’s ID.  Camarin’s eyebrows rose, and she made a mental note to talk to Johnny about his life since he left the rez.  For now she centered in on one question.  “You’re a medic?”

“Yeah…”  Johnny prepared to stand up, suddenly feeling like he was wasting this nurse’s time.  Surely these other patients were more in need of her services than a paramedic who was capable of assessing himself.  “Really…I think I’ll be okay.  Let’s just…”  He was pushed back down by two sets of hands.

“Let’s let one of the doctors decide that, okay?”  The nurse jotted down some information on the chart and gave Johnny’s arm a pat.  “Someone will be with you as soon as possible.”

Camarin called after the nurse as she walked away.  “Apani?  How many doctors are there today?”

Apani’s face fell as she sighed and looked around the crowded room.  “Two.”

Johnny couldn’t believe his ears.  Two doctors for all these people?  He wanted to be annoyed that he was in for a long wait, wasting time that could be spent getting the answers he came for, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t get past the atrocity that there were apparently only two doctors available to handle the health needs of everyone in this county.  “Camarin…really.  I’m a paramedic.  I’m telling ya…I just have some minor cuts and bumps, maybe some bruised ribs….nothing serious.  Let’s just go home, okay?”

Camarin ignored the request, figuring they could pass the time waiting by doing a little catching up.  “John, do you know who I am?”

Johnny’s eyes fell to his lap.  “Yeah…you’re the girl…you used to help my mama when I was little.  Your mama and mine were friends.”

Camarin smiled and placed her hands over Johnny’s, lowering her head to make eye contact.  “You remember.”  She waited until Johnny raised his head to look at her before continuing.  “And look at the fine man you’ve grown into.  The years off the rez have been good to you.”

Johnny tried to think of a response, but his mind drew blank.  He finally settled for, “It’s good to see you.  It’s been so long…I’d…I’d forgotten…”  His face flushed and he looked down again.

“It’s okay.  It was a long time ago.”  Camarin knew Johnny hadn’t remembered her ever since the night his parents had been killed.  She never pushed him, figuring he was better off not remembering the horrors of his life up to that point.  His tunkaschila had taken him in then, given him a better life off the reservation.  Everyone who knew what had happened on that awful day was content to leave the past alone, vowing to conceal it forever within the woven tapestry of reservation history.  She changed the subject.  “So…you moved to LA?”

Johnny didn’t feel comfortable speaking about his life since he had left South Dakota.  Although his life was far from extraordinary, he imagined it would appear downright glamorous to anyone who was living here.  “Yeah…I…uh…well, after Tunkaschila died…I found out mama had a sister living in LA.  There was nothing left of the ranch after the fire, and there was no insurance, so I hitched my way out west, found my aunt, and she took me in.  She taught me at home the first year, then enrolled me in high school out there.  Then, after graduation, I joined the fire department.”

“So, you’re a firefighter?  I thought you said you worked in the medical field.”

Johnny struggled for the easiest way to explain.  He was tired and sore, and really didn’t feel like conversing.  “Well, I do…sort of…”  He went on to explain to an enthralled Camarin what a paramedic was, and what he did.  He told her about Roy and Justin, and finally Hannah.

Camarin was amazed at how far Johnny had come from the scared, young boy she once knew.  She was filled with both envy and pride as she realized the hurdles he had surely overcome until he was able to find a home and a career full of friends and family who seemed to be able to overlook his ancestry and the color of his skin.  Camarin had often dreamed of such a place, having been hopeful once that she had found it, only to find out she had been horribly mistaken.  “So, you’re getting married.  Oh, John.  I am so happy for you.”  Camarin swallowed her tears, not wanting to provide such a public display of emotion.

“Well, Hannah and I are pretty happy too.”  Johnny waited before asking the question that sat perched on his lips.  He wasn’t sure how Camarin felt about living on the reservation.  He knew there were some who spent their whole lives longing for a better life.  Still, there were others who were full of redskin pride, who would swear on a stack of tobacco that nothing could beat life on the rez.  He often wondered if their attitudes were based on arrogance, dignity, or ignorance.  “Camarin, I’m sorry.  I didn’t remember much about my life before I went to live with Tunkaschila until just recently.  If I had remembered you, I would have kept in touch…I would’ve…”

Camarin’s face suddenly whitened a shade or two.  She realized that if Johnny remembered her now, that he might remember the circumstances surrounding the death of his parents.  What if he knew the truth, and not the fabricated truth he had been told?  What if he knew what had really happened that day?  She chose not to speak of it, figuring she would find out soon enough.  “It’s okay, John.  I could have done more to stay in touch with you too.  But after you went to live on the ranch…well, I guess I just figured you were better off then.  I didn’t want to interfere.”

Johnny nodded, saddened that Camarin had felt that way, yet understanding why she did.  “So, you’ve been here all this time?”

Camarin was about to open her mouth to speak when a young nurse appeared and escorted Johnny to a room.  She was grateful for now that she wouldn’t have to come up with a way to describe the turns her life had taken over the years.  She leaned back in her chair and looked outside.  The sky was dark and it looked like snow.  As she pondered how much truth she was ready to give John, and how much truth he might be able to handle, a whisper drew from her lips.  “I’ve missed you, misu.  But, you’ve done well…”

zzz

“Take everything off but your shorts and put this on.”  The nurse handed Johnny a faded gown, made paper thin by years of vigorous washing.  “Do you need any help?”

Johnny accepted the dreaded garment with a heavy sigh.  “No….thanks.”  He waited until the nurse left the room before clumsily unbuttoning the front of his shirt and gingerly stepping out of his jeans.  He went to lean over to pick them up, but a sharp pain in his side, and a wave of dizziness stopped him, so he left the jeans in a heap on the floor.  He thought about how different this place was than Rampart.  There, he would never have been allowed to do this himself.  Dixie would have insisted that she help him, concerned that the injuries to his face indicated some type of head injury.  He cursed the fact that he had obviously grown spoiled over the years as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror attached to the back of the door.  There were several areas of discoloration on his trunk that he was certain would turn into some pretty remarkable bruises by tomorrow.  He slid his arms through the gown, but gave up trying to tie it behind him when he found he was unable to raise either arm without aggravating the pain in his side.  He took a moment to look around.  The room was sparsely supplied, and the table and various equipment that he could see looked to be about thirty years old.  He supposed not much had been done to improve a BP cuff or an exam bed over the years, but that did nothing to quell the disgust he was harboring.  How could we live in a country that accepted and allowed this kind of poverty and neglect?  Surely everyone deserved the same quality of medical care. 

Suddenly the idea of hoisting himself up onto the table made Johnny queasy.  His injuries had had some time to settle in now, and he found that as much as he wanted nothing more than to lie down, he would have to settle for a seat on the small chair in the corner for now.  Fortunately he had only been sitting there a few seconds when there was a faint knock on the door.

An older gentleman entered the room.  Johnny figured the doctor must be well beyond retirement age and briefly wondered if he volunteered his time here.  He was dressed in jeans and a casual shirt under his well worn lab coat, and he had a stethoscope draped around his neck that Johnny thought would look more at home in a medical museum.  He glanced down at the file in his hand.  “Mr.…Gage.”  He walked over to his patient and leaned down, offering his hand.  “I’m Dr. Greenberg.”  After shaking hands, he peered over his glasses at Johnny’s face.  “Says here you were involved in a fight….and from the looks of you, I’d say this is true.”

Johnny detected the faint traces of a foreign accent he couldn’t quite place.  He nodded.  “Yeah…only I wasn’t the one doing the fighting.”

Greenberg extended a hand to help Johnny to his feet.  “Well, it’s an unfortunate thing.  Seems some people around here…they young ones especially…this is their idea of a good time.”

Johnny groaned as he moved to a standing position.  “Yeah, well….I’m glad someone had fun.”  Johnny followed the doctor to an old scale that stood against the wall.  He stepped up onto it and peered disinterestedly at the numbers as the nurse moved the sliders across the bar.

Greenberg jotted Johnny’s weight down in his file and then peered over his glasses once again.  “Well, Mr. Gage.  Let’s get you up on the table and we’ll see what’s going on, okay?”

“John,” Johnny corrected as he allowed both the nurse and the doctor to help him onto the exam bed with a grimace and a hiss of pain.  “Call me John.”

“Okay, John.”  Greenberg directed the nurse to get Johnny’s pulse, blood pressure, and temperature.  While that was going on, he stepped out of the room, returning when the nurse was finished.  He moved his fingers over Johnny’s face, feeling for any deformities that would indicate a fracture.  He elicited a groan of displeasure when he pressed down on the bridge of Johnny’s nose.  “That’s going to be a little sore, but I don’t think it’s broken.”  He gently moved his hands over Johnny’s skull.  “Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?”

“Yeah, both.”

“Vomiting?”

“No.”

Greenberg placed his stethoscope in his ears, and rested the diaphragm on Johnny’s back.  “Take some deep breaths for me.”

Johnny tried to comply, but his breath hitched at the first attempt.  His arm braced his ribs, and he held his breath momentarily before letting it out with a moan.  “Sorry…”

The doctor smiled kindly.  “Don’t be.  Just breathe as normally as you can, John.”  He moved the stethoscope over his patient’s back and removed it from his ears.  “Let’s lay you back now.” 

Johnny allowed himself to be leaned back, the doctor at his shoulders, and the nurse at his legs.  He was grateful that the head of the bed had been raised slightly and he wouldn’t need to go down the whole way.  Still the movement made it feel like someone was twisting a knife in his ribs.  “Ahhhh…damn.”

“Sorry, John.  Tell me when this hurts.” 

Johnny winced and groaned as he submitted to Greenberg’s examination.  He tried to sort out in his brain how badly he was injured.  Did this feel like the other times, when ribs were broken?  No…it didn’t seem to be quite that bad...maybe…

Finally, Greenberg was finished and he straightened up.  Silence hung in the air as he wrote down his findings.  Then he looked down at his patient.  “How are you feeling now?”

Johnny let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  He thought of the many patients still waiting in the waiting room.  “A little guilty, actually.”

“Guilty?”

“Doc, all those people out there…and only two of you.  I’m a paramedic.  I could help…”

Greenberg cut Johnny off with a smile.  “Mr.—John.  As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m afraid you’re in no condition to help right now.  I believe you may have concussion, along with some badly bruised or cracked ribs.  I didn’t feel any fractures.  Normally, I would take some X-rays, but our machine isn’t working at the moment.  If I thought your condition was dire, I would send you over to the clinic in the next county.  But by all means, if your condition worsens, have Miss Raven Sky take you directly over there.  Many times it will take a fracture several days to show up on film anyway.”  He turned and opened the cabinet door, taking out a small bottle of tablets.  “You’re probably going to be plenty sore for a while.  Here are some Tylenol tablets.  I wish I could give you something a little stronger, but we’ve had such a problem with theft, and narcotics are so expensive, that we no longer stock them in large quantities.  Currently, we’re all out.  If you want, I can write you a prescription, but the nearest pharmacy is over an hour from here.”

Johnny accepted the tablets, feeling almost sorry for the doctor who he figured must feel about as inadequate as he did when he had first been trained as a paramedic, but had not yet been given the authorization to utilize his skills.  “Thanks, Doc.  I’m sure I’ll be fine.”  He allowed himself to be helped down off the table and he shook Greenberg’s hand one more time.  When he was alone once again in the room, Johnny redressed and tossed the gown onto the chair, determined not to complain the next time Roy or Cap insisted he be seen at Rampart.

zzz

Johnny was quiet for the first few minutes of the ride back to Camarin’s.  Camarin suspected he was feeling worse than he was letting on and decided to give him his space, glancing occasionally out of the corner of her eye at the man sitting with his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the head rest.  She cringed along with him as every bump or turn in the road caused him to grab tightly at his injured ribs.  When the tall moon shaped sign in front of the diner where she worked came into view, she broke the silence.  “John?  I need to stop at the Harvest Moon quick.  I called Jake while you were in with Dr. Greenberg and told him I wouldn’t be in today, but I need to pick up my pay.  Are you hungry?  Or thirsty?”

Johnny didn’t feel very hungry, the nausea he was experiencing only intensified by the gnawing guilt over causing Camarin to miss a day of work.  But, he thought maybe a good cup of coffee might help ease the relentless pain behind his temples.  “Maybe…just some…coffee.  Pay you…pay you back when we get to your place.”

Camarin parked the car and reached over to brush Johnny’s arm.  “This one’s on the house.”  She turned to exit the car.

“Sorry…don’t…don’t take off work because of me.  I’ll be…I’ll be fine.”

Camarin could tell Johnny was feeling worse as the morning wore on.  “Sure you will.  But I’m taking off anyway.  Don’t worry about it.  I have days saved up.  I’ll still get paid.”  Camarin hoped the lie would serve to ease Johnny’s feelings of guilt.  She watched as he seemed to sink into the seat.  “I’ll be right back.”

Johnny must have dozed off, because no sooner had he heard the car door close, Camarin was back, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.  He accepted the coffee, wincing as he sat up straighter.  Then a thought occurred to him.  “Hey, while we’re here…I gotta call home.  I promised Hannah I would call every day, and I don’t figure we’ll be coming back here anymore today, right?”

“Right.”  Camarin took the coffee back from Johnny and got back out of the car, walking around to help him.  “I talked to Jake.  As long as you call collect, you can use the phone here at the diner.  That way you can sit down, and it will be a little quieter.”

Johnny accepted Camarin’s help in getting to his feet.  The ground tilted and swayed for a moment, and he placed a hand on the car to steady himself.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah…yeah…it’ll pass.”  Sure enough, the wave of dizziness abated, although it didn’t go away completely.  Johnny allowed Camarin’s hand to steady him until they reached the diner.  Once inside, he did his best to ignore the stares he was getting from the smattering of locals eating breakfast.  He imagined he must look a sight, his lower lip split in two, and his left eye and nose bruised and swollen.  He followed Camarin to a small room off the kitchen and eased himself into the chair by the phone.  Camarin sat Johnny’s coffee down on the desk within easy reach, then gave him some privacy, closing the door behind her.

Johnny picked up the phone and paused for a minute, gathering himself.  He needed to check in with Hannah, but he didn’t want to give away any cause for alarm.  He was well aware that as the swelling on his lip and inside his mouth intensified, his speech was rapidly becoming more slurred.  He hoped Hannah wouldn’t notice.  He punched zero for the operator and requested a collect call to his ranch, disappointed that Hannah wasn’t there.  He glanced at the wall clock, an old Coca Cola ad from the 50’s.  Eight fifteen.  That meant it was only a little after seven in LA.  Maybe Hannah was outside with the horses.  Johnny sighed and dialed the operator again, this time requesting the Desoto residence.  The phone was answered on the third ring.

I have a collect call from John Gage.  Will you accept the charges?

Johnny heard Roy say ‘yes’ and then there was a brief series of clicks.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, Roy.  It’s me.”

Roy’s radar kicked in.  The first thing that seemed out of the ordinary was the early hour of the call.  The second thing was the sound of Johnny’s voice.  It sounded nasally and there was a definite lisp.  “What’s wrong?”

Johnny rubbed his hand over his forehead.  “Nothing’s wrong.  Why would you assume something’s wrong?”

There it was again.  Johnny’s words were slurred.  And his voice sounded strained, like it did when he was in pain.  “Well, for one thing it’s seven in the morning.  For another, you sound terrible.”

Johnny sighed.  He should have known he couldn’t hide anything from Roy.  “I’m fine, Roy.  Just a little run in with some of the locals.  Please don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?”

“Johnny…”

“Look, I tried to call Hannah, but she wasn’t there.  Just tell her…”

“Hannah’s here, Johnny.  She and Jo were up late planning the wedding last night, and she stayed over.  She’s in the shower right now.”  Roy looked up and noticed his wife had entered the kitchen.  He pointed at the phone and mouthed ‘Johnny.’  “Hang on, Johnny.  I’ll tell Jo to let Hannah know you’re on the phone.”

As much as Johnny wanted to talk to Hannah, he didn’t want her to worry about him.  “No, Roy.  It’s okay.  Just….just tell her I called and that everything’s okay.  Tell her I’ll call again in a day or two.”

Roy wasn’t ready to make any such promise.  He held up a hand when Hannah entered, her hair wrapped in a towel, heading toward the phone.  “Johnny, what’s going on?”  Johnny had said he would call every day.  What had changed?

“Nothing, Roy.  Now please, just tell Hannah…”

Roy acknowledged Hannah’s concerned expression.  “I’m not sure I can do that, Johnny.  She’s right here.  She already knows something’s up.  Besides, if you’re hurt…”

“It’s no big deal, Roy.”  Johnny was becoming frustrated, but resisted the urge to hang up the phone.  That would only serve to bring Roy, Justin, Hannah, half the staff of Rampart, and possibly the cavalry to his aid.

Roy was used to Johnny’s interpretation of ‘no big deal.’  “So, you were in a fight?”

Johnny was stammering now.  “Not exactly a fight…a couple of teenagers…didn’t like the way I looked, I guess.  Roy, can we quit talking about this please?  This is a long distance call.”

“Yeah, and it’s my dime.  Sounds like your face got smacked around some.  What else?”

“Roy…”

“What else, Johnny?”  Roy’s tone told Johnny he was no longer kidding around.

“Just a concussion, some bruised ribs…no big deal.” 

Roy shook his head, and exchanged looks with Jo and Hannah.  “Did you see a doctor?”

“Yeah.  Camarin took me to the local hospital.  The doc checked me out and sent me on my way.  See?  I told you, no big deal.”

Roy paused for a second, wondering who Camarin was, his concern building.  If Johnny wasn’t able to drive himself to the clinic… “Johnny, who’s…never mind.  I take it they took some X-rays.”

Johnny closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.  He never was good at lying, especially not to Roy.  “No…the X-ray machine was broken.  But the doctor said he didn’t feel any fractures…”

Roy couldn’t believe his ears.  Johnny knew better than that.  “Broken?”  He immediately regretted his word, as Hannah’s expression turned to one of alarm.  He told Johnny to hold on, and then cupped his hand over the receiver.  “Sorry, Hannah.  The X-ray machine was broken.  Johnny didn’t break anything…at least he says he didn’t.”

Hannah’s patience was wearing thin.  She gestured for the phone, but was held off for now by Roy. 

“Johnny, how could the machine be broken?  I thought you said you went to the hospital.”

“Roy, the reservation hospital is like a clinic.  The closest major hospital is over 100 miles from here…”

“Johnny, you know damn well you could have a serious head injury or some internal damage.  Can’t somebody take you there?”

“No.”  Johnny’s one word answer brimmed with anger.

“Why not?”

“Roy, I did learn a thing or two in paramedic training remember?  I think I would know if I had a serious head injury.”  This conversation, ironically, was making Johnny’s head pound.  He pushed away his coffee, the very aroma making his stomach turn.

“Well, Johnny.  The thing about a head injury is that you’re in no condition to make that sort of an assessment.”  He allowed Hannah to take the receiver.

“John?  It’s Hannah.  Where are you?”

Johnny instantly felt sick at the worry in Hannah’s voice.  “Hi, Hannah.  I’m at a diner just outside the reservation.”

“Good.  Stay there.  I’m going home to pack and then I’m getting on the next plane to South Dakota.”

“No!  No, Hannah, please…”

“I’m sorry, John.  But, I can make up my own mind about things.  Now, if you’re hurt…”

Johnny couldn’t believe where this was headed.  The last thing he wanted was for Hannah to come here.  If they had done this to him, imagine what they could do to her.  “Han, put Roy back on for a minute.  Please?”

Hannah wiped at her eyes and handed the receiver back to Roy.  “Tell him I’ll be there by tonight.”

Roy picked up the receiver.  He didn’t say anything to Hannah, but he understood why Johnny wouldn’t want her to come there.  He would barricade the doors if he had to if Joanne even suggested such a notion.  “It’s me, Johnny.”

Johnny’s voice was raised at an almost panic level.  “Roy, please.  Don’t let Hannah come out here.  If they did this to me…Roy, it’s not safe here.  Please!”

Roy kept his eyes locked on Hannah as he spoke.  “What if I come, then?”  He did his best to ignore the stare he was getting from Joanne.

Johnny pondered that alternative.  Roy had military experience.  He knew how to watch his back.  While that option certainly was more attractive than Hannah’s coming here, he realized he still didn’t want Roy to come.  Aside from the fact that his best friend was about as white as could be, Johnny couldn’t help the embarrassment and shame he felt.  He didn’t want Roy, or anyone, to see where he had come from.  “Roy, I’m telling ya…No one needs to come.  I’m fine.  I’m just going to go back to my room and rest for the rest of the day.  Tell Hannah she doesn’t need to worry.”

“Johnny, she’s your fiancée.  It’s her job to worry.  Look, I’m coming out there.  If I don’t, you know she will.  Now, it’s her or me.  What’s your choice?”

Johnny knew he had no choice but to accept the inevitable.  He supposed he should be thankful to have people in his life who cared about him, but that comfort was overridden by the anxiety building in his stomach.  Roy was coming.  He was going to see where he grew up, be appalled at the poor conditions.  He would know everything, and feel sorry for him.  That was the last thing on earth Johnny wanted.  Still, he knew there was nothing he could say that would change his friend’s mind.  “There’s a diner on 18, just before you come into the rez.  It’s called the Harvest Moon.  Stop there and ask for Camarin or Jake.  They’ll know where to find me.”

Roy was saddened at the tone of Johnny’s voice.  He sounded like a man who had had his spirit broken, and he instantly regretted being responsible for making him feel that way.  He turned his face toward the wall. “I’m sorry, Johnny.  It’s just that you know if…”

“I know, Roy.  Thanks.”  Johnny didn’t know what he had ever done in his life to please the spirits so greatly that they honored him with a friend like Roy.  He knew Roy was worried about him, and would probably have come here anyway, but the idea that he was willing to do it simply because he knew how fiercely Johnny wanted to protect Hannah was almost overwhelming.  “Tell Hannah…tell her I love her, okay?”

“Here.  You can tell her yourself.  I have to pack.”

Hannah accepted the receiver and listened for a moment.  Her heart ached at what she thought she heard on the other end.  There was a hitch to Johnny’s breathing that could have been from pain…or tears.  “John, I’m sorry.  Please understand…”

“It’s okay, Hannah.  I’d have done the same thing if it were you.”

“Just…promise you’ll come home to me in one piece, okay?”  Hannah’s smile broke through the tears.

“You’re my star, remember?  You’ll always lead me home.”

Hannah couldn’t speak for a few seconds.  Finally, she was able to force out, “I love you.”

“Love you too.  See you soon.”  The connection was broken and Johnny remained at the desk for several minutes, the receiver still in his hand.

zzz

Hannah stood for a moment, unable to face Roy and Joanne.  Joanne walked up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Hannah…”

Hannah turned toward the woman who in the past six months had become like a sister to her, leaning into an embrace as she allowed tears to soak into the shoulder of Joanne’s blouse.  No words were necessary, as Hannah was certain Joanne understood every emotion she was currently experiencing.

Joanne held tightly to her friend, wishing there were words that could ease her worry, but she knew there was nothing adequate.  She felt like this every time Roy left for work in the morning, although she supposed not to this degree.  While the job of a firefighter was risky, she at least had some reassurance of knowing what to expect.  The man Hannah loved, they all loved, was in foreign territory, and subject to dangers that went far beyond the ordinary risks of his job.  At least at work, it was rare that someone intentionally tried to hurt him.  “He’ll be all right.”

Hannah sniffed and stood tall, wiping her eyes.  “I need to go too.  He sounded tired, Jo…like he was in pain.  I should…”

Joanne handed Hannah a tissue and gently pushed her hair out of her eyes.  “Roy will make sure he’s okay.”

“But that’s just it.  Now Roy is going there, and putting himself in danger.  I’m thinking of you and the kids.  John is my fiancé.  This is my responsibility now.”

Joanne stifled a laugh.  “I understand how you feel, but Roy has been looking out for Johnny ever since the day he walked into that question and answer session about the paramedic program.  He’s a part of our family, and we wouldn’t want it any other way.  This is the best choice, Hannah…the safest choice.”

“She’s right, Hannah.”  Roy walked into the kitchen, carrying a duffel bag.  “This is what Johnny agreed to, and I think we should respect it.  Besides, he would do the same for me.”  Roy noticed the lines of worry on Hannah’s face, mixed with a longing in her eyes that couldn’t be hidden.  “Look, Hannah.  I’ll make sure he’s okay.  I’ll help him figure out whatever it is he needs to figure out, and I’ll bring him home to you safe and sound.  Don’t worry.”

Hannah nodded in sad resignation.  “Thanks, Roy.”  Then an idea occurred to her.  “What about Justin?  Maybe he could go with you…”

Roy shouldered his bag and walked toward the door.  “I think Johnny would want Justin to stay here and look after you.”

Hannah was indignant.  “I don’t need looking after.”

Roy smiled.  “No…no I guess you don’t.  But, Justin has to work.  I have so many vacation days saved up Cap has been chomping at me to use some of them up.”  He looked at Joanne.  “I’m going to go put this in the car.”

Joanne watched Roy until he left the kitchen, then turned back to Hannah.  “Come on, Hannah.  Let’s get ready to go look at dresses.”

zzz

As Camarin’s Thunderbird pulled into its space beside her house, she noticed Chaz and a young boy she didn’t recognize standing near Johnny’s Rover.  Chaz took a long drag from what was left of his cigarette and snuffed it out beneath his boot.  The pair left when they saw her approaching.  Camarin shook her head as she threw the car into park.  What are you up to now, Chaz? 

Camarin looked over at the sleeping man in the passenger seat.  She hated to wake him, but she knew the best thing for him would be the hot meal she had brought home from the diner, and a comfortable bed.  She laid a hand softly against his cheek.  “Sumanitu Taka Iyankapi…”

Johnny heard the soothing sound of a name he hadn’t been called since he was a young boy being spoken softly in his ear.  There were only two people who had ever called him that, Tunkaschila…and Camarin.  “Hmmm…Camarin?”

Camarin smiled and continued to stroke Johnny’s cheek, slightly surprised at how natural this felt.  After all, he was no longer a small boy.  “Yep, it’s me.  We’re home.  Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”

Johnny peeled open his eyes and squinted against the harsh morning light screaming through the windshield.  He sat motionless, watching as a snowflake melted against the glass, then another…and another.  Finally he stretched his legs out with a groan.  “Man, I’m gonna be feeling this in the morning…”

“I think you’re going to be feeling it long before that.  Hang on, and I’ll come around and help you.”

Johnny allowed himself to be helped inside, and didn’t even put up a fight when Camarin suggested he lie down for a while.  Had she known the adult version of the little boy she once helped care for a bit better, she could have taken this as a testament to the way Johnny was feeling.  She took his boots off for him and laid them beside the bed where he could find them easily if he needed to go outside.  Then, she left him alone to rest.

An hour later, Camarin was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting out the cash Jake had given her into neat piles.  The girls were busy doing chores as Camarin began the process of figuring out how much money they would have to carry them through the month.  “Sorry, Kaya…those shoes will have to wait again…”  Camarin looked up, surprised to see Johnny in the doorway.  “How long have you been standing there?”

Johnny yawned and began to stretch, thinking better of it when a twinge in his side reminded him how sore his ribs were.  “Only a few seconds.  Can I sit down?”

Camarin stood and moved to Johnny’s side, latching her hand around his arm.  “Sure, John.  But don’t you think you should stay in bed today?”

“I can make it.”  Johnny insisted, but yet made no attempt to remove his arm from Camarin’s grasp.  “I’m feeling a little better now.  Besides, if I lie in bed all day, I’m just going to stiffen up.”

Camarin figured Johnny might be right, but quickly abandoned that assumption when he hissed in pain at being lowered into the kitchen chair.  She kept a watchful eye trained on his face, but said nothing as she took her seat across from him.  “You want anything to eat?”

“Not right now.”  Johnny eyed the meager amount of cash on the table, but said nothing.

Camarin began stuffing the money piles into individual envelopes.  “So, who did you say is coming here tonight?”

“My partner with the fire department.  He’s also my best friend.  His name is Roy Desoto.”

“He’s coming all the way out here just to make sure you’re okay?”

Johnny sighed.  “Yep.”

“He must be quite a friend.”

“He is.  Actually, he’s coming because it was the only way to keep my fiancée from coming, but if I know Roy, he probably would have figured out a way to do it regardless.  That’s just Roy.”

“Really…”

Johnny nodded and abruptly stopped when the movement of his head caused pain to lance through his skull from his temples to his teeth.  He rested his forehead in his hand.

“Are you okay?  Maybe you should go back to bed…”

Johnny held up his other hand.  “No…no, it’s okay.  I’m okay.”  He waited for the pain and its accompanying dizziness and nausea to subside before raising his head and speaking again.  “So, we never finished our conversation.”

“What conversation?”  Hannah knew exactly what conversation Johnny was referring to, but had been hoping to avoid it for at least a while.  As happy as she was that his life had apparently turned out so well, she couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed about her own.

“You know…we were talking about what you’ve been up to all these years.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell, really.”  Camarin looked over at the fresh pitcher of lemonade on the counter.  “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?”

Johnny knew anything he put into his stomach right now would surely come right back up.  “No…thank you.”

Realizing that Johnny was waiting for her to continue, Camarin took a deep breath.  “Well, after your…accident...mama started getting really depressed.  You know, she and your mama were really close…”

“Yeah…I remember.”  Johnny wanted to tell Camarin what he remembered about his mama’s death.  He still didn’t know with any certainty whether he had been in an accident or not, but there was something about the way Camarin faltered over the word that served to confirm that there was more to the story than she was letting on.  He decided not to push it just yet.

Camarin closed her eyes.  This was a time in her life she had worked hard to forget, and now seeing this man in front of her, seeing how much he resembled his father, brought it all back in raging floods.  A brief image of Red Elk standing over her, hatred in his eyes was replaced by her mama’s guilt ridden face…then a memory of pain so intense she could still feel it.  Her hands moved to her abdomen and she could see blood…so much blood…

Johnny reached across the table.  “Camarin?”

Camarin shook off a chill and opened her eyes.  “Sorry.”  Composing herself, she continued.  “Anyway, mama started spending more and more time at the bar, and I didn’t have much to do anymore with you gone to live with your grandfather, so I started hitching rides out to Jake’s place, and he gave me a job.  Only worked for tips at first, but eventually he started paying me an hourly wage.  That’s where I met Tate.”

Johnny raised an inquisitive eyebrow, frustrated that even that one small act caused his face to ache.  “Tate?”

“Yeah.  Tate was my husband.”

“Was…”

“I was 19 when I met him.  He had dreams of starting a dairy farm in Nebraska.  I had dreams of getting off the rez.  So when he asked me to come with him, it wasn’t a very tough choice.  Problem was, Tate was white, and mama didn’t like that too much.  Never could quite understand why.  After all, she was best friends with your mama.”

Johnny shook his head, thinking.  He had a good idea why Camarin’s mother had not been happy with the fact that Camarin was marrying a white man, and he imagined she knew too.  He shuddered at the years of teasing and torment he suffered as a “half breed,” scorned not only by the whites, but by the Lakota as well.  It was likely that Camarin’s mother didn’t want her grandchildren to have to face the same fate.  “So, what happened?”

“Well, things were great for a while.  The farm kept food on the table.  We were married for five years.  We wanted children, and eventually I found out I couldn’t have them.  Well, that didn’t sit too well with Tate.  He wanted kids, and the more successful he became, the more his successful white friends looked down on him for having a “squaw” for a wife, especially one who couldn’t give him sons to help out on the farm.  So…one day, Tate told me to get out.  He let me have the clothes that were on my back and one of the cars, but that was it.  He told me I wasn’t welcome there anymore and that he wanted a divorce.  I had nowhere to go, so I came back to the rez.”

Johnny had a sickening feeling there was more to this story.  “You just left?  He just told you to go, and that was it?”

Camarin breathed a shuddering breath.  There was no use in evading the truth.  The look in Johnny’s eyes told her he knew too much already anyway.  “Tate wasn’t the type to just…use words…he uh…he was…”

Johnny’s jaw tensed.  “Like my papa.”

Camarin’s eyes welled up with tears of sorrow and hatred at the combined memories of Red Elk and Tate.  Surely hell had special tortures reserved for men such as these.  She didn’t need to speak.  Johnny could see the answer plain as day.

“Camarin…I’m sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Sumanitu Taka.  It was a long time ago.  Mama was just happy that I was home, and things were okay for a while.  Then, she died of influenza a year later.  I thought about moving off the rez then, maybe going out to LA, to see what it was like.  Funny…I had no idea you were out there.  Had I known, maybe I would have.”

“I should have told you.”

“Stop that.  You were free, you made it off.  I was the last thing you needed.”

Johnny shook his head, ignoring his increasing headache.  “I would have loved to have seen you, Cam.  You were…you were always like a sister to me.”

Camarin swallowed hard at Johnny’s words.  “I missed you…a lot.  Always wondered what ever happened to you, where you ended up.  And now…God, look at you.  You have all the happiness and success I always asked the spirits for you.  And, you’re a…well, you’re a real hero.”

Johnny got up and stood behind Camarin’s chair, placing his hands on her shoulders.  “I’m no hero.  If anyone deserves that label…Everything you’ve been through, and this…place…has put you through…you made it a lot better than most, Camarin.  You have a job, a car, a home.  You’ve stayed here and survived all the craziness over the past few years.  And, you take care of Rose and Kaya.  Seems to me you have a lot to be proud of.”

Camarin looked up at Johnny and smiled.  “I’d say we both do.”  After a moment, Camarin stood in alarm at Johnny’s swagger.  He was feeling much worse than he was letting on.  “Now, come on.  Let’s get you back to bed before you fall over.”  

zzz

The first thing he noticed was the darkness.  As Roy keened his eyes through the snow which was crusting on the windshield of his rental car faster than the wipers could remove it, he realized there were no streetlights, no porch lights offering the inviting warmth of home.  Instead, most of the homes were dark. A few of the ones that weren’t boarded up had spots of light in cracked panes and Roy thought they looked like mournful eyes peering back at him through the storm.  He had never seen a ghost town before, but he figured this was the nearest thing to that and he shuddered to imagine the ghosts that lingered behind the mesas and cacti and ancient corners of this community.  He expected poverty, but this was a far cry from the neglected structures in the ghettos of Los Angeles.  This place was beyond neglect.  It seemed…forgotten.

Were it not for Jake’s impeccable directions, he would never have found Camarin’s place.  There were no street names, no house numbers, and with the freshly accumulated snow, Roy couldn’t even be certain he was on a road.  He still would have missed the house if it weren’t for Johnny’s Rover parked outside.  He pulled in beside it and got out, having no idea he was being watched.

Suddenly Roy felt very conspicuous.  He was a white man from LA with a brand new car.  He found himself wishing he would have taken the offer for extra insurance from the woman at the rental counter.  Ignoring the shouts and whistles he could hear coming from somewhere not far away, he quickened his pace toward the front door of the small, one story building.  The door opened before he had a chance to knock.

Camarin hastily invited Roy inside, looking nervously past him at the surrounding area.  Then she closed the door quickly, throwing two deadbolts and a chain lock.  “You must be Roy.  I’m Camarin Raven Sky.”  She extended her hand.

Roy suddenly felt like he was back in Vietnam.  He had seen full blooded Native Americans before, but there was something so…foreign…about this place, something that made Camarin seem exotic and dangerous in a way he couldn’t have explained if he had tried.  He couldn’t help but notice the strong angles of her face, hair the color of ebony that hung past her waist, and skin that was even darker than that of his best friend.  It was her eyes, though, that evaporated any fears he may have had.  He reached out and accepted Camarin’s hand shake.  “Nice to meet you.”  Roy looked around at the sparsely furnished living room.  “I’m looking for my friend, John Gage.  I think he’s renting a room from you or something like that.”

Camarin turned, inviting Roy to follow her down the hall.  “Not renting.  Just staying.  He’s asleep right now.  Would you like something to eat or drink?  I made some coffee.”

Roy was skeptical.  He couldn’t understand, with all that had been going on here the past few years, how this woman could appear so trusting of him and of Johnny.  He didn’t imagine that many people around here willingly invited strangers, especially white strangers, into their kitchens for a cup of coffee, let alone allowed them to sleep in one of their rooms.  “Excuse me, miss…”

“Camarin.”

“Camarin,” Roy continued.  “Look, pardon me, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to talk to my friend.  I’d like to see if he needs a hospital, and maybe he and I could find a motel somewhere so we’re not putting you out…”

Camarin hid her hurt well.  She couldn’t blame Roy for what he was doing.  He seemed friendly enough, and if he was a friend of John’s, then he must be a good man.  “He’s already been to a hospital, and as far as motels are concerned, you won’t a decent one within ninety minutes of here.  You’re both welcome to stay as long as you want.”

Roy followed Camarin to the kitchen, accepting a cup of coffee.  He took a sip of the bitter concoction that was a far cry from the firehouse brew he was accustomed to.  “Look, ma’am.  I mean you no disrespect, and I appreciate that you’re helping Johnny out…”

“Why do you call him that?”

“Call him what?”  Roy sat his cup down on the table.

“Johnny.”

Roy slanted an inquisitive eye.  Why was this woman so interested in what he called Johnny?  “I’m not sure, really.  I’ve just always called him that.  It’s funny, now that you mention it, because most of the time he introduces himself as John.  Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered.  Even as a small boy…I don’t remember anyone ever calling him that.”

Roy’s momentary puzzling over why Johnny would change his name to a more boyish sounding one as an adult was halted by the realization that this woman apparently knew Johnny when he was a child.  Of course!  His being here was beginning to make more sense now.  “You knew Johnny when he was a boy?”

Camarin sat down at the decrepit card table and motioned for Roy to do the same.  “Yes…very well.  His mama and mine were good friends.  I saw him being born, and I used to help take care of him until…until he went to live with his grandfather.”

Not wanting to appear rude, Roy took another swig of the horrible coffee.  He thought about asking for cream and sugar, but thought better of it when he didn’t see a refrigerator in the room.  “So then, you know about…”  He stopped himself.  He wasn’t sure what, if anything, Johnny and Camarin had discussed about his parents.

Camarin wondered how much of his life on the reservation Johnny had shared with his friends in LA.  “I know a lot about a lot of things I wish I could forget.  But, John was always special to me.  He was like a…brother.”

Roy smiled at the woman across the table.  If she helped to take care of Johnny when he was a boy, then she must be older than him.  Yet she looked so young.  Roy thought back to the first time he had met Johnny and had been surprised to find out that the young man who looked as if he had just graduated high school was actually 26 years old.  Even now, Roy’s hairline was receding and he was noticing the first strands of gray, while Johnny’s coal black hair was longer and shaggier than ever.  Sometimes he had to remind himself that his friend was only a year younger than he was.  “Well, at least now I know why you’ve so generously opened your home to him.  What are the odds of Johnny coming here after all these years and finding you?”

“Well I don’t know about odds, Mr. Desoto, but there are a lot of people still on the rez who knew your friend back then.  Some of them won’t be too happy about him poking his nose around looking for answers either.  So, if you plan on helping him with that…”

Roy saw an opportunity here that was too enticing to pass up.  If Camarin knew the answers to the questions Johnny was seeking, and was willing to share, then maybe this trip could be over sooner than anyone had thought and Roy could make good on his promise to Hannah as soon as he made sure Johnny was healthy enough to travel.  “Look, I’ve been Johnny’s friend a long time.  He’s like a brother to me too.  I’ve seen him struggle with memories about his childhood for the last several months.  He’s been through a lot, and I know how important it is for him to know the truth.  Do you know the truth, Camarin?”

Camarin’s deep brown irises grew darker as she looked up at Roy.  “That depends on which definition of the truth he’s looking for.”

zzz

Johnny awoke to the sound of voices.  As sleep clung to him, in that disoriented twilight state, he thought for a brief moment he was at the station.  The aroma of coffee and the unmistakable sound of his partner’s voice…was he out in the apparatus bay?  As pain brought awareness creeping back, Johnny remembered where he was as vivid images from the morning’s assault played before his eyes.  He pushed up to a sitting position, groaning as the pain in his ribs and the pain in his head competed for first place.  Several hours lying down had caused his face to swell, and it throbbed in time with his heartbeat.  Johnny sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, getting his bearings and waiting for his dizziness and nausea to pass.  Yawning, he ran his hand through his disheveled hair, wincing as the yawn stretched tender tissue in his mouth and sent a piercing pain through his cheekbone.  He imagined he must look a sight, but he wasn’t sure where Camarin might have a mirror to find out.  He stood on wobbly legs and headed toward the kitchen.  May as well get this over with.

Roy looked up at the bedraggled figure standing in the doorway with his hands pressed against either side of the doorframe for support.  Johnny’s left eye was nearly swollen shut and there was an ugly purple bruise on the bridge of his nose.  His lower lip was puffy and looked like it had been split in two.  Roy moved to his side in an instant.  “Johnny, are you all right?”  He grabbed onto Johnny’s arm, intending to support his weight.

Johnny remained perched in the doorway.  “I’m fine, Roy.  I’m just sorry you wasted a trip…out…”  A wave of nausea passed over Johnny in a blinding rush.  He staggered as the room seemed to dip and turn around him.

Roy kept Johnny from falling to the floor, pulling his arm around his shoulders and wrapping his own arm around Johnny’s waist.  “You don’t look fine.  Where’s your room?”

Camarin stood and weaved her way past the two men into the hallway.  “It’s this way.  Follow me.”

Johnny was grateful for Roy at the moment.  He honestly didn’t feel he would have made it back to bed on his own, and a trickle of fear skittered down his spine as he mentally ran through the signs and symptoms of a progressing head injury.  He allowed Roy to help him get back into bed without protest.

Camarin watched in concern as Roy made quick work of gathering Johnny’s pulse and respirations.  “Is there anything you need, Mr. Desoto?”

Roy lit the oil lamp beside the bed and turned up the flame.  “Call me Roy.  And yes, if you don’t mind.  There’s a canvas bag in my car.  It’s red.  Could you bring that in here for me, please?”  He tossed her the keys.

Johnny knew Roy was asking for his personal jump kit, but felt too sick at the moment to care.  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and he felt a rush of warmth.  “Roy…I’m gonna…”

“Take some slow deep breaths, Johnny.”  Roy’s eyes darted around the room for a wastebasket.  Finding one near the door, he sprinted for it and returned just in time to hold it for his friend as he retched painfully, bringing up a meager amount of liquid before racking with dry heaves.  “How many times have you thrown up today?”

Johnny shook his head and gasped out, “Just…now.”

Camarin was back with the jump kit and sat it where Roy could reach it easily.  She looked at Johnny with compassion in her eyes.  “Sumanitu…let me get you something to wash out your mouth.”

Roy stopped Camarin before she could retreat.  “What did he have to eat today?”

Camarin paused in the doorway.  “I couldn’t get him to eat anything.  He only had some coffee, and he didn’t even finish that.”

Roy was concerned that Johnny could become dehydrated, if he wasn’t already, and silently wondered how far away the closest IV was.  “Bring a tall glass of water back with you.”  He slid the BP cuff around Johnny’s arm and began pumping the bulb.

Johnny leaned back against the headboard, willing the sharp spasms in his right side to dissipate.  He swallowed back the nausea that refused to go away.  “So, how do I look?”

Roy sighed and removed the stethoscope from his ears.  “You look terrible.  Your BP’s a little elevated.  Where are you hurting?”

“I told ya, Roy.  The doctor said I have a concussion and some bruised ribs.”

Roy sighed and took a penlight out of his bag.  “But you didn’t have any X-rays.”

Johnny didn’t answer.

Roy held Johnny’s uninjured eye open with his thumb.  “Look straight ahead.”

Camarin returned with a glass of water and a wet washcloth.  She helped Johnny clean his face and rinse out his mouth.  Then she sat the glass down on the small table on the opposite side of the bed from where Roy was kneeling and left the two men alone.

Roy indicated the glass.  “When we’re done here, I want you to drink that.”

Johnny shook his head, closing his eyes against the pain it caused.  “I don’t think I can keep it down, Roy.”

Roy was frustrated.  Back home, Johnny’s concussion would have earned him an overnight stay at Rampart complete with some phenergan and IV fluids.  “Well, you need to try.  You’re probably dehydrated.”  He ran his fingers gently over Johnny’s face, feeling for deformities, earning a grunt and a hiss of pain here and there for his troubles.  He used his penlight to look at the inside of Johnny’s mouth.  “No loose or broken teeth?”

“No.”

“You wanna open your shirt, or do you want me to do it?”

Johnny glared at Roy for a moment.  When he realized he was serious, he began unbuttoning his shirt with a heavy sigh.

Roy pushed back the cotton material to reveal several areas of bruising on Johnny’s chest and abdomen.  He swallowed down his own nausea at the memory of finding Johnny in his barn after his assault six months ago.  “Johnny…”

Johnny looked down, already knowing what to expect.  “I know.”

Roy popped the stethoscope back into his ears.  “Are you having any trouble breathing?”  He pressed the diaphragm to Johnny’s chest.

“No.  I’m okay, Roy.  It looks worse than it is.  Really.”

“Shhh.”  Roy listened intently for several minutes, not wanting to miss anything.  Suddenly the thought of being so far away from any kind of decent medical care made his blood run cold.  But as frustrated as he was for his friend, he couldn’t escape mounting disgust as he considered the fact that the basic things he and many others took for granted were unheard of to these people.  “Well, your lungs sound okay.”  He ran his fingers gently over Johnny’s ribs and jerked back at Johnny’s cry of pain when he reached the lower right side.  “Pretty bad right there?”

Johnny brought his left hand around his chest and braced his side, working at slowing his breathing down.  “Yeah…that’s the worst.”

“Johnny, I think you may have a fracture there.”

“Yeah, well what real difference does it make?  It’ll just take longer to heal, that’s all.”

Roy looked at Johnny in disbelief.  “What difference…Johnny, you know as well as I do, if there’s a fracture there, you need to take it easy.  The last thing you need out here is a punctured lung.”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed.  While on some level he knew Roy wasn’t trying to be insulting, he couldn’t help the defensive pang his words aroused.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Roy instantly regretted his words.  “Johnny, I’m just concerned.  That’s all.”

“Well, I appreciate your concern, Pally.  But I came here for a reason, and I don’t intend to spend the next week lying around in bed.”

“I didn’t say you had to.”  Roy began palpating Johnny’s abdomen, watching the winces that crossed his face carefully.  Deciding that any internal damage was minimal, Roy didn’t say anything.

Johnny looked at Roy, eyebrow raised.  “So, am I gonna live?”

“You’re gonna live, Johnny.”

“Good.  Then you can head back to LA tomorrow and let Hannah and everyone else know that I’m fine and I’ll see them in a couple of weeks.”

Roy returned everything to his bag and zipped it closed.  “I’ll drive back to the diner after you’re settled in for the night and call Hannah.  But, I’m not going home tomorrow.”

“Roy…”

“Look, do you want Hannah to come out here?  Because the deal was, it was gonna be her or me, remember?”

“To make sure I was okay!  No one said anything about staying here!”

Roy rose to his feet.  “Well, I’m saying it now, Johnny.  The only way I could get Hannah to agree to stay home, is by taking off the next two weeks and staying here.  So, I’ll look for a place to stay in the morning.  But, I’m not going home.  Besides, I really think I should get you to a…”

Roy’s suggestion was cut off when a strong spasm of pain gripped Johnny’s right side and wouldn’t let go.  “Ahh…shit!  Oh…God, Roy!”

All arguing ceased as Roy moved quickly to Johnny’s aid, grabbing hold of his hand and offering his best friend something to squeeze onto, something to anchor him away from the strong grasp the pain in his ribs had on him.  “Easy, Johnny.  Try to breathe through it.”  Even as the words still lingered on his lips, Roy knew he was asking for the impossible.  Breathing through the pain of fractured ribs was nearly impossible.

“Can’t…oh, God…”  Johnny clamped down on Roy’s hand until finally the spasms subsided and he could catch his breath again.  “Thanks, man.”  Johnny’s sweaty palm dropped out of Roy’s and he leaned his head back against the headboard, panting.

Roy stood and walked around to the other side of the bed to get the glass of water Camarin left.  “What did they give you at the clinic for pain, Johnny?”

“Just some…Tylenol.”

“Tylenol?  Johnny…”

“It’s all they…had.  Out of…of narcotics.”

Roy ran his hand backward through his hair.  The idea of living in a place where even the most basic drugs were not available was unbelievable, especially at a hospital.  “I can’t believe…”

Johnny became defensive again.  He didn’t mean to, but there it was.  “Roy, this isn’t LA!  It’s not exactly like Rampart out here, you know!  They do the best they can with what they have!”  Johnny closed his eyes and tensed his jaw, his outburst causing sensitive nerve endings to flare.  “It’s like it’s always been…we get the worst of the worst here…the whites get everything they need, and we get whatever’s left over…”

Roy couldn’t believe how easily Johnny seemed to be assimilating here.  Already he was speaking as if he had lived here all his life.  Maybe a part of him had.  Roy wanted to ask if the doctor Johnny had seen could write a prescription for some pain medication, but decided not to stoke this fire any hotter.  Johnny needed a friend right now, not a lecture.  He held the glass of water to Johnny’s lips.  “Johnny, here.  Try to drink some of this.”

Johnny wasn’t in the mood to accept anymore of Roy’s ministrations.  But his throat ached and his mouth felt parched.  Maybe some water would be good.  Then, he just wanted to be left alone until morning.  Without opening his eyes, he allowed Roy to tip the rim to his swollen lip, savoring the coolness of the glass.  One sip reminded him how thirsty he truly was, and he greedily tried to gulp in as much of the slightly off tasting liquid as he could.

“Not too much, Johnny.  Just sip it.”  Roy looked skeptically at the somewhat cloudy water.  It hadn’t occurred to him until now that it may not be safe for Johnny to drink.  Still, it was no matter.  Johnny needed water.  Roy could only hope it wouldn’t make his friend sick and even more dehydrated than before.

Johnny continued sipping until he felt his stomach begin to roll in protest.  He pushed the glass away.  “No…more.”

Roy sat back.  “You all right?”

“Yeah…yeah.”  Johnny moaned softly as he slid down onto the pillows, suddenly feeling very tired.  “Just wanna…get some…sleep.”

Roy helped Johnny slide out of his jeans and shirt, and covered him with the dingy sheet and threadbare blanket.  In seconds, Johnny’s even breathing told Roy that he was asleep.  Roy walked to the window and looked outside.  It was a beautiful sight.  About three inches of snow covered every surface, and it was still coming down.  A southern Californian all his life, Roy stood mesmerized as the white powder seemed to glisten and sparkle.  His reverie was disrupted by a succession of distant pops.  Gunfire.  It all seemed so surreal. He turned away from his view and carefully sat next to Johnny on the bed, watching him sleep.  He thought he knew his best friend pretty well, but as Roy sat in the dark wondering how much of the John Gage he knew was who John Gage really was, he began to wonder if he really knew him at all.  And as much as he wanted to, whether he truly ever could.

Part 2