Restricted MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 14)

by Bella Knight

  Paul and Wren, a Crow from the Crow res, were due back soon. Paul was learning to hike for many miles in snowshoes with a giant pack on his back, just as well as Wren could. They were the winter delivery service. They hiked out with the rugs, baskets filled with beaded necklaces, and clothing, drums, dolls, and the dog coats and harnesses. They used the snowmobile to carry the fresh food to the res, and the truck that stopped on the highway three times a week to the farmer’s market.

  “Text Paul when the order’s done,” said Alo.

  Luisa grinned at him. “Like I’d forget.” Alo grinned, then went upstairs to the dye room.

  He made a note on his cell phone that it was getting time to brush the angora rabbits, which would then create work in the form of washing, cleaning, and spinning the fur into wool. Then they could dye it, or leave it its natural color. He couldn’t be heard over the air filters, so he just waved to the masked and gloved Delfine and Leela, busy with a gorgeous red and a gold wash. They waved back.

  Alo headed next door to the loom, beading, doll, and drum room. Rina and Leo were running looms; Rina’s a rag rug, Leo a true Crow blanket. They had paid artisans from the Crow res to show them what to do and how to do it. Omar turned out to be a deft touch with the beadwork, and almost literally improved every day. Today’s podcast was on small business websites, and Alo made a note of it on his cell phone to listen to it later.

  He went back downstairs, then through the tunnel to the main house. He took a short break, then sat down to crochet in the main room with Jon. They made infinity scarves out of thick wool bought from neighboring farms, dyed a deep blue. The farmers and tourists both loved them, especially since you could put your hands in an infinity scarf; even keep a hot pack hidden in the folds. They knitted a little pocket for gloves and a second for hot packs or cell phones on the underside. His phone dinged to signal his break, and he stood, stretched, and went back to the kitchen for mugs of coffee for he and Jon. They finished the podcast on winter crafts, and then they put on the Crow festival songs, just so they could learn the words.

  He heard the burr of the snowmobile, and grinned. “Only one,” he said to Jon.

  Jon stopped the recording of Crow singing and drumming. “Paul…”

  The back door opened and shut. There was the sound of stamping feet. The young men heard Paul take off his boots and outerwear, and hang them up, they then heard him getting food and coffee.

  Fala came downstairs, a bag of carded wool over her shoulder. She plopped it down. “Our dye lots going well?” she asked.

  “Red and gold,” said Alo.

  “See you’re working through the blue,” said Fala. “Got more orders for that?” She hauled the bag to the door of the tunnel.

  “Three more,” said Jon, when Fala came back in, with a cup of coffee. “Sit a spell. Carding and spinning’s hard on the hands.”

  “Fah,” said Fala. “I can go a lot longer than you, young man.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Jon, with a grin. “Diana still up there?”

  “She’s got the last of it,” said Fala. “She’ll be down to make dinner soon.”

  “Just as soon eat what we’ve got,” said Jon.

  Fala grunted a laugh. “One, no one can eat the same meal all the time in the winter without going nuts. Two, the way that boy eats,” she said, gesturing with her coffee cup at Paul in the kitchen. “We’ll need more soup. A good corn chowder, I think.” Alo grinned, and stuck to crocheting. He’d picked the corn yesterday and cut it off the cob himself.

  Paul washed and rinsed his bowl, and came into the living room in stocking feet. He was dressed from head to toe in his long underwear. “Took a tumble,” he said. “Got my clothes wet. They’re in the wash.” A washer and dryer were in a closet next to the pantry.

  “Get dressed,” said Fala. “Idiot boy.”

  Paul grinned at her, and took out a sweater and jeans from the chest of drawers in the corner. He did that rather than traipse with wet clothes to his pod, especially if he had other chores.

  “Sit down before you fall down,” said Alo, using his chin to point out a recliner.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Paul.

  Alo threw him a blue and black-patterned blanket, and Paul put his sealed mug down on a side table, arranged the blanket over himself, pulled his tablet computer out of the chair’s side pocket, pulled out a tray, and began his lessons while his body temperature worked its way toward normal. They put on the Crow songs again, and Fala sang the songs as they all worked.

  By full dark, they had a dinner of blue corn soup, cheese biscuits with butter and honey, crispy bacon, and sour cream, and a small side salad with veggies. They cleaned up the kitchen and Alo and Paul had the dishes. Alo washed, and Paul dried. Then, they checked the board, and Alo made sure they would do well the next day, and that nothing needed immediate delivery. They settled in to do their studies, the teens their GED, Fala a course on weaving, and Alo on social media advertising.

  Winter wasn’t anywhere near as difficult as beet/harvest season, nor did they make anywhere near as much money. But, they’d set up several specialized websites for their knitted clothing, which made Numa back at the Paiute res insane, mostly because she wanted all their stock. She wanted the Crow crafts like the drums and beadwork, their blankets, and a local site for their veggies. They had only so many hours in the day to make their products, and they also had to keep up with their schoolwork. They were considering working in leather goods, but decided to stick with what they had. They were making money, working to pay back the cost of the camp, and the upgrades to the property, especially the heated barn.

  Alo also recorded songs and stories in Hopi and Paiute for Bao’s Native American segment of her book company. He had the two who spoke Crow the best, Paul and Rina, record as well, and the others studying Crow to do it as well. Every little bit helped. They also helped Old Will, their next-door neighbour, with his farm, and in return, Old Will sold them bags of wool from his sheep at a discount. It saved him from losing money shipping the wool as well. The res got half the washed, carded, and spun for their blankets, and Fala’s farm got the other half for their own sweaters, scarves, rugs, and blankets.

  The Crow medicine man elected to teach songs, stories, drumming, and dancing to Alo over the internet. He was snowed in with his family, and they all agreed travel to the other side of the res was just stupid, since Joran Little Bear (also Bear Clan like Alo now was) had a pretty good satellite on his roof, just like Fala. Joran was delighted to get a Bear Clan medicine man to teach the old ways.

  “You may be Hopi,” said Joran, “But you have the soul of a bear. Nations make no difference to the Creator. Only the heart.” So, deep into the night, Alo would stomp and shuffle, sing under his breath, and learn Crow through the songs and dances of their Nation.

  Everyone got two days to sleep more, staggered out over the week. They worked five days instead of four, just like the Paiute Wolfpack, to keep up with the orders. They paid off every bill they could find.

  “First time I’ve been caught up in years,” said Fala.

  “Last time you won’t be caught up,” said Alo. “We may be loud and somewhat smelly, but we make money. Once we get the goats come spring, be smellier. Making goat cheese isn’t for the faint of heart.”

  “You sure those fancy restaurants will buy it?” Fala looked confused.

  “They love it,” said Alo. “The Goat Girls have four kinds. Took them forever to make it right, but it sells, sells, sells. The restaurants love local farms. Costs them less in shipping, and we pass the savings on to them, and the profits go to paying off everything.” Alo grinned. “Worth it, I promise, but if you’d rather not…”

  “No accountin’ for what rich folk are willing to pay for,” said Fala.

  “True,” said Alo. “They put horse blankets on walls.” He shrugged. “They also like it when they can pick the colors.”

  “I looked over your website. Can’t understand t
he urge to choose your own colors.” Fala grinned. “A blanket is a blanket.”

  Alo shrugged. “People like choice. Don’t care what sells, as long as we can deliver on time, under budget, and without a lot of hassle.”

  Fala pointed at his crochet hook and basket. “No hassle? I remember that it took you weeks to learn the most basic stitches.”

  Alo shrugged again. “Real work has real rewards.” Fala grunted again, and they both went back to their studies.

  It took two days more to complete the fat infinity scarves. They passed them around until they were complete, boxed and shipped them, then they started on a red one and a gold one.

  Alo recorded several more Hopi stories, completed his social media course, set up some Facebook and Twitter campaigns to sell things for the farm, and recorded two short videos for the website and social media campaigns. He worked on Old Will’s farm, helping with his sheep, cows, goats, and horses, kept up with the crops and their own animals too. He checked on the plants, harvested more blue corn to make blue corn tortilla chips, sold carrots as fast as they matured in a rainbow of colors, and crocheted while taking a course on copyediting so he could write good copy for the websites. He also worked with Henry to be sure the students were all passing their courses, and participated in the baby carrying so Luisa could eat, drink, shower, and take naps. They took turns strapping Sofia to their bodies, even Fala and Diana the cook, while they did their chores. And Alo shoveled mountains of snow, mucked out stalls, fed, walked, combed, and curried horses, fed rabbits, dyed some yarn a deep forest green and another amethyst, and did his most-hated chore, spinning wool. It was far more complicated a chore than it looked, taking concentration and just the right amount of tension. He listened to podcasts part of the time on running a business, and the rest of the time he learned the Sun Dance.

  He came in from his final chores a few days later, and collapsed onto the couch and groaned. Luisa laughed at him. “Working hard, I see.”

  He grimaced at her. “I know you’re a mom. I know you pull your weight around here. I know that the screaming-baby thing all night isn’t fun. But, don’t laugh at me.”

  Luisa laughed loud and long. “Men, going and thinking they invented work. At least you notice how hard I work.”

  She had the baby asleep on her belly in Sofia’s pouch as she crocheted at what, to Alo, was a lightning pace, an infinity scarf in maroon and silver, the Montana Grizzlies football colors, meant to represent the mining past of the state.

  “I notice,” said Alo. “My aunt Inola says babies make everything six times as hard and take twelve times as long.”

  Luisa laughed. “That’s not the only thing you didn’t notice.”

  “What?” asked Alo. He grabbed a blanket and put it over his legs, He then reached down to grab the bag with the red infinity scarf in it. It was nearly done.

  “It’s my birthday. I just turned eighteen.”

  “Well then,” said Alo. “We need to make a…”

  “Cake, Diana’s already baking it, chocolate with caramel icing.”

  “Wow,” said Alo. “Got to remember that one for my birthday.” He racked his brain for something he could give her for her birthday.

  “I see the wheels spinning,” said Luisa. “I don’t need anything. I’ve got my baby looked after. We all get medical insurance under the Wolfpack company name. I’ve got room and board, and can pull my weight here. Got so many baby toys, cloth diapers, and clothes the Nevada Pack sent, we don’t have room for it all. Don’t need more.”

  “I can see that,” said Alo. “And you make your own jewelry, like Triesta.”

  “Who’s Triesta?” asked Luisa.

  “Lives with Robert on the Nevada Wolfpack farm,” said Alo. “Specializes in silver, painted beads, glass beads. Zuni woman.”

  “That’s what you’ll give me for my birthday,” said Luisa. “An introduction.”

  Alo put down his crocheting when he reached the end of a row. He pulled out his tablet from the side of the sofa, pulled up Triesta’s website, and put it on the table between them so Luisa could see Triesta’s work.

  “That’s gorgeous,” said Luisa, scrolling down when she finished her own row of crocheting. “Do you think she’ll let me work for her?”

  “I can tell you that she can’t keep up with her orders,” said Alo. “You can do the simpler things here. We can get you a kiln and you can learn to anneal your own glass beads. There are techniques that don’t use a kiln.”

  “I wanna do that,” said Luisa. She smiled, and her round face and soft brown eyes lit from within.

  “Doable, very doable,” said Alo, going back another row. “I’ll call Triesta now. Should be before supper there.”

  He called on Luisa’s phone, then handed the phone back to her. Luisa talked on her headset, and made notes on her phone. The women talked in Spanish and English, and laughed a lot. Alo got his tablet back, and put his earphones in. He listened to the singing, memorizing words and phrases, as he crocheted.

  Luisa finally hung up. She squealed softly, careful not to wake up the baby. “I’m gonna make the simplest earrings and necklaces on her website. She’s emailing me directions and the silver and beads. I have to make one of each and send them back for her to inspect. If I get it right, I can work for her, shipping things out from here. She says it’ll give her time to work on the more complex stuff.” She waved her arms around in a happy dance and quietly snapped her fingers, careful not to move her torso, which would wake up Sofia. “And she told me to tell you to buy me a glass kiln. She says the little ones don’t cost that much, and I can make lots of batches during the winter, build up my inventory.”

  Alo whipped out his cell phone when he reached the end of a row, and ordered the kiln. “It’ll take a week, barring another snowstorm. It’s small enough for Paul to pick it up. Happy birthday,” he said.

  “Just like that,” said Luisa. “There is no way I’ve earned that much money yet.”

  “Just like that,” said Alo. “Don’t care which businesses bring in the money, as long as they bring it in consistently, and can be put aside during harvest time when we have triple the people at the campground. Or when we’re all pushing to get things out, like these infinity scarves.”

  “We going to expand come spring?” asked Luisa. “I’m kinda looking forward to taking the hikers hiking, once this one sleeps through the night.” She gently patted her daughter’s back.

  “That, and taking photographers out to where the best shots are.” Alo finished another row.

  “That’s all over the damn place,” said Luisa. “Take a look around.”

  “Yeah, but the photographers and the leaf peepers don’t know that,” said Alo. “They pay good money for the best shots, best places to go. And don’t get me started on the birdwatchers.”

  “Awesome!” said Luisa. “You show me the best trails; I’ll walk ‘em. Keep the folks in sunblock, water, and snacks, too.”

  “Not little old me,” said Alo. “Wren’s the best.”

  Luisa made a face. “Paul will do.”

  “You got a problem with Wren?” asked Alo.

  “Just… the old ones got pissed at me for being stupid enough to get pregnant,” said Luisa. She turned red. “I got drunk after school one day.” Her face closed. No one had been able to get the name of the father out of her.

  Alo grasped the situation. “That’s rough.”

  “Rougher than you think,” said Luisa. “I’m lucky. He moved away.”

  Alo’s hands stilled. “He hurt you.”

  Luisa bowed her head. “Happens all the time.”

  Alo’s face froze. “It may, but it’s not your fault. No one should have treated you bad, whether you wanted to be with someone or not.” His eyes grew flinty. “Especially since it was not something you wanted.”

  She nodded. “At least I’ve got Sofia.” Her hands froze on her crocheting. “Wait. You don’t think less of Sofia?”

  “Or you,” s
aid Alo. “Happened to my aunt. We’ve got the most gorgeous little one out of it, Ryder. Nearly broke my grandfather, though. He’s good now, but he was a mess for a long time.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Luisa.

  “It was,” said Alo. “Heard bits and pieces over time. Inola’s never hidden it, nor Henry, but we obviously don’t discuss it much.” He thought a minute. “I’ll call Inola. You can talk with her.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, I’ll do that, when you’re ready. And I’ll sing over you, and over Sofia. Clear out the bad parts, help you keep hold of the good.”

  Luisa nodded. “Hopi?”

  “No, Paiute. All of the Nevada Wolfpack call Henry their Grandfather, from time to time, and we consider Inola and her wife Bella to be our aunts, and Ryder and brand-new Tarak our little cousins.”

  “You must miss them,” said Luisa.

  “It breaks my heart,” said Alo. “Especially not being there to watch Tarak grow up.” He looked down at Sofia. “But, I was there when this one was born, and that’s healing me, one day at a time.”

  “You must hate this,” said Luisa. “Being so far away from your family.”

  Alo shook his head. “The night before I left, Henry said part of the point of the entire program was to prepare me to be without them, to live wherever I chose to live, and do whatever I chose to do. If I wasn’t able to do that, then the entire program wasn’t working. I told him it did work, because I wanted to come here to make this program work.” He grinned. “I’m supposed to be here. I didn’t think I’d be Black Bear. My clan is Honani, Badger. I’m now part of the Newly Made Lodge Clan in Crow.”

  “Good,” said Luisa. “I am Whistling Waters.”

  “Good,” said Alo. They both knew people from the same clan could not marry. They crocheted, Luisa silent as Alo sang.

  Alo put Luisa in touch with Inola. Luisa cried for days, but then seemed to draw herself up and in, and stand straighter, speak more clearly. She was more able to pass Sofia around, able to leave her in one room with someone and do something in another. The wrinkle between her brows smoothed. She began to smile from time to time.