by Bella Knight
“What the fuck!” said Mike. “Shit, guys, I’ll stick to plants. They don’t want to be driven places in armor-plated limos, or commit crimes or anything. They just… grow. Very, very quietly.”
“You found your thing,” said Sayan. “More power to you. Most people search their whole lives to find their thing, their passion, their heart.”
“I did, too,” said Robert. “Feeling a bike go from mangled to gorgeous under your hands. Selling it to someone who sits on it and loves it, gonna clock a thousand-million-gazillion miles on it. No better feeling.”
“I feel that way about feeding people,” said Mike. “Real food, we grew it right there, no pesticides, no gunk or weird stuff. Just real food we chop up and make into sandwiches, or little pizzas, or soups, or desserts. Real stuff.”
“Dude, sign me up,” said Sayan. “Sounds heavenly.”
Mike pulled out his cell phone, gave them the website, and six people signed up then and there. “This is so cool,” said Specialist Stella “Star” Lan. “I work the night shift, don’t wanna deal with cooking. I eat at a diner most days. Great diner, but I need healthy stuff.” She pointed to her middle. “This stays flat due to a lot of running before work, but from ten to eleven at night, not good eating. Good food would make keeping this flat much easier.”
Robert laughed. “Try helping a little girl feed horses in the morning,” he said. “Damia knocks on my door at five thirty in the morning to help her carry the heavy hay and feed bags. Those horses love me now.”
“They know who has the food,” said Mike.
Sayan laughed. “You think they will let me ride their horses?”
“You could probably pay Inola for riding lessons,” said Robert.
“Better still, get in on helping the rescued horses,” said Mike. “Turn a trembling, starving wreck into a happy horse that’s dancing in the paddock.”
“Horses dance?” asked Star.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” said Robert. “You should see how they are with Damia. The ponies love her. They are so happy just to see her.”
“Cool kid,” said Mike. “She’s autistic, so you gotta be real quiet around her, but she’s whip-smart. Just gotta listen to her. Like you listen to the plants.”
“Plants talk?” asked Sayan.
“Yep,” said Mike. He pulled up the app on his cell phone. “This app has a dashboard which tells us how the plants are doing. Temperature, nutrient mix, and the like.”
Sayan held out his hand, and looked at the dashboard. “I wonder if we could use something like this to help clients.” He passed it back. “Maybe for panic rooms, or repositories for art.”
“Dashboards are cool,” said Pomp. “Just gotta decide what information you actually need, and how you want to see it at a glance, anytime you need it. Then write the code, of course.”
“Code jockeys,” said Star. “I can do it, but don’t want to do it for my entire life.”
“Gonna join us?” asked Sayan.
“Want to learn a Harley, inside and out. Rotate through Ghost and Killa’s stuff. The three-wheelers, off-road bikes, the straight-up projects that the Iron Knights are into, the weird-ass custom jobs the Gearheads do. Learn it all. Take me a year, I think. Then, circle back, decide if I want to do the Harleys, or go into security.” Star flagged down a server, and ordered a platter of honey-mustard flavored wings and fries —and another beer.
“Whoa,” said Mike. “Planner. Good idea. I’m taking hydroponics courses. Thinking of getting my degree.”
“Do it, dumbass!” said Star. “G.I. bill will get you through it for free. Might as well get an education in exchange for getting shot at.”
“Taking courses myself,” said Sayan. “Pomp and I have been asked to teach a course on network security at our online university. We’ve been teaching stuff to our professor.”
“Fucking do it,” said Star. “Idiots. Be great on your resume.”
“But it takes me out of the lab,” said Pomp.
“Record it in the lab,” she said. “Just cover up anything you want covered. Making video isn’t that hard. Get you some lights, a green screen background. You can get those online in a package. And a good mic and camera. From what I’ve been told, iPhones are good enough. I’m working with Bonnie, Ghost, and Killa on audiovisual to record builds, teardowns and rebuilds. Got some great video.”
“The woman has chops,” said Pomp. “I raise my glass to you.” They all raised their glasses, and drank.
“Pomp,” said Sayan, “You’re slow. Star, I, we… would be happy to pay you to record our stuff.”
“You write it, I film it,” said Star. “Still working on learning how to edit. Right now, it takes for-fucking-ever. Steep learning curve.”
“I fucking love our Soldier Pack,” said Sayan. “We keep each other going, and we move forward together.”
“Ooh-rah,” said Sayan.
Yuki came in and sat down. “Ooh, wings,” she said, and stole Star’s basket of food.
“Girlfriend, you’re lucky I love you. Down home, you’d be dead,” said Star.
Yuki grinned. “I’ll buy the next round.” She stretched, and her back audibly popped. “So, we gonna go on a ride soon, or what?”
“Let’s plan our own,” said Star. “Most of us are done with our own bikes. Let’s go someplace awesome.”
“Grand Canyon,” said Sayan.
“Bryce Canyon,” said Yuki. “Great hiking.”
“San Juan Mountain Skyway,” said Robert. “Mountains of Colorado. Be cooler in summer. Plus, it’s a loop, so you can start anywhere.”
“Texas,” said Sayan. “There’s these ranch roads called the Twisted Sisters.”
“I’m thinking about the Blue Ridge Parkway,” said Pomp.
“Other side of the country,” said Sayan.
“Could take Route 66, or what’s left of it, to get there,” said Pomp.
“Too long, a two to three-week trip,” said Sayan.
“West Virginia in the fall,” said Pomp.
“Gotta be sure you don’t hit snow,” said Yuki. “Weather’s getting weird.”
“Word,” said Star. “Gotta avoid hurricanes in the southern US, too. Those things are getting nasty. Like hammer blows to a whole region.”
“Ooh, ooh,” said Yuki. “Gotta join the soldiers that go in and clean up after disasters.”
“Okay,” said Star. “Set your alarm to remind us in an hour, and we’ll sign up.” Yuki set the alarm on her phone. “But, we’ve gotta stick close for now. How about the Black Hills of South Dakota?”
“Sacred spaces,” said Robert. “And you could get up and close with bison. Don’t make them angry. You wouldn’t like them when they’re angry.”
“Beartooth Pass, Wyoming,” said Sayan. “Wait, I rescind that. Gonna have a lot of noobs with us. Don’t wanna actually kill them. Same as Tail of the Dragon, in North Carolina.”
“The Cherohala Skyway is in Tennessee. Got lots of fishing and canoeing,” said Pomp.
“Okay,” said Star. “Got enough info. Let’s do two. Bryce Canyon, and the San Juan Mountain Skyway, this summer. We can consider the cool forest changing-trees, one for fall, later.” Everyone looked at her, and nodded. “All in favor,” she said, and they all raised their hands. “Okay, let’s do some planning.” She took out her tablet, and they started figuring it out.
Robert, high on caffeine and trip planning, felt like he was flying on the road home in the dark. He had bugged out early; the others wanted to go dancing. He did a round of salsa, and gave up. He expected a knock on his door at “oh-god-thirty” in the morning, and he wanted to be ready. Damia fascinated him, the planes of her face, the light in her eyes. She was coming out of her autism shell, and was much more willing to interact with the world.
The mom made him nervous, though. Ivy looked gut-shot since her daughter Damia had moved out, looking for a quieter place, living over her beloved ponies. Damia loved their every chuff, their little hooves dancing in the stalls i
n the morning. Ivy wasn’t a horse wrangler, and she liked the loud life. He’d been to her club, and seen her dance and sing. The woman could peel paint off a wall. She was as opposite to her daughter as she could possibly be (and still living on the same planet). Damia was a quiet, down-home girl, and her mom was a wild child. Grace was like Ivy, wild and brash and free. The moms loved her half to death, but didn’t know what to do with her because she kept driving her friends away. Hu was a very quiet diamond. Gifted to the core, and that drove Grace insane.
He watched them all, his new family. Helped where he could, and stood back when he couldn’t. Vi in the kitchen, making everyone full and happy, cutting off squabbles with a look. Callie trying to teach them all, keep them together, make the dinner table a time of laughter. The in-jokes, the side-eye. The Wolfpack, coming and going at all hours, like a dance Nantan and Chayton and Cocheta and Chogan, oversaw. Nantan and Chayton and their four boys, such a tall-standing family, the boys looking at them with shining eyes. Vu’s quiet words and a thousand stories, Jake’s dry humor, and the Owl Pack and their obvious love for the children. Inola always ready to talk about horses or trail rides, to put meat on a grill or pass a dish with a funny comment. Bella, with her wild optimism. Henry, passing around babies, listening in wonder as the girls described their day. David, with the love he poured over them all, like a never-ending fountain.
He wondered how he ended up on a dusty farm just outside Las Vegas. It was a wild, complex, ready-made family —already in play. He felt tears flying past him, and realized he was crying over simple Davis. He remembered the man forging glass beads, wrapping the glass around a rod, then cutting and annealing them. His laughter, silent as the man. The iced tea on the porch, the silent nights under a million stars. His sister with him, holding hands. Their words without words, touches, glances. Tiny movements of their eyes. They breathed each other’s air, lived in each other’s skin. She’d follow him, right down into the earth at the end. He cried for his lovely sister, who would take her pots and paints, and go home in her ancient truck, with the new kiln in the bed. He smiled to think of her there. Happy on the res, making her pots in her house, low to the ground, and under the desert sun. Davis would move his glass to be near her. They would sell their wares online and on the res as art.
His sister had always wanted little ones. Maybe they would have fat babies, grow them in the sun, running around the flowers. He had to have himself together by then, his motorcycle business strong enough to support them all, come what may. He smiled then, at the thought. And if they couldn’t have their own, they could find someone needing help, a place to stay, a place to be safe, like those Wolfpack. Hell, they could start their own Wolfpack. Tell Zuni stories and do crafts, and work on motorcycles, and grow things, and spin off businesses. Keep people from having to leave the res to find work. His tears dried as he made his plans, zipping home in the dark.
He awoke to a tiny hand patting on his door. Patting, not knocking. He arose, put on his jeans and boots, and followed her down the stairs. He lifted the hay bales with the hay hooks, put the hay in the stalls, filled up the feed bags, and fed the horses. Inola came in to muck out the stalls with him. They moved as if they’d worked together for years. He broke a sweat, felt his muscles bunch and move.
He kissed Inola’s cheek. “Get on with you,” she said, laughing. He kissed a lock of Damia’s hair, then ran upstairs to change from jeans to shorts, boots to running shoes, and a water in a little side pack.
He ran downstairs, and the boys Josh and Nick met him for an easy lope around the paddock, then a run along the trail. “Wait up!” said Tam.
He burst in amongst them and Robert ruffled his hair. They set into a good pace, mindful of rocks that could turn a heel. They ran up the hill and back down, circled out to the far pasture, and hit one of the most beautiful side trails. They pounded out, then slowed to a lope on the back run, then to a jog, then a walk when they could see the house. They chuffed, heaved, and drew in breath on a hot breeze. They all went to shower, and met back at nearly the same time on the ranch house’s porch.
Breakfast was blueberry or strawberry pancakes, then bacon, sausage, fruit salad, butter, syrup, and orange juice. They ate like wolves, and all the boys went with Robert to tear apart two bikes he had ordered. There was a third nearly ready, needing every single bit of chrome polished. They set to, playing music that made Suni come out and stick her tongue out at him. The kiln had already been fired up, and Suni put her pots in the back, and people came in on trucks to fire their work. Robert pulled out his phone and ordered another one.
The boys rotated through the bikes, including the teardown, chrome detail work, and their lessons, going into the cool of Suni’s shop to do their lessons on their tablets, all with the smells of clay and sage inside their noses. Little Nico showed up, and they had him on chrome detail and lemonade-bringing duty. They kept up an easy conversation about bikes, horses, the planned ride to Bryce Canyon and the long hikes they would take there, pitching tents, and grilling things over fires. They were all for it. Robert sent a text to Nantan, who officially gave permission for the boys to go on the Soldier Pack trip, and asked if he and Chayton could come along. Since Chayton was ex-military too, Robert invited them. The boys were excited, and high-fives went out all around. Robert set the boys with a task to make a list of things they needed, from mosquito repellent to tents. They made a spreadsheet, and a good-natured argument broke out about who added the best things to the list.
“Remember, we won’t have a van. All this shit gets on the saddlebags of the bikes.” The boys then argued about what was absolutely necessary, and worked their way back from there.
Henry came out. “I hear you’re stealing our boys.”
Robert nodded. “Got a mess of Soldier Pack, want to go out on their own trip.”
“Sounds great,” said Henry. “Got a mess of tents and other stuff you might want to take with you.”
“Tam, Josh, you’re on inventory,” said Robert. “Find out where the stash is, and check it off on your list.”
“On it,” said Tam. They boys ran off, tablet in hand.
“Damn,” said Henry, as the boys ran past him. “You say ‘jump’ and they say ‘frog.’”
“It’s not like that,” explained Little Nico. “Robert is real-calm. Kinda like a stream. He keeps us grounded.”
“He’s also kinda sad. We are too. We miss Davis. He made awesome glass,” said Nick.
“Suni’s gonna go, too,” said Robert, surprised at the boys’ perceptiveness. “She’ll finish up her current orders, but those two belong together.”
“Well, that sucks,” said Little Nico.
“You going, too?” asked Nick, worried.
“Not for a long time,” said Robert. “When Suni has little ones, I’ll go. But, until then, I’ve got a job to do.”
“What job?” asked Little Nico.
“I know almost nothing about Harleys,” said Robert. “I am still a little fish. But, someday I will grow into a bigger fish. Until then, it’s my job to grow.”
“Humility,” said Henry. “Learn from this man.”
“Wow,” said Little Nico.
“Exactly,” said Henry. “It is far too easy to puff yourself into a fat balloon. One tiny little thorn and…” He made a popping sound. The boys made popping sounds too.
Henry dragged the other boys back to Chayton for their coding. Robert got a cherry water and sat for a while in the sun.
Damia came up to him. He smiled at her, and touched the tip of one clump of her wavy blonde hair. The roots were covered in sweat. “Heya,” he said. She smiled. “Love,” he said, “I get your silence. It’s really cool.” She grinned. “Could you do me a favor?” She nodded, once, like an adult, not the bobblehead nod of younger kids. “Your mom needs your words. Just little ones. Your truth. ‘I love this pony.’ ‘I liked the pancakes.’ Just a little truth. Once a day, if you can pull it off.” She nodded, once. “Good,” he said. S
he grinned again, then vanished into the sunlight. He smiled, and called to Suni. They sat in the sun, and talked in tiny sentences, just relaxing, letting the sun bake their muscles a bit.
He put away his tools, stretched, went upstairs, took a shower, and went to the Big House. He spent the rest of the afternoon recording Zuni songs in the room with the Owl Pack. His voice rose and fell, singing about the buffalo dance, and the sunrise call, the lullaby, and the blanket song. The last two made everyone smile. The last one was going into an adult book he was writing on his own. Vu was very excited, and helped him with creating the book with a vigorous joy. He wondered how he could ever leave the Owl Pack. Their wisdom soothed him.
He bathed in the pool, swimming back and forth. He did exercises under the water, stretching out tired muscles. He dried himself, and sat in an Adirondack chair. Little Nico brought in cherry water and little mushrooms stuffed with sausage. Vi brought in little fish tacos and lime, and a muddled lime tea. People trickled in. Some swam; some chatted.
Alo brought in more chairs. “Need any help packing or something?” asked Robert.
Alo laughed. “Got more help than I know what to do with. We’re making money. They crack jokes about making rabbit food all day long. But, we make really good pony and rabbit —and horse food. Some big farms are taking a look at us. Nantan is squealing at me about having to set up new hydroponic beds, which is expensive. Tito is so sick of adding onto the farm that he’s threatening to boycott us. Says he has other stuff to do with his time.”
Robert laughed. “You may have to move into your own barn.”
He laughed. “Then I’d be done. That’s a long, involved process. Actually, we’re building up. Using a kind of cherry picker thing to get up and down. The plants don’t care. The LED lights are right over them. Doubled the capacity. Mike is in absolute heaven. He wants to grow stuff that sells, like acai palms. The seeds sell. But, they grow up to thirty meters high. So, he’s looking at amaranth and quinoa. We already make breads and hot cereals, just add hot water to them.”
“Good,” said Robert. “Mike is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”